Whig. Chase, Cameron, Welles and Blair all represented the Democratic wing of the new party-a majority of four against three. To those who reminded him of this fact, Lincoln said, "You seem to forget that I am to be there." They did seem to forget that fact; but it was a fact not to be forgotten.

These were the seven men whom Lincoln nominated, and who constituted his first Cabinet: William H. Seward, of New York, Secretary of State; Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio, Secretary of the Treasury; Simon Cameron, of Pennsylvania, Secretary of War; Gideon Welles, of Connecticut, Secretary of the Navy; Edward Bates, of Missouri, Attorney General; and Montgomery Blair, of Missouri, Postmaster-General.

Not a few of Lincoln's advisers were startled by his selections. They believed that such a Cabinet was certain to lack harmony. There was good ground for this fear. More than one of these men accepted Mr. Lincoln as a political accident, and regarded the election as a mistake to be corrected in 1864. At least one of them began immediately to lay his plans to serve the country as its president as soon as Mr. Lincoln should have completed his one and only term.

These facts were not unknown to Lincoln. If ever a president rose above petty fear of suffering by reason of his appearance among strong men, it was Abraham Lincoln. He held that the times were too grave for considerations of personal vanity. He knew that each one of these men enjoyed the confidence of an important element in the party which had elected him, and that each one had important relations to a particular section or group, and that each one strengthened the Cabinet and would strengthen the administration. Moreover, he recognized the ability of these men, and earnestly desired to compensate for his own limitations by the utilization of their strong qualities. Not always has an American president chosen for his Cabinet men whom he knew to be so likely to oppose him. Abraham Lincoln was himself so magnanimous a man that he believed he could trust his associates to be magnanimous. The experiment was a trying one, but it was successful.

It will be well for the reader to be introduced to the seven men who constituted Lincoln's first Cabinet.

On the day that the Republican Convention assembled in Chicago, William H. Seward was fifty-nine years old. What celebration of the event occurred on that day within his own family is not known; the real celebration was set for the second day thereafter. For Seward had no doubt what was to be his birthday present. Upon his lawn assembled a large company of his neighbors and political friends, awaiting the happy moment when they might congratulate him on his nomination as president. A cannon, loaded, stood at the gate, ready to announce the nomination of William H. Seward.

On that day, William H. Seward mingled with his guests, hospitable, friendly, confident, appreciative. He recognized the honor that was presently to come to him as an honor that was his due. For thirty years he had been in politics, and he was regarded as one of the finest types of American manhood in political life. To be sure, he was short in stature, and his gestures were not graceful, and his scholarship was versatile rather than profound, but he was a man of character, ability, learning and culture. Although he sometimes used an oath in a moment of exasperation, so that Lincoln could ask another man, "Are you an Episcopalian? You swear like Seward," he was a truly religious man, and a man who for righteousness' sake was capable of suffering. He had labored long and arduously for the creation of the Republican Party. He had brought to its organization his prestige as having been twice governor of New York and the still further honor of a distinguished career in the United States Senate. He combined dignity with urbanity, and learning with a practical knowledge of the leadership of men.

As for his nomination, who could doubt that that was to come to him for the asking? His affairs were in the hands of Thurlow Weed, the most adroit politician in New York State, and with an organized force that left little doubt of the result. So the cannon stood, loaded, and ready to fire as soon as the news should come of Seward's nomination.

The first ballot showed him strongly in the lead. The second followed, and Seward was still leading, though he had gained but little and Abraham Lincoln's vote had risen alarmingly. "I shall be nominated on the next ballot," said Mr. Seward smilingly. So it would have appeared; for he had 1842 votes, Lincoln 181, and the 991⁄2 scattering votes would seek a permanent alignment on the third ballot, and who could doubt where the greater half of them would go?

The third ballot came swiftly, and a telegram showing the result was handed to Seward. He turned ashen pale. Abraham Lincoln had been nominated. Seward was, as he said to his wife, "a leader deposed by my own party in the organization for decisive battle."

Alas for the brazen-throated messenger that had been borrowed and brought to the village of Auburn for that day! The load was drawn unfired; and as the cannon was hauled away, it was as if the funeral of a mighty leader were being celebrated, and his body carried to its burial on a gun-carriage.

There was joy that night in Springfield, Illinois; but there was deep sorrow in Auburn, New York.

Seward's disappointment was hardly greater than that of his followers. Returning delegates, filled with enthusiasm which they had gathered in Chicago, found their constituents very glum. "We sent you to Chicago to nominate a statesman," they said, "and you have given us a railsplitter."*

Many years afterward Richard Grant White wrote in the North American Review:

Mr. Seward saw the crown of his life petulantly snatched from him and given to-no matter whom, if not to him-but to one who had done nothing to merit it, and who was so unknown to

*Honorable Addison G. Procter, a native of Massachusetts but a delegate from Kansas, went east after the convention and made a visit to his old home. He was full of enthusiasm when he left Chicago, but his ardor was much dampened as he went eastward. Arriving at his old home at Gloucester he endeavored to work up a ratification meeting, but found no favorable sentiment. The sentence above is quoted from answers made to him.