It must not be supposed, however, that Lincoln at once succeeded in pleasing everybody, even among his friends,—­even among those nearest to him.  In selecting his cabinet, which he did substantially before he left Springfield for Washington, he thought it wise to call to his assistance the strong men of his party, especially those who had given evidence of the support they commanded as his competitors in the Chicago convention.  In them he found at the same time representatives of the different shades of opinion within the party, and of the different elements—­former Whigs and former Democrats—­from which the party had recruited itself.  This was sound policy under the circumstances.  It might indeed have been foreseen that among the members of a cabinet so composed, troublesome disagreements and rivalries would break out.  But it was better for the President to have these strong and ambitious men near him as his co-operators than to have them as his critics in Congress, where their differences might have been composed in a common opposition to him.  As members of his cabinet he could hope to control them, and to keep them busily employed in the service of a common purpose, if he had the strength to do so.  Whether he did possess this strength was soon tested by a singularly rude trial.

There can be no doubt that the foremost members of his cabinet, Seward and Chase, the most eminent Republican statesmen, had felt themselves wronged by their party when in its national convention it preferred to them for the Presidency a man whom, not unnaturally, they thought greatly their inferior in ability and experience as well as in service.  The soreness of that disappointment was intensified when they saw this Western man in the White House, with so much of rustic manner and speech as still clung to him, meeting his fellow-citizens, high and low, on a footing of equality, with the simplicity of his good nature unburdened by any conventional dignity of deportment, and dealing with the great business of state in an easy-going, unmethodical, and apparently somewhat irreverent way.  They did not understand such a man.  Especially Seward, who, as Secretary of State, considered himself next to the Chief Executive, and who quickly accustomed himself to giving orders and making arrangements upon his own motion, thought it necessary that he should rescue the direction of public affairs from hands so unskilled, and take full charge of them himself.  At the end of the first month of the administration he submitted a “memorandum” to President Lincoln, which has been first brought to light by Nicolay and Hay, and is one of their most valuable contributions to the history of those days.  In that paper Seward actually told the President that at the end of a month’s administration the government was still without a policy, either domestic or foreign; that the slavery question should be eliminated from the struggle about the Union; that the matter of the maintenance of the forts and other possessions in