Albany, New York
December 1863
George McClellan was staring at his wife. She looked up, smiled, reddened, and looked back down at her book.
“More of Mr. Dickens?”
She smiled again. “Yes. Little Dorrit.”
“Surely you’ve read that before? I seem to recall.”
“Yes, and I’m reading it again. Sad and funny at the same time. The Office of Circumlocution. That’s funny.”
They were in the sitting room of their suite at the City Hotel in Albany. After his victory at Saratoga, McClellan had wired his wife. A famous victory. Burgoyne has fled the field. Advise you pay a call to Mrs. Seymour in Albany.
Nelly had wired back. Train arrives in Albany tomorrow, 10:30 a.m. Meet me. Advise we call on Governor and Mrs. together.
McClellan continued staring. She has the political instincts of a first lady.
Nelly had offered a brilliant idea and Seymour loved it. An impromptu press conference. The governor standing beside the man of the hour. Flanked by their wives. Two days before, Seymour had contemplated moving the capital temporarily to New York City for fear of capture. Now, he could declare that thanks to General McClellan, the enemy was in retreat and Albany was safe. He would also raise his own profile.
After the press conference, the two men and their wives had met in the privacy of Seymour’s office.
“This should just about clinch it, General. I believe we might want to make an announcement soon.”
McClellan had shaken his head. “One step at a time, Governor. Burgoyne is in retreat, but he’ll be back, reinforced. The decisive battle is yet to be won. Then, once we’ve settled with the British, we shall return to Washington City and deal with General Longstreet. All things in their time, Governor.”
Looking directly at Seymour, Nelly said, “Governor, I had assumed that you aspired to the presidency yourself.”
McClellan shot his wife a glance. Mrs. Seymour, all ringlets, rouge and bustle, looked like she would come out of her chair.
Seymour smiled. “One man of the hour at a time, Mrs. McClellan. I shall be delighted to do my best to deliver the great state of New York. This is a time to rise above personal ambitions. We must defeat Mr. Lincoln and we must put an end to this war. Your husband is the man for the job.”
McClellan had studied the governor. Smartly dressed, long side whiskers, receding hair that was probably once red. What is it about red hair and politics? Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, Jackson, Van Buren, Seymour. A polished politician. Gracious. And no doubt his personal ambition would not rise above being named director of the New York Customs House, perhaps the most lucrative government job in the country.
“Well said, sir. Though we must end the war on the battlefield,” McClellan had replied.
Seymour had nodded. A clear reference to the Peace Democrats who wanted to end the war at all costs. That would never do.
“I believe your victory, and the victory to come, will put an end to the peace-at-all-costs talk. Yes, the war must be won on the battlefield, as you say, and the man who delivers that win will be rewarded by a grateful nation.”
Later, in the hotel sitting room, Nelly felt McClellan’s eyes on her. She looked up from her book. “Something is on your mind. Say it.”
“Whatever on earth possessed you to ask Seymour if he aspired to the presidency himself?”
Nelly laughed. “I’m like your cavalry escort, George. I’m protecting your flank. I thought it was important to hear Governor Seymour say out loud that he wouldn’t seek the nomination. Get it all out in the open. You are wise in the ways of war, George. But politics is a different kind of warfare, and Seymour is a field marshal when it comes to politics.”
McClellan stared at his wife. She will indeed be a remarkable first lady. “We are a team to be reckoned with. Unlike the buffoon in the White House and his crazy wife. She claims to speak to the dead.”
Nelly let the comment pass. “What do you have in mind for General Burgoyne, George?” she asked.
“Do you believe Little Dorrit and Arthur are a good match?”
“George!” Nelly beamed. “When do you find time to read Mr. Dickens?”