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Goodwin, writing in 2005 before the words had any Clintonian significance, describes an "aura of inevitability" surrounding Seward's quest to become the Republican nominee in 1860. Drawn by that aura, thousands thronged his Auburn, NY estate to celebrate the certain news that their hometown guy had been picked. But instead came the convention's inexplicable result: Lincoln, a third-tier candidate, would be the nominee.
Goodwin describes the aftershocks for the "angry, hurt, and humiliated" front-runner:
Though Seward had pledged his support to the Republican ticket in a public letter, he was so dejected in the aftermath of his defeat that he considered resigning immediately from the Senate. Without the onerous demands of the congressional session, he would remain in Auburn, surrounded by his loving family and consoling friends. "When I went out to market this morning," he told one friend, "I had the rare experience of a man walking about town, after he is dead, and hearing what people would say of him. I confess I was unprepared for so much real grief, as I heard expressed at every corner."
Team of Rivals is, among other things, the story of how Seward rallied back. He campaigned for Lincoln, served devotedly as secretary of state through the calamity of the Civil War, became one of the president's dearest friends, and proved so indispensable and loyal to the Union cause that he was targeted in what was meant to be a synchronized triple assassination of Lincoln, Seward, and Vice President Andrew Johnson. On the night Lincoln was shot, another would-be assassin put Seward's son in a coma and slashed the secretary of state's face so savagely that the doctor who saved his life said he'd "looked like an exsanguinated corpse."
The Salmon Chase we meet on the pages of Goodwin's book could never quite do what Seward did, could never truly shake off the pain of losing to Lincoln in 1860. He campaigned for Lincoln. He served ably in the wartime cabinet. But as the 1864 election approached, Treasury Secretary Chase was engaged in a stealth campaign to take his boss's place as the Republican nominee. It failed. Lincoln kept him on anyway. But when Chase persisted in his pattern of behavior, sending Lincoln what was essentially his fourth tantrum-fueled, attention-seeking resignation letter in as many years, the president shocked him by accepting the resignation.
Goodwin quotes what Lincoln is said to have told a confidante afterward:
"I will tell you," Lincoln said, "how it is with Chase. It is the easiest thing in the world for a man to fall into a bad habit. Chase has fallen into two bad habits....He thinks he has become indispensable to the country. He also thinks he ought to be President; he has no doubt whatever about that." These two unfortunate tendencies, Lincoln explained, had made Chase "irritable, uncomfortable, so that he is never perfectly happy unless he is thoroughly miserable."
Senator Clinton can choose to be Chase, who made his third and fourth failed runs for the presidency in 1868 and 1872. Or she can be Seward.
Lincoln, with his extraordinary gift for gauging the emotions and motives of powerful men, may have realized that even Seward wasn't fully ready to be Seward in 1860. Whatever Lincoln's rationale, all of us -- Senator Obama, Senator Clinton, their supporters, and the rest of America -- should note that Lincoln did not pick any of the men he'd beaten to serve as vice president.
There is, put simply, no Honest Abe Seal of Approval for an Obama-Clinton ticket. But there is, in Seward, a precedent for how Senator Clinton might perform a sort of alchemy on her disappointment, on her certainty that she'd make the better commander-in-chief. She can start, as Seward started, by hitting the trail in vigorous support of the victorious rival. Here, in Goodwin's words, is what greeted the defeated candidate when he put his party ahead of his grief and his bitterness.
Fifty thousand people gathered to hear Seward speak in Detroit, and the fervor only increased as his tour moved west. Thousands waited past midnight for the arrival of his train in Kalamazoo, and when he disembarked, crowds followed him along the streets to the place where he would sleep that night. The next day, thousands more assembled on the village green to enjoy a brilliant "procession of young men and women on horseback, all well mounted, children with banners, men with carts and wagons," that preceded the formal speeches. Still craving more, the crowd followed the entourage back to the train station, where Seward appeared at the train window to speak again.
Goodwin writes of an admirer on the campaign trail who told Seward, "you are doing more for Lincoln's election than any hundred men in the United States."
Seward's reply: "Well, I ought to."
Exactly.
Link:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-quigg/hrcs-choice-seward-or-cha_b_101842.html:shrug: