In 1856, when the newly-formed anti-slavery party, known as the
Republican, met to name a national ticket, Seward was the logical
candidate, but refused to allow his name to be considered, and the
choice fell upon that brilliant adventurer, John C. Fremont. Fremont
was, of course, defeated, and Seward continued to be the leader of
Republican thought, and the chief originator of Republican doctrine.
Indeed, he was, in a sense, the Republican party, so that, four years
later, he seemed not only the logical but the inevitable choice of the
party for President. His most formidable opponent was Abraham Lincoln,
of Illinois, who had been carefully working for the nomination, and who
was blessed with the shrewdest of campaign managers. Seward led on the
first ballot, and would have won but for the expert trading already
referred to in the story of Lincoln's nomination.

It was natural that Lincoln should offer him the state portfolio, and
Seward accepted it. From first to last, he held true to the President,
and the services he rendered the country were second only to those of
Lincoln himself. When Lincoln was killed, an attempt was also made to
murder Seward, and was very nearly successful--so nearly that for days
Seward lingered between life and death. He recovered, however, to resume
his place in Johnson's cabinet. Over the new President he had great
influence; he had long been an advocate of mercy toward the South, and
he did much to persuade the President to the course he followed in
restoring the southern states to the Union, without reference to the
wishes of Congress. Even John Sherman pronounced the plan "wise and
judicious," but Stevens, Sumner, and their powerful coterie in Congress
violently opposed it, and Seward came in for his share of the
vituperation and bitter accusation which the plan called forth.
Johnson's defeat closed his political career, and the last years of his
life were spent in travel.

The very cause of his downfall marks him as the greatest of the three,
for he placed justice above expediency, and not even the attempt upon
his life changed his feeling toward the South. Perhaps the wisdom of his
judgment was never better exemplified than in his purchase from Russia
of the great territory known as Alaska, for the sum of $7,200,000.
Alaska was regarded at the time as an icy desert of no economic value,
but time has changed that estimate, and the discovery of gold there made
it one of the richest of