's death. Of these latter, the most extreme which portray
Lincoln toward the close of February so unnerved as to be incapable of
public duty, may be dismissed as apocryphal. But there can be no
doubt that his unhappiness was too great for the vain measurement
of descriptive words; that it intensified the nervous mood which had
already possessed him; that anxiety, deepening at times into terrible
alarm, became his constant companion.

In his dread and sorrow, his dilemma grew daily more intolerable.
McClellan had opposed so stoutly the Washington birthday order that
Lincoln had permitted him to ignore it. He was still wavering which
advice to take, McClellan's or the elder generals'. To remove McClellan,
to try at this critical moment some other general, did not occur to him
as a rational possibility. But somehow he felt he must justify himself
to himself for yielding to McClellan' s views. In his zeal to secure
some judgment more authoritative than his own, he took a further step
along the dangerous road of going over the Commander's head, of bringing
to bear upon him influences not strictly included in the military
system. He required McClellan to submit his plan to a council of his
general officers. Lincoln attended this council and told the generals
"he was not a military man and therefore would be governed by the
opinion of a majority."(10) The council decided in McClellan's favor by
a vote of eight to four. This was a disappointment to Lincoln. So firm
was his addiction to the overland route that he could not rest content
with the council's decision. Stanton urged him to disregard it, sneering
that the eight who voted against him were McClellan's creatures, his
"pets." But Lincoln would not risk going against the majority of
the council. "We are civilians," said he, "we should justly be held
responsible for any disaster if we set up our opinions against those of
experienced military men in the practical management of a campaign."(11)

Nevertheless, from this quandary, in which his reason forced him to do
one thing while all his sensibilities protested, he extricated himself
in a curious way. Throughout the late winter he had been the object of
a concerted attack from Stanton and the Committee. The Committee had
tacitly annexed Stanton. He conferred with them confidentially. At each
important turn of events, he and they always got together in a secret
powwow. As early as February twentieth, when Lincoln seemed to be