Free Lincoln by Gore Vidal

voice from the bathroom.
    “Oh, I don’t! It’s the vampire press that says I do because I’m Southern and supposed to believe in slavery when
I’m
the only abolitionist in the family and you are just—mild and meek.”
    Lincoln returned, drying his face with a towel decorated with the W of Willard’s. “I suppose any man named Watson or Wilcox would feel justified in stealing one of these towels,” he said.
    “Or Washington. Did you give Governor Seward your speech to read?”
    Lincoln nodded. “He said he’d make notes.”
    “Don’t listen to him.”
    “I
listen
to everyone. I like him, all in all.”
    “He thinks he’s so clever.”
    “Well, he has every right to think that. He
is
clever. Though not clever enough to get rid of Simon Cameron for me.”
    “I thought you’d decided to keep Cameron out of the Cabinet.”
    “I did. Then I was un-decided. Anyway, I kept him out of the Treasury.” Lincoln got under the covers. “He’ll be at the War Department.”
    “Then I suggest you avoid fighting a war.”
    “I mean to, Molly.”
    “Who’ll be at the Treasury?”
    “Salmon P. Chase.”
    “That crazed abolitionist! He wants to be president.”
    “They all do. That’s why I’m putting the whole lot where I can see them. In the Cabinet,” Lincoln sighed.
    “I suppose you’re right, Father. You usually are. Eventually, anyway. Oh, Cousin Lizzie is going to stay on for the first few weeks we’re in the President’s House. She’s wonderful with upholsterers and all that sort of thing. They say the mansion has been let go to rack and ruin. Just like this country, I said, which I hope the vampire press does
not
pick up, true though it is. Mr. Buchanan has been a disaster and, thank God, it’s youwho’ll take his place and not Judge Douglas, brilliant as he is. Strange how I might have married him! You know, everyone thought I should. Even
I
thought I
should
but then I met you at the dance at our house, and you came up to me and you said, by way of introduction, that you wanted to dance with me, ‘in the worst way,’ you said, your very words, and so you did dance with me, and I told everyone, it was truly in the worst way! Oh, Father!” Mary smiled at the memory, and turned to her husband only to find him sound asleep on his back. From force of habit she touched his brow—she touched all the brows of those close to her, to detect signs of the fever that had killed her three-year-old Eddie; but Lincoln’s face was cool to the touch. Suddenly, he took a deep breath and then, as he exhaled, he moaned.
    “Poor man,” she said to her sleeping husband; and wondered if his dreams were now as terrifying as hers had been, unknown to him, for so many years.

SIX
    T HE NEXT morning, grip-sack in hand, Governor Seward arrived at Willard’s Hotel, fought his way through the crowded lobby and up crowded stairs and then down the crowded corridor to Parlor Six, where Lamon admitted him to a room crowded with two small boys playing tag while Lincoln sat beside the window, glasses on his nose, reading the newspapers.
    “I see your admirers are filling up the hotel.” Seward gave Lincoln the grip-sack.
    “I had never realized how many men are eager to serve their country in high-paid positions that are within my gift.” Lincoln took the grip-sack, plainly relieved to have it once more in his hand.
    “How do you deal with them?”
    “My two secretaries, poor boys, are interviewing the lot. Everyone who wants an appointment from me goes to them in Parlor One and leaves his credentials. Speaking of credentials, what do you think of mine?” Lincoln tapped the grip-sack. Willie tapped Tad on the head. Tad screamed.Lincoln turned to Lamon. “Take the boys to their mother.” Despite loud cries of defiance, the huge Lamon carried both boys from the room.
    “Well, sir, it is a finely argued case.” Seward took his time lighting a cigar. He was still not certain that he understood either the speech or