exchanged positions, and greatly to his disadvantage. That he escaped destruction was due to his good fortune and to our incompetency and not to his own merit as commander.
The Sunday morning after Pope’s defeat, David Dudley Field called at my office at the Treasury, and after some conversation upon the condition of affairs, he said he wished to see the President. I aided him in securing an interview. What was the object of this interview with the President I cannot say, but his conversation led my mind to the conclusion that he thought himself qualified for the command of the army.
The events of that day made a lasting impression upon my mind. The city was filled with troops, the hospitals, churches and other buildings were crowded with the wounded; the streets were stuffed with ambulances, baggage wagons, artillery, and material of war. The hills were dotted with tents, and the officers and men were discontented and almost in a state of mutiny. The demand for the restoration of McClellan was almost universal. There can be no doubt that he was then adored by the troops. In six months that feeling had given place to a feeling of indifference or positive distrust as to his capacity or integrity of purpose.
During the preceding week, I had made many attempts to secure an interview with the President in regard to the appointment of collectors and assessors, as they were to commence their duties under the law September 1. Finally he gave me Sunday at 11 o’clock. He canvassed the papers and considered the merits of the candidates with as much coolness and care apparently, as he would have exhibited in a condition of profound peace. When the business was ended, he asked me what I thought about the command of the army. I said unhesitatingly that the restoration of McClellan seemed the only safe policy. I had seen and heard so much, that I was apprehensive of serious trouble in the
