In some inscrutable manner, General McClellan had become, and was too well aware of it, the chief and representative of that part of the American people which had not given its heart to Mr. Lincoln, however full it might be of genuine patriotism. McClellan was also curiously adopted by that other part of the population which had no patriotism whatever and which hated alike the President and the cause he represented.

There had not yet been time, nor heat, nor suffering, to hammer and weld the nation into a compact mass with reference to the issues of the war, and the base upon which the government stood was appreciably narrow and infirm. The powers in the hands of Mr. Lincoln, even as Dictator, were mainly executive and directory, rather than creative. He was compelled to meet and deal with all the forces of the hour, whether assistant or opposing, just as they were and not as he might have wished them. There was an indefinite mark at which his power might break in his hands if unwisely overstrained. He well understood the unreasoning enthusiasm with which the greater part of the army regarded their young and, as they deemed him, their "dashing" commander. They had seen him dash, frequently and at full gallop, through camp after camp, accompanied by a brilliant staff which contained sprigs of European royalty. They had, indeed, manipulated the Comte de Paris and the Duc de Chartres into "Captain Parry" and "Captain Chatters," but these were still a kind of wandering king, and the great general, the young American Napoleon, had his tent full of that kind of men and was teaching them the art of war. He was also teaching it, they half believed, to the rest of the army and to Congress and to Mr. Lincoln, and some day he would give the Confederates a complete course of instruction.

The intensity of the army jealousy of "civilian interference" offers an utterly ludicrous aspect of the situation, considering who and what were the civilians in question and who and what were the "military." Still, it was a power and not to

be disregarded, and had much to do with the President's long endurance of General McClellan's procrastination. The existence of such an obstacle seems to have been unknown to the country at large at the time, but it was sadly set forth afterwards, in detail, in the testimony given on the trial of Fitz John Porter, after the second battle of Bull Run.

The Peninsular campaign was an accomplished failure before the removal of McClellan, but that was no hindrance to the persistent declaration, by his partisans, that the failure had been ordained and engineered by "civilians" at Washington, in order that disaster might furnish a pretext for the removal. Mr. Lincoln's position was one of extreme delicacy, but at last the Confederate authorities came to his deliverance. The final adoption of a plan of campaign for the Union armies was provided for at Richmond. Early in March, 1862, the rebel generals concluded that their forces at and about Manassas Gap had bearded and checked an army three times their strength as long as it was safe to do so. They retreated, without striking a blow, or so much as giving warning, or even saying what they meant to do next.

So bitter and taunting a comment upon the wisdom of Mr. Lincoln's previous urgency enabled him to compel army action of some kind. At a meeting of the corps commanders of the Army of the Potomac, on the 13th of March, the retreat of the enemy was formally recognized; a plan of an advance upon Richmond was adopted, approved by General McClellan, and forwarded to the President. It is worthy of note that his official approval and reply, through the Secretary of War, was instantaneous. It bears the same date of March 13, 1862. Whatever default of energy or promptness might be chargeable to others, not an hour of precious time was wasted by the Commander-in-Chief.

The joint dates of the Army plan and of its approval by Mr. Lincoln once more bring out the fact of his continuous and perfect state of preparation. He did not wait and study,

because he did not need to do so. He had carefully digested the whole subject, and no form of its presentation could take him by surprise. As he himself was apt to remark when seemingly new things were laid before him, he had "studied that matter," and his action upon it was a foregone conclusion. It was said that a plan had been adopted, but, after all, it was little more than a determination that the army should sail down the Potomac, land on the Virginia side and hunt for something to do. It was agreed upon with Mr. Lincoln that the hunt should be pushed vigorously in the direction of Richmond, and he went down in person to urge and press and aid in every possible way the magnificent "meet" of well-armed

hunters.