His plans of the campaign were required to be submitted to a body of twelve of his subordinates for approval, and this ridiculous proceeding ended in their adoption by a vote of eight to four. The next day the enemy abandoned Manassas, a move which was the result of direct treason, or, at least, criminal indiscretion on the part of some member of that commission, either directly or indirectly. After his plans were adopted, and their execution commenced, he was hampered and distressed by orders from his superiors at Washington, conflicting with his own well formed ideas and deranging his carefully prepared plans in the field.
He, however, bore all these things patiently, and at all times faithfully endeavored to do the very best, under the adverse circumstances which surrounded him. He, however, at all times, had the courage to speak his convictions, knowing the purity of his own actions, notwithstanding the fact that he was frequently called upon to execute orders that his own better judgment convinced him were conceived in ignorance or malice, and which could but do harm to him and to the cause he loved.
On July 7, 1862, we find him writing to the President his views on the conduct of the war. He said:
"In carrying out any system of policy which you may form, you will require a Commander-in-Chief of the army, one who possesses your confidence, understands your views, and who is competent to execute your orders by directing the military forces of the nation to the accomplishment of the objects by you proposed. I do not ask that place for myself, I am willing to serve you in such position as you may assign me, and I will do so as faithfully as ever subordinate served superior. I may be on the brink of eternity, and as I hope for forgiveness from my Maker, I have written this letter from sincerity towards you, and from love for my country."
Through all his correspondence, while in the field, with his superiors, there breathed a spirit of earnest and sincere devotion to country; and rarely was he tempted to utter words which proved how sorely he was tried and how much he resented the interference of incompetent authority. When pushed beyond all control by the foolish, unfriendly and unjust course of those at Washington, and when their interference had caused the failure of his plans, he wrote to Secretary of War Stanton, "You have done your best to sacrifice this army," and even then the words were written more in a tone of regret than of anger.
Nearly a month later, when the order was issued for the withdrawal of the Army of the Potomac before Richmond, under the full force of his convictions, he uttered a manly protest against such action, and entreated that the order might be rescinded. "All points," said he, "of secondary importance elsewhere should be abandoned, and every available man brought here. A decided victory here and the strength of the rebellion is crushed, it matters not what partial reverses we may meet with elsewhere. Here is the true defense of Washington; it is here, on the banks of the James, that the fate of the Union should be decided. Clear in my convictions of right, strong in the consciousness that I have ever been and still am actuated by love of my country,... I do now, what I never did in my life before, I entreat that this order may be rescinded."
How true these words were, and how prophetic their scope, may be proven by the words of General Sheridan several years later. When Grant was compelled at last to adopt the very plans of McClellan, thus giving as practical a vindication of that general as could be desired, Sheridan sent a message to Grant, but a little while before the surrender, urging him to come with all the force he could command in pursuit of Lee, saying, "Here is the end of the rebellion." A fit corollary to McClellan's dispatch from James River to Halleck: "Here, directly in front of this army, is the heart of the rebellion."
No general in this country, or in any other, was more universally beloved and admired by his troops, and no commander ever returned that affection with more warmth than did McClellan. Troops that under other commanders suffered defeat after defeat, until dismayed and discouraged they fled to Washington, followed by a pursuing and exultant enemy, were in a few days, by his magical influence over them, again transformed into brave and hopeful soldiers, ready to follow anywhere their trusted commander might lead.
It is a strange fact, but a fact, nevertheless, that the Army of the Potomac received all its good words, words of cheer and encouragement, from McClellan alone. Those in power at the capital were painfully blind to its sufferings on the toilsome march, or its deeds of valor on the bloody field. After the battle of Antietam, and after the Army of the Potomac had driven Lee from Maryland, General McClellan telegraphed his chief as follows: "I have the honor to report that Maryland is entirely freed from the presence of the enemy, who has been driven across the Potomac. No fears need now be entertained for the safety of Pennsylvania; I shall at once occupy Harper's Ferry."
Two days later, receiving no word of acknowledgement for his troops, whom he felt had earned them from the Commander-in-Chief, he, in a telegram of September 20th, said: "I regret that you have not yet found leisure to say one word in commendation of the recent achievements of this army or even to allude to them."