A Night of Horrors: A Historical Thriller about the 24 Hours of Lincoln's Assassination (13 page)

Dr. Leale peered over to the box periodically and saw the President pull the flag back and look down into the orchestra section and back over to the dressing circle. When the doctor could make out the President, he would spend the next several minutes watching him rather than the play. Lincoln put his elbows on his knees and then placed his chin on his hands. It struck the doctor that the President was suffering from exhaustion. Then Lincoln would sit up and laugh heartily at something in the play and Leale would look back down at the stage and try to figure out what he’d missed. All in all, it was turning out to be a wonderful night for theater-going.

A Night of Calm, Disturbed

Edwin Stanton tugged on the bell pull in his office and a messenger boy came scurrying. These young men sat lined up in the hallways awaiting the ringing summons to the Secretary’s office. The note was to his wife letting her know that he would be arriving early for dinner, but he would need to eat quickly because he was going over to visit William Seward shortly after dinner to see how the Secretary of State was recovering from his near fatal carriage accident. The messenger boys, aides, and even the assistant secretaries of war were always on the lookout for a ringing summons or messenger that called them to the War Secretary’s office. When he had assumed the office of War Secretary on January 20, 1862, Edwin Stanton brought an iron discipline and incorruptible morality to the office. Simon Cameron, his predecessor, had been appointed more for political reasons than for his latent abilities to lead a large department and administer a war. Within a year of assuming office, the war machine that the Union so badly needed had not been built and the department had lacked the discipline necessary to move the war forward. Then the charges of corruption against Cameron had increased and become a political liability to Lincoln. The President had made the decision that he would remove Cameron, but who should replace him? The Secretary of War was the most important seat in his Cabinet and would run the largest department of the United States Government. A number of influential leaders of both Republican and Democratic parties urged Lincoln to appoint Edwin Stanton to the post if Cameron was to be dismissed. Lincoln, a consummate politician, saw the advantages to Stanton, because he was a life-time Democrat, but also an ardent unionist. Bringing on a leader of the opposing party could create some goodwill among his political enemies at a time when the war was not going too well.

Stanton, a nationally known attorney with a thriving practice, greatly desired to take the position of Secretary of War. He had a patriotic sense of duty, but he also felt that if he was on the inside, he would have the ability to influence, if not control, Lincoln for the good of the country. Stanton had served as Attorney General under the previous President, James Buchanan, for the last months of that administration and had seen the need for strong men to bolster the President in a moment of crisis. James Buchanan had determined that he would try to outlast the growing crisis between north and south in the waning months of his presidency rather than make some of the difficult decisions that the times demanded. Stanton had worked closely, and in secret, with members of the Senate to sway Buchanan not to appease the Southern states.

A number of years earlier in Illinois, Stanton had been one of the leading attorneys of a patent lawsuit, and he had hired a somewhat obscure attorney named Abraham Lincoln to conduct some research pertinent to Illinois law. Though they had never met, Lincoln had a solid reputation as a local attorney. The venue for the trial changed, away from Illinois, however, and Stanton no longer had a use for Lincoln and his research. In the busyness of preparation, Stanton had failed to discharge Lincoln from his duties. Lincoln showed up for the trial, with his research in hand. Stanton, rather than explaining his error, instead refused to see Lincoln or even acknowledge his presence. Stanton not only rudely snubbed Lincoln at every turn, he simply ignored him throughout the trial.

Based on his earlier impressions of the President, Edwin Stanton did not have much confidence in the man’s ability to administer the country, much less a country at war. For this reason, he felt that if Lincoln could overlook his earlier rudeness, then he would be on the inside and able to provide some stability to the rocky beginning of this President’s administration. Stanton received his appointment and went on to become, as many called him, ‘the right hand of the President.’ Lincoln never brought up the treatment he had received from Stanton during the patent trial years before, and Stanton’s opinion of Lincoln’s intelligence and abilities as a national administrator dramatically changed for the better the longer they worked together. Stanton brought an energy and integrity to the War Department, neither of which Cameron possessed. Stanton’s priority was always equipping the fighting men, and he would ensure that there was no graft, nor even the appearance of favoritism. He was famous for not only refusing to appoint personal friends of senators and congressmen, but he would write scathing letters in response to their requests, lecturing them on the impropriety of nepotism in the War Department. Even Mary Lincoln was subjected to his biting and scolding letters.

Stanton was a rather short man and in his middle age. His success had not only earned him a modest wealth, it had also gained him a plump belly. He wore round steel rimmed glasses and had a large nose. His nostrils often flared when he became animated and heated in discussion or debate. The man’s hair receded greatly from his forehead and gave him the appearance of being older than he was at just 50 years of age when the war was ending. He wore no mustache, but had a long flowing beard that grew down to the third button of his dress shirt. He had a large shock of gray in the front of his beard that added to the impression that he was older than he was.

Because of his obsessive work ethic, Stanton was often ill and suffered from exhaustion. As a result, his temper was short and the extraordinary demands of his job did not allow him time to suffer fools. Due to constant weariness and a weakened physical condition brought on by chronic asthma, Stanton was short-tempered and rude with visitors to his office. Senators literally dreaded coming to make a request of him. The man had a combination of admirable and detestable qualities, causing the men and women around him to both love and hate, admire and fear him. His political enemies came to loathe him with a passion not often seen in the human heart. His supporters rallied around him and urged him to continue the good fight. Edwin Stanton was honest, patriotic, good-hearted—even tender hearted to certain individuals. Most of all he had become completely loyal and devoted to Lincoln. At the same time, he was arbitrary, autocratic, imperious, vindictive, and often tyrannical in running the War Department, including his exchanges with the President he admired and served under.

These qualities of character were becoming more evident in the past weeks, as the concerns of the War Department were turning to dismantling the machine that he had built in the past four years of fighting. Stanton left the War Department shortly after Lincoln, just past 7:00 PM, and drove his carriage to his home several blocks away at Franklin Square. Stanton always looked forward to dinners with his wife Ellen, a beautiful woman, who greatly enjoyed the high social life. Ellen had grown used to her husband’s long hours away from home. Though she supported his earnest desire to serve the nation, she also sorely missed the large income of Stanton’s days as a successful attorney. In serving his country, Stanton had settled on an income that was less than one-fourth of what he made from his lucrative practice.

“You apparently sent the note to Mrs. Lincoln as we discussed earlier?” He asked as he took his seat at the table.

“Yes, and I received a pleasant enough reply from her,” Ellen answered. “Did the President say anything to you?” They both set about eating their meal of roasted meat, roasted potatoes, and boiled carrots. The candles and gas jet gave a warm sepia glow to the dining room that stood in marked contrast to the chill closing in with the fog outside.

“He just left me and had asked for Eckert to escort him to the theater. I would not spare him. I simply will not appear to condone his theater-going in any shape or form. That is why I was perfectly happy for you to decline their invitation to join them” Stanton explained.

“Well, for you it is political. For me, I cannot abide that woman. In talking with Mrs. Grant last night at dinner, we came to an agreement that neither of us would go if one of us could not make it. When they decided to go to Burlington to see their children, I was determined not to spend the evening in her company,” Ellen Stanton’s voice had an air of defensiveness about it. In declining Mary Lincoln, she was also declining Abraham Lincoln, and that pained her.

“Yes, Ellen, I know that she can be unpleasant.”

“Only when she is required to be in the company of other women and her husband at the same. She is actually pleasing company on her own. But after the incident in Richmond, neither Mrs. Grant nor I were of the mood,” she explained. Just a few weeks before, Julia Grant had suggested to her husband to invite President and Mrs. Lincoln down to Army Headquarters at City Point so he could get away from Washington after his inauguration to review the troops. When the President went out to review General Ord’s troops, Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Grant were delayed as the ambulance conveying them was slowed by the mud. When they finally arrived, Lincoln had already begun the review and Mrs. Ord, a young and attractive woman, was riding along behind the President. The First Lady was enraged. When Mrs. Ord rode up to Mary to pay her respects, the First Lady flew into a fury and insulted the General’s wife in front of everyone, including Julia Grant, demanding to know what Mrs. Ord was attempting by riding along behind the President. Later, at the dinner table, Mary proceeded to repeatedly accuse the President of flirting with Mrs. Ord in front of his Generals and their wives. She continued her harping into the night. Julia Grant was mortified and right then she determined to spend as little time in the presence of Mary Lincoln as possible.

Ellen Stanton had flowing brown hair that she tended to wear in a bun. She was Stanton’s second wife. He had nearly lapsed into insanity in his grief over the death of his beloved Mary a decade earlier. He had insisted on having her buried in her wedding gown. It had been a slow process to work his way out of grief and loneliness. The only way that he’d survived was by devoting himself to his law practice. As in many things for Edwin Stanton, work had proved to be a healing balm. It was only after he met and married Ellen that he had recovered fully from his lingering and debilitating grief. The two were devoted to each other, though Ellen often resented that she was his secondary priority after work.

After their brief dinner, Stanton departed for the Seward’s house on Lafayette Park close to the Executive Mansion. He pulled his coat close around him as he walked down the front walk and to his carriage.

“Don’t forget that the serenaders will be coming,” she reminded him as he climbed into the carriage. Though it was a short ride to the Seward’s, it seemed longer as Stanton continued to slow the horse in order to make sure he had his bearings in the fog. Once he arrived and walked into the warmth of the house, he realized that the entire Seward family was staying in the three story mansion as well as out-of-town guests. There were clumps of people sitting and talking, reading, or milling about. Fanny Seward, the Secretary’s lovely daughter, greeted Stanton and escorted him up the steps to the second floor and into the room at the top of the steps.

William Seward was propped up on pillows and had his eyes closed when Stanton entered. The Secretary of State had been thrown from a carriage a number of days earlier when the horse had bolted after the driver had stepped down and Seward and his daughter were taken on a hair-raising ride through the streets of Washington. When the horse showed no signs of slowing and the carriage was sliding around the turns, Seward decided to take matters into his own hands. He attempted to climb from the back of the carriage to the front in order to grab the reins and pull the horse up. As he did so, the carriage flew around a turn and the Secretary was thrown from the carriage. His jaw was severely broken and he badly bruised his shoulder and ribs. In order to repair his jaw, his doctor had strapped a wire frame around his head with thick leather straps to hold his jaw into place. Each time Stanton had come to see his colleague, he had to take the frame in all over again. It was so foreign to see this bright and intelligent man, a leader of the country, prostrate and injured with a strange contraption strapped to his head.

It was near impossible for Seward to speak, and Stanton knew that visitors sapped his strength. Seward murmured “Mars” through his closed jaw when he opened his eyes and saw Stanton. That was Lincoln’s nickname for his War Secretary.

“Hello, William, I see that you are resting. I don’t want to disturb you, but I wanted to check on your progress,” Stanton said and sat down by the bed in a chair that Fanny offered him. Though he tried to speak softly, Stanton’s naturally deep bass carried throughout the house. Seward looked over Stanton’s shoulder at his daughter, who was standing behind the War Secretary, and gave the slightest nod of his head.

“Father is doing better each day, Mr. Stanton,” she said for her father. “The doctor comes each day and comments on how well he looks and how quickly he is recovering. Father, of course, requests to be removed from this ‘harness’ as he calls it, but Doctor Verdi has told him he should simply be grateful to be alive much less to feel constrained by the frame.” She beamed down at her father in apparent pride.

“We are all pleased with the progress,” Stanton said, shifting in his seat to look up at the bright and beautiful daughter of his friend. He turned back to William Seward. “You should have seen our ol’ chief today, William. I’m sure that Frederick has already told you what a wonderful Cabinet meeting we held today. But the chief was in fine form. His hair was combed and arranged, his coat was brushed, his collar was clean, and his tie was in place! I haven’t seen him so magnificently cheerful,” he paused to think of a time when Lincoln had been so happy, “well, ever!” Stanton and Fanny laughed and Seward smiled and chuckled as best he could. Then he winced in pain.