Work Text:
William H. Seward stepped out of his carriage. He was back in Washington. Though the air was more fetid, and the streets more crowded than his beautiful home in Auburn, he knew this was where he was needed.
The smoke from his newly lit cigar signaled his arrival to the atrium of the Executive Mansion. John Hay recognized Seward, complimented his yellow necktie, and quickly ushered him past the seemingly endless row of petitioners waiting to seek a favor from Lincoln. It took some time to locate the President once Seward entered his office. After scanning the room once, he recognized Lincoln’s form stretched on the ground, playing with two small, gray cats. He was dressed in a white cotton shirt and black trousers, bereft of his usual top hat and long coat, which were strewn across the floor. The light from the rising sun illuminated this endearing moment, and Seward was hesitant to disrupt it; however, there was The War.
“Always hard at work, I see,” remarked Seward.
“These two are more deserving of my attentions than half the people out there. Thankfully, they can’t ask me for appointments,” Lincoln answered in his soft, Midwestern drawl. He stood up from the ground, his long figure dwarfing Seward’s short stature. However different their heights, both were sporting disheveled hair, the pair obviously sparing in their use of combs.
“I’m just glad they were appreciated,” Seward replied, bending down to pet the cat named Dixie. He felt content that the kittens he gave to Lincoln in 1862 continued to bring him some joy.
Lincoln thanked him again, then added, “How was your trip to New York? Is your son feeling better?”
“Fanny was quite scared at first, but it turned out to be a passing sickness. It was refreshing to see the children, though.” Seward paused, “Any news from Stanton? I’ve been anxious about General Meade’s advance.”
This shift in conversation transformed the mood in the room. Lincoln’s affable smile had abated, and Seward thought he detected even more wrinkles covering Lincoln’s face than when he had first entered the room. He watched as Lincoln began to layer on his vest and long coat.
“After I talk with all the people waiting outside, I was going to head over to the War Department, if you’d like to join me.” Lincoln sighed, and popped his head outside the door to whisper something in Hay’s ear. Seward nodded once, and walked past the long line of people, deciding that he would take his dog for a walk and join Lincoln again in the afternoon. On the way out he noticed General Butler’s wife, and tipped his hat in greeting as he exited the White House.
Seward felt the bite of the autumn wind as he made his way to the War Department. He was feeling irascible and perturbed. After he left the White House, he had bumped into Gideon Welles. Welles had given him the news that another Union merchant ship had been sunk. Rather than walk his dog, he spent the morning drafting a letter to Lord Palmerston, the Prime Minister of England, demanding that he commit to stricter laws regarding British shipbuilders crafting blockade runners and war ships for the Confederacy. He had to get Lincoln’s opinion on his draft today, but decided to wait until after they met with Stanton. Adding to his dour mood was a nagging thought that had he been voted president, he could have prevented this from happening months ago. As his thoughts toward Lord Palmerston and his lost opportunity stormed in his head, Lincoln walked beside him, eating his sparse lunch for the day, a bright red apple. Deciding to distract himself from his thoughts, Seward began conversing with Lincoln instead.
“Why was Mrs. Butler at the White House today?” Seward pondered aloud.
“She was looking for Mary, but had to settle for me instead,” Lincoln clarified. “We discussed her husband’s new assignment in Fort Monroe. She thinks her husband deserves a higher position for all the abolition work he’s done. I must say, she is just as ambitious and theatrical as Butler himself,” Lincoln joked. Seward laughed, recalling General Butler’s boisterous personality as both politician and general.
A man in uniform opened the door for them. As they entered the building, they were immediately met with the sight of the bespectacled Stanton with his long, wiry beard, and a rare grin on his face. Stanton’s voice arose over the chattering from workers, shuffling of petitioners, and the clicking of typewriters. “Meade has advanced across the Rappahanock!” he exclaimed.
Lincoln returned the smile and responded, “I am relieved that the army is moving for once. We need these small victories in the wake of the recent disasters. I will send a telegram to thank Meade and his troops.” Lincoln paused, his brow now furrowed as if suddenly pained. "Recently, though, I have been so troubled by the news in Chattanooga, I find it hard to sleep. What reports do you have about Sherman’s advance?”
Stanton began to recite the litany of problems faced by Rosencrans’ army in Chattanooga, but Seward’s thoughts were arrested once again by the downed Union ship. How vexatious to have to deal with a government he knew to be far inferior than his own. How hypocritical of Lord Palmerston to even think of sympathizing with the rebels when he prides himself on his eradication of the transatlantic slave trade. He knew firm action was needed to deal with the government whose lax policies gave the rebels the means to sink hundreds of Union ships, however, he also knew that Lincoln favored more forgiving policies toward Britain. He hoped that Lincoln would agree with him and send the letter without meddling with it.
His thoughts were interrupted by Stanton’s mention of Grant, whom Seward was very interested in.
“…He is currently making plans for the situation at Chattanooga,” Stanton continued, and at that, Seward noticed Lincoln’s eyes brighten. That was enough to bring him some hope in the currently dreadful situation.
Stanton was called away by an aide, and Seward and Lincoln were left alone in the office. Seward decided that this was the opportune moment to discuss his letter to the Prime Minister. He explained the predicament to Lincoln, brought out his letter from his coat pocket, and studied Lincoln’s face as he scanned the letter.
Lincoln put the letter down in his lap and briefly contemplated the quandary. He then recited his verdict.
“I’m glad you brought this to me,” Lincoln started, “I feel your consternation at yet another tragedy, but your fiery rhetoric toward the British could anger them further and start another war. I know that you wish to act quickly, but we are in a very precarious situation with the British that cannot be overstated. I will make some edits to the letter, and send it later tonight,” Lincoln suggested, although his will was set. Seward completely disagreed. He knew he was right. Of course he would know more about working with the British. He had years of political experience in New York, while all Lincoln had was a few years as a representative and a lifetime spent in the middle of nowhere.
“I must disagree, Mr. President. We have tried your tactics before, and the British, in turn, built the CSS Alabama which alone has taken down almost 50 ships. We must send a more aggressive message,” Seward responded with barely hidden indignation.
Lincoln, however, remained unperturbed. “We don’t want another disaster like the Trent Affair. Now, I am going to change some of the words in the hope of averting a war with one of the biggest empires on Earth. I know that you want to expand our borders, but I don't think we currently have the manpower or supplies to take over Britain and France!” Lincoln ended wryly, recalling Seward’s idea to declare war against Britain and France in the days before Fort Sumter.
The bellicose Seward rolled his eyes.
This scene was interrupted by Stanton strutting back into his office, all the while dictating orders to his subordinates. He took a seat at his desk, furiously scribbling something on a sheet of paper. Lincoln took his cue to leave Stanton to his work, and Seward followed him outside. On the way back to their houses, they agreed to take up this subject again after Lincoln’s excursion to Ford’s Theater.
As they were ambling through Lafayette Square, they were stopped by Charles Sumner.
“Its funny I should run into you, Mr. President. I was just about to suggest a new abolition policy for your administration,” Sumner announced, passionately.
Lincoln gave a barely detectable, but exasperated glance toward Seward, and Seward deduced that Lincoln was not ready to hear another of Sumner’s grandiloquent speeches against slavery at the moment. In response, Seward diverted Sumner toward his own house, distracting him with one of Sumner’s favorite subjects, foreign policy.
“I look forward to hearing your views another time,” Lincoln called after Sumner diplomatically, casting a grateful look at Seward before heading back to the Executive Mansion.
Seward greeted Lincoln at the door of his home. Lincoln had just arrived at Seward’s house after watching the play, The Marble Heart. After leading him to the study that both of them knew so well, Seward settled in a red, velvet chair next to Lincoln’s lounging form. The fire provided the only source of light, and the crackling firewood the only sound, creating a homely atmosphere for the two men.
“How was the play?” Seward began, hesitatingly. After having the opportunity to cool down, he regretted his impulsive actions earlier in the day. He understood that he had allowed bitterness to overtake the obvious respect he held for his friend.
“It certainly wasn’t Shakespeare, but Mary thoroughly enjoyed it and I was entertained. I was glad to go to the theater because it gave me some time to think over the letter.” He pulled this out of his hat that was sitting on the floor, and handed it to Seward. “I’ve made some changes, but I wanted your opinion before it was sent.”
Seward read through the letter, noticing that most of the invective was gone, but that Lincoln had kept some of his important passages urging the British government to commit to legislation. He folded the letter, and handed it back to Lincoln.
“It’s not exactly how I would have liked,” Seward said, “but I think it should suffice.”
“You know, in the play, there was a statue that the protagonist sculpted. I was reminded of your stubborn resolve, as unshakable as marble,” Lincoln said and smiled. “But I am glad we could come to an agreement. I’ll have it sent to Mr. Adams in the morning.”
Soon, the serious conversation turned to stories, which turned to laughter, and both Seward and Lincolns’ minds were eased.