ld be seen from the southern windows
of the White House, and were looking anxiously northward for the arrival
of the men on whose prompt service the safety of the capital was to
depend. I have myself stood in Lincoln's old study, the windows of which
overlook the Potomac, and have recalled to mind the fearful pressure of
anxiety that must have weighed upon the President during those long
days; as looking across the river, he could trace by the smoke the
picket lines of the Virginia troops. He must have thought of the
possibility that he was to be the last President of the United States,
that the torch handed over to him by the faltering hands of his
predecessor was to expire while he was responsible for the flame. The
immediate tension was finally broken by the appearance of the weary and
battered companies of the Massachusetts troops and the arrival two days
later, by the way of Annapolis, of the New York Seventh with an
additional battalion from Boston.

It was, however, not only in April, 1861, that the capital was in peril.
The anxiety of the President (never for himself but only for his
responsibilities) was to be repeated in July, 1863, when Lee was in
Maryland, and in July, 1864, at the time of Early's raid.

We may remember the peculiar burdens that come upon the
commander-in-chief through his position at the rear of the armies he is
directing. The rear of a battle is, even in the time of victory, a place
of demoralising influence. It takes a man of strong nerve not to lose
heart when the only people with whom he is in immediate contact are
those who through disability or discouragement are making their way to
the rear. The sutlers, the teamsters, the wounded men, the panic-struck
(and with the best of soldiers certain groups do lose heart from time to
time, men who in another action when started right are ready to take
their full share of the fighting)--these are the groups that in any
action are streaming to the rear. It is impossible not to be affected by
the undermining of their spirits and of their hopefulness. If the battle
is going wrongly, if in addition to those who are properly making their
way to the rear, there come also bodies of troops pushed out of their
position who have lost heart and who have lost faith in their
commanders, the pressure towards demoralisation is almost irresistible.

We may recall that during the entire four years of War, Lincoln, the
commander-in-chief, was always in the rea