demoralized, and was actually reduced to telegraphing to McClellan: "I
beg of you to assist me, in this crisis, with your ability and
experience." It was the moment for a master to take control, and the
President met the occasion. There was only one thing to be done, and
circumstances were such that not only must that thing be done by him,
but also it must be done by him in direct opposition to the strenuous
insistence of all his official and most of his self-constituted
advisers. It was necessary to reinstate McClellan.

It was a little humiliating to be driven to this step. McClellan had
lately been kept at Alexandria with no duty save daily to disintegrate
his own army by sending off to Washington and to the camp of his own
probable successor division after division of the troops whom he had so
long commanded. Greatly mortified, he had begged at least to be
"permitted to go to the scene of battle." But he was ignored, as if he
were no longer of any consequence whatsoever. In plain truth it was made
perfectly obvious to him and to all the world that if General Pope could
win a victory the administration had done with General McClellan. Mr.
Lincoln described the process as a "snubbing." Naturally those who were
known to be the chief promoters of this "snubbing," and to have been
highly gratified by it, now looked ruefully on the evident necessity of
suddenly cutting it short, and requesting the snubbed individual to
assume the role of their rescuer. McClellan's more prominent enemies
could not and would not agree to this. Three members of the cabinet even
went so far as formally to put in writing their protest against
restoring him to the command of any army at all; while Stanton actually
tried to frighten the President by a petty threat of personal
consequences. But this was foolish. The crisis was of the kind which
induced Mr. Lincoln to exercise power, decisively. On this occasion his
impersonal, unimpassioned temperament left his judgment free to work