ears of another great soldier, Wolseley.  As he showed himself in civil life, McClellan was an attractive gentleman of genial address; it was voted that he was “magnetic,” and his private life was so entirely irreproachable as to afford lively satisfaction.  More than this, it may be conjectured that to a certain standard of honour, loyalty, and patriotism, which he set consciously before himself, he would always have been devotedly true.  But if it be asked further whether McClellan was the desired instrument for Lincoln’s and the country’s needs, and whether, as the saying is, he was a man to go tiger-hunting with, something very much against him, though hard to define, appears in every part of his record (except indeed, one performance in his Peninsular Campaign).  Did he ever do his best to beat the enemy?  Did he ever, except for a moment, concentrate himself singly upon any great object?  Were even his preparations thorough?  Was his information ever accurate?  Was his purpose in the war ever definite, and, if so, made plain to his Government?  Was he often betrayed into marked frankness, or into marked generosity?  No one would be ready to answer yes to any of these questions.  McClellan fills so memorable a place in American history that he demands such a label as can be given to him.  In the most moving and the most authentic of all Visions of Judgment, men were not set on the right hand or the left according as they were of irreproachable or reproachable character; they were divided into those who did and those who did not.  In the provisional judgment which men, if they make it modestly, should at times make with decision, McClellan’s place is clear.  The quality, “spiacente a Dio ed ai nemici suoi,” of the men who did not, ran through and through him.

Lincoln required first a general who would make no fatal blunder, but he required too, when he could find him, a general of undaunted enterprise; he did not wish to expose the North to disaster, but he did mean to conquer the South.  There was some security in employing McClellan, though employing him did at one time throw on Lincoln’s unfit shoulders the task of defending Washington.  It proved very hard to find another general equally trustworthy.  But, in the light of facts which Lincoln came to perceive, it proved impossible to consider McClellan as the man to finish the war.

We need only notice the doings of the main armies in this theatre of the war and take no account of various minor affairs at outlying posts.  From the battle of Bull Run, which was on July 21, 1861, to March 5, 1862, the Southern army under Joseph Johnston lay quietly drilling at Manassas.  It, of course, entrenched its position, but to add to the appearance of its strength, it constructed embrasures for more than its number of guns and had dummy guns to show in them.  At one moment there was a prospect that it might move.  Johnston and the general with him had no idea of attacking the army of the