The rain resumed overnight and continued throughout the next day, which Father devoted to meeting with acquaintances and potential allies from the realms of business and politics, not only to support Mr. Lincoln’s candidacy but also to prepare for his return to the Senate. Kate knew that he had been right to insist that they come. The city hummed with excitement and possibility, and as she made her own round of calls escorted by Mrs. Parsons, she made sure to court old acquaintances as well as to arrange for introductions to the wives and daughters of gentlemen who might have occasion to help her father someday. She and her father were a formidable team, she thought, even when they toiled separately.
Sunday morning dawned bright and promising, the downpours and oppressively sultry air of the previous two days at last giving way to the cool, clear breezes of autumn. The heavy rains had wet down the streets sufficiently to keep down the dust, and yet not enough to make them impassible rivers of mud, so after breakfast Mrs. Parsons took Kate and Nettie out driving to view the preparations for the next day’s celebration.
Numerous military regiments that would march in the grand parade had bivouacked at Camp Perry on the county fairgrounds, where their brilliant regalia, shining brass, and neat rows of white tents lent a thrilling martial air to the scene. There Mrs. Parsons and the Chase sisters left the carriage, lifted their skirts to pick their way across the soft, damp grass, and joined the throng of admiring onlookers lining the parade grounds as the soldiers marched and drilled in preparation for the grand procession. When a cavalry regiment passed swiftly by, hooves flashing and manes tossing and banners flying, Kate was rendered breathless from excitement.
As the cavalry regiment circled and passed again, Kate’s gaze flew to the young, dark-haired officer in the lead. “Who is he?” she heard herself ask. He sat his horse as naturally as if he had been in the saddle all his life, and despite his youth, his bearing was one of a man accustomed to command.
“That’s William Sprague, the governor of Rhode Island.” Mrs. Parsons watched him pass. “They call him the Boy Governor. He’s no more than thirty.”
Astonished, Kate kept his eyes fixed on his back as he rode away. “A governor, and a cavalry officer, at thirty?”
“And an extraordinarily successful man of business too. He and his brother—I think it was an elder brother, but perhaps it was a cousin—founded the A. & W. Sprague Company. Have you heard of it?” When Kate shook her head, Mrs. Parsons continued. “They run cotton mills in Rhode Island. That remarkable young man is worth millions.”
Kate felt her cheeks grow warm as the Rhode Island regiment passed again, and she deliberately tore her gaze away from the gallant figure on horseback to face Mrs. Parsons. “Commodore Perry was a native son of Rhode Island, if I recall,” she said. “I suppose that’s why so many Rhode Islanders have made the long journey west for this occasion. Soldiers, politicians, newspapermen—and I see many of them have brought their wives and children.”
“Yes, indeed.” An amused smile played in the corners of Mrs. Parsons’s mouth. “But Governor Sprague did not, because he is not yet married.”
“I wonder why,” Kate said, as if she were only vaguely interested. “Too busy, I suppose. Businessman, governor, officer—any one of those occupations is usually enough for one man, and he is trying to do all three.”
Mrs. Parsons looked as if she was struggling not to laugh. “Trying, and from what I hear, succeeding tremendously.”
Kate shaded her eyes, deliberately looked in the other direction, and resisted the urge to ask what else Mrs. Parsons had heard of the gentleman from Rhode Island. “Nettie, look how neatly and precisely arranged the soldiers’ tents are. How do you suppose they do it? With a peg and a long piece of string to mark a straight line?”
Nettie tore her gaze away from the horses to peer up at her sister. “I don’t know,” she said, in a tone that implied it was her sister’s manner and not the question that baffled her.
The next morning the sun rose brilliant in a sky of white-puffed blue, with no threat of rain. Governor Dennison had invited Father to ride in the parade as a member of his contingent, but he had declined, explaining that he would see very little of the glorious procession if he were in it. Kate knew that was not the only reason, if only because without his spectacles, Father would see very little of the parade no matter where he was. Some politicians—Mr. Lincoln, perhaps—might enjoy waving and smiling and nodding graciously on public display for hours at a time, but Father would find it a painful ordeal. Instead the Chases joined the Parsons in an excellent spot on the public square in the viewing stands reserved for honored guests.
And what a glorious procession it was, and what a perfect view they had of every band, every regiment, every gray-bearded veteran! First came the parade marshals and assistant marshals and their staffs, followed by a band playing a spirited march, then the First Regiment of Cleveland Light Artillery, the pride of the city, and the Brooklyn Light Artillery and the Cleveland Light Dragoons. Rousing cheers for the local boys had scarcely begun to fade when another band marched proudly past in time with their exuberant tune. Next came General Wilson of Pennsylvania and his staff accompanied by the Hibernian Guards, the Cleveland Grays, and other military corps. The Union Cornet Band followed, and more Pennsylvania regiments, proudly and neatly attired, and a contingent of politicians and other officials, including Governor Dennison and his staff, and then—Kate felt an electric jolt of recognition—Governor Sprague, seeming even younger and bolder and more handsome surrounded by a distinguished company of legislators and other dignitaries from Rhode Island.
Watching them approach, Kate felt an unsettlingly, dizzying mixture of euphoria and dismay. “There’s the governor now,” Father said, recognizing him later than his more keen-eyed daughters. He meant Ohio’s governor, of course, but Kate nodded and applauded along with everyone else, her gaze fixed on the Boy Governor following close behind Mr. Dennison. And then, just as the Rhode Island company reached their viewing stand, Mr. Sprague glanced up into the throng of onlookers and his eyes met Kate’s. He smiled, removed his hat, and bowed in her direction—although even as she inclined her head in gracious acknowledgment of his salute, she told herself that she might have only imagined that the gesture was meant for her, when of course he could have intended it for any one of the dozens of people around her, or indeed, the entire crowd.
She felt an elbow in her side, and when she started and tore her gaze away from Governor Sprague, she found Nettie grinning up at her. Kate sighed and gazed heavenward, but as Nettie giggled, she returned her attention to the procession only to find that the Rhode Islanders had passed and that a bright brass band had taken their place.
It was a sublimely beautiful scene after the procession ended and the Reverend Doctor Perry of Natchez took the stage and commenced the inauguration with a solemn prayer—golden sunlight streaming through the green trees upon the vast sea of humanity; the fountain cascading behind the platform, its dancing waters sparkling and casting rainbows upon the onlookers. After the reverend closed his lengthy invocation and the vast crowd replied with a reverential amen, Mr. Walcott the artist came forward, nervous and pale, and removed the starred-and-striped draping from his marble creation. A long, silent moment of anxious, eager gazing and expectant half holding of breaths followed, and then from tens of thousands of throats came such a roar of approval that the air and earth seemed to reverberate with the joyful sound. The applause and cheering went on and on, but when it began to subside, Mr. Walcott, looking tremulous but much relieved, came forward to thank them for the kind expression of their favor and to explain the inspiration for his design. “No sculptor ever had a nobler subject,” he declared, and was met with shouts of agreement.
The mayor of Cleveland spoke next, and after a band played, the Honorable George Bancroft addressed the crowd. Other speeches, more stirring music, and the performance of Masonic rites followed, and the
ceremony concluded with the performance by the Masonic Choir of an original song composed for the occasion whose lyrics included Commodore Perry’s memorable declaration, “We have met the enemy and they are ours!”
Entranced by the glorious pageantry of the day, Kate nevertheless found her gaze stealing, from time to time, to Governor William Sprague, but he—to her relief and dismay and confusion—did not look her way again.
• • •
That evening, Kate dressed with special care, bathing and applying a subtle scent, enjoying the feel of the pale-green silk as it slipped over her skin. The maid arranged her auburn locks in a simple, elegant twist adorned with jasmine, her only jewelry a pearl pendant that had belonged to her mother. “You will be the loveliest girl at the ball,” the maid gushed, proud of her handiwork. Kate smiled when she thanked her, but when the maid turned away she frowned critically at her reflection in the mirror. She had been blessed with thick hair in a rich auburn hue, entrancing hazel eyes that could seem green or brown or even amber depending upon the light and the color of her attire, and smooth, fair skin that at the moment fairly glowed with anticipation, but her nose turned up pertly, not unattractively so but just enough to prevent her from being truly beautiful in the classic sense. She liked her nose perfectly well and usually dismissed criticism of her most obvious flaw as the spiteful ramblings of the jealous, and it annoyed her that she should suddenly worry and fret about it on that of all nights.
Nettie, who was not yet out in society, settled resignedly down to her sketch pad and pencils as Father escorted Kate outside to the carriage where Mr. and Mrs. Parsons waited. It was a short drive to the grand ballroom in the heart of the city, but progress through the crowded streets was slow. The roads were packed with carriages and men on horseback, the sidewalks lined with the envious and admiring who had not been invited but could not resist turning out to glimpse the gleaming carriages and splendid attire of the more fortunate.
When their driver finally halted before the front portico, Kate was thankful for her father’s imposing size and commanding manner as they made their way through the press of eager onlookers to the front door. Inside, the vast, airy space had been sumptuously bedecked in flowers and bunting in patriotic hues and silk banners illustrated with scenes from the Battle of Lake Erie, naval insignia, or symbols of the great states of Ohio and Rhode Island. After the usual perfunctory greetings were made to all the appropriate people, Kate surrendered entirely to the delights of the evening. The orchestra was in excellent form, the music enchanting, the ladies brilliant in their jewels and finest gowns, the gentlemen attentive and charming. She was never without a partner for the dance unless she wanted to rest, and as she whirled about the ballroom, smiling and laughing and chatting easily with agreeable young men, she felt a rush of exhilaration knowing that she was one of the most graceful, intriguing, and desirable women in the room. It was intoxicating, the constant outpouring of admiration from young officers and mature statesmen alike. In a moment of wistful reflection, it occurred to her that she had probably received more praise from other gentlemen that evening than she had received from her father over the course of a lifetime.
The evening was nearly half over when the moment she had been expecting and dreading arrived at last—she turned from a pleasant chat with a myopic dowager to find Mr. Parsons and the dashing young governor of Rhode Island standing before her, smiling. “My dear Miss Chase,” Mr. Parsons said, “I beg to introduce to you one of our honored guests—Mr. William Sprague, the governor of Rhode Island. Governor, allow me to present Miss Kate Chase, the daughter of the former governor of Ohio, Mr. Salmon Chase, who is also our former and future senator.”
“Yes, of course,” said Kate, adding a note of surprise to her voice as she extended her hand gracefully, as if she had not been surreptitiously watching him throughout the evening. “I recognize you from the procession. I congratulate you, Governor. What a magnificent company of men you command.”
“Thank you, Miss Chase.” He took her hand, smiling, and she felt the warmth of his skin through her glove. He was of slighter build than he had seemed on horseback, but his dark eyes were more compelling than at a distance, his smile more stirring. “They’re the pride of Rhode Island. Have you ever visited our beautiful state?”
“I’m sorry to say that I have not.”
“You must come when you return to Washington City, you and your father. It would be my great pleasure to show him our statehouse and speak with him, governor to governor, so that I might benefit from his wisdom and experience.”
“I’m sure he would enjoy that,” Kate replied. “As for his wisdom, I benefit from it daily, but he possesses it in such abundance that I am not too miserly to share.”
Mr. Parsons chuckled, and as the orchestra and dancers finished a quadrille, Governor Sprague started as if he had suddenly remembered something previously overlooked. “Miss Chase, may I have the honor of the next dance?”
Graciously she agreed, bade Mr. Parsons good-bye for the moment, and allowed Governor Sprague to lead her to the dance floor. The orchestra struck up a sweet, slow waltz, and he took her in his arms and into the dance. Their eyes were nearly level, and he held her gaze with such self-assurance that she needed all her strength to fend off a sudden bout of shyness. “Tell me, Governor,” she asked, “how did the procession appear from your perspective?”
And so, in the most modest and amiable terms, he told her what he had seen, praising the fine weather, the charming city, and the enthusiasm of the citizens who had come out to watch and cheer and honor one of Rhode Island’s most illustrious and beloved sons. When the waltz ended, since their conversation had not, they lined up for the schottische together by mutual, unspoken agreement, although that was not strictly proper. One dance led to another, followed by a respite to refresh themselves with a glass of punch for her and wine for him, and then they danced again, chatting easily all the while.
When they had exhausted the subject of the day’s ceremonies, the young governor confessed his admiration for her father, and it soon became evident that his knowledge of Salmon P. Chase’s political and legal achievements rivaled her own. Governor Sprague was a stalwart abolition man—yet another virtue—and he spoke admiringly about her father’s legal work in Cincinnati on behalf of the Negro, including the defenses of numerous slaves who had found themselves in the free state of Ohio and had desperately desired to remain. “There was a case of a young slave woman,” he recalled, “the daughter of her master—”
“Matilda,” Kate offered when he could not remember the name. She would have been too young to remember the celebrated—or as some regarded it, infamous—trial, but she had read the proceedings and knew them by heart.
“Matilda. Yes, of course. To argue that the Fugitive Slave Law did not apply in her case, because she was no fugitive as her master had brought her to Ohio himself”—Governor Sprague shook his head admiringly as the music ended and he led her off the dance floor—“that was a stroke of genius.”
“It didn’t work,” Kate reminded him. “My father lost that case. Matilda was returned to her master and carried off back to the South.” Her father had never learned what had become of the young woman he had so fiercely defended, and her unknown but surely unhappy fate haunted him to that day.
“Even so, it was an ingenious tactic, and it struck another blow to the legal justification of slavery. Enough such strikes, and the foundation will crumble.”
The governor’s sincere and enthusiastic admiration for her father pleased her, and yet she found it vaguely upsetting that although they had spent every moment of the ball together since Mr. Parsons had introduced them, they had spoken of little else but the procession, the beauties of Rhode Island, and Salmon P. Chase. “Governor Sprague,” she said lightly as he offered her his arm, pretending not to notice the naval officer who was quickly approaching, evidently eager to engage Kate before she was whiske
d off again, “I would almost think that you would rather dance with my father than myself, you speak of him with such constant admiration.”
“Certainly not,” he protested as the orchestra struck up a lively polka. “He’s much too tall for me.”
Kate burst out laughing. “Governor, you are . . .”
“What?” he prompted, smiling and pulling her closer than was necessary for a polka.
“Let me think.” She pondered her words as they whirled about. “You are unlike any other man I’ve ever met.”
His brows rose. “In what way?”
He was not transformed into a dazed, blathering fool by her mere presence, for one, but she certainly could not tell him that. “I have not been in society long, but I have discovered that men seem to enjoy telling me about my beautiful eyes, my rosebud mouth, my glorious crown of auburn hair, my swanlike neck—have I left out anything?”
“Your graceful, sylphlike figure?” he suggested helpfully.
“Yes, of course. How could I have forgotten that? They never do. But you, Governor, you have not spoken a word about any of that all evening.”
“Why should I have done?” he asked, making a show of being genuinely puzzled, although she did not believe it for a moment. “I presume you own a mirror and that your eyes are functional as well as enchanting. You should not need me to describe you to yourself.”
“Ah! And yet here you have done it at last,” she remarked, strangely triumphant. “You have called my eyes enchanting.”
“As indeed they must be, because you have charmed a compliment out of me, when I have been doing my very best to stand firm and to reveal nothing.” Suddenly he pulled her close until his mouth brushed her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. “You should settle for the compliment to your eyes, for if you were to conjure the entire truth out of me, you would learn that I find you the most alluring, intoxicating woman I’ve ever met, and that if we were alone and you were mine, I would caress your face and kiss you until we were both breathless from desire. And that confession, Miss Chase, is not fit for an innocent young lady to hear.”
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