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Authors: Jennifer Chiaverini
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and acquaintances, and politely accepted premature congratulations from others. Here and there she observed signs of the great celebration planned for the evening should her father receive the nomination. Brass bands were rehearsing, a sturdy cart had been procured to haul an enormous cannon to the statehouse to announce the good news with a thunderous salute, and somewhere, Kate knew, fireworks were being made ready. She fervently hoped that the city’s preparations would not be in vain.
Less than an hour after she returned home from her ride, another telegram arrived from Uncle Edward: “First ballot,” Father read aloud, holding the paper close to his eyes. “Seward 173½, Lincoln 102, Cameron 50½, Chase 49, Bates 48, McLean 12, Collamer 10, Wade 3, Sumner 1, Fremont 1.”
Kate’s heart sank as she and her father read the telegram together in silence, once, twice, and yet again. The delegates of Ohio had not rallied around Father. Mr. Seward was first, as all had expected, but somehow Mr. Lincoln had emerged as the second favorite, with General Simon Cameron of Pennsylvania inexplicably ranked third, ahead of Father. “How can this be?” Father wondered aloud, wounded. “Not even second, but a distant fourth?”
“Not too distant,” Kate quickly replied. “We all knew Mr. Seward would take the first ballot, but he has not yet taken the nomination. Now that the delegates know how matters stand, and that some candidates have no chance at all, there will be a shifting of votes.”
“Yes, but will two hundred and thirty-three votes shift to me?”
Kate found herself at a loss for a satisfactory reply. All they could do was wait for Uncle Edward’s next telegram.
It was not long in coming, and when Father carried it into the library to read in seclusion, Kate followed close behind and read over his shoulder. “Second ballot,” Uncle Edward had tersely announced. “Seward 184½, Lincoln 181, Chase 42½, Bates 35, Dayton 10, McLean 8, Cameron 2, Clay 2. Third ballot forthcoming.”
Mr. Seward had gained a little ground, but although Father had overtaken General Cameron in the ranking, he had garnered fewer delegates than on the first ballot. The shifting of votes had gone mostly Mr. Lincoln’s way.
“It is finished,” Father murmured, letting his brother’s telegram fall to the desktop.
“It is not yet finished,” Kate protested. “It’s not finished until one man has two hundred and thirty-three delegates.”
“Katie, dear child,” her father said, reaching for her hand. “Barring some miracle, it is finished for me. Even if I claimed the votes of every candidate lower in the polling than myself, I would not have enough to catch up to Seward and Lincoln.”
“There are more delegates who
don’t
want Mr. Seward than do,” Kate countered. “Now that they’ve seen he’s vulnerable, they would be wise to shift their votes to you so that you may overtake him before he collects enough to win the nomination.”
“If Seward’s enemies consolidate their votes behind someone else to block him, why would they choose me instead of Lincoln?”
It was a rhetorical question, resignedly posed, but Kate decided to respond as if he meant it. “Mr. Lincoln is not as well-known as you outside his home state, and therefore less likely to prevail in November. That alone makes him a risky nominee, but in his case it is doubly true because the Democrats are likely to choose Mr. Douglas, who has defeated him before, and rather recently. You are the more prudent choice.”
Her father brooded for a long moment in silence, which he broke, at last, with a heavy sigh. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said wearily. “The third ballot will decide it.”
It seemed hours until Uncle Edward’s next telegram proved him right. The next time the messenger knocked on the door, Kate and Nettie flew to answer it, with their father and the rest of the household close behind.
“Read it, Katie,” her father
Less than an hour after she returned home from her ride, another telegram arrived from Uncle Edward: “First ballot,” Father read aloud, holding the paper close to his eyes. “Seward 173½, Lincoln 102, Cameron 50½, Chase 49, Bates 48, McLean 12, Collamer 10, Wade 3, Sumner 1, Fremont 1.”
Kate’s heart sank as she and her father read the telegram together in silence, once, twice, and yet again. The delegates of Ohio had not rallied around Father. Mr. Seward was first, as all had expected, but somehow Mr. Lincoln had emerged as the second favorite, with General Simon Cameron of Pennsylvania inexplicably ranked third, ahead of Father. “How can this be?” Father wondered aloud, wounded. “Not even second, but a distant fourth?”
“Not too distant,” Kate quickly replied. “We all knew Mr. Seward would take the first ballot, but he has not yet taken the nomination. Now that the delegates know how matters stand, and that some candidates have no chance at all, there will be a shifting of votes.”
“Yes, but will two hundred and thirty-three votes shift to me?”
Kate found herself at a loss for a satisfactory reply. All they could do was wait for Uncle Edward’s next telegram.
It was not long in coming, and when Father carried it into the library to read in seclusion, Kate followed close behind and read over his shoulder. “Second ballot,” Uncle Edward had tersely announced. “Seward 184½, Lincoln 181, Chase 42½, Bates 35, Dayton 10, McLean 8, Cameron 2, Clay 2. Third ballot forthcoming.”
Mr. Seward had gained a little ground, but although Father had overtaken General Cameron in the ranking, he had garnered fewer delegates than on the first ballot. The shifting of votes had gone mostly Mr. Lincoln’s way.
“It is finished,” Father murmured, letting his brother’s telegram fall to the desktop.
“It is not yet finished,” Kate protested. “It’s not finished until one man has two hundred and thirty-three delegates.”
“Katie, dear child,” her father said, reaching for her hand. “Barring some miracle, it is finished for me. Even if I claimed the votes of every candidate lower in the polling than myself, I would not have enough to catch up to Seward and Lincoln.”
“There are more delegates who
don’t
want Mr. Seward than do,” Kate countered. “Now that they’ve seen he’s vulnerable, they would be wise to shift their votes to you so that you may overtake him before he collects enough to win the nomination.”
“If Seward’s enemies consolidate their votes behind someone else to block him, why would they choose me instead of Lincoln?”
It was a rhetorical question, resignedly posed, but Kate decided to respond as if he meant it. “Mr. Lincoln is not as well-known as you outside his home state, and therefore less likely to prevail in November. That alone makes him a risky nominee, but in his case it is doubly true because the Democrats are likely to choose Mr. Douglas, who has defeated him before, and rather recently. You are the more prudent choice.”
Her father brooded for a long moment in silence, which he broke, at last, with a heavy sigh. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said wearily. “The third ballot will decide it.”
It seemed hours until Uncle Edward’s next telegram proved him right. The next time the messenger knocked on the door, Kate and Nettie flew to answer it, with their father and the rest of the household close behind.
“Read it, Katie,” her father
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