that his act in calling the
greatest men of his party, and the party of opposition as well, into his
Cabinet was a deed of such intellectual audacity that it scarcely had a
parallel in history.
Mr. Seward, the Secretary of State, had reluctantly consented to enter
the Cabinet at the last moment as an act of patriotism to save the
country from impending ruin too great for any other man to face. His
attitude was a reasonable one. He was the undoubted leader of the
triumphant party.
Without a moment's hesitation on the first day of his service as
Secretary of State he assumed the position of a Prime Minister, whose
duties included a general supervision of all the Departments of
Government, as well as a Regent's supervision over the Executive.
Salmon P. Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury, at once took up the
gauntlet thrown down by his rival. He not only regarded the President
with contempt, but he extended it to the political trickster who dared
to assume the airs of Premiership in a Democratic Republic.
To these Cabinet meetings came no voices of comfort from the country.
The Abolitionist press, which represented the aggressive conscience of
the North, continued to ridicule and denounce the Inaugural address in
unmeasured terms.
The simple truth was soon apparent to the sombre eyes of the President.
He was facing the gravest problem that ever confronted a statesman
without an organized party on which he could depend for support. But two
of his Cabinet had any confidence in his ability or genuine
loyalty--Gideon Welles, a Northern Democrat, and Montgomery Blair, a
Southern aristocrat.
The problem before him was bigger than faction, bigger than party,
bigger than Slavery. Could a government founded on the genuine
principles of Democracy live? Could such a Union be held together
composed of warring sections with vast territories extending over
thousands of miles, washed by two oceans extending from the frozen
mountains of Canada to the endless summers of the tropics?
If the Southern people should unite in a slave-holding Confederacy, it
was not only a question as to whether he could shape an army mighty
enough to conquer them, the more urgent and by far the graver problem
was whether he could mould into unity the warring factions of the
turbulent, passion-torn North. These people who had elected him--could
he ever hope to bind them into a solid fighting unit? If their
representatives in his Cabinet were tr
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