Joshua. His foot cavalry had quick-marched all the way from the valley and helped save Richmond.
For a full week, the battle for the Confederate capital had seesawed through a series of hot engagements. Mechanicsville — there, inexplicably, Jackson was late to come up to reinforce General A. P. Hill, and his reputation suffered; Gaines's Mill; Savage Station; Malvern Hill. Despite mistakes and minor successes on both sides, at the end of the seven days, the Richmond defense perimeter, which Bob Lee had worked a month to set and strengthen, still held. Old Bob had outthought and outfought Little Mac and his commanders at every turn. He had slipped and slid in the early months of the war, and suffered for it. But the seven days wiped out all that. George feared for the Union's fate if Lee took charge.
Organization of the Bank of Lehigh Station hit a snag. Attorney Jupiter Smith rushed to Washington to report that the legislature respectfully suggested the state participate in the bank's profits, if any. 'What they're proposing, George, is that we give the state shares amounting to forty thousand dollars and a ten-year option to buy an equal amount at par.'
George barked, 'Oh, is that all?'
'No, it isn't. A donation of twenty thousand dollars to the road and bridge fund would be welcome. But I repeat — the suggestions were made very respectfully, George. The legislators realize you're an important man.'
'I'm a man with a big club over his head. Goddamn it, Jupe, it's bribery.'
The lawyer shrugged. 'I prefer to call it accommodation. Or standard practice. The Philadelphia and Pittsburgh banks entered into similar arrangements to get their charters. Whether you want to do it is up to you, of course. But we've bought the building, and if you say no, we'll have to put it up for sale. If you do say no, it won't bother me. I'll be shed of huge amounts of paperwork.'
'And huge fees.'
Smith looked aggrieved.
George chewed his cigar. 'I still say it's bribery.' More chewing. 'Tell them yes.'
George proved a poor prophet of military affairs. McClellan stayed on, evidently for want of a competent replacement. The only West Point officers who seemed capable of winning were those who had gone south. This renewed the outcries against the Academy. In mid-July, George received a letter asking him to serve on West Point's Board of Visitors as a replacement for a member suddenly deceased. The mounting attacks inclined him to accept, so he requested an interview with Stanton. The secretary gave him permission to serve so long as it didn't interfere with his assigned duties.
George was mired in work, but he assured Stanton there would be no problem. From the brief conversation, he gained not the slightest hint as to the secretary's opinion about the Academy. Mr. Stanton, he concluded, was by design a circular fortress — safe from attack from any direction.
Though the Board of Visitors appointment meant more pressure, George was thankful to have it. His job had grown so frustrating he hated to open his eyes in the morning, because that meant donning his uniform and going to the Winder Building. His work with artillery contracts was constantly interrupted by interminable meetings. Should the department recommend adoption of rifle shells — Minie balls with time fuses that exploded after firing? Should the department test shells containing liquid chlorine, which would turn to a heavy, deadly gas when released? George also continued to interview inventors of patently insane weapons. One day he wasted three hours examining drawings of a two-barrel fieldpiece designed to fire a pair of cannonballs linked by a chain. The chain was supposed to decapitate several soldiers when the balls landed.
'We court the lunatics, and the sane inventors stay away,' he protested to Constance. 'They can get a better hearing from a bootblack than they can from us.'
'You're exaggerating again.'
'Think so? Read this.' Into her hands he thrust the latest
'They deem us fools, and they're right,' he growled when she finished. She had nothing to say. He went off to see the children in a grumpy, abrasive mood that was becoming a constant in their lives.
Only one thing helped him survive in the Winder Building. It was not possible for Ripley to interfere with everything, and he now seemed inclined to refrain from meddling with the artillery program. The turnabout had come in April when Parrott rifles had proven their worth by quickly reducing Savannah's Fort Pulaski to ruins. Still, George felt like a man hanging from a ledge. How much longer his hands would hold out he didn't know.
Interwoven with his work and the war were the no less important events of day-to-day family life, some amusing, some troublesome, many just mundane and tiring. Constance by some miracle had found a small, snug house for rent in Georgetown, near the college. By mid-July they were into the upheaval of moving. For a week George roared around the place unable to locate his under-drawers, his cigars, or any other necessities of life.
One morning Patricia found the bedclothes reddened, and though her mother had prepared her with information about young womanhood, she wept for an hour.
William was growing rapidly, and his attitude toward girls was changing from loathing to interest tinctured with suspicion. Early in the war he had often said he couldn't wait to grow up, enlist, and have a grand time fighting for the Union. The long day and longer night after Bull Run had put an end to those declarations.
No letters came from Billy — another cause for concern. Often at night, when George had worried all he could about Old Ripley and the army, he would lie awake fretting about his younger brother or his old friend Orry.
Except for Brett, living in Lehigh Station, ties between the Hazards and the Mains were broken. Where was Orry? Where was Charles? A letter smuggler might be hard put to find either of them, though George supposed it could be done if absolutely necessary. What mattered was not that they exchanged letters but that they all came through this dark passage unhurt.
He never worried about Stanley. His older brother was dressing well and living lavishly. Stanley and Isabel were intimate with Washington's most powerful men and seen at the city's most prestigious social gatherings. George couldn't understand how it could happen to someone as incompetent as Stanley.
'There are seasons, George,' Constance said by way of answer. 'Cycles for all things — the Bible says that. Stanley stood in your shadow for a long time.'
'And now I'm to be hidden in his?'
'No, I didn't mean to imply —'
'It's the truth. It makes me mad.'
'I feel a bit jealous myself, if you must know. On the other hand, I'm sure Isabel is the chief architect of their success, and I'd hang myself before I'd change places with her.'
George puffed his cigar. 'You know, I can't forget that I hit Stanley after the train wreck. Maybe this is justice. Maybe it's my punishment.'
'Did you notice how friendly the secretary was?' Stanley exclaimed one Saturday night in July. Their carriage was taking them home from a Shakespearean performance at Leonard Graver's new theater on the site of the old National on E Street. 'Did you notice that, Isabel?'
'Why shouldn't Stanton be cordial? You're one of his best employees. He knows he can trust you.'
Stanley preened. Could it be true? The evidence certainly pointed that way. He was on good terms with the dogmatic but unquestionably patriotic secretary, at the same time maintaining friendly relations with Wade, to whom he occasionally passed bits of information about confidential War Department matters. Lashbrook's was prospering beyond all expectations, and Stanley was now anticipating a trip to New Orleans, there to establish additional trading contracts of a sensitive but potentially lucrative nature. He was making the world not merely his oyster but a whole plate of them. Strange how a savage war could change a man's life so greatly.
There were only a few aspects of Stanley's role of fierce Republican that he didn't like. He mentioned one to
