Lincoln Read Online Free PDF Page A

an idiot.”
    “We’re an occupied city, for now,” said Mrs. Surratt, crossing herself as she returned the rosary to its place on the crucifix.

THREE
    A T ELEVEN o’clock in the morning, Seward and Lincoln—the latter still unrecognized—crossed from Willard’s to the Executive Mansion, known to those few Americans who were not addicted to the prevailing Latinate English of the nation’s orators as the President’s House or just plain White House. The single guard at the gate did not even look at the two soberly dressed statesmen, who proceeded up the iced-over, deep-rutted driveway to the main portico, from whose columns the paint was peeling; the glass of the front windows was streaked with dust.
    “Last time I was here it was 1848.” Lincoln looked about with some curiosity.
    “Your friend Mr. Polk was in residence then.”
    Lincoln nodded. “But never friendly to me, particularly after I attacked his Mexican War.”
    “Ah, the irrepressible speeches of one’s youth!” Seward made a comical face. “You’ll be hearing a lot about that speech of yours before you’re done.”
    Lincoln grimaced. “I know. I know. Words are hostages to fortune, they say. The only problem is we never know in advance just what the fortune is.”
    At the front door, a short elderly Irish usher stopped them. “State your business, gentlemen. The President is
not
available. He’s in Cabinet.”
    “Tell the President,” said Seward, “that Mr. Abraham Lincoln has come to pay a call.”
    The usher turned very red in the face. “By heaven, if it isn’t old Abe himself! Oh, forgive me, Your Excellency …”
    “It’s heaven
I
can’t forgive, for making me old.”
    “Well, sir, they call
me
old Edward, sir. Edward McManus. I’ve been doorkeeper since President Taylor.”
    “Then I shall leave the door just as it is, in your good hands.”
    Old Edward smiled, revealing few teeth, dark gums. He led them across the musty entrance hall and into the Red Room, just off the foot of the great staircase. “If you’ll wait here, sir, I’ll go fetch the President.”
    As the usher hurried upstairs, Lincoln and Seward looked about the Red Room, which was true to its name but shabby withal. Lincoln touched a red damask curtain from which pieces had been hacked.
    “Visitors like their souvenirs,” said Seward. “When I was governor ofNew York, at every reception, I’d have a guard with a gun next to every curtain.”
    “Did you get reelected?”
    Seward laughed. “I did. In fact—”
    But at that moment, President James Buchanan hurried—or flurried, thought Seward—into the room. He was a tall man, with white hair and a twisted neck, which meant that his left cheek seemed always about to rest on his left shoulder. One eye had a squint, which made the old man look as if he were winking slyly at you, as if his words were not be taken seriously.
    “Mr. Lincoln! I didn’t expect you until tomorrow! Mr. Seward, too. What an honor for us. Where is my niece?” This was addressed directly to Lincoln, who said, very gravely, “On my honor, I have not misplaced your niece, Mr. President.”
    “Of course not. You’ve never met her. Nor have I. That is, nor do I
know
where she is at the moment. She is looking forward so much to showing Mrs. Lincoln around the Mansion.” A lifelong bachelor, Buchanan was sustained by his niece Harriet Lane, of whom a Washington wit had been heard to say, “There is no power
behind
the throne, either.”
    “We just wanted to pay our respects, sir …” Lincoln began to move toward the door. But Buchanan took his arm, firmly.
    “You must meet the Cabinet. We’re having a special meeting. Texas left the Union this morning. We just got the official word …”
    They were now in the main hall. Servants—black and white—had begun to appear, to get a glimpse of the new President.
    “What answer do you make to the … seceders?” Although Lincoln’s usual word was “rebels,” he used