Washington, DC
May 1864
George McClellan was sitting in the drawing room of his home in Washington City. He had been busy at his desk in his upstairs office but had come down for the company. Nelly sat next to him, reading from The Atlantic.
McClellan had papers on his lap, but what he really wanted was to talk.
Nelly looked up and smiled, sensing his need.
“I don’t mean to interrupt your reading. The Atlantic. Well, well.”
Nelly frowned. “An interesting piece, though rather crudely rendered, I should say. ‘The Man Without a Country.’ One gets the point early on, but the writer doesn’t let go. Mr. Hale. It’s an allegory, if that’s the correct word. He’s really writing about the war.”
McClellan gazed at Nelly. “I saw Lincoln today. And Grant.”
Nelly closed the magazine and placed it on the table beside her.
“I see. Did he fete you as the hero of Gaithersburg? Or keep you at arm’s length, like someone apt to take his job from him?”
McClellan considered. “A little of both now that you mention it. He was, of course, delighted that the British were defeated and are in retreat, though I sensed that he would have much preferred that Grant had performed the deed.”
“Did you discuss your plans for attacking Longstreet and taking Richmond?”
“In the most general terms. I would say the president was with child to learn my intentions, but he was disappointed.”
“George, he’s the president.”
“Yes, and I’m the commanding general. Shoemaker, look to your shoes.”
“And General Grant?”
“A cypher, as always. Wearing his damned corporal’s uniform to a meeting with the president. Said very little in front of Lincoln.”
Nelly waited. Then, “Meaning he spoke to you after the meeting.”
“Yes, asked for a word as we left the President’s House. Congratulated me on the victory, my victory, and told me he was at my service and awaited orders. Said he hoped he could be in on the kill, his words, when the army marches on Richmond.”
“What did you say?”
McClellan laughed. “I told him that he would receive orders in due course, and that in the meantime, this time, I expected his army to remain in camp.”
“George, were you on time this time? For the meeting?”
“I arrived at precisely the time I wanted to arrive.” A pause. “Twenty minutes late.” He smiled at the memory.
“George, I know your mother taught you that good manners never go out of style.”
“She did. She also taught me measure for measure. Keeping the president waiting on occasion can never erase the slights and insults that I’ve suffered under his hand.” He smiled sheepishly. “But it helps.”
Nelly returned the smile. “George, I’ve been thinking. I believe it’s time to mend fences with Governor Seymour. His nose may have been somewhat out of joint when the army, uh, moved south following the Battle of Saratoga. Now that things have been set right militarily, it is time to look to politics as well.”
McClellan stared at his wife. “Yes. It certainly can’t hurt to remind the governor of our victory, and that the time is coming to take important political steps. But I have no time to travel to Albany.”
“No, of course not, George. But I do.”