a unit; it must be given a "sphere of influence"--to use our modern
term--which would fully satisfy all its impulses of expansion; and in
that sphere, every question of slavery must be left entirely, forever,
to local action. In a word, they demanded for the South what today would
be described as a "dominion" status. Therefore, they insisted that the
party which had captured the Northern political machine should formulate
its reply to these demands. They gave notice that they would not discuss
individual schemes, but only such as the victorious Republicans might
officially present. Thus the national crisis became a party crisis. What
could the Republicans among themselves agree to propose?

The central figure of the crisis seemed at first to be the brilliant
Republican Senator from New York. Seward thought he understood the
South, and what was still more important, human nature. Though he echoed
Greeley's cry for peace--translating his passionate hysteria into the
polished cynicism of a diplomat who had been known to deny that he was
ever entirely serious--he scoffed at Greeley's fears. If the South had
not voted lack of confidence in the Breckinridge crowd, what had it
voted? If the Breckinridge leaders weren't maneuvering to save their
faces, what could they be accused of doing? If Seward, the Republican
man of genius, couldn't see through all that, couldn't devise a way
to help them save their faces, what was the use in being a brilliant
politician?

Jauntily self-complacent, as confident of himself as if Rome were
burning and he the garlanded fiddler, Seward braced himself for the task
of recreating the Union.

But there was an obstacle in his path. It was Lincoln. Of course, it
was folly to propose a scheme which the incoming President would not