Indeed, even after the war was over, the most interesting personage to us all was General Grant, who, of all people, hated to be interviewed, and who would not be exploited. He was no talker, and unless he was strongly interested in or excited about his subject, he was deficient in fluency; and yet every new acquaintance found him remarkable for the transparent lucidity of his explanations, and he had a good command of nervous English; so, as we all knew that he had talent enough, the natural inference was that General Grant did not wish to talk. When he did talk it was therefore taken as a great compliment to the listener.
What a contrast to him was General Sherman, one of the most renowned talkers that ever lived! He had an immense command of words, almost volubility, and the most friendly willingness to talk of his campaigns. This soldier by nature, who had an entire scorn of luxury or even comfort on the field, slept in a tente d'abri, or in the open air, and had no cumbrous baggage. His ménage was a roll of blankets and a haversack full of hardtack. He declared that he could fall asleep on the hard floor or wet ground, or when a battle was raging near him. Attention to detail, promptitude, decision, order, and unfailing punctuality were part of him, and yet his rugged face could unbend in society, wear a most winning expression; and he loved the theatre, all amusements, and a good dinner. I never knew any carpet-knight who could wait for a tardy lady who had forgotten her fan so patiently as he could. He was a many-sided man and a perfect gentleman.
He became renowned as an orator, and his speeches at West Point were the most perfect specimens of that difficult art — the talking to young men without patronage.
