messenger came to the door of the Senate Chamber, and sent me to tell you.' 'All right,' said I. 'You may tell the President's messenger that I will call immediately,' which, of course, I did without the least delay.

"I was received by the President in person, who, after the ordinary greetings, offered me a seat and seated himself near me. No one else was in the room. He commenced the conversation, saying in a halfplayful, half-serious tone and manner, 'I sent for you to tell me whom to appoint as members of my Cabinet.' I responded, saying, 'Mr. President, as that duty, under the Constitution, devolves, in the first instance, on the President, I have not given to the subject a serious thought; I have no names to suggest and expect to be satisfied with your selections.' He then said he had about concluded to nominate William H. Seward, of New York, as Secretary of State; Edward Bates, of Missouri, for Attorney-General; Caleb B. Smith, of Indiana, for Secretary of the Interior; Gideon Welles, of Connecticut, for Secretary of the Navy; Montgomery Blair, of Maryland, for Postmaster-General; and that he thought he ought to appoint Simon Cameron, of Pennsylvania, and Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio, for the remaining two places, but was in doubt which one to offer Mr. Cameron and would like to have me express my opinion frankly on the point.

"Well,' said I, 'Mr. President, if that is the only question involved, I have not the slightest doubt that Mr. Chase ought to be made Secretary of the Treasury,' and then I proceeded to mention, without hesita

tion or reserve, my reasons for this opinion. He thanked me cordially for my frankness. I took my leave. This interview lasted probably about ten or fifteen minutes."

Not all of those with whom Mr. Lincoln talked about his Cabinet professed, like Senator Harlan, to be satisfied with his selections. Radical Republicans, mistrusting Seward's spirit of compromise, besought him to take Chase and drop Seward altogether. Conservatives, on the contrary, fearing Chase's implacable "no compromise" spirit, urged Lincoln to omit him from the Cabinet. Seward finally, on March 2, probably thinking to force Lincoln's hand, withdrew his consent to take an appointment. He said later that he feared a "compound Cabinet" and did not wish to "hazard" himself in the experiment. This action brought no immediate reply from Mr. Lincoln. He simply left Seward's name where he had placed it at the head of the slate. The struggle over Cameron's appointment, which had been going on for more than two months, now culminated in a desperate encounter. The appointment of Blair was hotly contested. Caleb Smith's seat was disputed by Schuyler Colfax. In short it was a day-and-night battle of the factions of the Republican Party, which raged around Lincoln from the hour he appeared in Washington until the hour of his inauguration.

In spite of all the arguments and threats from excited and earnest men to which he listened candidly and patiently, Lincoln found himself, on the eve of his inauguration, with the Cabinet which he had

selected four months before unchanged. This fact, had it been known, might have modified somewhat the opinion expressed generally at the time, that the new President would never be anything but the tool of Chase or Seward, or of whomsoever proved to be the strong man of his Cabinet-that is, if he was ever inaugurated. Of this last many had doubts, and even, at the last hour, were betting in the hotel corridors and streets of Washington that Abraham Lincoln would never be President of the United States.

CHAPTER XXII

THE FIRST INAUGURATION OF LINCOLN-THE RELIEF OF FORT SUMTER-SEWARD'S AMBITION TO CONTROL

THE ADMINISTRATION

DAYBREAK of March 4, 1861, found the city of Washington astir. The Senate, which had met at seven o'clock the night before, was still in session; scores of persons who had come to see the inauguration of the first Republican President, and who had been unable to find other bed than the floor, were walking the streets; the morning trains were bringing new crowds. Added to the stir of those who had not slept through the night were sounds unusual in Washington-the clatter of cavalry, the tramp of soldiers.

All this morning bustle of the city must have reached the ears of the President-elect, at his rooms in Willard's Hotel, where from an early hour he had been at work. An amendment to the Constitution of the United States had passed the Senate in the all-night session, and as it concerned the subject of his inaugural, he must incorporate a reference to it in the address. Then he had not replied to the note he had received two days before from Mr. Seward, asking to be released from his promise to accept the portfolio of state. He could wait no longer. "I can't afford," he said to Mr. Nicolay, his secretary,

"to let Seward take the first trick." And he despatched the following letter:

"My dear Sir: Your note of the 2d instant, asking to withdraw your acceptance of my invitation to take charge of the State Department, was duly received. It is the subject of the most painful solicitude with me, and I feel constrained to beg that you will countermand the withdrawal. The public interest, I think, demands that you should; and my personal feelings are deeply enlisted in the same direction. Please consider and answer by 9 A.M. to-morrow. obedient servant,

Your

A. LINCOLN."

At noon, Mr. Lincoln's work was interrupted. The President of the United States was announced. Mr. Buchanan had come to escort his successor to the Capitol. The route of the procession was the historic one over which almost every President since Jefferson had travelled to take his oath of office; but the scene Mr. Lincoln looked upon as his carriage rolled up the avenue was very different from that upon which one looks to-day. No great blocks lined the streets; instead, the buildings were low, and there were numerous vacant spaces. Instead of asphalt, the carriage passed over cobblestones. Nor did the present stately and beautiful approach to the Capitol exist. The west front rose abrupt and stiff from an unkept lawn. The great building itself was still uncompleted, and high above his head Mr. Lincoln could see the swinging arm of an enormous crane rising from the unfinished dome.

But, as he drove that morning from Willard's to the Capitol, the President-elect saw far more significant sights than these. Closed about his carriage,