General William Tecumseh Sherman had woken at dawn, as he did most days, and watched the sky brighten outside the hotel window. Ellen was sleeping soundly, her even breathing almost a slight snore. He rose quietly, dressed and let himself out. The hotel lobby was empty except for the night porter who was dozing in a chair. He jumped to his feet when he heard Sherman’s boots on the marble floor.
“Mornin’ General. Looks to be a nice day.” He unlocked the front door and raised his hand in a most unmilitary salute. Sherman was barely aware of his presence. William’s Hotel was just across from the Presidential Mansion and he walked that way. The blue-clad soldiers at the end of the drive snapped to attention when he passed and he returned the salute. It was going to be a fine day.
The weather, that is. How fine it would be for him depended upon the man in the White House. He walked faster, as though to get away from his thoughts. Stopped for a moment to watch a flock of crows swirling about the stub of the unfinished Washington Monument, tried to think about anything except his approaching meeting with the President. He knew himself, knew how easy it would be to fall into the black humor that dogged his existence. Not now. Not today. He turned abruptly and retraced his path. Walking at a brisk military pace, staring straight ahead, fighting to keep his thoughts under tight control.
He smelled fresh coffee as he approached the hotel, went through to the bar, talked to the waiter there. The moment of blackness had passed; the coffee was very good and he had a second cup.
Ellen was seated before the vanity when he came back to their room, brushing her long black hair.
“You are up and about early, Cump,” she said.
“Once I woke up and started thinking…”
“Then you started to fuss yourself and worry, that’s what you did. But not today.”
“But today is so important…”
“Every day is important now. You must forget what happened in Kentucky. Since then you have done work that General Halleck is proud of. He is your supporter, as is your friend Grant.”
“I let them down once, I can’t forget that.”
She turned and took his hands, pressed them firmly between hers as if to add physical support as well. He tried to smile but could not. She stood and clasped his thin body to her.
“Who knows you better than I? We have known each other since I was ten years old. Since we have been married, so many years now, you have never failed me or the children.”
“I failed in the bank in California — and in the army in Kentucky.”
“Halleck does not think so — or he would not have reinstated you in command. And you have paid all your debts in San Francisco — none of which you had to.”
“But I did. The bank failure was not caused by me. But I did encourage fellow officers to invest in the bank. That was my doing. When they lost their money — why I had a debt of honor to repay them. Every cent.”
“Yes, you have done that, and I am proud of you. But there was a cost. Living so far apart for so long. Life has not been easy, I am the first to admit that, and we have been separated
too much. And it has been lonely.”
“For me as well,” he said, pulling away and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I have kept it to myself but, more than once — I have felt so — suicidal. But for you and the children… Only seeing Minnie and Lizzie and Willy, thinking of them… without that I could have cast myself into the Mississippi.”
Ellen knew that when he was in this black mood there was no reasoning with him. She glanced down at the watch pinned to her dress.
“Today is too important for you to get yourself all worked up. What time is John meeting you?”
“Nine o’clock, he said, in the lobby downstairs.”
“More than time enough to change your shirt then. And while you are doing that I’ll give that coat a good brushing.”
Sherman sighed deeply and climbed to his feet, straightened his back. “You are right, of course. A war is being fought and I am a soldier and I do not fear battle. In fact I welcome it. And the first battle is to put these dark thoughts behind me now and think only of this meeting. My future depends upon its success.”
Senator John Sherman was smoking his first cigar of the day when he saw the couple come down the stairs. He stubbed it out and crossed the lobby to give his sister-in-law a fraternal kiss on the cheek. Turned, smiling with pleasure, to greet his brother.
“You’re looking fit as a fiddle, Cump. Ready to meet with the railsplitter?”
Sherman smiled, but his eyes remained icy cold. Today’s meeting was too important to make jokes about.
“Can’t these job seekers wait? Must everyone who wants a government appointment come to see me personally?” the President asked, lifting the thick sheaf of papers unread, letters unsigned, urgent matters unresolved.
“I’ve kept the ones that are not urgent waiting, for weeks some of them, and have dissuaded or canceled the very worst of them,” Nicolay said. “But you made this appointment yourself, with Senator John Sherman. And he wants you to meet his brother, General Sherman.”
Lincoln sighed deeply and let the papers drop back onto the desk. “Well — it is politics that keeps this war going, so politics it will be. See them in.”