細節
SHERMAN, William T. (1820-1891), General, U. S. Army. Autograph letter signed ("W. T. Sherman") to Smalley, St. Louis, 8 January 1884. 4 pages, 8vo, on 912 Garrison Avenue stationery.
"MY OLD ARMY COMRADES HAVE TAXED ME TO THE VERY VERGE OF DESPAIR...". Sherman declines to recommend a West Point candidate and worries how posterity will see his face: "I fear I cannot help you much...in the interest of young Jackson" he tells Smalley. "My old Army Comrades have taxed me to the very verge of despair. I have long since been forced to decline making personal applications for these Cadets-at-Large because of the great number of such applicants from the Army, only ten at Large are allowed for the four years, giving at most three for any new year. When I left Washington I think there were about eight hundred such applications on file. Each one of which had testimonials better than Washington could have obtained in his youth. It was the common remark that it was harder to secure one of these than to obtain the nomination for Minister to Great Britain. Unless you can secure the personal promise of the President I doubt if you can get a hearing." Turning to an article and engraved portrait of him in Century magazine, the vain Sherman says: "We are all well pleased with the article...rather more than the engraving." He consoles himself with "an observation of Von Moltke" who once told him that photographs "generally exaggerate the wrinkles and harsher lines of the face. When I am dead I suppose the painting by Huntington in the War Department, and that by Healy in my own parlor will be accepted as the standard..." Daniel Huntington's 1875 portrait shows a serene and placid Sherman with a slight smile --far different from the forceful officer who thrusts his finger towards President Lincoln in George Healy's portrait, "The Peacemakers," and further still from the scowling, almost savage face captured by Matthew Brady's wartime camera.
"MY OLD ARMY COMRADES HAVE TAXED ME TO THE VERY VERGE OF DESPAIR...". Sherman declines to recommend a West Point candidate and worries how posterity will see his face: "I fear I cannot help you much...in the interest of young Jackson" he tells Smalley. "My old Army Comrades have taxed me to the very verge of despair. I have long since been forced to decline making personal applications for these Cadets-at-Large because of the great number of such applicants from the Army, only ten at Large are allowed for the four years, giving at most three for any new year. When I left Washington I think there were about eight hundred such applications on file. Each one of which had testimonials better than Washington could have obtained in his youth. It was the common remark that it was harder to secure one of these than to obtain the nomination for Minister to Great Britain. Unless you can secure the personal promise of the President I doubt if you can get a hearing." Turning to an article and engraved portrait of him in Century magazine, the vain Sherman says: "We are all well pleased with the article...rather more than the engraving." He consoles himself with "an observation of Von Moltke" who once told him that photographs "generally exaggerate the wrinkles and harsher lines of the face. When I am dead I suppose the painting by Huntington in the War Department, and that by Healy in my own parlor will be accepted as the standard..." Daniel Huntington's 1875 portrait shows a serene and placid Sherman with a slight smile --far different from the forceful officer who thrusts his finger towards President Lincoln in George Healy's portrait, "The Peacemakers," and further still from the scowling, almost savage face captured by Matthew Brady's wartime camera.