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THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 BY 
 
 HELEN NICOLAY 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE BOYS' LIFE 
 OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN" 
 
 miustratcb 
 
 Zw^s^yf^f^V* 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1909 
 
Copyright, 1909, by 
 The Century Co. 
 
 Published October, igoo 
 
 E 
 
 24 8 263 
 
 V 
 
 THE OE VINNE PRE 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This little book is based upon the " Personal 
 Memoirs of U. S. Grant." For facts concerning 
 the latter years of his life I have relied chiefly 
 upon "Grant, His Life and Character," by Hamlin 
 Garland, to whom I make my grateful acknow- 
 ledgments. Other works freely used and con- 
 sulted are the biographies by Coppee, A. D. 
 Richardson, Chas. A. Dana, Wm. Conant Church, 
 Walter Allen, and Owen Wister, Adam Badeau's 
 "Grant in Peace," Horace Porter's "Campaign- 
 ing with Grant," John Fiske's " Mississippi Valley 
 in the Civil War," Henry Adam's "Historical 
 Essays," "Abraham Lincoln: A History," by John 
 G. Nicolay and John Hay, Vol. VII of the "Cam- 
 bridge Modern History," Sherman's "Memoirs," 
 John Russell Young's "Around the World with 
 Grant," the "Congressional Globe," and various 
 tables of official statistics. 
 
 But in a volume of this size the question is 
 never so much what can be put in as what cannot 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 be left out. The aim in this case has been to 
 choose the incidents that would appeal particu- 
 larly to the readers for which it is designed, and 
 which, taken together, would not present a dis- 
 torted picture of the great General. 
 
 H. N. 
 July 15, 1909. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACE 
 
 I Just a Boy 3 
 
 II Uncle Sam's Scholar 2^ 
 
 III His BAPTIS^[ of Fire 45 
 
 IV The Romance of War 64 
 
 V The Man Who Could Not Succeed . 84 
 
 VI His Country's Call 102 
 
 VII Fame and Slander 124 
 
 VIII The Man Who Kept on Trying . . .150 
 
 IX The Nation's Hero 173 
 
 X His New Task 195 
 
 XI Life at City Point 220 
 
 XII A Generous Foe 245 
 
 XIII A Soldier's Honor 275 
 
 XIV The Nation's Choice 300 
 
 XV Grant, The President 318 
 
 XVI The Guest of Kings 343 
 
 XVII His Last Brave Fight 363 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 U. S. Grant, Bvt. 2d Lt. 4th Inf'y . . Frontispiece . 
 
 Birthplace of General U. S. Grant, Point Pleasant, 
 
 Ohio 9 -^ 
 
 The Parents of General Ulysses S. Grant ... 17 
 
 General Grant's Signature in an Autograph Al- 
 bum signed by West Point Men . . 35 
 
 Lieutenant U. S. Grant and Lieutenant (afterward 
 
 General) Alexander Hays .... -53 
 
 Zachary Taylor (1852) 69 
 
 General Winfield Scott 87 
 
 Abraham Lincoln 109 
 
 Reduced facsimile of the original " Unconditional 
 
 Surrender" Despatch 136 
 
 Pittsburg Landing. From a photograph taken a 
 
 few days after the battle 143 
 
 Rear- Admiral Porter's Flotilla passing the Vicks- 
 
 burg Batteries on the night of April 16, 1863 . 163 
 
 General Grant's Saddle 186 
 
 Lincoln's God-speed to Grant. Reduced facsimile 
 
 of the original 201 
 
 General Grant at Headquarters during the Vir- 
 ginia Campaign 207 . 
 
 ix 
 
X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 General Grant's Cabin, formerly Headquarters at 
 City Point: removed in 1865 to East Park, 
 Philadelphia, where it now stands . . . .251 
 
 McClean's House, Appomattox Court-House . 269 
 
 General Lee and Colonel Marshall leaving 
 
 McClean's House after the Surrender . . 269 
 
 General Grant as President 315 
 
 General Grant's Reception in Japan 355 
 
 General Grant at Mt. McGregor 371 
 
THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 M' 
 
 JUST A BOY 
 
 ORE than three million men, North and 
 South, put on the uniform of the soldier and 
 took part in the long and hitter struggle of Amer- 
 ica's Civil War. Tens of thousands gave their 
 lives, and lie in nameless if not forgotten graves. 
 Other tens of thousands fought as gallantly, and 
 would have died as willingly. Hundreds gained 
 renown. Tens gained lasting fame. Above them 
 all, the apex of this pyramid of patriotism and 
 strife, stands a single figure — quiet, unassuming, 
 forceful — the man who brought the great war to 
 an end. 
 
 Short, stocky of build, grave of face, he did not 
 look like a hern, and he was too earnestly intent 
 
 3 
 
4 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 on his task to pause and think how the world 
 might look at him. He was a plain man, doing a 
 plain hard duty— as far removed from the dash 
 and glitter of heroics as his plain soldier's blouse 
 was from the showy breastplate and shield of 
 ancient war. Yet his life held as sharp contrasts 
 and as sudden changes as that of any hero of 
 song or story. He was the greatest captain of his 
 time, yet he hated war and longed for peace. He 
 knew obscurity and world-wide fame, contemp- 
 tuous neglect, and almost unlimited power, the 
 friendship of kings, and the bitterness of accept- 
 ing charity. His last, most triumphant fight was 
 against Death itself. His story is one of the 
 romances of our modern world. 
 
 He came of fighting stock. His great-grand- 
 father Noah Grant, and Noah's younger brother 
 Solomon, both lost their lives fighting the French 
 and Indians in 1756. His grandfather, also 
 named Noah, took part in the battle of Bunker 
 Hill, and continued in the Continental army until 
 the fall of Yorktown. How much fighting his 
 ancestors did before the first Grant came to these 
 shores, only the Recording Angel knows. 
 
 The family is supposed to be of Scotch origin, 
 and the motto of tlie clan of Grant — "Stand fast, 
 stand sure" — fits the most illustrious of all Grants 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 5 
 
 as though made for hitn; hut whether it is his by 
 riq-ht of inheritance, is uncertain. After all, it is 
 of little consequence, for it was he, and not his 
 ancestors, who shed j::lory upon the name. The 
 principal fact to note is that he came of plain and 
 honest people, who bequeathed him a healthy 
 body and a sound mind — good folk, equally re- 
 moved from genius and from crime. 
 
 Matthew, the first Grant in America, sailed 
 from England in the ship Mary and Jolin in the 
 year 1630. He settled in Dorchester, Massa- 
 chusetts, and afterward went to Windsor, Con- 
 necticut, where he acted as town clerk, and was 
 surveyor of the county for more than forty years. 
 Our General Ulysses S. Grant was eighth in di- 
 rect line from Matthew Grant. 
 
 Gradually the family moved westward. Noah 
 Grant, the Revolutionary soldier, found himself, 
 at the end of his military service, a widower with 
 tw^o sons. He emigrated to Pennsylvania, and 
 soon after married a Miss Kelly, who bore him 
 five children. The second of these was Jesse Root 
 Grant, the father of our General. In 1799 Cap- 
 tain Noah and his family emigrated again, this 
 time to Ohio, settling where the town of Deerfield 
 now^ stands. He does not seem to have prospered 
 by this move, and when his wife died, six years 
 later, the Captain had neither the courage nor the 
 
6 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 strength to struggle on and keep his family to- 
 gether. He took the two youngest children and 
 went to pass his declining years with Peter, a son 
 by his first wife, who had settled in Kentucky, 
 and was growing rich. The others found shelter 
 and employment in the neighborhood. Jesse en- 
 tered the family of Judge Tod of Youngstown, 
 Ohio, where he was treated like a son, and repaid 
 the care bestowed upon him with the warmest 
 affection. 
 
 When he was old enough to learn a trade he 
 went away to his prosperous half-brother Peter, 
 and became a tanner. Then he returned to prac- 
 tise his trade in Deerfield, living with a cer- 
 tain Mr. Brown, father of the John Brown who 
 tried to liberate the slaves in the S-^uth with a 
 force of less than twenty men, and whose "body 
 lies moldering in the grave, while his soul goes 
 marching on." At that time John was only a lad, 
 and there was no hint of the tragic fate awaiting 
 him. 
 
 After a time Jesse established himself in busi- 
 ness at Ravenna, and a few years later pursued 
 his calling at Point Pleasant, on the Ohio river, 
 about twenty-five miles east of Cincinnati. He 
 was a man of strong character, with a great thirst 
 for education. Schools had been few on the 
 Western Reserve during his boyhood. Even with 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 7 
 
 the help of Judge Tod, he was able to get very lit- 
 tle instruction, but by dint of borrowing and care- 
 fully studying every book that came in his way 
 he made himself an excellent English scholar, and 
 from the time that he was twenty, wrote, both in 
 I)rose and verse, for the western newspapers. He 
 was also a ready talker, able and willing to bear 
 his part in village discussions, whether in the free 
 range of the debating society or the more limited 
 and practical field of local politics. He undoubt- 
 edly had peculiarities ; not the least of which was 
 that he did not care to hold office. In person he 
 was nearly six feet tall, with strongly marked 
 features— a man of force, mentally and physi- 
 cally. He had some enemies, for he was out- 
 spokenly Northern in a community made up 
 largely from the South; but his sturdy inde- 
 pendence won him something that more than com- 
 pensated for all these enemies — the love of 
 Hannah Simpson, a slender, comely, reticent 
 maiden who had come with her father from 
 Pennsylvania two years before. 
 
 On June 24, 1821, they were married, and be- 
 gan life together in a little frame dwelling near 
 a bend of the Ohio river. Their home would have 
 seemed the height of elegance to pioneers twenty 
 years earlier, but according to later standards it 
 was simplicity itself. In the middle was the door, 
 
8 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 on each side of that a small window, and at one 
 end, built outside, was the chimney. The low 
 roof sloped toward the road. Inside were two 
 rooms, with a low shed-like ell in the rear. Here, 
 on April 2^, 1822, a baby was born, who, being 
 their first child, and a boy, became at once an im- 
 portant person in their eyes, though it took the 
 neighbors forty years or more to discover that the 
 family opinion was justified. The Simpsons, as 
 well as the Grants, took an interest in the child, 
 and discussion as to what it should be called waxed 
 so warm that it was finally decided to settle the 
 matter by lot. An aunt wanted him called Theo- 
 dore; the mother favored Albert; his grandfather 
 Simpson liked Hiram ; his step-grandmother sug- 
 gested Ulysses. All these names were written on 
 slips of paper and put into a hat ; two were drawn 
 out, Hiram and Ulysses, with the result that the 
 baby was solemnly declared to be Hiram Ulysses 
 Grant. A good mouth-filling name certainly, and 
 one hard enough to live up to. But he was never 
 called Hiram, and Ulysses was soon shortened to 
 "Lyssus," or "Lys" for daily use, while those who 
 wished to be particularly aggravating changed it 
 into "Useless." 
 
 When he was a year old his parents moved to 
 Georgetown, the county seat of Brown County, 
 ten miles from the Ohio river and about forty 
 

 ':S^r^i 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT ii 
 
 miles from Cincinnati. Here he li\ccl until he 
 was seventeen. It was a good town frf)ni a hoy's 
 point of view. Twenty or thirty houses were 
 grouped around the court-house square. Forest 
 trees still stood in the streets, which were more 
 ])roperly speaking country roads; yet the settle- 
 ment was well past the pioneer stage, and com- 
 fort though not luxury was to be found in the 
 plain little houses. The people who lived in them 
 were hard-working, serious-minded men and 
 women, bent on subduing the wilderness and 
 turning it into a land of farms. Day by day they 
 labored, felling trees, fencing land, rooting up 
 stumps, and rolling useless logs into great piles to 
 be burned, while the forest stood all about them, 
 scarcely touched as yet by the little band of men 
 intent on its destruction. In its beautiful depths 
 were hidden a thousand things dear to boyish 
 hearts: nuts, fruits, spicy sassafras, wonders of 
 bloom and fragrance, poisonous growths that lent 
 a lillip of danger to investigation and experiment; 
 and a multitude of wild creatures that might be- 
 come either pets or prey. Best of all, two creeks, 
 one east of the town, the other west, rolled to- 
 ward the Ohio, big with possibilities of swim- 
 ming-holes, fishing-places, and skating. 
 
 Ulysses enjoyed all these delights, and survived 
 his share of the dangers. It is recorded that once 
 
12 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 — it must have been in his very early years, for 
 he was clad in a gay striped blouse of red and 
 white — he fell into one of these creeks, and was 
 fished out and saved to fame by a boy who after- 
 ward rose to high rank in the Navy. The same 
 story is told about Lincoln and almost every other 
 public man. Probably they are all true, for it is a 
 poor ^ind of boy who does not fall into the water 
 at least once in his life. 
 
 But life was not all play. He has himself told 
 us how his days were filled: ''Every one labored 
 more or less in the region where my youth was 
 spent. . . . While my father carried on the 
 manufacture of leather, and worked at the trade 
 himself, he owned and tilled considerable land. I 
 detested the trade, preferring almost any other 
 labor; but I was fond of agriculture, and of all 
 employments in which horses were used. We 
 had, among other lands, fifty acres of forest 
 within a mile of the village. In the fall of the 
 year choppers were employed to cut enough wood 
 to last a twelvemonth. When I was seven or 
 eight years of age I began hauling all the wood 
 used in the house and shops. I could not load it 
 on the wagons, of course, at that time, but I could 
 drive, and the choppers would load and some one 
 at the house unload. When about eleven years 
 old I was strong enough to hold a plow. From 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 13 
 
 that age until seventeen I did all the work with 
 the horses, such as breaking up the land, furrow- 
 ing, plowing corn and potatoes, bringing in the 
 crops when harvested, hauling all the wood, be- 
 sides tending two or three horses, a cow or two, 
 and sawing wood for the stoves, etc., while still 
 attending school." 
 
 Jesse Grant, mindful of his own early lack of 
 advantages, never allowed his son to miss a single 
 term of the village school. Ulysses himself pre- 
 ferred driving the horses— a preference easy to 
 understand, in view of the picture he has left us 
 of the school and its master. "I had as many 
 ])rivileges as any boy in the village, and probably 
 more than most of them. I have no recollection 
 of ever having been punished at home, either by 
 scolding or by the rod. But at school the case was 
 dilTerent. I can see John D. White, the school- 
 teacher, now, with his long beech switch always in 
 his hand. It was not always the same one either. 
 Switches were brought in bundles from a beech 
 wood near the school-house by the boys for whose 
 benefit they \vere intended. Often a whole bundle 
 would be used up in a single day." Young Grant 
 was not naturally studious, and this method of 
 imparting knowledge was certainly not calculated 
 to make it more attractive. The books were few 
 and uninteresting, and Mr. White's scholars, 
 
14 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 from the mere babies learning their a-b-c's, to 
 young women of eighteen and men of twenty, 
 plodded along as best they might. Nothing was 
 taught beyond "readin', writin', and 'rithmetic." 
 The older boys and girls were kept drearily study- 
 ing the books they had studied the year before, 
 and the years before that. Even when Ulysses 
 was sent away from home to get the benefit of 
 schools in larger towns, first to Maysville, Ken- 
 tucky, and next year to Ripley, Ohio, "both win- 
 ters were spent in going over the same old arith- 
 metic," and in "repeating 'A noun is the name of 
 a thing,' which I had also heard my Georgetown 
 teachers repeat, until I had come to believe it." "I 
 never saw an algebra or other mathematical work 
 higher than the arithmetic in Georgetown until 
 after I was appointed to West Point. I then bought 
 a work on algebra in Cincinnati, but having no 
 teacher, it was Greek to me." But in Maysville 
 there was at least a "Philomathean Society" 
 which he joined and helped discuss such weightv 
 questions as, "Resolved: That females wield 
 greater influence in society than males"; "That it 
 would not be just and politic to liberate the slaves 
 at this time"; "That Socrates was right in not 
 escaping when the prison doors were opened to 
 him" ; and where he offered a characteristic res- 
 olution — "That it be considered out of order for 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 15 
 
 any member to speak on the opposite side to which 
 he is placed." 
 
 Fortunately education goes on out of doors as 
 well as inside four walls. All his labor on farm 
 and field broui^hl liini knowledge useful later on, 
 and even his love of horses taught him lessons 
 never to be forgotten. From babyhood he had a 
 l)assion for horses, and seemed to possess a secret 
 understanding with them which enabled him to 
 make them do what he pleased. A story is told 
 that shows how soon his family realized this 
 power and his ability to take care of himself. A 
 friend caught a glimpse of him in wdiat she 
 thought deadly peril, and hurried to tell Hannah 
 Grant that her firstborn, who was scarcely more 
 than a babv, was swinging on the tails of a neigh- 
 bor's team; but the quiet and self-contained 
 mother, secure in her belief in Ulysses and Divine 
 Providence, only smiled and went about her tasks 
 undismayed. 
 
 As Ulysses grew older there was no horse too 
 wild for him to drive. He won a proud distinc- 
 tion among his mates by mastering the trick pony 
 at a circus, and carrying off the five-dollar prize, 
 after w-hich his sturdy little figure in overalls 
 could be seen galloping through the village street 
 on his father's horses, emulating all the bareback 
 antics of the riders in tights and spangles. But 
 
i6 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 not all his experiences brought him such glory, A 
 horse trade that he conducted at the age of eight 
 caused him many heart-burnings. He coveted a 
 colt for which his father had offered twenty dol- 
 lars. Its owner demanded twenty-five dollars. 
 After the man had gone the lad begged his father 
 to buy the horse at the owaier's price. Jesse 
 yielded, grumbling that the animal was only 
 worth twenty, but bade Ulysses go after him and 
 offer him that sum. If he refused, he might offer 
 $22.50, and if he still held out, he might give him 
 the full twenty-five dollars. The boy mounted 
 and went in joyous pursuit. When he found the 
 man he was so full of his errand that he blurted 
 out the whole truth in one breathless sentence. 
 "Papa says that I may oft'er you twenty dollars 
 for the colt, but if you won't take that I am to 
 offer $22.50, and if you won't take that, to give 
 you twenty-five dollars!" Of course he brought 
 the colt home, but his triumph was short-lived. 
 The story got out through the village, and it re- 
 quired a really great achievement like that of 
 mastering the trick pony to silence his mates, and 
 make them stop asking him how he got his horse, 
 and what he paid for it. 
 
 He was a shy boy, very sensitive to ridicule, 
 and that story, with others like it, born of his own 
 truthfulness and guileless candor, caused him to 
 
^izin^^nziiMms^SM!insj2Ai:^^ 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 19 
 
 shrink more and more within himself —to close his 
 lips tight upon thoughts and fancies, and to live 
 an inner life apart, for fear of being laughed at. 
 Some of tile village people thought him stu])id. 
 Others said that he was growing like his mother. 
 She was a rare woman, much beloved by young 
 and old — of strong, steady character, very quiet, 
 very reserved, very even-tempered, very patient 
 —the kind of woman to whom people brought 
 their troubles, but who gave no confidences in re- 
 turn. She seldom laughed, and never complained. 
 Her son has recorded that he never saw her shed 
 a tear. The people who did not like Jesse Grant 
 declared roundly that "Lyssus got his sense from 
 his mother." 
 
 She was indeed very sensible, and, although 
 deeply religious, not at all austere. Both she and 
 her husband were quite willing that their children 
 should have the pleasures as w^ell as the tasks of 
 childhood, and in compensation for all the work 
 he had to do Grant tells us that they made "no ob- 
 jection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing, 
 going to the creek a mile away to swim in sum- 
 mer, . . . visiting my grandparents in the ad- 
 joining county, . . . skating on the ice in winter, 
 or taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow 
 upon the ground." Theirs seems to have been a 
 wholesome family life, with much quiet affection. 
 
20 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 though it was not the habit of either parents or 
 children to show it openly. Ulysses had a great 
 deal of liberty. Certain tasks had to be done, but 
 if one of these happened to be distasteful to him, 
 and he could get a substitute to perform it for 
 him, no objection was made. In the matter of 
 horses, after that early trade had taught him to 
 be more wary, he was allowed to have his own 
 way, caring for them and trading them as suited 
 his fancy. Being a trustworthy lad, and so very 
 expert a driver, his father did not hesitate to send 
 him long distances on errands. In this way he 
 visited Cincinnati several times, and Louisville 
 once; and when a neighbor's family was moving 
 away from Georgetown, he drove them and their 
 belongings to Chillicothe, seventy-five miles 
 away. He was probably the most traveled boy in 
 Georgetown, and these journeys were also an 
 education, not only in knowledge of the country 
 which they gave him, but in self-reliance, and 
 readiness to meet unforeseen emergencies. 
 
 Sometimes his love of horses led him into 
 serious scrapes, but his perseverance and in- 
 genuity usually got him safely out of them. On 
 his way home from Chillicothe he traded one 
 horse of the team he was driving for a saddle- 
 horse that had never been in harness, and started 
 on sedately enough, until a barking dog fright- 
 
ULYSSES S. CRANT 21 
 
 ened the untrained animal into a paroxysm of 
 running- and kicking- that threatened ruin to the 
 carriage and everything in its neighborliood, and 
 caused the man who was riding with him to desert 
 and take refuge in the slow-moving stage. Left 
 alone, Ulysses tried all the arts in his power to 
 quiet the animal, but to no purpose. Every time 
 he started it was in a series of leaps and kicks. 
 The lad was in a quandary. If he could only 
 reach Maysville, where his prosperous Uncle 
 Peter lived, he knew he could borrow another 
 liorse and get safely home, but Maysville was 
 more than a day's journey away. The problem 
 was serious, and the outlook not bright, but he 
 stuck to it, without a thought of giving up, just 
 as he won his battles in later years, and finally, by 
 tying his bandana handkerchief over the fright- 
 ened animal's eyes, and leading him step by step, 
 brought him safely into his uncle's town. 
 
 Grant was, in short, very like other lads of his 
 years. He preferred horses to books, and liked 
 play better than work. He was a slow, plodding, 
 dependable sort of boy, not brilliant, but far from 
 stupid, as some of his neighbors charged. He 
 excelled in nothing but his horsemanship. He was 
 unusually silent, but it was from sensitiveness, 
 and not from indifiference. He was manly, prac- 
 tical, and obedient, and as honest as the day is 
 
22 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 long— the kind of lad his mates and the grown- 
 ups poked fun at, and then relied upon to do the 
 things that they either would not or could not do 
 themselves. Even at that early day he showed 
 the qualities that were to make and mar his for- 
 tunes in after life. 
 
II 
 
 UNCT^E SAM's scholar 
 
 THE one cloud that darkened his horizon as 
 lie i^rew older was the dread that before 
 long he would be re(juired to take his place in the 
 tannery. He hated the place from the bottom of 
 his heart. Already he had to grind oak bark to 
 be used in turning the skins into leather. That 
 was bad enough, wearisome for the muscles and 
 tiresome for the mind, for the hopper-like mill 
 stood under a shed where nothing was to be seen 
 except the poor horse walking dismally round 
 and round. Whenever he could do so he hired 
 some other boy to grind for him, and escaped to 
 the more congenial task of hauling the bark from 
 the forest; but even the mill was Paradise com- 
 pared with the beam-room where the fresh new 
 skins were stretched and scraped — a place of 
 nauseating odors and reeking hides, that made 
 him sick, body and soul. 
 
 His father said nothing. Perhaps he did not 
 notice how the boy manoeuvered to keep away 
 
 23 
 
24 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 from the evil-smelling place. Then came the res- 
 pite of the winter in Maysville at school. 
 Finally, when he was sixteen, the blow fell. His 
 father was short of help, and Ulysses was called 
 to the beam-room. He responded at once, but 
 reluctantly enough. As they walked together to- 
 ward the tannery he told his father that he would 
 never follow that trade. He would work at it 
 until he was twenty-one, but never a day after he 
 became his own master. The lad might have 
 saved himself those years of needless dread. 
 Jesse Grant was reasonable, even lenient where 
 his eldest son was concerned. Probably he had 
 not known until that moment how heartily the 
 silent, obedient boy disliked the tannery. He an- 
 swered kindly that he did not wish him to work at 
 any trade that he had no intention of following, 
 and asked what he would like to do. 
 
 To this Ulysses had no ready answer. He 
 would be a farmer, he said, or a down-river 
 trader, or "get an education" — this latter some- 
 what vague proposal being thrown in very likely 
 to appease his father, whose respect for learning- 
 was one of his strongest traits. "Getting an edu- 
 cation" seemed to the boy, modestly distrustful of 
 his own abilities, a very unattainable thing, but it 
 was the only part of his proposal that appealed 
 to the older man. Beins: a farmer was all very 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 25 
 
 well, but the land that Jesse Grant had cultivated 
 in past years was now rented to some one else. A 
 down-river trader he certainly did not want his 
 son to be. An education was really the goal of 
 his ambition for the boy, who had heretofore 
 shown little interest in acquiring it. If he was 
 waking up to a desire for it, something must be 
 done. Times were hard enough, and an education 
 was an expensive luxury. The father thought 
 longingly of West Point. Four boys had gone to 
 the Military Academy from Georgetown, and had 
 done well. He asked Ulysses how he would like 
 that, and Ulysses, thinking it a glittering day- 
 dream, and secure in the knowledge that there 
 was no vacancy in that district, answered 
 promptly, "First-rate." 
 
 Nothing more was said. That autumn Ulysses 
 went to Ripley, Ohio, for another session with the 
 well-remembered arithmetic, and spiritless repeti- 
 tion of "A noun is the name of a thing." The 
 mind of Jesse Grant meanwhile ran on West 
 Point. Bartlett Bailey, the boy neighbor who had 
 the appointment, had failed once, and left the 
 Academy to be tutored in a private school. Then 
 he was reappointed, but before the next examina- 
 tion was dismissed. His father, disappointed and 
 unforgiving, forbade him to return home. No- 
 body in town knew of the little domestic tragedy 
 
26 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 — only the boy's mother had come to Mrs. Grant 
 for sympathy in her son's disgrace and his 
 father's hard-heartedness. 
 
 Here was an opportunity ready-made to Jesse's 
 hand, but pride stepped in. The congressman 
 who had the power of appointing young Bailey's 
 successor was Thomas L. Hamer, an old friend 
 with whom Jesse Grant had quarreled. Both re- 
 gretted the misunderstanding, but neither would 
 take the first step toward reconciliation. Even 
 with his son's welfare at heart Jesse Grant could 
 not make up his mind to write to him. Instead, he 
 applied to the War Department through one of 
 Ohio's senators. The Department answered that 
 Mr. Hamer's consent would be necessary, where- 
 upon Jesse pocketed his pride and sent the con- 
 gressman a polite note. Mr. Flamer, glad of an 
 opportunity to end the quarrel, made the appoint- 
 ment. Thus the very beginning of Ulysses' mili- 
 tary career was to bring about peace. 
 
 The boy most interested of course knew noth- 
 ing about all this. While he was at home for the 
 Christmas holidays his father received a letter. 
 After reading it he turned to his son. 
 
 "Ulysses, I believe you are going to receive the 
 appointment !" 
 
 "What appointment?" 
 
 "To West Point. I have applied for it." 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 27 
 
 The world whirled about him. Me thought of 
 all one had to know to enter the Military Acad- 
 emy; of the very little he had learned; of the 
 ignominy of failure; of the jeers of his comradevS 
 if he should be rejected ; of the embarrassment of 
 meeting Bartlett Bailey if he passed. 
 
 "But," he stammered, "I won't go." 
 
 'T think vou will!" his father answered; and 
 Ulysses, noting his determined expression and 
 firmly set jaw, hurriedly concluded, if that were 
 the case, that he thought so too. 
 
 Then followed months of preparation— a sea- 
 son of inward shrinking and keen anticipation. 
 He wanted, yet he did not want, to go. The 
 neighbors openly scofTed at the appointment. 
 "Why could n't they appoint a boy who would be 
 a credit to the district?" they asked. 
 
 In truth. Grant was the most unmartial of boys. 
 He cared little for guns, hated to see things killed, 
 was slow of speech, sluggish of movement, unam- 
 bitious in his studies. He could wTcstle fairly 
 well— when he had to— and he sometimes fished; 
 but these did not seem sufficient qualifications. 
 Even the military exploits of his grandfather 
 Noah, and the two family heroes of the French 
 and Indian War failed to rouse his enthusiasm. 
 It seemed a pity to waste a West Point education 
 on him. 
 
28 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 But he did want to see the world. West 
 Point was very far away. A journey thither 
 would give him a chance to see the two largest 
 cities of the United States, Philadelphia and New 
 York. When he thought of what lay beyond 
 them, he hoped that kindly Fate would arrange a 
 steamboat collision, or a railroad accident, or 
 some other honorable means of delaying the 
 ordeal. 
 
 Finally the day of departure came. There was 
 no undue emotion in the family leave-taking. 
 Hannah Grant bade him good-by in her usual 
 self-repressed manner, and the others were 
 equally composed. When Mrs. Bailey came run- 
 ning out of her house with a kiss and a tearful 
 God-speed, he looked at her in wonder. 'Why," 
 he said, "you must be sorry I am going! My 
 mother did not cry." 
 
 He took passage on a steamer at Ripley for 
 Pittsburg, about the middle of May, 1839. West- 
 ern boats in those days did not make schedule 
 time, but obligingly stopped as often and long for 
 freight and passengers as occasion required. This 
 time there were no delays, and he made a quick 
 trip of three days. From Pittsburg he went by 
 canal to Harrisburg— partly because the canal- 
 boat was slower than the stage, and partly be- 
 cause it would afford a better view of the scenery. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 29 
 
 From Harrisburg to IMiiladcIphia he had his first 
 thrilhng experience of a railroad, which flew 
 along at the astonishing rate of twelve or fifteen 
 miles an hour, and seemed to fairly annihilate 
 space. He stayed in Philadelphia five days, wan- 
 dering about in his countrified ill-fitting clothes, 
 seeing the sights; and was reprimanded, when his 
 parents heard of it, for unseemly idling. His stay 
 in New York was shorter, but he got a good idea 
 of the city; and Fate not having arranged a con- 
 venient accident, he reported to the authorities at 
 West Point on the 30th or 31st of May. Two 
 weeks later, to his great surprise, he passed the 
 simple preliminary examination in reading, writ- 
 ing, spelling, and arithmetic, and was enrolled as 
 a cadet. He wTote his name in the Adjutant's 
 book "Ulysses Hiram Grant," having made up his 
 mind before leaving home that his initials, writ- 
 ten the other way, H. U. G., would subject him to 
 teasing and ridicule from his fellow-students. 
 Congressman Hamcr, in asking for his appoint- 
 ment, had, however, given it as Ulysses S. Grant, 
 •knowing his mother's maiden name to be Simp- 
 son, and evidently confusing the names of two of 
 her sons. Ulysses asked to have the mistake cor- 
 rected, but in vain. It stood Ulysses S. in the 
 record, and of course the record was right. The 
 fact that a boy might be, expected to know his own 
 
30 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 name had no weight, over against official red tape. 
 As U. S. Grant it was posted with the names of 
 other new-comers, and U. S. Grant it remained to 
 the end of his Hfe. A group of first-class men, 
 reading the list, began amusing themselves with 
 the initials. "U. S.," they read,— "United States 
 Grant — Uncle Sam Grant — Sam Grant"; and 
 Sam Grant he was at the Academy from that 
 hour. 
 
 He was at that time a short, unimpressive 
 youth, less than five feet two inches tall. The 
 required height for entering the army is five feet. 
 It is a little startling to reflect that the difference 
 of an inch and a fraction in this boy's height 
 might have changed the whole history of .the 
 United States. 
 
 Shy and silent, new to all the thousand and one 
 customs and traditions of the famous war college, 
 he was given the Book of Regulations and sent to 
 report to the cadet officers. Being a "plebe" — 
 that lowest of created animals in the eyes of upper 
 classmen— he became at once a fair target for all 
 the jibes and practical jokes and petty torments 
 that lively boys, under military rule or out of it, 
 contrive to inflict upon their fellows. 
 
 After his first ordeal with the cadet corporals 
 he was given his meager outfit — two blankets, a 
 pillow, a chair, a water-pail, a broom, washbowl. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 31 
 
 looking-glass, candlestick, and cocoannt (li|)per — 
 and made to carry them amid the jeers of all the 
 cadets he met, past the officers' qnarters to a dis- 
 mal room on the npper lloor of the old North Bar- 
 racks, a hnilding long since destroyed, where his 
 fntnre room-mates gave him fnrllicr nngentle 
 instrnction in what to do with them. 
 
 Thns he hcgan his four years' course, a course 
 which seemed to embrace a little of everything 
 from scrubbing floors to differential calculus, and 
 which he was expected to master, so far as he 
 could judge from that first day's experience, with 
 the aid of sarcasm and ridicule administered bv 
 his fellow-students. 
 
 The lawful discipline and restraints of the 
 place were quite enough to bewilder a boy fresh 
 from the care-free, go-as-you-please control of 
 Jesse Grant. At home, if he got a substitute to do 
 one piece of work, he was quite at liberty to take 
 up another. Here all was military obedience and 
 precision. There were regulations for walking, 
 for standing, for talking; hours for this and 
 ''calls" for that; drums to beat him to dinner, to 
 drill, and to bed. No hour was free from some 
 strange and unaccustomed duty. Even his uni- 
 form, tight to bursting, seemed made with a 
 special view to keeping his body as uncomfortable 
 as his mind ; and any failure to live up to these 
 
32 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 many and unfamiliar requirements was visited 
 with plenteous demerit marks, and the haunting 
 specter of final disgrace. Added to all these le- 
 gitimate tortures, were the abuse and sly deviltry 
 that went on behind the backs of the authorities. 
 Grant got his share, though not as much as some 
 of his comrades. The quiet reticence that hid his 
 true feelings made it poor sport to tease him. He 
 was small, too. It was not much fun to torment a 
 fellow scarcely tall enough to be admitted to the 
 Academy — and even then there was something in 
 his clear, gray-blue eye that commanded respect. 
 Of course he was homesick. "A military life 
 had no charms for me," he wrote long afterward. 
 *T had not the faintest idea of staying in the 
 Army, even if I should be graduated, which I did 
 not expect." But he put the best face upon it. 
 He was there; he meant to stay and graduate if 
 he could; and already the beauty of West Point 
 was exercising its charm. He wrote a long letter 
 to his cousin describing the Academy and his life. 
 "I do love the place," he said. "It seems as though 
 I could live here forever if my friends would only 
 come too." The historic memories of the spot 
 appealed to him, coming from a country too new 
 to be burdened with tradition ; and the procession 
 of great men that came and went — the President 
 of the United States, generals, cabinet ministers, 
 
UT.VSSES S. GRANT 33 
 
 and famous writers— filled his imagination with 
 lively pictures of the outside world. 
 
 The West Point year is divided into two parts. 
 From June until late August the cadets camp in 
 tents, living according to all the regulations of an 
 army in the field, their time being entirely given 
 up to drills, guard duty, pyrotechny, and engineer- 
 ing. From September to June they live in bar- 
 racks, studying, fencing, riding in the drill-hall, 
 and being drilled as infantry on fine afternoons. 
 The period of encampment began almost as soon 
 as Grant entered the Academy. He found it very 
 irksome. When the 28th of August came, the 
 date for breaking up camp and going into bar- 
 racks, he felt as though he had been at West Point 
 for years, and that to stay until graduation would 
 be to remain through all eternity. 
 
 The life in barracks he liked better— or pre- 
 tended to. He wrote to his cousin: "I slept for 
 two months upon one single pair of blankets. 
 Now this sounds romantic, and you may think it 
 very easy, but I tell you what, Coz, it is tremen- 
 dous hard. . . . Glad I am these things are over." 
 Then passing on to the present he described the 
 new routine. "We are now in our quarters. I 
 have a splendid bed (mattress), and get along 
 very well. Our pay is nominally about $28 a 
 month, but we never see one cent of it. H we 
 
34 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 wish anything from a shoestring to a coat we 
 must go to the Commandant of the Post and get 
 an order for it, or we cannot have it. We have 
 tremendous long and hard lessons to get, both in 
 French and algebra. I study hard, and hope to 
 get along so as to pass the examination in Janu- 
 ary. This examination is a hard one, they say, 
 but I am not frightened yet. If I am successful 
 here you will not see me for two long years." "On 
 the whole I like the place very much — so much 
 that I would not go away on any account. . . . 
 There is much to dislike, but more to like. . . . 
 If I were to come home now with my uniform on, 
 the way you would laugh at my appearance would 
 be curious. My pants set as tight to my skin as the 
 bark to a tree, and if I do not walk military— that 
 is, if I bend over quickly or run — they are very 
 apt to crack with a report as loud as a pi-siol. My 
 coat must always be buttoned up tight to the chin. 
 It is made of sheep's gray cloth, all covered with 
 big round buttons. It makes one look very sin- 
 gular." The long postscript of this lively boyish 
 letter was devoted to the Academy's system of 
 "black marks," not in a spirit of complaint, but as 
 interesting and rather incomprehensible news. 
 "They give a man one of these 'black marks' for 
 almost nothing, and if he gets 200 a year they 
 dismiss him. To show how easy one can get 
 

 y-lj^ 
 
 GENKKAI. C.KAM S SIC.NAI IRK IN AN AUIOGKArH ALBUM 
 SUiNKL) HV \Vi:ST POINT MEN 
 
ULVSSKS S. r.RAXT 37 
 
 these, a man by the name of Grant, of this State, 
 got eight of these 'marks' for not going to church. 
 He was also put under arrest so he cannot leave 
 his room perhaps for a month; all this for not 
 going to church. We are not only obliged to go 
 to church, but must march there by companies. 
 This is not Republican. . . . Contrary to the ex- 
 pectation of you and the rest of my Bethel friends 
 I have not been the least homesick. I would not 
 go home on any account." 
 
 Brave talk. Yet when a bill was introduced in 
 Congress the following winter to abolish West 
 Point, he read the debate with lively interest, hop- 
 ing it would pass. A year later, though the days 
 still dragged, he would have been sorry to have it 
 succeed. 
 
 Time certainly did not hang heavy for lack of 
 employment. The course of study embraced top- 
 ographical drawing, landscape and figure draw- 
 ing ; higher mathematics ; surveying and calculus ; 
 French; algebra; military and civil engineering; 
 pyrotechny; artillery practice; c-avalry and in- 
 fantry drill ; electricity ; magnetism ; optics ; as- 
 tronomy; chemistry; trigonometry; mineralogy; 
 rhetoric; moral philosophy; Kent's Commen- 
 taries ; and dancing. 
 
 He showed little enthusiasm about anything. 
 Mathematics were easy for him, so he passed the 
 
38 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 January examination with credit; but he rarely 
 read over a lesson the second time, and in French, 
 the only other study at that time in the first year's 
 course, his standing was lamentably low. "In 
 fact, if the class had been turned the other 
 end foremost, I should have been near head," 
 he said in his Memoirs, when writing about his 
 scholarship. "I never succeeded in getting 
 squarely at either end of my class in any one 
 study during the four years. I came near it in 
 French, artillery, infantry and cavalry tactics, 
 and conduct." 
 
 There is a fine library at the Academy, from 
 which the cadets are allowed to get books to read 
 in their quarters. He made liberal use of this for 
 a private course in English fiction, not down in 
 the regulations, reading all of Bulwer's novels 
 then published, Cooper, Marryat, Scott, Washing- 
 ton Irving, and many others. Yet he kept a 
 respectable if not brilliant place in his class, and 
 on June 30, 1843, graduated twenty-first in a 
 class of thirty-nine. "He always showed himself 
 a clear thinker and a steady worker," says Pro- 
 fessor Mahan, his teacher in engineering. "He 
 belonged to the class of compactly strong men 
 who went at their task at once and kept at it imtil 
 they had finished ; never being seen, like the slack- 
 twisted class, yawning, lolling on their elbows 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 39 
 
 over their work, and looking as if just ready to 
 sink down from mental inanity." 
 
 He was also a singularly clean-lipped boy. Pro- 
 fanity affected him like the beam-room of his 
 father's tannery — as a nauseating thing to be kept 
 away from. He tried to learn to smoke, but 
 failed, and we know he did not drink, for he and 
 some of his classmates entered into a compact to 
 abstain from liquor for a year, in order to 
 strengthen the resolution of one of their mates 
 who seemed in danger of falling into bad habits. 
 
 At the end of the first two years the class re- 
 ceived the customary furlough— the one holiday 
 in the four years' course, and he went home for a 
 vacation which lasted from the end of June to the 
 28th of August. "This," he tells us, "I enjoyed 
 beyond any other period of my life." Yet there 
 was no display of emotion at his home-coming. 
 His family had seen him go away without a tear; 
 they welcomed him back without demonstration. 
 A fine new horse which had never been under 
 harness was waiting for him in the stable, how- 
 ever, and it can be imagined with what furtive 
 pride the self-repressed mother noted every detail 
 of change and improvement. As for the more 
 talkative father, he probably had as much to say 
 to the neighbors about "my Ulysses" as when he 
 bored them with tales of his infant cleverness. 
 
 8 
 
40 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 "Those ten weeks," the Memoirs assure us, "were 
 shorter than one week at West Point." 
 
 Then he and all his classmates were back again 
 at the Academy, an increased number of demerit 
 marks during the first month of the new term 
 showing how hard it was for them to settle do-wn 
 into their drudgery of drill and study. The last 
 two years passed more rapidly than the first two, 
 but they seemed five times as long as years in 
 Ohio. Little happened to break their monotony. 
 He served for a time as sergeant in one of the 
 four companies into which the cadets are divided 
 for military exercises, but in his senior year 
 dropped back again to the rank of private. 
 
 'T remember him," says one of his classmates, 
 "as a plain, common-sense, straightforward 
 youth; quiet, calm, thoughtful, and unaggressive; 
 shunning notoriety; quite contented while others 
 were grumbling; taking to his military duties in a 
 very business-like manner; not a prominent man 
 in the corps, but respected by all, and very popular 
 with his friends. His sobriquet of 'Uncle Sam' 
 was given to him there, where every good fellow 
 has a nickname, from these very qualities ; indeed 
 he was a very uncle-like sort of a youth. He was 
 then and always an excellent horseman, and his 
 picture rises before me as I write, in the old torn 
 coat, obsolescent leather gig-top, loose riding pan- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 41 
 
 taloons with spurs liiickled over them, going with 
 his clanking saber to the (h^ill-liall." 
 
 He was at his l)est in ihe saddle. The one real 
 record that he made for liimself at the Academy, 
 the one time that he excelled all his fellows, was at 
 the final mounted exercises of his graduating 
 class, when, riding a famous horse named York, 
 he was called upon to clear the leaping-bar that 
 the gruff old riding-master had placed higher 
 than a man's head. He dashed out from his place 
 in the ranks, a smooth-faced, slender young fel- 
 low on a powerful chestnut-sorrel, and galloped 
 down the opposite side of the hall; turned and 
 came directly at the bar, the great horse increas- 
 ing his pace as he neared it, and then, as if he and 
 his rider were one, rising and clearing it with a 
 magnificent bound. The leap is still recorded at 
 the Academy as "Grant's upon York," where it 
 has never been surpassed. 
 
 It was natural that upon his graduation he 
 should want to enter the cavalry, but the United 
 States Army w^as very small at that time, number- 
 ing barely 7500 men, and there was only one 
 regiment of horse, or "dragoons" as they were 
 called. That already had its full complement of 
 officers. The Fourth Infantry being his second 
 choice he was assigned to that as brevet second 
 lieutenant. 
 
42 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 He still had no love for the Army. Only one 
 moment of enthusiasm for the service had come to 
 him in the four years. That was during his first 
 encampment, when General Scott came to review 
 the cadets, and loomed upon the little plebe in all 
 the glory of his imposing person and military 
 splendor. The lad, gazing upon him, thought he 
 had never seen such a magnificent man, and with 
 sudden prevision of what lay before him, saw him- 
 self—not so big or so gorgeous, of course— but 
 occupying the same exalted station. He breathed 
 no syllable of this sudden ambition, for fear of 
 ridicule, and the vision passed. His modest hope 
 at the time of his graduation was to be detailed in 
 the course of a year or two as Assistant Professor 
 of Mathematics at the Academy, and after a term 
 of service there to secure a permanent position in 
 some college. 
 
 Meantime all the members of the graduating 
 class had leave of absence until the end of Septem- 
 ber. He went back to Ohio, where another new 
 saddle-horse awaited him ; but he could not enjoy 
 this vacation as he had the former one. For the 
 last six months at West Point he had been afflicted 
 with a desperate cough, and he was very much 
 run down, weighing only as much as he had at the 
 time of entering the Academy, though he had 
 grown six inches during the four years. There 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 43 
 
 was a tendency to consumption in tlic family; two 
 of Jesse Grant's children died of it, and the silent 
 mother watched and said nothing", hut was 
 troubled about the health of her soldier son. 
 
 He, however, was far from thinking of his 
 latter end. He had ne\cr been a dandy. Most of 
 his demerits at the Academy had been for lack of 
 promptness, or for little negligences in dress ; but 
 now he developed a quite normal interest in his 
 new uniform, which had to be ordered and sent to 
 him after he learned that he had been assigned to 
 the infantry and not to the dragoons. He longed 
 to get it on, and see how it looked — more espe- 
 cially to let others see how he looked in it. It 
 came at last, and he rode forth in it to Cincinnati, 
 feeling that he brightened the sunshine by his 
 presence, and that he must be making as great an 
 impression on the populace as General Scott had 
 madeuponhim. But while theuniform was still very 
 new two things happened which gave him a dis- 
 taste for military splendor that lasted the rest of 
 his life. In Cincinnati a ragged,- dirty little street- 
 urchin, taking in with a quick glance his com- 
 plaisant satisfaction, turned and called after him 
 with wicked glee, ''Soldier, will you work? No 
 siree. I 'd sell my shirt first !" The crestfallen 
 brevet second lieutenant wheeled his horse and 
 started for home. Opposite his father's house 
 
44 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 stood a tavern where cheer was dispensed for man 
 and beast. The stableman was a dissipated old 
 wag, who also discovered the young soldier's 
 secret. Grant found him parading the street in 
 solemn travesty of his own military walk, bare- 
 foot, clad in a pair of sky-blue nankeen panta- 
 loons, just the color of his new uniform trousers, 
 with a strip of white cotton cloth sewed down the 
 outside seams to imitate the stripes. A group of 
 neighbors was watching him, convulsed with 
 merriment, but Grant, crimson with mortification, 
 could see no humor in the proceeding. 
 
Ill 
 
 Ills L'.ArXISM OF FIRE 
 
 LATE in September, 1843, Grant joined his 
 / regiment, the Fourth Infantry, at Jefferson 
 Barracks, near St. Louis. His duties were Hght, 
 though drill and roll-call came with j)rovoking 
 frequency. Having brought with him his saddle- 
 horse — the one on which he first aired his new 
 uniform — he made many excursions in the neigh- 
 borhood during his hours of leisure, and rode 
 often "out on the Gravois Road" to White Haven, 
 the family home of his classmate at the Academy, 
 Frederick T. Dent. Colonel Dent, the master of 
 White Haven, was an imposing, hot-tempered old 
 gentleman, who lixcd in a comfortable farm- 
 house surrounded by his slaves and his children, 
 cjuite the ideal of a southern planter. He paid 
 scant attention to his son's friend, but Mrs. Dent 
 gave him a motherly welcome; and even after 
 Fred went to join his regiment, the house full of 
 young people continued to be the goal of many of 
 his rides. The eldest daughter of the Dents, Julia, 
 a girl of seventeen, he had not yet seen, for she 
 
 45 
 
46 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 was spending the winter with friends in St. Louis. 
 After her return White Haven became doubly at- 
 tractive. Indeed, so many of his rides ended 
 there, despite the old planter's frowning indiffer- 
 ence — for Colonel Dent saw no merit in a young- 
 ster whose salary was $779 a year, whose 
 prospects were only slow promotion in the Army, 
 and who was saddled with a troublesome cough — 
 that the young lady had to bear much teasing 
 about her "little lieutenant with the big epaulets." 
 As for the little lieutenant himself, he did not 
 realize what was happening to him. He probably 
 thought in all seriousness that his mind was full 
 of mathematics and history. According to the 
 plan made before leaving West Point, he had 
 asked to be detailed as Assistant Professor of 
 Mathematics at the Academy, and felt that his 
 chances were good to receive the appointment. 
 Accordingly he laid out for himself a line of 
 study, reviewing his West Point mathematics, 
 reading history, and indulging for relaxation in 
 an occasional novel. If that and his military 
 duties were not enough to fully occupy his mind, 
 there was the all-absorbing political question, the 
 annexation of Texas, which was being discussed 
 wherever discussion was possible, from the halls 
 of Congress to the remotest cross-roads settle- 
 ment. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 47 
 
 Texas was a wide land with few inhabitants 
 and great possibihties. Originally a part of Mex- 
 ico, it had fought itself free, and after a few 
 years of troubled independence was offering to 
 become part of the United States. President 
 Tyler and all the southern leaders eagerly wel- 
 comed this, looking forward to a day when more 
 slave states would be needed to keep their party in 
 power, and planning to have those states carved 
 out of Texas. To be quite frank, they had 
 schemed for this result from the beginning —had 
 helped colonize the country, helped in the revolt 
 against Mexico, and most craftily encouraged the 
 sentiment which now prompted its offer to join 
 forces with the United States. On the other hand, 
 people in the North were not at all pleased. Those 
 who did not approve of slavery saw through the 
 scheme of the southern leaders and denounced it, 
 while others opposed it on the ground that, al- 
 though it might be the destiny of Texas to come 
 into the family of States, this was neither the time 
 nor the way. 
 
 Mexico, naturally enough, objected seriously. 
 She had never formally acknowledged the inde- 
 pendence of Texas, and claimed that it was still a 
 part of Mexico. She claimed, moreover, that, 
 even if Texas were free to join the United States, 
 it had no right to take with it a large tract of 
 
48 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 territory that the revolutionists had never con- 
 trolled, but which they now offered to our govern- 
 ment. The possession of this vast triangle of 
 land, lying between the Nueces river, the Rio 
 Grande, and the coast, became the actual cause of 
 war. 
 
 President Tyler and his administration per- 
 sisted in their plans. In December, 1844, Con- 
 gress accepted the offer of Texas ; but long before 
 that time a portion of the small United States 
 Army had been ordered south "to observe the 
 frontier." Early in May, 1844, one of the regi- 
 ments stationed at Jefferson Barracks was sent to 
 Fort Jessup in Louisiana, only twenty-five miles 
 from the Texas border. That seemed to bring the 
 possibility of war much nearer home. A few days 
 later the Fourth Infantry was ordered to join it. 
 
 Grant believed, like many others, that war with 
 Mexico would be wholly unjust; but he was part 
 of the Army, a soldier sworn to obey orders, and 
 — so curiously are good and evil woven together 
 in this life — this most honest young man not only 
 fought from start to finish in the unjust war, but 
 it brought him two of the greatest blessing:s a man 
 can have — health, and a good wife. 
 
 He was away on leave when the orders came. 
 A messenger sent to call him back failed to find 
 him; so it was only through the letter of a brother 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 49 
 
 officer, received some days later, that he learned 
 the news. Its first effect was to bring him a real- 
 izing sense of his love for Julia Dent. He felt 
 that he must see her before starting south, so, 
 though he knew the Fourth Infantry was already 
 well on its way, and that his obliging friend had 
 packed up his belongings and taken them with 
 him, he followed the strict letter of his leave, re- 
 turned to Jelierson Barracks, reported to the com- 
 mander, was ordered to join his regiment in so 
 many days, and mounting his horse rode eagerly 
 toward White Haven. The Gravois, a little creek 
 too insignificant to be bridged, lay between him 
 and the lady of his dreams. Usually it was only 
 a trickling rivulet, but on this day of all days sud- 
 den rains had filled it to overflowing, and he 
 found the current eddying and swirling along its 
 half-submerged banks. From childhood it had 
 been a superstition with him never to turn back. 
 In his present frame of mind he was in no mood 
 to be stopped. He plunged in. Next instant his 
 horse had been carried off its feet and was swim- 
 ming hard to keep its head above water, while the 
 current was bearing him rapidly down-stream. 
 By good management on the part of both 
 horse and rider they reached the opposite bank, 
 little the worse for their adventure, except that 
 the young man was wet through and through. A 
 
so THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 sorry figure to go a-courting, he still rode on, 
 borrowed some dry clothes that did not fit him 
 from one of the Dent boys, and, quite regardless 
 of such details, pursued the suJDJect nearest his 
 heart. It is difficult to imagine General Scott, 
 Grant's boyish ideal of a soldier, treating personal 
 appearance with such scant respect at a similar 
 critical moment ; but Grant, like that other Loch- 
 invar who esteemed bridges and floods of no ac- 
 count, ''came out of the West," and made love, as 
 he later made war, after a fashion of his own. 
 His earnestness was rewarded. The borrowed 
 garments, as he briefly records in his Memoirs, 
 ''answered every purpose," and when he went 
 south he carried with him the promise of Miss 
 Julia to become Mrs. Grant some day ; though the 
 prudent lovers decided that for the present noth- 
 ing was to be said about it — even to her family. 
 
 He spent the next year at Camp Salubrity, near 
 the town of Natchitoches, Louisiana, where the 
 Fourth Infantry was waiting while President 
 Tyler's game of politics played itself out to the 
 end. The spot was well named, and life in the 
 open air in these dry pine-scented uplands ban- 
 ished forever the cough that threatened to carry 
 the young lieutenant off in consumption. 'T have 
 often thought," he wrote toward the end of his 
 days, "that my life was saved and my health re- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 51 
 
 stored by exercise and exposure enforced by an 
 administrative act and a war, bt)lli of which I dis- 
 approved." The AFexican War played strange 
 pranks with the destinies of men. Among 
 other things it made General Zachary Taylor, 
 who also disapi)roved of it, President of the 
 United States. 
 
 In March, 1845, news reached the regiment 
 that Congress had passed and the President ap- 
 proved the bill to annex Texas. Soldiers and offi- 
 cers began looking for marching orders. Grant, 
 mindful of all a war might mean to him, obtained 
 leave of absence and made a hurried trip to St. 
 Louis to see Miss Dent and ask the consent of her 
 parents to their engagement. It was given, 
 grudgingly enough on the part of Colonel Dent, 
 and the end of twenty days found him back again 
 at Camp Salubrity. 
 
 It was July before the expectea orders came, 
 and then they only moved the regiment from 
 Camp Salubrity into plague-stricken New Or- 
 leans, where yellow fever raged, and the streets, 
 to use Grant's own expression, "had the appear- 
 ance of a continuous well-observed Sunday." 
 Only once in two weary months of waiting did he 
 see this sinister quiet broken. That was when a 
 shot brought him to the window in the early 
 dawn, to look down upon a duel — "a couple of 
 
52 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 gentlemen deciding a difference of opinion with 
 rifles at twenty paces." It seemed as ghastly and 
 unreal as the nightmare peace of those quiet 
 streets. 
 
 In September, 1845, welcome orders came for 
 the Fourth Infantry to proceed to Corpus Christi 
 at the mouth of the Nueces river on the very edge 
 of the disputed territory. Here, indeed, the 
 "Army of Observation" became the "Army of 
 Occupation," for Corpus Christi lay on ground 
 claimed by Mexico. Gradually the untidy little 
 adobe hamlet, dear to the hearts of Mexican 
 smugglers, became an orderly camp of about three 
 thousand United States troops, under command 
 of the forceful and unconventional General Zach- 
 ary Taylor. Still there was no war. It was the 
 intention of the government to bring about fight- 
 ing, but it was necessary for its purpose that 
 Mexico, and not the United States, should seem 
 to commit the first hostile act. General Taylor 
 knew perfectly well what was expected of him, 
 but being a Whig, opposed to the President and 
 the war, he took a grim pleasure in delaying the 
 conflict as long as possible. He saw, however, 
 that it must come, and drilled his little army vig- 
 orously on the broad plains around Corpus 
 Christi, in detail and in mass, separately and all 
 the arms of the service together, preparing it to 
 
LlKl riNANI r ^- GKAN] ASH 1 1 1-' 1 1 I- N A N 1 ( Al- 1 L KW Al; 1) GENIiKAL) 
 ALEXASDKK HAYS 
 
UT.VSSF.S S. GRANT 55 
 
 the best of his great ability for the work that lay 
 before it. 
 
 Meantime the weeks rolled on, and the Army of 
 Occupation found pleasure as well as lab(M- in the 
 wide, sparsely settled land. For those who liked 
 hunting- there was "'ame in abundance. For 
 Grant, who had never been a sportsman, there 
 was unfailing interest in the great droves of wild 
 horses that roamed over the uninhabited country 
 between the Nueces and the Rio Grande. Mex- 
 icans, quite unmindful of threatened hostilities, 
 captured them and brought them to the Americans 
 for sale, and many oflicers availed themselves of 
 this means of getting mounts for the coming cam- 
 paign. Grant, being an enthusiastic horseman, 
 owned three, which seems a lil)eral allowance for 
 a brevet second lieutenant on $779 a year ; though 
 in a country where it cost nothing to feed them 
 and little to purchase, the extravagance can be 
 easily condoned. One unlucky day all three of 
 them ran away and were never seen again. A 
 brother officer, commenting on this misfortune, 
 remarked, "Yes, I heard Grant lost five or six 
 dollars' worth of horses the other day." We have 
 Grant's own word for it that this "was a slander. 
 They were broken to the saddle when I got them, 
 and cost nearly twenty dollars !" 
 
 In camp, as well as on the plain, the Army made 
 
56 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 amusement for itself. One of the enterprises in- 
 dulged in by the younger officers was building and 
 running a theater, themselves taking all the char- 
 acters, male and female, in the plays. Grant took 
 part with the others. The most ambitious play 
 attempted was "Othello," in which he was cast for 
 Desdemona because of his slight figure and 
 pleasant voice. The lieutenant who was Othello, 
 however, demurred, declaring he must have some 
 one more exciting to inspire his love-making, and 
 a real actress was imported from New Orleans to 
 fill the need. 
 
 Once or twice while stationed at Corpus Christi 
 Grant obtained permission to go with a paymas- 
 ter's train and cavalry escort to San Antonio and 
 Austin. On one of these occasions he had an ad- 
 venture as useful in its way as the horse-trade of 
 his early childhood, or his experience with his 
 new uniform. From unexpected reasons the 
 party dwindled until he and a single companion 
 were left to make the last stage of the homeward 
 journey alone. The country was practically un- 
 inhabited, though there were Indians lurking 
 about, and white men one would rather not meet 
 unarmed. They encountered no human being, 
 but one night the universe seemed filled with the 
 howling of wolves, so loud and fierce, and ap- 
 parently so many, that Grant was quite sure there 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 57 
 
 must be enough to devour their little party, horses 
 and men, at a single meal. The tall prairie grass 
 hid ihcni from view, and his companion, better 
 versed in the way of wolves than he, kept steadily 
 on. Grant followed, more from lack of courage 
 to remonstrate and turn back, than from any 
 relish in the adventure. At length his companion 
 asked, quite casually, how many wolves he 
 thought there were in the pack, and Grant, not to 
 be outdone in coolness, replied with equal uncon- 
 cern, "Oh, about twenty." A moment later they 
 came upon the creatures. There w^ere just two of 
 them, sitting upon their haunches, w^ith their 
 mouths close together, filling all space with 
 sound ! In the life at Corpus Christi Grant was 
 learning many things — some from wolves, and 
 some from General Taylor ; for all this riding and 
 junketing and theater-acting was but the em- 
 broidery on the warp and woof of army training, 
 which went on ceaselessly under the watchful eye 
 and caustic tongue of "Old Rough and Ready." 
 A new^ President, James K. Polk, had come into 
 office, but he was pledged to carry out the policy 
 of his predecessor, and he could not w^ait forever. 
 If the Mexicans would not show a proper spirit 
 and fight "the invader" at the frontier, instead of 
 selling him horses, it was clear that General Tay- 
 lor's army would have to march south in search 
 
58 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 of a foe to repel it. Hints having proved useless, 
 distinct orders were at last sent him, and on 
 March 8, 1846, he started for the Rio Grande. 
 
 Grant was now a second lieutenant, having re- 
 ceived his promotion from brevet to full rank 
 about the time he encountered the wolves. This 
 promotion transferred him to the Seventh In- 
 fantry, but being fond of his old regiment he 
 asked permission to exchange back into it. He 
 planned to make the march to the Rio Grande on 
 foot— a resolution compounded of duty and 
 necessity, because he felt that an officer of in- 
 fantry ought to share the fatigues of his men, and 
 he had recently lost his "five or six dollars' worth 
 of horses." The remonstrances of his captain 
 were, however, quite enough to change his mind, 
 and the expenditure of a small sum, literally five 
 dollars this time, made him possessor of a wild 
 three-year-old colt. By the end of the first day 
 he was also its master, though during that day his 
 progress was most erratic, and his position in the 
 marching column not always of his own choosing. 
 
 There was not a settlement between Corpus 
 Christi and the Rio Grande 125 miles away. The 
 country between was a barren rolling prairie, 
 with almost no streams, and only occasional 
 pools of brackish water that had been scooped out 
 by thirsty travelers, or made by the trampling of 
 
ULYSSKS S. GRANT 59 
 
 many bufifalocs. The lcns:;tli of a day's march liad 
 to be rcj^ulatcd by the (bstancc of these reservoirs 
 one from another, and tlic thin l)kie column of 
 Taylor's army looked very inadequate for con- 
 ([uering a country, as it toiled across tlic barren 
 land from pool to pool. It found nothiuiJ^ to op- 
 pose it. At one point the herd of wild horses 
 appeared ahead, covering the plain as far as the 
 eye could see, but enemies there were none, until 
 the Colorado river was reached and the army set 
 to work to get its artillery and supply trains, 
 drawn by half-wild mules, across the brackish 
 waters. Then from the bushes on the opposite 
 shore the "assembly" rang out, and other military 
 calls in numbers that indicated a mighty force to 
 be at hand. The cavalry dashed into the stream, 
 and the sounds melted away into silence. Like 
 the wolves, these hidden enemies were far more 
 numerous before they were counted. 
 
 Arrived on the Rio Grande, General Taylor set 
 about building a fort almost under the guns of the 
 town of Matamoras which lay on the opposite 
 bank. The Mexican cavalry, incensed at this, 
 circled around, capturing such small bodies of 
 Americans as ventured too far from camp. In 
 this way two companies of dragoons were made 
 prisoners, and several officers and men were 
 killed— quite enough to serve the purpose of an 
 
6o THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 administration bent on war. The news traveled 
 back to Washington, where it was hailed with de- 
 light by the administration, and announced by 
 President Polk to Congress in a special message 
 full of zeal and bitterness. "The cup of forbear- 
 ance had been exhausted," he declared ; Mexicohad 
 "invaded our territory and shed American blood' 
 upon American soil." The Mexicans had at last 
 played into his hands. Congress speedily declared 
 war, and General Taylor and his little army 
 passed on to more serious things. On May 8 and 
 9, 1846, Palo Alto and Resaca, the first real bat- 
 tles of the Mexican War, were fought. In view 
 of the fighting of later years, in which Grant 
 bore such a conspicuous part, they were the 
 merest skirmishes, insignificant in numbers and 
 ridiculously primitive as to weapons on both sides. 
 Taylor's men were armed with flint-lock muskets, 
 and his artillery was drawn into position by oxen ; 
 while the Mexicans used lances and spears, and 
 their cannon might have been handed down from 
 the days of Cortez. The solid shot from these 
 out-of-date guns bounded along so slowly that at 
 times the American infantry, seeing them coming, 
 could open ranks and let them pass harmlessly 
 through. 
 
 It is all as unimpressive as a comic opera Vv^hen 
 read about in a book sixty-odd years after the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT r,i 
 
 event, by a g'cncration lliat makes war with ma- 
 chine guns and a lumdred death-dealing inven- 
 tions that were not dreamed of in 15^46. At the 
 moment it was a very different matter. It was 
 the first battle of our soldiers with a civilized foe 
 for thirty years. In spite of tlie sordid way in 
 which it had been brought to pass, it was War 
 with all its possibilities of glory and duty and 
 triumph— and once it was declared, the electric 
 sympathy of every true heart at home leapt out 
 across Texan sands to countrymen battling in a 
 foreign land. 
 
 To Grant, who had never seen fighting before, 
 it was very much of a war. In spite of the 
 leisurely cannon-balls and out-of-date equipment 
 he saw his friends fall, killed or cruelly wounded, 
 around him. It w^as in truth his baptism of fire. 
 He thought General Taylor's responsibility very 
 great; and when he first heard the sound of 
 hostile guns, he was sorry that he had enlisted. 
 But he bore his part coolly and well. The battle 
 of Palo Alto was principally an artillery duel, 
 lasting from three o'clock in the afternoon until 
 dark. The soldiers lay down upon the field, ex- 
 pecting to begin again next day, and slept as if 
 they were in a palace. Next morning it was 
 found that the enemy had retired. The captain 
 of Grant's company was sent ahead with a body 
 
62 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 of picked men to locate the Mexican position. 
 This left Grant in command of the company, an 
 honor he considered very great. When word 
 came for the whole army to advance, he led his 
 little band into the sharpest of the fighting, 
 and though in his autobiography he makes quiet 
 fun of his achievement, saying that no doubt the 
 battle of Resaca would have ended as successfully 
 if he had not been there, it is evident that he and 
 they did their best; and the best is not bad on a 
 field where the commanding general, being 
 urged not to expose himself to the fire, answers, 
 "Let us ride a little forward where the balls will 
 fall behind us." 
 
 Unlike Palo Alto, Resaca was a fight at close 
 range, '*a pell-mell affair, everybody for him- 
 self," and ended in a fine rout of the Mexicans, 
 which carried them through their own camp, 
 where cooks were busy preparing dinner in an- 
 ticipation of victory, on into the waters of the 
 Rio Grande. 
 
 "You want to know what my feelings were," 
 Grant wrote in his letter home. "I do not know 
 that I felt any peculiar sensation. War seems 
 much less terrible to persons engaged in it than to 
 those who read of the battles." "I scarcely 
 thought of the probability or possibility of being 
 touched myself." 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 63 
 
 Of one sensation he could not lia\c been in 
 doubt, bowcvcr, — a sensation of pride, when after 
 the battle "Old Rough and Ready" looked with 
 frowning- tenderness upon his young- soldiers and 
 said : 
 
 "Gentlemen, vou are veterans."' 
 
IV 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF WAR 
 
 PALO ALTO and Resaca seemed important 
 enough to Taylor's "veterans," but their esti- 
 mate of their own performance was modest, com- 
 pared with the acclaim these victories received at 
 home. The party in power magnified them for 
 purposes of its own in rousing enthusiasm for the 
 war, and every mother's son in the army became 
 a hero in his home town and county newspaper; 
 while every son's mother felt with trembling 
 pride that her boy's valor had alone made the 
 t.riumph possible. When the slow-moving mails 
 brought back newspaper accounts of these bat- 
 tles to the little army on the Rio Grande it had 
 difficulty in recognizing itself or its own achieve- 
 ments. 
 
 As soon as he received notice of the formal 
 declaration of war General Taylor transformed 
 his "Army of Occupation" into an "Army of In- 
 vasion" by moving it across the river and taking 
 possession of the town of Matamoras. Here he 
 
 64 
 
ULYSSKS S. GRANT 65 
 
 remained until volunteers, of which Congress had 
 authorized 50,000, arrived in sufficient numbers 
 to warrant him in carrying out his further plan 
 of campaign. This was to go up the Rio Grande 
 to the town of Camargo, which was as far as men 
 and provisions could be carried on boats, and 
 then, making that town a base of supplies, to 
 strike southwestward toward Montei»ey, the larg- 
 est city in northern Mexico, from which point an 
 attack could later be made through a pass in the 
 Sierra Madre Mountains on Mexico city, the 
 capital. 
 
 It was the i8th of August before the army 
 started, most of the men on little steamers, 
 the cavalry, artillery, and Grant's brigade march- 
 ing along the southern bank of the river. One 
 day's experience showed that marching in the sun 
 at that season of the year was out of the question 
 for Northern men. Thereafter the army pro- 
 ceeded by night, moving under southern stars, 
 and on through dim dawns that gradually bright- 
 ened [nto tlife intolerable heat and sunlight that 
 forced them to seek shelter and wait for night to 
 come again. 
 
 At Camargo Grant's trustworthiness and good 
 sense were recognized in a manner more flattering 
 than agreeable. He was made quartermaster and 
 commissary for the Fourth Infantry, a position 
 
66 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 of no small responsibility and many annoyances — 
 housekeeper to the regiment, it might be called, 
 for he had to see to feeding the men and trans- 
 porting all tents and supplies. The pack-train that 
 carried these was in itself an education in patience 
 and self-control. "There were not men enough in 
 the army," Grant tells us, "to manage that train 
 without the help of Mexicans who had learned 
 how." After the troops had started on their 
 march "the tents and cooking utensils had to be 
 made into packages so that they could be lashed to 
 the backs of the mules. Sheet-iron kettles, tent- 
 poles, and mess-chests were inconvenient articles 
 to transport in that way." By the time the train 
 was ready to start the mules first saddled would 
 be tired of standing with their loads, and would 
 try to get rid of them by all sorts of mulish 
 devices ; sometimes by bucking and kicking until 
 the burden was scattered, sometimes by rolling, 
 and sometimes when tent-poles made part of their 
 load, by getting them hopelessly tangled up with 
 the neighboring trees. "I am not aware," Grant 
 continues, "of ever having used a profane ex- 
 pletive in my life, but I would have the charity to 
 excuse those who may have done so if they were 
 in charge of a train of Mexican pack-mules at the 
 time." That he acted as quartermaster and kept 
 his temper shows the stuff of which he was made- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 67 
 
 Indeed he was too good a quarlcnnaster for his 
 (Twn happiness. He not only kept his temper; he 
 performed tlic cUities so acceptably that he was not 
 afterward allowed to give them up, though he 
 asked to be permitted to return to his regular 
 duties. As quartermaster his place during an 
 engagement was with the wagons in the rear, and 
 not on the firing line, but he never seemed able to 
 resist the attraction that led him into action. At 
 Montere}', when that sleepy, peaceful old adobe 
 town devel()i:)ed into a citadel where every house 
 was a fortress and every street an avenue of 
 death, he was in the thick of it. On September 
 2 1 St he was with a charge where one third of the 
 men were shot down in a few minutes, and where 
 he, being the only one on horseback, was a 
 special target for Mexican bullets. On the 23d 
 he found himself near the central plaza with a 
 body of men w4io could neither move forward nor 
 back, because of the shower of lead. When their 
 supply of ammunition got low Grant volunteered 
 to go for more. Flinging himself on his horse 
 Comanche-fashion, with one foot holding the 
 cantle of the saddle, and one arm around his 
 horse's neck, his body pressed close to the animal 
 on the side aw-ay from the enemy, he started at a 
 full run. At every street crossing a volley of 
 bullets whistled after him, but he went at such 
 
68 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 speed that he was already out of range and under 
 cover of the next group of houses before the 
 sharp-shooters had taken aim. At one point in 
 this mad gallop there was a four-foot wall for 
 the horse to leap. Grant made him take it, still 
 clinging to his side. It was a daring exploit, 
 much talked of in the regiment, but in spite of its 
 conspicuous gallantry his name does not appear in 
 official records of the battle. 
 
 General Taylor's army remained in and near 
 Monterey until midwinter, waiting for the poli- 
 ticians at Washington to decide what was to be 
 done next. They were in something of a quan- 
 dary. They must have victory, because Texas 
 was necessary to their plans; but on the other 
 hand, General Taylor's successes were making 
 him so popular that if these successes continued 
 the Whigs were likely to elect him President. 
 This would not suit the Democrats at all. It was 
 embarrassing that they had no general of their 
 own political party with which to supplant him. 
 General Scott, the only other available man, was 
 a Whig like Taylor, and was also known to 
 cherish hopes of being President. After much 
 deliberation it was decided to send him to Mexico 
 in spite of this. He was of higher rank than 
 General Taylor, and had different ideas about 
 carrying on the war. Ordering him south would 
 
ZACHAKV TAYLOR (1852) 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 71 
 
 appear to discredit General Taylor, and it was 
 hoped the political rivalry of the two men would 
 result in the political failure of both, while out of 
 it the country would reap military victory, and 
 the Democratic party the glory of a successful 
 war. It was an ingenious solution of the difficulty 
 — if Destiny had not had other plans. 
 
 General Scott was loath to go. He felt that the 
 administration was hostile to him, and objected to 
 being placed, as he expressed it, between two 
 fires — one from Mexico in front, the other from 
 Washington in the rear. President Polk and his 
 cabinet, however, assured him of their confidence, 
 and promised all that he asked for in the way of 
 troops and supplies— promises which they broke 
 the minute he was safely on the way. They sent 
 him only about half the troops agreed upon, and 
 withheld material of war in proportion, while al- 
 most every one of the higher officers detailed to 
 serve under him was his political or personal 
 enemy. 
 
 But the old General's fighting spirit was roused. 
 He had been sent to Mexico against his will. He 
 would show them what he could do. The result 
 was a march which for sheer bravado and swag- 
 gering audacity would have been criminal if it 
 had not proved successful. Scott had never 
 liked Taylor's plan of invading Mexico from 
 
7^ THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 the north; so, disregarding that General's pro- 
 tests, he withdrew most of his regular troops and 
 ordered them to the seaport of Vera Cruz, which 
 lies almost directly east of the city of Mexico. 
 Then, when soldiers from the north had been sent 
 him so that he had a column of ten or twelve thou- 
 sand men, he started straight into the hostile 
 country, to invade a nation of seven or eight mil- 
 lion people, cross mountain ranges, and finally 
 capture its chief city. 
 
 He began by laying siege to Vera Cruz, that old 
 walled town founded by Cortez when he came 
 across the seas three hundred years earlier in 
 search of gold. Vera Cruz lay on a sandy beach, 
 guarded at that season of the year quite as much 
 by the deadly vomito or yellow fever as by cannon 
 and armed men. On the 28th of March, just a 
 year after General Taylor had appeared on the 
 banks of the Rio Grande, it surrendered to Gen- 
 eral Scott. Then, knowing that his men remained 
 in the poisonous low lands at the peril of their 
 lives, he started them toward Jalapa, the next 
 town of importance on the road to Mexico city. 
 
 The land of Mexico rises in a series of giant 
 steps. First, the torrid sea-level, with its fevers, 
 and its soil covered with cactus and other forbid- 
 ding plants; then low hills that lead to upland 
 plains very like the prairies of Texas ; then again 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 73 
 
 higher hills, almost mountains, with thick tropical 
 vegetation, plume-like palms, strange parasites, 
 and gaud}- flowers. Beyond these again is an- 
 other plain, semi-arid, but capable of great culti- 
 vation, 7000 feet above the sea, from which spring 
 lofty mountains that tower over the whole, white 
 with eternal snow. Every degree of climate was 
 lo be met w ilb in ibis march of 260 miles from 
 the sea-coast to the capital city. Grant, though 
 busy with his quartermaster's duties, which were 
 made exceeding varied by this gamut of climates 
 and physical conditions, had eyes for everything 
 that was strange or new. His letters home, writ- 
 ten sometimes with sword belted on and pistol 
 within reach, were full of detail about the things 
 he saw— the half-naked brown men, the trees, 
 and the brilliant birds whose songs fell so far 
 short of the promise of their plumage. He had 
 longed for travel. Here were both sight-seeing 
 and adventure, and he enjoyed them to the full. 
 
 It was at Cerro Gordo, on the road to Jalapa, 
 just where the mountains begin, that Scott en- 
 countered his first opposition, in the army of 
 General Santa Anna. This man, one of the 
 picturesque figures in Mexican history, a profes- 
 sional revolutionist, now fighting for the govern- 
 ment, now warring against it, and so frequently 
 its chief magistrate that he might be called its 
 
74 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 intermittent president, was bold, skilful, un- 
 scrupulous, and as merciless a murderer of 
 prisoners as ever escaped unhanged. In this 
 campaign he showed himself incredibly swift and 
 daring. Learning through a captured letter that 
 General Scott meant to weaken General Taylor's 
 force in northern Mexico, he conceived the plan 
 of fighting and beating each of the American gen- 
 erals in turn — a plan which involved not only two 
 great battles, but a march of a thousand miles 
 over barren wastes, where the sun beat with 
 scorching fury by day and a deadly chill struck at 
 the health of his soldiers by night. No Northern 
 arm}^ could have attempted it. On February 226. 
 he faced General Taylor's army at Buena Vista, 
 grandiloquently gave him an hour in which to 
 surrender, was answered in terms more forcible 
 than polite that all eternity would not suffice for 
 that, and was beaten with a thoroughness that 
 sent the army of brown men spinning southward, 
 and landed General Taylor in the presidential 
 chair. Yet, by the 15th of May Santa Anna was at 
 Cerro Gordo with a fresh army, prepared to resist 
 Scott's march into the interior. The place chosen 
 was a long narrow pass in the mountains, over 
 which towered heights crowned with artillery. 
 The road, said to have been built by Cortez, was 
 defended at every turn. Below it yawned deep 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 75 
 
 valleys and sheer mountain walls. Direct attack 
 and a flank movement seemed eciually impossible ; 
 but General Scott was not without resourceful 
 men. Robert E. Lee, George B. McClellan, and 
 others destined to be famous in the War of the 
 Rebellion, aided in cutting a road where Santa 
 Anna thought that not even a mountain goat 
 could venture. Silently but gleefully men dragged 
 guns along this secret way; let them down by 
 ropes over precipices, dragged them up again on 
 the farther side, and on the night of May 17th, 
 while the Mexicans slept, planted their batteries 
 directly behind those of their enemies. The sur- 
 prise was complete. Santa Anna and his reserves 
 fled. Three thousand prisoners were taken, as 
 well as arms and stores. So close was the pursuit 
 that Santa Anna's carriage and mules, and, it is 
 said, his wooden leg, fell into the hands of Gen- 
 eral Scott, who returned these personal belong- 
 ings, while he paroled the prisoners and destroyed 
 the materials of war. Grant's regiment w^as in 
 this fight, but not very actively engaged. 
 
 The army pushed on to Jalapa, w^hich lies in a 
 region of perpetual spring. Grant thought it the 
 most beautiful spot he had ever seen. After rest- 
 ing it went on again to Perote on the upper plain, 
 where a strong fortress opened its doors to the 
 invading army without firing a shot. The spirit 
 
 5 
 
76 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 of fight had gone out of the people, and Santa 
 Anna retreated to make his last stand at the 
 city of Mexico. Indeed, all through the war the 
 Mexicans were at heart inclined to be friendly. 
 They fought the Americans when ordered to do 
 so, but bore no resentment. They were frankly 
 grateful for the good government established by 
 our commanding generals in their captured cities, 
 they assisted in mastering the vexing mule-trains, 
 and though they might shoot at the invaders as an 
 army, were not averse to knowing them indi- 
 vidually as paymasters or as friends. 
 
 At Jalapa General Scott had to meet another 
 difficulty. Almost half of his troops were volun- 
 teers, whose terms of service would expire before 
 he could hope to finish the war. If he kept them 
 as long as he had a right to do before sending 
 them home, they would reach Vera Cruz and be 
 forced to wait there for their ships at a season 
 when the dreaded vomito was raging its worst. 
 There was no battle pending, no real reason for 
 asking this sacrifice, since in the end he must lose 
 them before the final battles of the war. He dis- 
 missed them at once, and faced the rest of his 
 campaign with only 5000 men. Perhaps this was 
 easier for him than it might have been had he 
 cherished more respect for volunteers. Possibly 
 his anger against the administration moved him 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT y-j 
 
 to attempt the final stages of his task without its 
 help. 
 
 Piiebla, the finest city in Mexico next to the 
 capital, likewise fell into Scott's hands without a 
 struggle. The army needed rest. It remained 
 there until August, when, more troops having 
 been sent him, Scott's force again numbered 
 10,000 men. Two Americans who had long lived 
 in the city of Mexico evaded Santa Anna's watch- 
 ful eye, and came to ofifer themselves as guides. 
 On the 7th of August the march once more began. 
 Scott, at this point, abandoned all attempt to bring 
 provisions for his army from Vera Cruz, and 
 trusted to the country he passed through to fur- 
 nish the necessary supplies. Some of the loftiest 
 mountains on our continent lie between Puebla 
 and the city of Mexico. Rio Frio, the pass over 
 which the army was led, is 11,000 feet above the 
 sea. It might easily have been defended, but 
 Santa Anna chose to make his defense in the 
 capital itself. Scott's army reached the top unhin- 
 dered and looked down upon the city, lying, as 
 most of the Mexican cities lie, in a plain sur- 
 rounded by hills. Three shining lakes guarded it 
 on the south and east, fields green as emeralds 
 from recent rains pressed close about it, and noble 
 mountains, one above another, formed the back- 
 ground of the view. It was all that fancy had 
 
78 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 painted it — a fit ending for their march through 
 tropic growths and over history-haunted plains. 
 
 But the town was not yet theirs. Right across 
 their way rose a rocky hill, fortified at base and 
 top, and Santa Anna's army outnumbered them 
 three to one. Santa Anna's men occupied not only 
 the town, but various villages in the plain west of 
 the city of Mexico. To reach them was a ques- 
 tion of engineering, to fight them a question of 
 endurance and skill. It was decided to skirt the 
 lakes on the south, and to approach the town from 
 the rear. The first point assaulted was Contreras, 
 on the morning of the 20th of August. The fight 
 lasted less than half an hour, when the terrorized 
 Mexicans streamed back over the causeway be- 
 tween the lakes into their city, crying that the 
 Yankees were at their heels. Next came Cheru- 
 busco, a hamlet in a level country of fields marked 
 off by ditches, its stronghold an old church forti- 
 fied until it looked unassailable. Here too the 
 Mexican flag went down, and the Stars and 
 Stripes floated in its place. 
 
 Writing about it years afterward Grant as- 
 serted that the strategy and tactics of General 
 Scott on this day were faultless, and that he could 
 have entered the city then and there if he had 
 tried. Had he done so he would have robbed his 
 young lieutenant of two brilliant exploits, for it 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 79 
 
 was in the last days of the fighting, at Molino del 
 Rey and Chapultepec a fortnight later, that he 
 won his brevets for gallant conduct on the field. 
 
 After the fight of August 20th a truce was 
 agreed upon while terms of peace should be dis- 
 cussed. But negotiations dragged, the truce was 
 broken and on the 4th of September General Scott 
 declared it at an end. On the 8th occurred the battle 
 of Molino del Rey, "the King's Mill," a one-story 
 stone structure surrounded by a wall, once a 
 powder mill, and valuable to the Mexicans now, 
 not only for the grain that was stored in it, but 
 because, with a protecting breastwork of sand- 
 bags on its flat roof, it made a formidable fortress. 
 Between it and the city rose Chapultepec, a hill 
 with abrupt sides, some three hundred feet high, 
 crowned with fortifications. 
 
 Troops were moved up to within striking dis- 
 tance of Molino del Rey during the night, and in 
 the early morning an assault was made, the mill 
 taken, and its defenders forced back upon Chapul- 
 tepec, before that fortress awoke to a realization 
 of what was happening. Grant was in the fore- 
 front of this assault, and seemed to be every- 
 where at once. He rescued his wounded friend 
 Dent from death at the hands of a Mexican inside 
 the mill, climbed with a few men to the roof, 
 using an uptilted cart as a means of approach, 
 
8o THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 and received the surrender of half a dozen offi- 
 cials who had been caught there unable to escape. 
 For this day's work he received the brevet most 
 coveted by soldiers, that for gallant and meri- 
 torious conduct in battle. 
 
 On the 13th, in the assault on Chapultepec, he 
 bore an even more conspicuous part, finding and 
 opening the way for an advance along the San 
 Cosme Road that leads into the city ; and later pos- 
 sessing himself of a church— after a brief but 
 spirited colloquy in faulty Spanish with the priest 
 in charge of it— dragged a mountain howitzer 
 up into its belfry, and from that elevation dropped 
 shot down among the enemy behind the city gate. 
 This so pleased General Worth, his division com- 
 mander, that he sent for the young man, compli- 
 mented him highly, and ordered another gun to 
 be placed beside the one already doing such good 
 work. A lieutenant must never know more than 
 his division commander— that is the first rule of 
 the service. It would have been the height of 
 impertinence for Grant to explain to General 
 Worth that there was room for only one gun at a 
 time in the belfry. He saluted, thanked him, 
 took the proffered howitzer, and made no attempt 
 to use it. 
 
 Chapultepec ended the fighting in the war with 
 Mexico. That night the troops of Grant's division 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 8i 
 
 cut their way through the soft walls of the adobe 
 houses, ever toward the city gates, but next morn- 
 ing there was no need for further progress. Santa 
 Anna and his army had decamped. A day or two 
 later Scott's troops entered the city. The streets 
 were deserted. A few shots were fired by unseen 
 persons, and one of them killed Lieutenant Sidney 
 Smith of the Fourth Infantry, by whose death 
 Grant became first lieutenant. He was also 
 brevetted captain for gallantry at Chapultepec, 
 his rank to date from the day of the battle. 
 
 He had entered the army as a brevet second 
 lieutenant. He fought in every battle in the Mex- 
 ican War with the single exception of Buena 
 Vista, and came out at the end only first lieuten- 
 ant with the brevet of captain. A poor return 
 certainly, in rank and pay, but of incalculable ad- 
 vantage in training and experience. He had been 
 under the command of two able generals, as 
 opposite in nature as day and night, and he 
 learned from both. Taylor was called by his 
 admirers "Old Rough and Ready." Scott's 
 detractors called him "Fuss and Feathers." 
 From Taylor Grant learned simplicity in army 
 regulations, indifference to ceremony, quickness 
 in seizing a chance advantage and pressing it to 
 its final conclusion, and the useful habit of mov- 
 ing about among his troops and seeing things 
 
82 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 with his own eyes. From Scott he learned 
 thoroughness of discipline, how to cut loose from 
 a base of supplies and live upon the enemy's coun- 
 try, and that it is cheaper to parole prisoners of 
 war than to feed them. From others he learned 
 different lessons, equally important. From Gen- 
 eral Worth, his division commander, nervous, 
 apprehensive, ordering his men about from place 
 to place and tiring them unnecessarily, he learned 
 how not to command an army. As quartermaster 
 and commissary he learned the all-important les- 
 sons of how to feed and care for soldiers on the 
 march. From the wolves howling in the prairie- 
 grass he learned that noise does not necessarily 
 mean strength. This season of the Mexican War 
 was his post-graduate course in the profession of 
 arms. 
 
 It was also the happiest and most romantic 
 time of his hfe. He was young, he was well, he 
 was fortunate in love. He was traveling in 
 strange lands and seeing strange sights. There 
 was a joyous buoyancy about him and his work, 
 whether struggling with refractory pack-mules 
 or leading a half dozen men in a daring advance 
 between pattering Mexican bullets. It was the 
 heyday of his youth. The mystery of the night 
 marches ; the wonder of strange foliage and bril- 
 liant-hued birds ; the majesty of lofty mountains ; 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 83 
 
 the picturesque and bloody history of Cortez and 
 his band, vvlio marched in greed of gold over the 
 same path three hundred years before ; the child- 
 like brown people who fought him by day and 
 w^elcomcd him to their dances by night ; the great 
 herds of wild horses, and the wilder fighting of 
 enemies and friends— all this remained in his 
 mind all the days of his life— the very romance 
 of soldiering and war. 
 
V 
 
 THE MAN WHO COULD NOT SUCCEED 
 
 GENERAL SCOTT took up his quarters in 
 the ''Halls of the Montezumas," the great 
 palace on the central plaza of the city of Mexico, 
 and from there issued wise orders for governing 
 the town. The army was obliged to remain in 
 Mexico for some months yet, for the treaty of 
 Guadelupe-Hidalgo, the formal treaty of peace, 
 was not signed until February 2, 1848, after 
 which it took time to send it to Washington and 
 secure the approval of the Senate. Officers and 
 soldiers were anxious to get home, but amused 
 themselves as best they could while waiting. 
 There were bull-fights— of which Grant attended 
 just one and no more — there was monte, the na- 
 tional gambling game, which found its votaries 
 among the Americans, there were the native 
 dances, and there were excursions to points of 
 interest in the neighborhood. 
 
 As for Grant, he was kept fully occupied. His 
 duties as quartermaster and commissary went on 
 uninterruptedly, for soldiers eat as much in times 
 
 84 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 85 
 
 of peace as in war. The men were also in need 
 of clothing, and that had to be manufactured on 
 the spot, by native tailors, from such materials as 
 could be found. One officer was detailed to at- 
 tend to this for the entire army, but the Mexican- 
 made "Yankee uniforms" were in such demand 
 that it required vigilance and diplomacy to secure 
 a just share for the Fourth Infantry. Grant also 
 opened a bakery for the benefit of the regimental 
 fund which furnished extra pay for the musicians, 
 ten-pin alleys, books, magazines, and similar 
 luxuries for the men. The army ration was 
 eighteen ounces per day of either bread or flour, 
 and as one hundred pounds of flour made one 
 hundred and forty pounds of bread, the saving 
 was considerable if the commissary chose to buy 
 flour and turn it into bread. Grant did this for 
 his own regiment, and got a contract from the 
 Chief Commissary to bake a large quantity of 
 hard bread for the army besides. In eight or nine 
 weeks he made more money for the regimental 
 fund in this way than his own pay amounted to 
 during the entire war. Regimental bands at that 
 time were paid partly by the government, and 
 partly by the soldiers themselves. Out of this 
 enterprise of Grant's the musicians of the Fourth 
 Infantry received the money which had been due 
 them for months. 
 
86 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Grant found time, in spite of these varied occu- 
 pations, to join a party of officers who cHmbed 
 Popocatapetl, the highest volcano in America, 
 and afterward visited Mexico's wonderful caves, 
 —a fairy-tale of an expedition, in which the 
 wrathful mountain defeated their efforts to reach 
 its top by bad weather and a visitation of snow- 
 blindness that kept them prisoners for a whole 
 day in a mountain hut, until they acknowledged 
 their defeat and started down, the blind leading the 
 blind, those who could see a very little leading as 
 best they might the horses of those who could not 
 see at all. At the mountain's foot the trouble left 
 them as suddenly as it had come, and they went on 
 their way, which led them, after the wonderful 
 manner of Mexico, from snow levels through all 
 gradations of climate and foliage to the tropics, 
 and then down into the bowels of the earth, 
 through an underground forest of stalactites and 
 stalagmites as wonderful as it was uncanny. 
 
 Soon after this came welcome orders home. 
 On the journey back to the sea-coast the one un- 
 pleasant episode of his life in Mexico happened. 
 All buying and selling between the army and the 
 Mexicans was on a cash basis, and as regimental 
 quartermaster he had to have money to pay for 
 everything he bought. In this way $1000 quar- 
 termaster's funds were in his possession. Find- 
 
GENERAI. WINFIEI.O SCOTT 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 89 
 
 Ing that the lock of his chest had been tampered 
 with, he carried the money for safe-keeping to his 
 friend Captain Gore to be locked in his trunk. A 
 few nis^hts afterward Gore's trunk was stolen 
 bodily from his tent. Grant was of course deeply 
 distressed. A statement of the facts was prepared 
 and forwarded to Washington, with the sworn 
 testimony of his brother officers that he was in no 
 way to blame. Some years later a bill was intro- 
 duced in Congress to relieve him of the respon- 
 sibility of this $1000. It was not passed until 
 twelve years after the robbery; after he had won 
 Donelson and become a famous man. 
 
 The first thing Grant did on reaching the 
 United States was to apply for leave of absence 
 and hurry to St. Louis, where, on August 22, 
 1848, he was married to Julia Dent at her father's 
 home. He had given a good account of himself 
 in the Mexican War. Two brevets for gallant 
 conduct, special mention in the reports of four of 
 his superior officers, and a record as quarter- 
 master that remains unexcelled, was not a bad 
 showing for twenty-six months of active service. 
 Old Colonel Dent's opposition was entirely con- 
 quered, and the wedding was a merry one. 
 
 He took his bride to visit his relatives and 
 friends in Ohio. After a few weeks they joined 
 his regiment at Detroit. Almost at once he was 
 
90 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 ordered to Sackett's Harbor on the bleak shore of 
 Lake Ontario, not very far from the spot where 
 his great-grandfather and great-uncle were 
 killed in the French and Indian War. He was 
 still quartermaster, and should have been allowed 
 to stay at Detroit, the headquarters of the regi- 
 ment. Some personal grudge of another officer 
 prompted the change. He appealed to higher 
 authority and was upheld, but in the meantime 
 winter closed in, boats ceased running, and he 
 was obliged to remain at the undesirable post until 
 spring. Mrs. Grant made his modest quarters 
 cozy and homelike. She was fond of society, and 
 like her husband would have preferred Detroit, 
 but they made the best of it, and their life, though 
 very quiet, was also happy. Grant had shaved oif 
 the beard he brought back from Mexico. He 
 looked rather young, rather grave when his face 
 was in repose. The one extravagance he allowed 
 himself was a good horse. His men liked him for 
 his kindness and freedom from airs of supe- 
 riority. He spoke quietly and never blustered and 
 ordered them about. This unaggressive manner, 
 and a certain lounging effect of being always at 
 leisure, made a poor impression on new acquain- 
 tances. People sometimes asked why he had been 
 made quartermaster — whether it was because he 
 knew less than any man in the regiment. Such a 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 91 
 
 question was apt to meet a warm answer, to the 
 effect that he was competent for any duty that 
 came his way, but the fact remains that he had 
 his detractors, both in and out of the army. In 
 April he was ordered back to Detroit, where, as 
 he says in his Memoirs, "two years were spent 
 with few important incidents." After that came 
 another winter at Sackett's Harbor; then, in the 
 spring of 1852 the Fourth Infantry was ordered 
 to the Pacific coast. Mrs. Grant could not accom- 
 pany her husband. She and her little son went to 
 stay with Colonel Dent at St. Louis until Lieuten- 
 ant Grant should be able to send for them. 
 
 The regiment, a little over seven hundred 
 strong, sailed on the old steamer Ohio from New 
 York for Aspinwall on the 5th of July. The boat 
 was horribly crowded, having its full complement 
 of passengers before the Fourth Infantry came 
 aboard; and the eight-day journey to the Isthmus 
 was anything but pleasant. It was the wet season. 
 Every day torrents of rain alternated with blaz- 
 ing tropical sunlight, and the streets of Aspinwall 
 w^ere eight or ten inches under water. Passengers 
 across the Isthmus had to be carried part way by 
 boat, part way by the unfinished Panama railroad, 
 and part way by mules, though the whole distance 
 is only a few miles. A steamship company in 
 New York had contracted to take the regiment 
 
92 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 to California, including this Isthmus transit. 
 Grant's business was to care for the public prop- 
 erty in his charge, and see that the contract was 
 carried out. It took him six weeks to accomplish 
 it — six weeks of nightmare-striving against 
 lying agents, insufficient transportation, the rains, 
 and the cholera, which speedily got a foothold in 
 his camp and raged with deadly effect. His ex- 
 perience in Mexico, as well as his responsibility as 
 quartermaster, made him the natural leader. He 
 attended to everything, appeared never to sleep, 
 carried the whole burden alone. He sent the well 
 people on ahead. The captain and doctors went 
 with them, leaving him to battle alone with the 
 scourge. About one seventh of those who left 
 New York with the regiment died. 
 
 Early in September the rest of the regiment 
 reached San Francisco. A few weeks later it was 
 ordered to Fort Vancouver, near the little settle- 
 ment which afterward grew into the city of Port- 
 land, Oregon. Here Grant remained one year. 
 The Indians were peaceful. There was nothing 
 in the line of duty but his dull round of quarter- 
 master's tasks. He found few congenial friends 
 at the post, and heard seldom from his family or 
 the outside world. For six gray months the sun 
 scarcely shone, fog and rain combining to turn the 
 earth into a saturated sponge. His thoughts were 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 93 
 
 not gay. No man could pass through such an 
 experience as his upon the Isthmus without hav- 
 ing it leave a trace behind. When he turned 
 toward the future the outlook was scarcely 
 brighter. The cost of living was very high, and 
 on his pay he saw no prospect of having his wife 
 and son and the younger baby that had been born 
 since he left home, come out to join him. He was 
 a devoted husband and father, and this separation 
 from them was hard to bear. Being a silent man, 
 he said little to any one about his troubles ; but a 
 sergeant to whom he was kind tells how Grant 
 opened a letter from home one day and showed 
 him on the last page a drawing of a baby's fat 
 little hand, traced by the mother in pencil to show 
 its size— and how he folded the letter quickly and 
 walked away, not trusting himself to speak. 
 
 When spring came he tried to add to his income 
 and give himself employment by entering into 
 partnership with three other officers to raise po- 
 tatoes. He bought a team of horses, worn out by 
 their trip across the plains, nursed them into con- 
 dition, and himself did most of the work of break- 
 ing ground and caring for the crop. The yield 
 was enormous ; but every one on the Pacific coast 
 seemed inspired to plant potatoes at the same mo- 
 ment. They became a drug on the market, and 
 the partners were glad when a sudden rise in the 
 
94 THE BOYS^ LIFE OF 
 
 Columbia river washed their crop away and 
 saved them the trouble of digging it out of the 
 ground. He tried cutting and shipping ice to San 
 Francisco, and also buying meat -for the same 
 market ; but each venture resulted in failure, leav- 
 ing him deeper and deeper in debt. 
 
 In July, 1853, the death of another officer pro- 
 moted him to the captaincy of a company 
 stationed at Humboldt Bay, 240 miles north of 
 San Francisco. He heard of his promotion in 
 September and started at once to his new post. 
 It was a lonely place, reached only by an occa- 
 sional sailing ship from San Francisco. As 
 captain he had even less to do than as quarter- 
 master, and his colonel was thoroughly uncon- 
 genial to him. The weary winter dragged along, 
 gray and dismal like the preceding one, with an 
 added gloom for him in the knowledge that his 
 brother officers thought ill of him, and expected 
 to see him fail. He held out until the uncertain 
 mails brought him his commission as captain. On 
 April II, 1854, he acknowledged its receipt, ac- 
 cepting the promotion; and on the same day 
 wrote his resignation from the army, asking that 
 it take effect on the 31st of the following July. 
 
 Whether it is true, as rumor has it, that he was 
 requested by his colonel to do this, whether cold 
 disapproval of his fellow-officers drove him to the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 95 
 
 step, or whether he hecanie convinced that he 
 could not make a hving in the service for his wife 
 and children, nobody really knows. The last 
 supposition is quite enough to account for his act. 
 There is nothing in the official correspondence to 
 show his motive for resigning, or to cast one 
 breath of scandal upon his name. 
 
 He was almost penniless. The little he had 
 been able to save had been staked and lost in busi- 
 ness ventures. A few men owed him money, but 
 it was easier to pin down a drop of mercury than 
 to make them pay. A friend found him in a little 
 miners' hotel in San Francisco, haggard and 
 hopeless, all the youth gone out of him. Through 
 his kindness Grant was able to reach Watertowm, 
 New York. One of his chief debtors lived at 
 Sackett's Harbor, close by. He hired a horse and 
 rode over there, but did not even see the man he 
 had come so far to find. Much discouraged he re- 
 turned to New York city, w^here Captain Simon 
 B. Buckner and other West Point classmates 
 befriended him until his father sent money with 
 which he could get back to Ohio. 
 
 His father w^as greatly distressed at his resig- 
 nation, and had written to Jefiferson Davis, who 
 was then Secretary of War, asking that he be 
 reinstated. Of course no attention was paid to 
 this, beyond a courteously formal reply. The 
 
96 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 home-coming was not a happy one. Old Jesse 
 was sorely hurt at the apparent failure of all the 
 hopes he had built around his first-born. He 
 looked at his younger sons, beginning a career as 
 prosperous merchants, and remarked with set lips 
 that West Point had spoiled one of his sons for 
 business ; to which Grant replied humbly enough, 
 "I guess that is about so." The gentle, silent 
 mother was glad to have him back. She seemed 
 to realize that he had escaped a great danger by 
 leaving the army, and to sympathize with the 
 battle he must wage— but as usual it was a word- 
 less sympathy. The boys of the town, who had 
 mocked at his new uniform, and later thrilled 
 with delight when a bit of reflected glory fell on 
 them after his return from the Mexican War, 
 now looked at him curiously, and went their way. 
 He still owned a wonderful army overcoat— but 
 to their eyes "failure" was written all over him. 
 The visit was full of embarrassment. He cut 
 it short and journeyed on to White Haven. There 
 he found his wife, the mother of his two boys, as 
 glad to see him as his sweetheart had ever been. 
 One of the boys was a chubby youngster, nearly 
 two years old, whose acquaintance he now made 
 for the first time. He was named Ulysses, and 
 had been born while the father was having his 
 hand-to-hand struggle with the cholera on the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 97 
 
 Isthmus of Panama. Behind the group lowered 
 old Colonel Dent, outwardly civil, inwardly far 
 from pleased. He could not be expected to show 
 more enthusiasm than Jesse Grant had done. He 
 gave his son-in-law a place under his roof; but 
 the bread of dependence is never palatable. Be- 
 fore spring he gave his daughter sixty or eighty 
 acres of land, part of the Gravois farm, and bade 
 Grant make a home for her upon it. 
 
 It seems strange that a man who made such a 
 signal success of building up the regimental fund, 
 should have failed so completely in all attempts to 
 do business for himself. He carried the same 
 mind, the same persistence, the same honesty of 
 purpose, into all his enterprises ; yet everything he 
 did for the army succeeded, everything he did for 
 his family and himself failed. His genius seemed 
 to need the touch of war to quicken it into life. 
 
 He had already served his country more faith- 
 fully in battle, and his fellow-men more devotedly 
 in sickness, traveled farther, seen more, and had 
 deeper experiences of living, than fall to the lot 
 of many a citizen who dies lamented at a green 
 old age; yet he probably felt himself a failure. 
 Undoubtedly his neighbors thought him one. At 
 thirty-two, silent, unenthusiastic, with a family to 
 support, he was beginning life anew, literally 
 "from the ground up," on a bit of uncultivated 
 
98 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 land. The wildest dreamer could not foresee that 
 he had almost as many more years to live, in 
 which success, acclaim, and failure were to be his 
 in such degree that all these episodes of his earlier 
 life would sink to nothingness. 
 
 It is almost as if he had died at this time. 
 Grant the private citizen did die, for when he 
 came to notice again he was a national figure, 
 with the eyes of the whole country upon him. 
 All this was far from the thoughts of any 
 one, least of all himself, in the spring of 1855. He 
 set to work upon the farm, as he had set to work 
 against the cholera, meaning to win if he could. 
 He had no money with which to stock the place, 
 and no house to live in, but he had his two strong 
 hands and his stronger determination. All sum- 
 mer long he toiled in the field. Next winter he 
 hewed logs for his house, and when his friends 
 had come to the "raising" and put them in place, 
 he called it "Hardscrabble," in cheerful admis- 
 sion of the conditions of life within it. 'T worked 
 very hard," Grant writes referring to this time, 
 "never losing a day because of bad weather. . . . 
 If nothing else could be done I would load a cord 
 of wood on a wagon and take it to the city for 
 sale." His dreams, when he gave himself time to 
 dream, were of taking his family to live on the 
 Pacific coast. In spite of all the misfortunes that 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 99 
 
 had come upon him there, he cherished a real 
 affection for it, and hoped some day to bear his 
 part in its young and stirring hfc. This hope 
 lasted until Congress made him a major-general. 
 Meantime he was unloading wood at the back- 
 doors of St. Louis homes. 
 
 Somet'imes on these tri])s to town he encoun- 
 tered old army comrades. Sherman met him, 
 looking like the hard-working farmer he was, and 
 concluded that West Point was not a good train- 
 ing for the pursuits of civil life. Grant had no 
 false pride. He was glad to see his friends, and 
 it made no difference to him that he was dressed 
 in overalls, with his trousers tucked into his boots. 
 His classmate Coppee tells how "Grant in his 
 farmer's rig, whip in hand," came to see him at 
 the hotel, where was also a group of other officers. 
 "If Grant had ever used spirits, as is not unlikely, 
 I distinctly remember that, upon the proposal 
 being made to drink. Grant said, T will go in and 
 look at you, for I never drink anything.' " 
 
 These meetings were a cheerful break in the 
 monotony of his hard toil. It had its pleasant 
 side, but the labor was incessant, and the returns 
 very small, though he was conceded to be the most 
 industrious farmer in the neighborhood. After 
 four years of this his health gave way. Fever 
 and ague, old enemies of his boyhood, attacked 
 
100 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 him, and greatly lessened the amount of work he 
 could do. He decided that he must try something 
 else, and in the fall of 1858 sold his crops and 
 stock and farming tools at auction, and went into 
 business with Harry Boggs, a real-estate agent, 
 who was a cousin of Mrs. Grant. That winter he 
 occupied a bare unheated room in the Boggs 
 home, trudging out to Hardscrabble on Saturday 
 nights to spend Sunday with his wife and their 
 little flock. ^ In the spring he exchanged Hard- 
 scrabble for a modest cottage in St. Louis, and 
 brought his family into town. But the Boggs 
 and Grant real-estate business was not large 
 enough to support two families, and a silent man 
 like Grant, bluntly honest and most unready of 
 speech, was not the person to make it grow larger. 
 In about nine months the partnership was dis- 
 solved. "He did not seem just calculated for 
 business," as one of the men in the office observed, 
 "but an honester or more generous man never 
 lived." 
 
 The office of county engineer was about to be- 
 come vacant. That was business for which he 
 was entirely fitted by nature and training, while 
 the salary of $1900 seemed to the impecunious ex- 
 
 ^There were now four children: Frederick, born at St. Louis, 
 May, 1850; Ulysses, at Bethel, Ohio, July, 1852; Ellen, on the 
 Dent farm, August, 1855; and Jesse Root, on the Dent farm, 
 February, 1858. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT loi 
 
 captain a fortune. He made application for it to 
 the county commissioners in a letter that is still 
 preserved in the records of the county with the 
 brief official indorsement, "Rejected." It is pos- 
 sible that this rejection was most fortunate for 
 Grant and for the country, but at the time it was a 
 bitter disappointment. A little later he secured a 
 place as clerk in the St. Louis custom-house. At 
 the end of a month his chief died, and when a new 
 collector was appointed he found himself once 
 more out of employment. Everything he touched 
 seemed to go wrong. He learned that he had 
 been given a bad title to the little house in St. 
 Louis, and was forced to move into one even 
 humbler. He walked the streets looking for 
 work, and could find none to do. His wife was 
 cheerful and loyal, and his babies as comforting 
 in their affection as babies can be, but it was not 
 agreeable to reflect that these devoted souls were 
 suffering through his inability to make a proper 
 living for them. He smoked his clay pipe, and 
 became more silent and careworn day by day. 
 
VI 
 
 HIS country's call 
 
 GRANT'S acquaintances began to look askance 
 at him, not so much because he was shabby 
 and unsuccessful, as because of the opinions they 
 felt, if they did not positively know, that he held. 
 St. Louis was in effect a southern city. Grant 
 had married into a slave-holding family. His 
 friends and neighbors believed in slavery, and 
 had no patience with a man who thought it wrong, 
 even if he kept his thoughts to himself. 
 
 Grant had fought in the Mexican War, which 
 was brought about to help the cause of slavery, 
 but he never considered that war a just one. It 
 had ended in securing to the United States not 
 only the large State of Texas, but the great sweep 
 of country lying to the west between Texas and 
 the Pacific Ocean, including California. Never- 
 theless the southern Democrats had not reaped 
 all the benefits they hoped from the victory. Gen- 
 eral Taylor had been elected President in spite of 
 them, and the new territory, instead of being 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 103 
 
 devoted unquestioningly to slavery, had opened 
 again a discussion as old as the country about the 
 right and wrong of the "peculiar institution." 
 Slavery had indeed been a bone of contention 
 from the beginning. It seemed inconsistent, to 
 say the least, that a government devoted to "life, 
 liberty, and the j)ursuit of happiness" should allow 
 innocent men to be held in bondage. The signers 
 of the Declaration of Independence hoped it 
 would die out of itself, and this might have hap- 
 pened, if the discovery had not been made that 
 cotton, cultivated by slaves, was an exceedingly 
 profitable crop for the southern States. The half- 
 awakened national conscience was lulled by greed 
 of gain, and an agreement was reached as far 
 back as the year 1820, called the Missouri Com- 
 promise, by which all territory of the United 
 States, south of 36° 30', the southern boundary of 
 the State of Missouri, was to be open to slavery, 
 and all north of it devoted to freedom. Missouri 
 itself was to be a slave State. This had postponed 
 the final settlement for many years, until prac- 
 tically all the slave territory had been made into 
 States, while a great amount of free territory 
 still remained untouched. Then southern poli- 
 ticians arranged the Mexican War, and that in 
 turn started renewed discussion of the right or 
 wrong of the question which all knew lay at the 
 
I04 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 bottom of it. Then the discovery of gold brought 
 California a sudden rush of population because of 
 which it clamored to be admitted as a State— and 
 again the slavery question was uppermost, for old 
 Mexican law dedicated California to freedom, 
 while the rule of 36° 30' divided it in two. Still 
 later, Senator Stephen A. Douglas, an ambitious 
 and unscrupulous man, hoping to please the 
 South, and by so doing to become President, man- 
 aged to have the Missouri Compromise repealed, 
 and the whole question was let loose once more 
 upon the country. It had long ceased to be a mere 
 matter of dollars, and had become one of national 
 poHtics. People whose fathers had cared very 
 little about it cared much, and their children cared 
 more. Slavery was attacked and defended in the 
 name of law, of religion, and of morals. Trials, 
 persecutions, mobs, even murders, had taken place 
 because of it. The southern States now proposed 
 to secede and found a government of their own if 
 it was not recognized as lawful in all the terri- 
 tories of the United States, north as well as south. 
 Day by day bitterness on the subject grew more 
 intense, until personal friendships went down be- 
 fore the weight of sectional hatred. 
 
 Grant was by nature reticent. His misfortunes 
 and ill luck made him even more so. He did not 
 discuss the slavery question with those southern 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT F05 
 
 neighbors of his. He wished to hvc at peace with 
 all men, and in that uncongenial atmosphere he 
 dared not trust himself to speak of present issues, 
 unless his oj)ini()n was directly asked — when he 
 responded briefly, decidedly, and in a manner 
 which did not add to their love for him. There 
 seemed no longer a place for him in the social 
 community or in the business world. 
 
 In his Memoirs he makes no mention of these 
 dark days. One sentence covers the whole period : 
 *T now withdrew from the copartnership with 
 Boggs, and in May, i860, removed to Galena, 
 Illinois, and took a clerkship in my father's store." 
 This was a leather store that the elder Grant had 
 opened, putting it in charge of his two younger 
 sons. Nominally Ulysses entered as a clerk at 
 $50 a month, but it was understood that he was to 
 have a share in the business. One of his brothers 
 was slowly dying of consumption, and it was 
 thought best to make no change in the manage- 
 ment while he was so ill. 
 
 Meantime, because of the illness of his brother, 
 more and more responsibility fell upon the shoul- 
 ders of Ulysses. He bought and sold, journeyed 
 into Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa on business 
 for the firm, and everywhere heard the excited 
 talk about slavery, and about the threats the 
 southern States were making to leave the Union. 
 
io6 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Interest was fully as keen as it had been among 
 the Dents and their neighbors at St. Louis, but in 
 these northern towns sentiment was all the other 
 way — for freedom and against slavery. When 
 it was known that he had served in the army he 
 was plied with eager questions. Was the South in 
 earnest? Was it blustering, or would it really 
 fight ? And if it came to a question of blows, how 
 long would the war last? Night after night he 
 found himself the center of a little group, answer- 
 ing the questions addressed him. He was a quiet 
 man, but he could talk fluently and well on ques- 
 tions that interested him. 
 
 The weeks wore on, and political excitement 
 continued daily to increase. One after the other 
 the cotton States, South Carolina, Florida, Mis- 
 sissippi, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, 
 called conventions and went through the form of 
 declaring themselves out of the Union. Then 
 delegates from those States met at Montgomery, 
 Alabama, and formed a government which they 
 called the Confederate States of America, electing 
 Jefferson Davis its President. Such events have 
 an added interest to people who know the actors. 
 Jefferson Davis had served in Mexico, and had 
 been Secretary of War when Grant resigned from 
 the army. He therefore knew him officially if not 
 personally. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 107 
 
 A new President was to be inaugurated at 
 Washington on the coming 4th of March, a tall 
 western lawyer called Lincoln, who seemed to be 
 an able man, but had no previous experience in 
 governing. What would he do? There were 
 threats that he would not even be allowed to take 
 the oath of office. It was clear that President 
 Buchanan and his cabinet would do nothing at all 
 so long as they remained in power. Meanwhile 
 the southern States were gradually and stealthily 
 getting possession of arms and ammunition. 
 Grant feared that there w-ould be a fight, but he 
 thought, as many more prominent people; did, that 
 it would be over inside of three months. 
 
 At last the old administration passed out of office 
 and President Lincoln was inaugurated. People 
 waited breathlessly to learn what his policy would 
 be. In his inaugural address he explained that he 
 would use the power they had given him to hold 
 and occupy all forts and places belonging to the 
 government, and to collect the taxes, but he would 
 do nothing beyond that. If the South meant to 
 have w^ar it must itself begin it. Six weeks later 
 news was telegraphed over the country that the 
 South had taken him at his word. Fort Sumter 
 had been fired on and forced to surrender. War 
 was begun. 
 
 Instantly the discussion of right or wrong, all 
 
io8 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 questioning of motives, all hopes of compromising 
 differences, ceased. There were but two parties, 
 those who wished to defend the flag that had been 
 insulted and those who hoped to defeat it. Presi- 
 dent Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers to serve 
 three months, the longest period he could name 
 without further authority of Congress. Business 
 came to a standstill. Meetings were held in every 
 town. Galena was not behind the rest. On the 
 evening of April i8th the court-house was packed. 
 Somebody called the meeting to order, and to 
 Grant's astonishment nominated him for chair- 
 man. He was sitting on one of the hard wooden 
 benches, grave and quiet. Cries of "Grant! 
 Grant!" brought him to his feet, and he moved 
 forward toward the front of the room, a short 
 man, stooping slightly, dressed in his old blue 
 soldier's overcoat. Cries of "Platform, plat- 
 form!" greeted him as he stopped and faced the 
 gathering, but he shook his head and remained 
 where he was, resting his hands upon a table. 
 "With much embarrassment and some prompt- 
 ing," as he says, he stated the object of the meet- 
 ing. But if his tongue stammered, the words he 
 uttered were clear and forceful, and others had a 
 plentiful flowof oratory. Fiery speeches were made 
 by the local postmaster, by a passionate young 
 lawyer, John A. Rawlins, who was to become 
 
l-'rom a photograph owned by K. W. Gildc 
 ABRAHAM LIN'COLN 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT in 
 
 Grant's trusted companion in arms, and by a 
 stranger to him, Iililui B. Washburne, later his 
 equally true friend in Congress. Patriotism 
 glowed at white heat, and a company was raised 
 and its officers elected then and there. Grant de- 
 clined to be its captain, but promised to help in its 
 drill and organization. The meeting broke up 
 and men trooped out into the soft April night, 
 suddenly sobered and grave. Now that the flow 
 of oratory was over the words they remembered 
 were the fateful, quiet words of this man in the 
 old army coat, who talked about the duties of a 
 soldier and the possibilities of the step they were 
 taking, in a way that stripped their enterprise 
 of all bombast and spread-eagle fury, and left 
 them thoughtful, earnest, and determined. 
 
 Grant also made his choice that night. "I 
 never," he says, "went into our leather store after 
 that meeting to put up a package or do other busi- 
 ness." There was work for him elsewhe.re. The 
 very next morning the men of the Galena com- 
 pany turned out for drill. The women, no less 
 patriotic, came to him to learn about the cut and 
 material of the uniforms they insisted on making 
 with their own hands, for this first company to 
 leave their town. When it was organized and 
 ready Grant went with it to Springfield and re- 
 mained until it was mustered into service. It left 
 
 7 
 
112 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Galena with much pomp and ceremony. Grant 
 stood upon the sidewalk, carpet-bag in hand, to 
 watch it pass. Then he took his way, unnoticed 
 and unaccompanied, to the train. A small boy, 
 running after the soldiers, recalls that the carpet- 
 bag was very thin. 
 
 When he was about to go back to Galena the 
 Governor of Illinois asked him to go into the 
 Adjutant-General's office and give such help as 
 he could. A man of his experience was indeed a 
 boon at a time when patriotic impulse was only 
 excelled by ignorance of what ought to be done, 
 and how to do it. Grant was no clerk. He was 
 never sure of finding a paper he put away, unless 
 he put it in his own coat pocket, or in the hands of 
 some one more methodical than himself; but he 
 was familiar with the routine of army life, and 
 could direct how official forms and papers should 
 be made out. 
 
 People took little heed of him sitting at his desk 
 in a corner of the Adjutant-General's office. One, 
 with a superabundance of curiosity, asked who he 
 might be. "Oh, a dead-beat military man, a dis- 
 charged officer of the regular army," was the an- 
 swer. But the "dead-beat military man" had a 
 way of knowing things that others needed to 
 know in those days, and of answering questions 
 with a patient clearness that made his answers 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 113 
 
 doubly valuable. Tjcfore they realized it the whole 
 office force was turning- to him for information 
 and advice. Then Governor Yates made him 
 "mustering officer and aide" at a salary of $3 per 
 day— and was roundly criticized for his extrav- 
 agance. 
 
 While on this duty Grant spent a few days at 
 St. Louis. The town seethed with disloyalty. 
 The Governor of Missouri, feigning devotion to 
 the Union, had brought troops together to cap- 
 ture the arsenal, and a rebel flag already flaunted 
 from a house on Pine Street. During Grant's 
 visit Captain Nathaniel Lyon, an old acquain- 
 tance of his at West Point, quietly closed in on the 
 Governor's troops with a small force of his own, 
 and took them all prisoners. At the same time 
 the rebel flag was ordered to be pulled down. 
 Grant happened to be passing the house in a Pine 
 Street car at the moment. A young man entered, 
 boiling with rage. Not realizing that any one 
 present could have a contrary opinion, he turned 
 to Grant and vented his wrath. "Things have 
 
 come to a pretty pass," he said, when a free 
 
 people could not choose their own flag. Where 
 he came from, if a man dared to say a word in 
 favor of the Union, he was hanged to a limb of the 
 nearest tree. Grant, c^uietly ignoring the contra- 
 diction of these two statements, answered that 
 
114 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 after all the citizens of St. Louis were not as 
 intolerant as they might be. "I have not seen a 
 single rebel hung yet," he said, "nor heard of one, 
 but there are plenty who ought to be !" The young 
 man withered under the level glance that accom- 
 panied these words, and for the time being at least 
 nothing more was heard of his disunion senti- 
 ments. 
 
 At the beginning of the Civil War the regular 
 army, though larger than at the time of the war 
 with Mexico, numbered only 17,113 men. A 
 large proportion of its officers went south and cast 
 their fortunes with the rebellion, so that the num- 
 ber was still further diminished. Within three 
 weeks from the firing on Fort Sumter the Presi- 
 dent issued two calls for volunteers, amounting 
 altogether to about 150,000. Men of Grant's 
 training were needed to leaven this great mass of 
 good but raw material. He had refused the cap- 
 taincy of the Galena company for the reason that 
 he felt his experience fitted him for more im- 
 portant duties. 
 
 His work at Springfield being nearly finished, 
 he wrote on May 24, 1861, to the Adjutant-Gen- 
 eral at Washington : 
 
 Sir : Having served for fifteen years in the regular 
 army, including four years at West Point, and feeling 
 it the duty of every one who has been educated at the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 115 
 
 Government expense to offer their services for the sup- 
 port of that Government, I have the honor, very 
 respectfully, to tender my services, until the close of 
 the war, in such capacity as may be offered. I would 
 say that, in view of my present age and length of ser- 
 vice, I feel myself competent to command a regiment, 
 if the President, in his judgment, should see fit to in- 
 trust one to me. 
 
 A humble estimate, truly, in view of after 
 events, yet he had "some hesitation in suggesting 
 a rank as high as the colonelcy of a regiment," 
 doubting if he were equal to the position. After 
 seeing nearly every colonel mustered into the 
 army from the State of Illinois, however, and a 
 few from Indiana, he concluded that if they could 
 command regiments properly, he could. 
 
 No notice was taken of this letter, though there 
 was need of trained men in every branch of the 
 service. There was an immense rush and pressure 
 of work at the Washington office, resulting in 
 neglect and confusion. Years after the war was 
 over the letter was found in an out-of-the-way 
 place. It had not even been pigeon-holed. 
 
 Matters dragged on until the middle of June. 
 Grant was very much discouraged. Nobody 
 seemed to want him. He went to visit his parents 
 at Covington, Kentucky, just across the river 
 from Cincinnati, not so much for the pleasure of 
 
ii6 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 seeing them, as in the hope that Georg-e B. Mc- 
 Clelian, who had been one of his acquaintances at 
 West Point and in Mexico, and was now major- 
 general of volunteers, with headquarters at Cin- 
 cinnati, might recall old days and oifer him a 
 place on his staff. He crossed the river and called 
 upon him on two successive days ; then that dream 
 faded away. The busy major-general would 
 not receive him. 
 
 While he was absent on this fruitless quest 
 Governor Yates offered him command of the 
 Twenty-first Illinois, a volunteer regiment then 
 in a state of mutiny against its colonel, a young 
 man who had been elected for his handsome pres- 
 ence, but whose actions turned out to be as unsol- 
 dierly as drink and vanity could make them. 
 Grant accepted, hastened to Springfield, appeared 
 at the State Fair grounds where the regiment was 
 camped, and with a bandanna handkerchief tied 
 outside his sack-coat for a sash, and a stick for a 
 sword, took them in charge. He was not an im- 
 pressive figure, and the regiment was inclined to 
 murmur. "What do they mean by sending down 
 a little man like that to command this regiment?" 
 one indignant private asked. "Who is he, any- 
 how?" "Let me tell you something," said a 
 sergeant. "I stood close enough to see his eye and 
 the set of his jaw. I '11 tell you who he is : he 's 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 117 
 
 the colonel of this regiment" — and so they found 
 him. He had hard work for a few days, but most 
 of the men favored order, and a little regular 
 army punishment, meted out to the leaders of 
 trouble, brought them into good discipline. On the 
 second morning nearly a score of them were tied 
 up for drunkenness, leaving camp without orders, 
 and various other crimes, among them a danger- 
 ous man called Mexico, who cursed his new colo- 
 nel, and swore that for every minute he stayed 
 there he would have an ounce of his blood. 
 
 "Gag that man," said Grant quietly. 
 
 One by one the others were released by the offi- 
 cers of the guard, but Grant himself released 
 Mexico, who made not the slightest effort to carry 
 out his threat. 
 
 The new colonel had demonstrated his ability to 
 command, but one thing the regiment had not yet 
 heard him do— make a speech. Their former 
 colonel was always making speeches. Before long 
 they found out that his were brief and to the point. 
 Two eloquent congressmen came to town and 
 were introduced to Grant wnth the request that 
 they be allowed to address his men. The men 
 were assembled, and heard them discourse at fiery 
 length on patriotism and the privilege of fighting 
 for their country. At the end there were cries of 
 "Grant, Grant! a speech!" He advanced a step 
 
ii8 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 or two toward them. All was silence. The con- 
 gressmen, as well as the regiment, were curious to 
 hear what he would say. His speech was just five 
 words long: 
 
 ''Men, go to your quarters." That was all. 
 
 Shortly afterward orders came for the regi- 
 ment to go to Quincy, preparatory to being sent to 
 northern Missouri. An agent of a railroad com- 
 pany came to see about his transportation. 
 
 "How many passenger and how many freight 
 cars do you want?" he asked. "I do not want 
 any," Grant answered bluntly and without ex- 
 planation. The agent felt insulted, and reported 
 as much to the Adjutant-General who had sent 
 him. The latter hurried out to the camp and in- 
 quired indignantly why his orders were disobeyed. 
 
 "How much time have I in which to get to 
 Quincy?" Grant asked undisturbed. 
 
 "I do not remember." 
 
 Grant drew a paper from his pocket. "My or- 
 ders," he said, "give me ten days. What must I 
 do when I get there ?" 
 
 "Go to northern Missouri, I suppose," the Ad- 
 jutant replied. 
 
 "Is there a railroad there from Quincy?" 
 
 "I believe not." 
 
 "Shall I wait there until one is built?" 
 
 The Adjutant began to think that he was deal- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 119 
 
 ing with a madman. Then Grant explained. "As 
 there is no railroad to northern Missouri, and as 
 I cannot wait to have one built, it is very clear that 
 I shall have to march. Now, as it is generally 
 understood that my regiment is in bad discipline, 
 and as I have ten days' time, I have made up my 
 mind that I will begin in earnest, right at once, by 
 marching my men from here to Quincy. That is 
 the reason for my answer. I do not want any 
 railroad cars, but I do want equipment for a 
 march." 
 
 This practical soldiering created something of a 
 sensation. Grant got his wagons, personally 
 superintended loading them with salt pork and 
 regular army rations, and led his men out of 
 Springfield on foot, making about five miles the 
 first day. Orders were issued that the regiment 
 would move at six o'clock next morning. Six 
 o'clock came ; many of the men were not only not 
 ready, but were still asleep. It was seven before 
 he got them under way. That night he issued 
 another order to the effect that they would march 
 at six o'clock on the following day, ready or not 
 ready. The time came and the colonel formed his 
 column and started, regardless of men who were 
 breakfastless, or shoeless, or only half dressed. 
 They were forced into the ranks just as they hap- 
 pened to be when the hour struck, the ones who 
 
I20 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 were barefoot being forbidden to take their shoes 
 with them. After going a mile or two the column 
 was halted and the missing footgear sent for. 
 Next morning the tap of the drum found every 
 man ready to fall in. 
 
 The destination of the regiment was changed 
 several times. It was ordered here and there in 
 eastern Missouri to protect towns against bands 
 of bushwhackers, but it saw no real fighting until 
 somewhat later. There were moments, however, 
 when battle seemed very near. Grant has de- 
 scribed his feelings at such a crisis. "My sensa- 
 tions as we approached what I supposed might be 
 a field of battle were anything but agreeable. I 
 had been in all the engagements in Mexico that it 
 was possible for one person to be in, but not in 
 command. If some one else had been colonel, and 
 I had been lieutenant-colonel, I do not think I 
 would have felt any trepidation. ... As we ap- 
 proached the brow of the hill from which it was 
 expected we could see Harris's camp, and possibly 
 find his men ready formed to meet us, my heart 
 kept getting higher and higher until it felt to me 
 as though it was in my throat. I would have 
 given anything then to have been back in Illinois, 
 but I had not the moral courage to halt and con- 
 sider what to do. I kept right on. When we 
 reached a point from which the valley below was 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 121 
 
 in full view, I halted. The place where Harris 
 had heen encamped a few days hefore was still 
 there, and the marks of a recent encampment were 
 plainly visible, Init the troops were gone. My 
 heart resumed its place. It occurred to me at once 
 that Harris had been as much afraid of me as I 
 had been of him. This was a view of the question 
 I had never taken before, but it was one I never 
 forgot afterwards. From that event to the close 
 of the war I never experienced trepidation upon 
 confronting an enemy, though I always felt more 
 or less anxiety. I never forgot that he had as 
 much reason to fear my forces as I had his. The 
 lesson was valuable." 
 
 Grant and his men were all learning. Here 
 is another frank confession about those first days 
 of the Civil War. "Up to this time my regiment 
 had not been carried in the school of the soldier 
 beyond the company drill, except that it had re- 
 ceived some training on the march from Spring- 
 field to the Illinois river. There was now a good 
 opportunity of exercising it in the battalion drill. 
 While I was at West Point the tactics used in the 
 army had been Scott's and the musket the flint- 
 lock. I had never looked at a copy of tactics from 
 the time of my graduation. My standing in that 
 branch of studies had been near the foot of the 
 class. In the Mexican War in the summer of 
 
122 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 1846 I had been appointed regimental quarter- 
 master and commissary, and had not been at a 
 battahon drill since. The arms had been changed 
 since then, and Hardee's tactics had been adopted. 
 I got a copy of tactics and studied one lesson, in- 
 tending to confine the exercise of the first day to 
 the commands I had thus learned. By pursuing 
 this course from day to day I thought I would 
 soon get through the volume. We were encamped 
 just outside of town on the common, among scat- 
 tering suburban houses with enclosed gardens, 
 and when I got my regiment in line and rode to 
 the front I soon saw that if I attempted to follow 
 the lesson I had studied I would have to clear 
 away some of the houses and garden fences to 
 make room. I perceived . . . however that Har- 
 dee's tactics . . . was nothing more than com- 
 mon sense and the progress of the age applied to 
 Scott's system. ... I found no trouble in giving 
 commands that would take my regiment where I 
 wanted it to go, and carry it around all obstacles. 
 I do not believe that the officers of the regiment 
 ever discovered that I had never studied the 
 tactics that I used." 
 
 There is just one exception to be taken to these 
 statements, and that is that it was not lack of 
 "moral courage" which led Grant up the hill with 
 his heart in his throat. The result at any rate is 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 123 
 
 precisely the same as if he went quakinjr, hut 
 determined to do or die. We are at liberty to [)nt 
 our own construction upon his acts. His self- 
 control of feature and action, his prompt, unex- 
 cited doin<T of the next thing that presented itself, 
 taking advantage of any chance that offered, 
 without showing that he was disturbed or turned 
 from his original plan, were all useful to him, and 
 undoubtedly had their part in his success — but 
 lack of moral courage is not the proper name 
 for his state of mind. 
 
VII 
 
 FAME AND SLANDER 
 
 GRANT was in debt when he assumed com- 
 mand of the Twenty-first IlHnois Volunteers. 
 He had not yet paid all that he owed in St. Louis. 
 For reasons best known to himself he chose to 
 apply to outsiders rather than to his father for 
 the three hundred dollars necessary to purchase 
 his horse and uniform. A. A. Collins, an old 
 friend and business partner of Jesse Grant's, in- 
 dorsed his note for that amount, and he went 
 away to the war that he thought would be over in 
 ninety days. 
 
 Instead of being over in three months it lasted 
 four years— sixteen times three months— and 
 developed into one of the greatest struggles of 
 modern times. The ground the troops fought 
 over was larger than England, Scotland, Ireland, 
 France, Germany, Spain, and Portugal combined. 
 The losses in men amounted to seven hundred 
 lives a day; the cost in money to more than 
 $2,000,000 every twenty-four hours. It is of 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 125 
 
 course impossible in a book Hke this to give a bis- 
 tory or even an oiitHne of sticli a tremendous war. 
 Merely to name tbe principal battles vi^ould be out 
 of the question. All we can hope to do is to men- 
 tion the more important engagements in which 
 Grant figured, and to show the part he took in 
 bringing the war to a close. 
 
 In a general way there were three fields of 
 operations. The first, lying between Washington, 
 the capital of the nation, and Richmond, the capi- 
 tal of the Confederacy, with the Alleghany 
 Mountains to the west, and Chesapeake Bay to 
 the east, was the smallest in point of size, but the 
 greatest in point of interest. Each side wished to 
 capture the capital city of the other, and the ter- 
 ritory between them became the principal fighting 
 ground of the war. A second and larger field 
 lay between the Alleghany Mountains and the 
 Mississippi river. A third, largest of all, 
 stretched from the Mississippi westward to the 
 Rocky Mountains, and south to the Rio Grande; 
 but wnth this last we have nothing to do. The 
 central field was the one in which Grant won the 
 victories that brought him fame. In the smaller 
 one, between Washington and Richmond, he van- 
 quished Lee and fought the war to a close. 
 
 At first his duties were comparatively unim- 
 portant. The State of Missouri, though full of 
 
126 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 rebel sentiment, had not joined the Confederacy, 
 and the earhest efforts of Union commanders in 
 the West were directed to keeping it from follow- 
 ing the example of Tennessee, North Carolina, 
 and Arkansas, which had cast their lot with the 
 rebellious cotton States. Grant was sent to guard 
 a railroad station on the Northern Missouri Rail- 
 road, then to protect Ironton, an important rail- 
 road town in southeastern Missouri; from there 
 to inspection duty at Jefferson City, then to com- 
 mand the military Department of Southeast Mis- 
 souri; and finally was placed in command of the 
 great military depot that had been established at 
 Cairo, at the southernmost point of the State of 
 Illinois, where the Mississippi and Ohio rivers 
 come together. 
 
 This gradual enlarging of his duties was in no 
 way the result of chance. He demonstrated his 
 fitness for every increase of power confided to 
 him. His reports were clear and brief, and they 
 always told of something done. If supplies were 
 imperfect he did not complain and ask to have 
 them remedied. He found the best substitute he 
 could. If he was not able to execute all of an 
 order, he went as far toward it as possible. He 
 always had a positive opinion, and that opinion 
 was usually found to be correct. It had taken 
 him two months to get his commission. On 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 127 
 
 August 7th, less than two months after that, he 
 was made brigadier-general of volunteers— to his 
 great surprise, for "he did not know he had done 
 anything to inspire such confidence." 
 
 He gained nothing in military splendor by his 
 increase in rank. He arrived at headquarters in 
 Cairo on September 4th, quite unheralded, in 
 citizen's dress, his brigadier-general's uniform 
 not having yet reached him. Colonel Oglesby, 
 who had been in command, was surrounded by 
 people, some asking favors, others making com- 
 plaints. He did not catch Grant's name, and 
 thought him some refugee who wished to be sent 
 north. His astonishment can be imagined when 
 this small man in a rusty coat calmly seated him- 
 self at Oglesby's own table and began writing 
 orders. He looked for a moment as though he 
 would like to have some one identify the stranger, 
 but he surrendered the office without a question. 
 
 The new commander had been in Cairo just one 
 day when he heard that a Confederate force was 
 headed toward Paducah, Kentucky, an important 
 point at the junction of the Ohio and Tennessee 
 rivers. He telegraphed to his superior officer, 
 General Fremont, asking permission to seize the 
 town. No answer being forthcoming, he inter- 
 preted silence to mean consent, and occupied it 
 some six hours ahead of the enemy, to the quite 
 
128 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 unnecessary consternation of its inhabitants, who 
 were expecting to welcome the other army. This 
 prompt action contributed not a little toward 
 keeping that section of the country firmly in the 
 Union. 
 
 It was from Cairo that Grant led his first ex- 
 pedition that resulted in field fighting. This took 
 place on November 7th. General Fremont had 
 ordered him to keep the Confederate General 
 Polk, then at Columbus, Kentucky, from sending 
 reinforcements to Missouri. With 3000 men on 
 transports he started down the river toward 
 Columbus, not to fight, but to make a show of 
 force. On the way he heard of a rebel camp at 
 Belmont Landing on the Missouri shore opposite 
 Columbus, and determined to break it up. Before 
 he reached it it had been heavily reinforced. The 
 fight lasted four hours, the Confederates bravely 
 contesting the ground, but Grant's soldiers beat- 
 ing them back until the camp fell into their hands, 
 and their antagonists took refuge in confusion 
 under the steep river-bank. His raw troops did 
 not realize that the batteries across the river at 
 Columbus might open upon them at any moment, 
 and that, having accomplished their purpose, it 
 was high time to retire. They thought they had 
 won a great victory, and gave themselves over to 
 an insane carnival of joy, shouting, running 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 129 
 
 abput shaking hands, and pillaging the rebel 
 camp, while some of the officers, quite as mad, 
 fell to making political speeches to any who would 
 listen. Grant tried in vain to stop all this. He 
 saw lines of men forming on the opposite bank, 
 and transports swinging out into the stream. 
 Knowing that something must be done at once he 
 gave orders to fire the rebel tents. 
 
 This, with the grape-shot that suddenly began 
 to fall among them, brought the Union soldiers to 
 their senses ; but General Polk had had time to get 
 reinforcements across the river, and they found 
 the way to the boats barred. 
 
 "My God," some one cried, "we are sur- 
 rounded!" 
 
 "We cut our way in, we can cut our way out," 
 was Grant's unexcited reply, and officers and men, 
 inspired by this to them entirely new idea, formed 
 in passable order, and fought their way to the 
 transports. Grant, lingering to search for a rear- 
 guard that had already gone on board, found him- 
 self quite alone within fifty yards of a troop of 
 Confederate soldiers. He turned his horse to- 
 ward the river and started back, first at an in- 
 dolent walk, then, when he thought he was out of 
 sight, as fast as the good beast could carry him. 
 The boats were already putting ofif. His general's 
 uniform was covered by a sort of raincoat, and 
 
I30 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 his own men did not recognize him. The horse 
 seemed to take in the situation. Putting its fore- 
 feet over the almost perpendicular bank, it slid 
 down on its haunches and trotted on board over a 
 single plank hurriedly thrust out to meet it. 
 
 The battle of Belmont was claimed by the South 
 as "one victory at least over General Grant," but 
 as they accomplished what they went to do, and 
 got away safely, Grant's soldiers thought other- 
 wise. The little affair of "cutting their way out," 
 in their first engagement, gave them a confidence 
 which lasted throughout the war. 
 
 Between November 7th, when the battle of 
 Belmont was fought, and the following February, 
 Grant was able to do little beyond drill his soldiers 
 and prepare for some future movement. General 
 Fremont, who was not too energetic, was fol- 
 lowed in command in the West by General Hal- 
 leck, a man of much military learning but of 
 extreme caution, who wished to make war by rule 
 and book, instead of by taking swift advantage of 
 opportunities that lay at hand. One such oppor- 
 tunity Grant and others felt to be in danger of 
 slipping from their grasp. Near the border-line 
 between Kentucky and Tennessee lay two forts, 
 Henry and Donelson, one on the Tennessee river, 
 the other on the Cumberland, which at this point 
 flow side by side only eleven or twelve miles 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 131 
 
 apart. If Fort Henry should be taken Union 
 gunboats could go up the Tennessee river as far 
 as Muscle Shoals, Alabama, and a railroad of 
 great importance to the Confederacy would be 
 rendered useless. If Donelson should fall there 
 would be nothing to prevent Union troops from 
 ascending the Cumberland river as far as Nash- 
 ville, taking the city, and threatening a large ex- 
 tent of rich country eastward in Kentucky. The 
 capture of both strongholds together would force 
 the Confederate frontier southward a long dis- 
 tance. Grant felt that it was perfectly possible to 
 move his troops from Cairo by water along the 
 Ohio river to its junction with the Tennessee, and 
 up the Tennessee to within striking distance of 
 Fort Henry ; and he was impatient to do this be- 
 fore the Confederates fortified the place more 
 strongly. 
 
 So anxious was he that he asked permission to 
 go to St. Louis to explain his plan to the com- 
 manding general. It was granted, rather un- 
 graciously, but he got no further than the open- 
 ing sentences before General Halleck cut him 
 short with the contemptuous declaration that such 
 an expedition would require 6o,(XX) men. He re- 
 turned to Cairo, having got little satisfaction out 
 of his trip beyond a sight of his old friends in and 
 near St. Louis. Being only human this was a 
 
132 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 satisfaction, for he was no longer the downcast, 
 almost outcast, man of a year ago. His command 
 was an important one, his reputation was grow- 
 ing, he was beginning to pay his debts, and his 
 acquaintances and family, delighted and frankly 
 astonished, once more took an interest in him. 
 
 He was too much in earnest about Fort Henry 
 to let even Halleck's rebuff dissuade him. Com- 
 modore Foote, who had charge of the gunboats 
 that must help in such an expedition, was as 
 strongly in favor of it as he. Together they made 
 another request, and this time Halleck gave his 
 consent. They needed no second invitation. On 
 February ist they received their permission. On 
 the 2d they started. On the 6th, despite bad 
 weather and worse roads. Grant telegraphed 
 "Fort Henry is ours," adding with a businesslike 
 energy very unlike the methods common in Hal- 
 leck's department, 'T shall take and destroy Fort 
 Donelson on the 8th." 
 
 He had no authority to take Fort Donelson, but 
 it was manifestly the next thing to do. He prob- 
 ably would have kept within the letter of his 
 promise had not the weather, which had been bad 
 from the beginning, grown so much worse that 
 it was impossible to move the troops rapidly, even 
 over the short distance that lay between the two 
 forts. The roads were veritable seas of mud. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT i^.^ 
 
 Horses could not go faster tlian a walk. Artillery 
 and wagon-trains could not move at all. It was the 
 1 2th before he was able to start his men on the 
 march, the 14th before the attack could be begun. 
 In the meantime the Confederates had been re- 
 inforced and their strength increased from 6000 
 to something more than 15,000, the number of 
 Grant's attacking column. Then it suddenly grew 
 very cold, and another storm of rain, snow, sleet, 
 and piercing wind caused the troops, exposed to 
 it without shelter, and many of them quite new to 
 the hardships of an active campaign, to sufifer 
 greatly. Even camp-fires had to be forbidden 
 them except in places out of sight of the enemy. 
 On the 14th Foote and his gunboats came up and 
 joined in firing upon the forts until two of them 
 were seriously disabled, when all of them with- 
 drew for repairs. This gave the beleaguered gar- 
 rison new confidence, and they telegraphed to 
 Richmond news of a great victory. 
 
 Commodore Foote had been wounded. Next 
 morning Grant visited him upon his flagship, and 
 on his return was met by an aide, white with ex- 
 citement, who told him that the enemy had come 
 out from the fort in numbers superior to his own, 
 and were pressing his men hard. He spurred away 
 from the aide, leaving him with his message half 
 told, and galloped upon the scene of action, his 
 
134 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 great "claybank" horse splashing yellow mud in 
 every direction. He found most of his lines in 
 good order, but at one point there was danger — 
 even of a rout. He heard a discouraged private 
 say, "They have come out to fight all day; their 
 knapsacks are full of grub." 
 
 "Is that so?" he asked quickly; "bring me one." 
 He opened several in succession. There were 
 three days' provisions in each. His trained eye 
 read an entirely different meaning in this. "Men 
 defending a fort do not carry full knapsacks," he 
 said. "They are trying to force a way out. Who- 
 ever strikes first will win," and he sent a hurried 
 note to Foote asking him to make a show with his 
 gunboats, even if they were not able to go into 
 action. His aide rode by his side, calling out to 
 the troops as they passed: "Fill your cartridge 
 boxes quickly and get into line. The enemy is 
 trying to escape!" and the men, who were at a 
 point where a ringing command would restore 
 their confidence, or a moment of hesitation com- 
 plete their discomfiture, responded with a will. 
 By night they had regained all they had lost, and 
 the Confederates were once more shut up in the 
 fort. 
 
 Before morning a queer scene was enacted 
 within its walls. There were three commanders 
 present. General Floyd, the senior, had been a 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 135 
 
 traitorous member of President Buchanan's cabi- 
 net, and feared for his life if he were captured. 
 Accordingly he turned over his command to Gen- 
 eral Pillow. The latter, who objected equally to 
 falling into Union hands, in turn transferred his 
 power to the junior general, Simon B. Buckner, 
 and the two seniors escaped by boat before day- 
 light with about 3000 men. Next morning, just as 
 the Union troops were preparing for a final as- 
 sault, Grant received a note from General Buck- 
 ner, suggesting the appointment of commissioners 
 to arrange terms of capitulation. The language 
 of Grant's answer fittingly crowned his victory. 
 "No terms except an unconditional and immediate 
 surrender can be accepted," he wrote. 'T propose 
 to move immediately upon your works." 
 
 Buckner protested against these "unchivalric" 
 terms, but yielded because he must. That day 
 Grant was able to telegraph to Halleck, ''We have 
 taken Fort Donelson and from 12,000 to 15,000 
 prisoners, including Generals Buckner and Bush- 
 rod R. Johnson ; also about 20,000 stands of arms, 
 48 pieces of artillery, 17 heavy guns, from 2000 to 
 4000 horses, and large quantities of commissary 
 stores." This was the greatest victory that had 
 fallen to the Union arms since the beginning of 
 the war. Grant became instantly a national fig- 
 ure. President Lincoln nominated him major- 
 
136 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 
 r--Mxi ^.*«^ .w^- 
 
 REDUCED FACSIMILE OF THE ORIGINAL "UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER" DESPATCH 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 137 
 
 general of volunteers, and the Senate confirmed 
 the appointment at once; but the j)roudest title, 
 and tlic one most quickly bestowed, was the one 
 g-iven him by the people of the North. Seizing 
 with (lelii^ht upon the telling phrase in his answer 
 to Ruckner, they fitted it to the initials of his 
 name, and from that time onward he was "Uncon- 
 ditional Surrender Grant." 
 
 Buckner found his victor anything but "un- 
 chivalric." One of the younger officers hoped 
 that Grant would insist on lowered flags, and all 
 the picturesque display of a surrender when the 
 Confederates marched out of Donelson. "Why 
 humiliate a brave enemy?" Grant asked sharply. 
 He and Buckner had spent three years together at 
 West Point. Afterward they had served together 
 in the army, and it was Buckner who had helped 
 Grant when he found himself penniless and alone 
 in New York after his resignation. Their meet- 
 ing under these changed conditions was cordial, 
 almost aflfectionate. Finding that Buckner was 
 in need of funds Grant drew him away from the 
 other officers into a dark corner, and there in the 
 friendly shadow made shift to offer him his purse 
 —modestly, awkwardly, as if afraid the light 
 would witness his act of generosity. T.ike men 
 and Americans they hid their emotion under a 
 show of banter. Buckner told Grant that if he 
 
138 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 had been in command of Donelson the Union 
 troops would not have reached the fort so easily, 
 to which Grant, who had little respect for Floyd 
 and Pillow, answered that if Buckner had been in 
 command he would never have attempted to ap- 
 proach in the way he did. The jesting had more 
 than a grain of truth in it. Most of the com- 
 manders on the Confederate side, as well as on his 
 own, had served in the old army and were per- 
 sonally known to Grant. The knowledge that he 
 thus possessed of their characters and habits of 
 mind was of inestimable advantage to him, and 
 was never lost sight of when he faced them in 
 battle. 
 
 A great discussion arose as to who had first 
 thought of attacking Forts Henry and Donelson 
 by way of the rivers. Halleck's friends claimed the 
 credit for him ; others let it be inferred that they 
 were responsible. Grant was disgusted. ''It is 
 little to talk about it being the great wisdom of 
 any general," he wrote to his friend Washburne. 
 "General Halleck no doubt thought of this route 
 long ago, and I am sure I did." 
 
 Donelson having fallen, it seemed to Grant that 
 the way was open for large advances into the 
 South, if the Union armies could work together. 
 He sent word to General Halleck that he would 
 push on to Nashville unless he received orders to 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 139 
 
 the contrary. But there were several division 
 commanders, each bent on carrying out his own 
 plans. Misunderstandings arose, due partly to a 
 disloyal telegraph operator, who withheld mes- 
 sages addressed to Grant, w^hich made Halleck 
 think that he was disobeying him, and partly to 
 the army contractors who disliked Grant's open 
 and honest way of doing business. Utterly uncon- 
 scious of this sentiment against him, Grant went 
 on doing what he believed to be his duty, until a 
 curt telegram from General Halleck dated March 
 4th directed him to turn over his command to 
 General C. F. Smith, and to remain at Fort 
 Henry. Thus, within three wrecks of his victory 
 at Fort Donelson he found himself suddenly in 
 disgrace and practically under arrest. There was 
 nothing to do, of course, but to obey. After ten 
 days Halleck, convinced of his hasty action, re- 
 stored him to command, but the injustice hurt 
 him deeply, and he asked to be relieved. Halleck 
 refused, answering: "Instead of relieving you, I 
 wish you, as soon as your new army is in the field, 
 to assume the immediate command and lead it on 
 to new victories." It is to the credit of both gen- 
 erals that they dropped the quarrel where it was 
 and worked together for the good of the service. 
 But Grant's next battle came near not being a 
 victory. On March 17th, when he again took 
 
I40 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 command, he found bis men cam.ped on both sides 
 of the Tennessee river— at Pittsburg Landing 
 and at Savannah, a hamlet on the opposite shore 
 nine miles further down-stream. He got them 
 together at Pittsburg Landing, but kept his own 
 headquarters at Savannah, and in spite of the fact 
 that the enemy was known to be gathering in 
 force at Corinth, Mississippi, only twenty miles 
 away, took no steps toward having his camp in- 
 trenched or in any way strengthened. Lack of 
 experience is the only explanation of this. Later 
 in the war the armies on both sides became so skil- 
 ful with pick and shovel that every camp was 
 turned into an earthwork almost as soon as the 
 tents were in place. Li April, 1862, they had not 
 yet learned the value of this. 
 
 General Buell with his army had been ordered 
 to join Grant from Kentucky. For two weeks the 
 troops lay waiting for him at Pittsburg Landing 
 in fancied security; then on the mornmg of April 
 6th they were set upon and completely surprised 
 by General Albert Sidney Johnston, one of the 
 most brilliant of the southern leaders. Grant was 
 at Savannah, suffering from a severely bruised 
 ankle, which had been crushed by the fall of his 
 horse. Hearing the sound of battle, he ordered 
 steam up on his launch, sent his horses aboard, 
 and started with his staff. The roaring of cannon 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 141 
 
 .grew louder and more threatening as the nine 
 slow miles of river slipped behind them. The staff 
 listened and speculated. Grant sat silent, an un- 
 lighted cigar in his hand, and a strange, stern look 
 gathering on his face, his battle-look that they 
 soon came to know. Before the boat touched the 
 shore he had hobbled to his horse. With an effort 
 he swung himself into the saddle. Once there all 
 pain seemed to leave him, and before the gang- 
 plank was fairly down he had leaped ashore and 
 was heading at reckless speed for the heaviest 
 firing. All day he rode from place to place, in- 
 tense, vigilant, strangely quiet; directing, en- 
 couraging, re-forming stragglers, ordering up 
 reserves, doing all a commander could do; expos- 
 ing himself with criminal carelessness to the 
 enemy's fire— and in spite of all his efforts seeing 
 his men driven slowly back by the Confederates. 
 General Buell arrived at length, ahead of his 
 troops. He asked Grant what preparations had 
 been made for defeat. The resolute look deep- 
 ened on Grant's face. 
 
 "I have not despaired of whipping them yet," 
 he said. 
 
 "Does not the prospect begin to look gloomy?" 
 some one asked. 
 
 "Not at all. They can't force our lines around 
 these batteries to-night; it is too late. Delay 
 
142 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 counts everything with us. To-morrow we shall 
 attack with fresh troops and drive them of 
 course." 
 
 One of Grant's frankest critics reports this con- 
 versation, and adds : "From it I date, in my own 
 case at least, the beginning of any belief in 
 Grant's greatness." 
 
 So, although when night fell the Union lines 
 had been forced back a full mile and a half, and a 
 horde of stragglers cowered by the river. Grant 
 felt that to-morrow he would drive the enemy "of 
 course"; and his faith communicated itself in 
 some mysterious way to the tired and battered 
 soldiers who lay down with their guns in the rain 
 to wait for to-morrow's dawn. 
 
 Grant too, after visiting every division com- 
 mander, lay down to sleep upon the ground, his 
 head against a tree. Toward daylight he sought 
 refuge from the downpour on the porch of a little 
 hut, but the place was full of wounded soldiers, 
 and their groans and suffering drove him back 
 again to the insufficient shelter of his tree. 
 
 By morning Buell's men had come up. The 
 enemy were disheartened by the death of their 
 brilliant commander Johnston, shot at the head of 
 his men during a charge on the previous after- 
 noon. They fought gallantly and long under his 
 successor Beauregard, but in their turn gave way, 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 145 
 
 and by night tlie battle was over— a Union victory 
 dyed deep with the blood of the South and the 
 North ; so deep that thereafter no one dared ques- 
 tion which was the braver side. 
 
 Grant had been woefully negligent in failing to 
 take precautions against surprise, but he made the 
 best amends he could. He fought the battle as 
 only a great commander fights, and his powers of 
 mind and body seemed to grow with the need. 
 
 The battle of Pittsburg Landing, or Shiloh, as 
 it was also called from a church around which the 
 fighting raged, was indeed a victory, but it filled 
 the land with mourning. It had been bought at a 
 tremendous sacrifice of lives and men— 13,047 on 
 the Union side, 10,699 or more on the Confederate 
 — losses beside which the figures of the Mexican 
 War fade to insignificance.^ Papers printed long 
 lists of dead and wounded. People suddenly 
 awoke to the grim and dreadful nature of war, 
 and to the fact that this war would be long as well 
 as bitter. Even Grant, up to that time, had 
 thought it a question of months, not years. From 
 that point he changed his methods. He was as 
 careful as ever of the lives of non-combatants, but 
 he no longer protected rebel property that could 
 benefit the enemy, 
 
 'The number of American soldiers killed and wounded in the 
 war with Mexico was less than 5000. 
 
146 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 For the battle of Shiloh he was acclaimed a 
 great victor ; but he was also the center of great 
 abuse, and more than one general, intentionally or 
 unintentionally, fostered the impression that the 
 honor of victory belonged rightfully to him. 
 President Lincoln, beset on all sides for Grant's 
 removal, listened patiently, but shook his head. 
 "No," he said, thinking of the wearying list of 
 generals, east and west, who promised, com- 
 plained, and importuned, but rarely came to the 
 point of winning victories. "No. I can't spare 
 Grant. He fights." 
 
 General Halleck, one of the men the President 
 may have had in mind, came soon after the battle 
 of Shiloh to take the field in person. He made 
 Grant second in command, but with the chief on 
 the ground there was nothing for him to do, and 
 he was again under a sort of honorable arrest. 
 The position grew so irksome that he asked sev- 
 eral times to be relieved, but this was not granted, 
 and he had to stand by in frantic idleness day by 
 day while the learned and gifted Halleck bur- 
 rowed his way like a mole toward Corinth, 
 whither Beauregard had retired. There had been 
 lack of intrenching at Pittsburg Landing; now 
 there was altogether too much. It had taken the 
 Confederates two days to cover the distance when 
 they came to attack the Union army. Halleck, 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 147 
 
 who had three armies under his hand, Grant's and 
 Buell's, and General Pope's, which had joined 
 him since the battle, employed his 100,000 men, 
 twice the number Beauregard had, thirty-seven 
 days, doing everything with scientific precision — 
 to find at the end of it all an empty town, guarded 
 by ferocious-looking logs of wood, mounted on 
 wagon-wheels and pointed toward the advancing 
 host. The Confederates had left these "Quaker 
 guns" on guard, and withdrawn, taking all their 
 artillery and military stores to other fields of use- 
 fulness. 
 
 Halleck hid his mortification under a shower of 
 telegrams and words. The army laughed un- 
 pleasantly, and had its own opinion of theoretical 
 soldiering. The country, not being in possession 
 of all the facts, accepted Halleck's statements at 
 their face value, and rejoiced in a bloodless vic- 
 tory. Even so, the fall of Corinth was a matter 
 of no little moment, since it forced the Confeder- 
 ates to abandon certain important points on the 
 Mississippi river, notably Fort Pillow and Mem- 
 phis, which latter city surrendered after a naval 
 battle on the 6th of June. But to Grant, who felt 
 that all this could have been accomplished in two 
 days of active campaigning, and who now saw his 
 chief settling down to dig elaborately useless for- 
 tifications around Corinth, instead of sending his 
 
148 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 large available force on a mission of destruction 
 against some vital point, the situation was unen- 
 durable. He asked for thirty days' leave of 
 absence. General Sherman, always his stanch 
 friend and admirer, heard casually that he was 
 going away, and hurried to find out if it were 
 true. He found Grant seated among his camp 
 belongings, already packed to start. When 
 pressed for a reason Grant looked at him with 
 eyes full of dumb sufifering and answered, "Sher- 
 man, you know. ... I have stood it as long as I 
 can, and can endure it no longer." But Sherman, 
 with friendly tact and wise foresight, persuaded 
 his friend to remain, assuring him that he would 
 find no peace away from the army in the field, and 
 that "if he went away events would go right 
 along, and he would be left out, whereas, if he 
 remained, some happy accident might restore him 
 to favor and his true place." 
 
 The happy accident was long in coming. The 
 three armies brought together for Halleck's 
 bloodless capture of Corinth were once more 
 divided and sent on different errands. In July 
 Halleck was called to Washington and made 
 general-in-chief, so that McClellan might devote 
 all his energies to capturing Richmond. This left 
 Grant in Halleck's place, since nobody was sent to 
 succeed him, but he was not formally assigned to 
 it until October, and meantime felt much uncer- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 149 
 
 tainty as to what was expected of him. Whatever 
 may have been expected, his tro()i)s had been so 
 scattered by the orders of General Hallcck that he 
 could do little beyond holding himself on the 
 defensive in a territory decidedly hostile. Alto- 
 gether it was a perplexing and trying summer. 
 There were many annoyances connected with, yet 
 quite distinct from, his military duties. Cotton 
 speculators drove him mad with requests for un- 
 lawful help in their trade. Owners of runaway 
 slaves flocked to his camp demanding their "chat- 
 tels," and he had to reconcile justice and contra- 
 dictory orders as to how he must deal with them. 
 General McClernand, one of the men who had 
 addressed his Twenty-first Illinois Volunteers be- 
 fore they left Springfield, set himself systemati- 
 cally to work to supersede him in his command. 
 During all this time there was much fighting 
 between small bodies of his troops and of the 
 Confederates. Sometimes there were even battles 
 that for numbers engaged and losses suffered 
 equaled the famous conflicts of Grant's Mexican 
 campaigns, but were so dwarfed by the battles 
 that came before and after them as to be almost 
 lost sight of. The two most important were at 
 luka, Mississippi, on September 19th, and at 
 Corinth on October 3d and 4th, when a Con- 
 federate force tried to retake the town, almost 
 succeeded, and was repulsed. 
 
VIII 
 
 THE MAN WHO KEPT ON TRYING 
 
 AS they marched to the war the banners of cer- 
 l\. tain western recruits bore the legend : "The 
 rebels have closed the Mississippi. We must cut 
 our way to the Gulf with our swords." There was 
 sentiment in this, for the people who live near it 
 love the great river with a deep affection; but 
 there was also sound sense. Complete control of 
 the Mississippi would cut the Confederacy in two, 
 depriving it of the States of Arkansas, Louisiana, 
 and Texas, and also of the Indian Territory— a 
 vast region to the west, capable of furnishing 
 practically unlimited food supplies and large 
 bodies of armed men. It would also enable the 
 United States once more to supply cotton to the 
 mills of Europe. More important still, it would 
 silence all doubt of final success in putting down 
 the rebellion, and effectually discourage England 
 and France, who seemed inclined to interfere in 
 our family quarrel on behalf of the southern 
 States. 
 
 190 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 151 
 
 It was not only the western recruits who under- 
 stood this. Ahnost every western cami)aig'n had 
 been planned with that for its direct or ultimate 
 object. The fleets of gunboats under Farragut 
 and Porter, Foote and Davis, that did such excel- 
 lent service on our western rivers, working in 
 harmony with the armies 'Mike two shears of the 
 scissors," as has been happily said, had been 
 created with that end in view. But up to this time 
 the end had not been accomplished. 
 
 The course of the Mississippi river through the 
 southern States is down a great valley about forty 
 miles wide, through which it winds, cutting new 
 channels for itself in the soft rich earth at every 
 time of freshet. The old channels left behind 
 form a tangle of lakes and sluggish arms of the 
 stream called bayous, interspersed with soggy 
 islands and swamps that are an impenetrable mass 
 of mud and fallen trees and creeping vines. It is 
 a country through which no army could march, 
 and its flat low shores offered no foothold upon 
 which strong batteries could be placed. Federal 
 gunboats were therefore able to find their way 
 unhindered through the network of abandoned 
 channels until they reached certain points where 
 the river leaves the center of the valley to sweep 
 close to the heights that form its eastern edge. 
 At these places the Confederates established their 
 
152 THE BOYS'' LIFE OF 
 
 defense. Here batteries planted on the tops of 
 bluffs eighty to two hundred feet above the water 
 were almost as much out of reach of guns upon 
 boats as if they were in the clouds ; while the bat- 
 teries, on the contrary, were so placed as to de- 
 liver a plunging fire hard for ships to withstand. 
 In spite of this, one after the other these places 
 fell, partly through the excellent work of the gun- 
 boats, and partly because the advance of Union 
 armies, though far inland, opened the way to 
 them in the rear, and made it impossible for the 
 Confederates to hold them. Vicksburg, the chief 
 one, fortified until it was known as the Gibraltar 
 of the West, yet remained. It guarded almost 
 two hundred and fifty miles of river, including the 
 mouth of the Red river, the natural avenue lead- 
 ing into the fertile States to the west ; and as long 
 as Vicksburg held out, all that country, with its 
 food and its forage, its cotton and its recruits, 
 went to strengthen the southern cause. The Mis- 
 sissippi protected Vicksburg in front. To the 
 north, twelve miles away, the Yazoo river flowed 
 into the Mississippi, and at their junction was a 
 height called Haines's Bluff, that commanded all 
 approaches to the town in that direction. To the 
 south, quite two hundred miles away, but serving 
 the same purpose of keeping hostile troops at bay, 
 were Grand Gulf and Port Hudson. Back of 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 153 
 
 Vicksburg the country was so rugged and full of 
 deep ravines as to be almost impassable for an 
 army. Twice since the fall of New Orleans in 
 April, 1862— once in May and again in June of 
 that same year— Admiral Farragut had ascended 
 the river to this point. The second time he 
 brought with him Admiral Porter and a fleet of 
 mortar boats, and they succeeded in running past 
 the batteries and bombarding it from the north 
 for some time, but General Halleck refused to 
 send troops to aid them, claiming that he needed 
 all he had for his elaborately cautious approach on 
 Corinth, and the rapidly falling waters of the 
 Mississippi made it necessary for the boats to 
 hurry down-stream. At that time a comparatively 
 small force could have taken the place, for its 
 defenses were not finished. 
 
 Grant had watched all these movements with 
 deep interest. Both as a general and as a western 
 man his mind dwelt on this most important of all 
 military projects in the West. Hampered as he 
 was by the legacy of Halleck's plans and orders, 
 it was the middle of October, 1862, before he felt 
 that he could seriously undertake the task. At 
 that time he had about 48,500 available men 
 scattered at different points. His opponent, the 
 Confederate General Pemberton, had in the 
 neighborhood of 37,500. 
 
154 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Having got his men together Grant started in 
 the latter part of November on a campaign south- 
 ward toward Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, 
 which lies almost directly east of Vicksburg, 
 meaning at that point to turn and approach it 
 from the rear. So far in his campaigning he had 
 had the Tennessee river as a safe and sure means 
 of bringing him supplies; but on this expedition 
 he had to turn away from the river and trust to 
 the more uncertain means of railroads and 
 wagon-trains to feed his army. Railroads are 
 easily destroyed in a hostile country, while long 
 wagon-trains are almost impossible to guard; and 
 Grant, whose experience as quartermaster had 
 taught him the full truth of the statement once 
 made by the Duke of WelHngton that "every 
 army travels like a serpent on its belly"— that the 
 best army in the world is useless if unfed— de- 
 cided that he must modify his plan. He sent his 
 friend General Sherman, who commanded a por- 
 tion of the soldiers, back to Memphis, with orders 
 to come down the Mississippi river and attack 
 Vicksburg from the north, while he, unselfishly 
 content that Sherman should have the more bril- 
 liant part, remained in the background near 
 Jackson, to keep reinforcements from entering 
 Vicksburg, or to follow the enemy in case he 
 retreated. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 155 
 
 Sherman, obeying these instructions, left Mem- 
 phis on December 20th for the Yazoo river where 
 he was to make his attempt. That very day 
 Grant's fears for the safety of his Hne of suppHes 
 were unhappily verified. The Confederate Gen- 
 eral Win Dorn fell upon Holly Springs, where 
 Grant had gathered together large quantities of 
 food and ammunition, valued at $1,500,000, cap- 
 tured the place and burned all the stores, while 
 General Forrest of the Confederate cavalry man- 
 aged to break up the railroad by which new sup- 
 plies could be sent to him. It was a week before 
 he could get into touch again with the North, and 
 two weeks before rations could be issued to his 
 army in the regular way. The disaster had its 
 compensations, however. During the interval 
 Grant's soldiers and horses had no food except 
 what they could pick up in the neighborhood. 
 This "living on the enemy's country" had often 
 been done in thickly settled districts of Europe, 
 and General Scott, it will be remembered, tried it 
 with brilliant success during part of his campaign 
 against the city of Mexico; but up to the time 
 Grant was involuntarily forced to adopt it in Mis- 
 sissippi it had been deemed impracticable for this 
 country. His men did not suffer, and both he and 
 General Sherman treasured the knowledge gained 
 by this fortnight's experience, and used it to great 
 
156 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 effect later in the war. Another good result of 
 the break in communications was that it finally 
 ended in Grant taking command in person at 
 Vicksburg, instead of leaving that part of the 
 enterprise to some one else. Just before the attack 
 or Holly Springs he received orders from Wash- 
 ington to place General A. J. McClernand in com- 
 mand of that part of his troops operating from 
 the north. This was a great disappointment to 
 Grant, for he distrusted McClernand, who was 
 frankly hostile to him, as much as he loved and 
 trusted Sherman. He sent off the necessary des- 
 patches and letters at once, but the Confederate 
 attack broke his line of communications, and the 
 word did not reach McClernand for some days. 
 Meantime Sherman's attack failed, not through 
 any fault of his, but because of the difficult nature 
 of the ground; and the various complications re- 
 sulting from this failure and the belated order to 
 McClernand were so many and varied that it 
 seemed only possible to remedy them by taking 
 command in person, which Grant's instructions 
 permitted him to do. General McClernand com- 
 plained bitterly against being removed, in letters 
 most insubordinate in tone, but Grant paid no at- 
 tention, saying to those who sought to have him 
 properly dealt with : *'No, I cannot afford to quar- 
 rel with a man I have to command." Historians 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 157 
 
 have made too niucli of the incident, so far as it 
 aflfected the war. As far as Grant's character is 
 concerned, it throws a most satisfying hght on the 
 quiet general who had learned to govern himself 
 as well as to command others. 
 
 Two different attempts against Vicksburg, his 
 own by way of Jackson, and Sherman's on the 
 Yazoo, had already failed; but it was not Grant's 
 way to give up a project once entered upon. His 
 personal objection to turning back was as strong 
 as it had been in the days of his courtship. More- 
 over, as he saw it, the state of the country forbade 
 his making any movement that looked like a re- 
 treat. The North was becoming very much dis- 
 heartened. General Lee still held his ow^n in spite 
 of all the efforts that had been made against him. 
 Military successes in the West, which had been 
 brilliant and plentiful in the first half of 1862, had 
 ceased entirely. Recent elections had gone 
 strongly against the party pledged to carry on the 
 war. Volunteering had practically stopped, and 
 it was necessary to draft men into the service in 
 order to keep up the armies. These were indeed 
 the darkest days of the struggle, and many 
 devoted Unionists began to feel that the w^ar was 
 after all doomed to failure. Grant's point of view 
 was entirely different. He recognized the critical 
 situation, but he had no thought of giving up. He 
 
158 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 thought that "there was nothing left . . . but to 
 go forward to a decisive victory." In January, 
 1863, he joined General Sherman at Milliken's 
 Bend about twenty miles above Vicksburg. Ad- 
 miral Porter was there also with a large river 
 squadron, seventy vessels all told, eleven of them 
 ironclads ; and the real work of the campaign and 
 siege of Vicksburg began. 
 
 They were on the west bank, where the ground 
 is rarely more than a few inches above water- 
 level, and stretches for miles in an interminable 
 maze of bayous, swampy islands, and old river 
 channels. Opposite, as unapproachable as a city 
 in the clouds, was Vicksburg on its two-hundred- 
 foot chff, bristling with fortifications. Grant's 
 problem was to land his army on the same side of 
 the stream with the town, and to get successfully 
 in its rear. He tried several experiments before 
 he succeeded. 
 
 The river bends in a great loop opposite Vicks- 
 burg, in such a way that gunboats, to run its bat- 
 teries, were obliged to pass twice under their fire. 
 One of the experiments was to cut a canal across 
 the tongue of land formed by this bend, so that the 
 flotilla might sail by out of range of the Vicks- 
 burg guns. Another was to force the boats up 
 the twisting and swampy Yazoo in search of a 
 landing-place north of Haines's Blufif. A third, 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 159 
 
 to send them two hundred miles up the Missis- 
 sippi and attempt to find a connecting way at that 
 point into the Yazoo— in other words, to come 
 down that stream instead of going up it, to the 
 hoped-for landing. A fourth project was to cut 
 a canal into Lake Providence, west of the Missis- 
 sippi, seventy miles above Vicksburg, to find 
 a practicable water-way through two hundred 
 miles of bayous and rivers, join General Banks 
 and Admiral Farragut who were trying to cap- 
 ture Port Hudson, and, after the fall of that place, 
 for the combined forces to turn north and take 
 Vicksburg. Immense undertakings, all of them, 
 pursued under difficulties hard to realize, in a 
 country where land and water are hopelessly con- 
 fused. One sentence from Admiral Porter's 
 report brings the strange conditions vividly to 
 mind. He is referring to his boats. "I never 
 yet," he says, "saw vessels so well adapted to 
 knocking down trees, hauling them up by the 
 roots, or demolishing bridges." And the soldiers 
 were engaged in tasks equally laborious and un- 
 usual. 
 
 It was not alone natural conditions that made 
 the country so difficult. Sharp-shooters lurked in 
 the swamps. Forts valiantly manned made the 
 difficult way still more inaccessible. Squads of 
 negroes driven at the point of the bayonet felled 
 
i6o THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 great trees in front and rear of the slowly moving 
 gunboats. Expeditions by day and night were 
 necessary to rescue the imperiled fleet, in one of 
 which at least Sherman, finding a narrow path 
 through a cane-brake, personally led his men, who 
 lighted their way by candles and torches. The 
 campaign was a phantasmagoria of fighting, in 
 which everything unusual and unexpected hap- 
 pened except success. 
 
 Three months of such work in swamps and 
 dampness brought inevitable diseases in their 
 train. More graves had to be dug for the men 
 who died of sickness than for those picked off by 
 the bullets of the sharp-shooters. People began 
 to murmur at the folly and waste of such opera- 
 tions. It seemed as though Grant were going the 
 way of the other generals who had begun with 
 brilliant promise and ended in disappointment. 
 Those who had been loudest in his praise after 
 Donelson now clamored to have him removed. 
 Even his friend Washburne, his stanch defender 
 in Congress, began to doubt. President Lincoln, 
 however, stood by him, and also General Halleck, 
 who, since he had been transferred to Washing- 
 ton, and had better opportunities of comparing 
 Grant's actions and methods with those of other 
 generals, saw him in a fairer light. 
 
 Grant had one more plan— had had it all win- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT i6i 
 
 ter ; but it must wait to be put into action until the 
 spring rains were over and the roads again firm. 
 Meanwhile he was convinced that the troops suf- 
 fered less, both in health and spirits, in the work 
 they were doing than they would if held idly wait- 
 ing in camp for the waters to go down. So he 
 kept his own counsel as was his habit, hoping, but 
 not really expecting, that these web-footed labors 
 of the army and forestry operations by the navy 
 might lead to some good result. 
 
 In April when the roads were beginning to dry, 
 he communicated the plan he had cherished all 
 winter to Admiral Porter, whose assistance was 
 necessary in carrying it out. He had no right to 
 command Porter; it must be voluntary help or 
 none. The Admiral agreed at once, heartily and 
 enthusiastically, and set about preparing his part 
 of the expedition. Grant's ablest generals, on the 
 other hand, were appalled. If the others had been 
 fantastic, this scheme looked like sheer madness. 
 It was certainly against all rules of military science 
 laid down in books— nothing less than that Ad- 
 miral Porter, with fifteen or twenty vessels, iron- 
 clads, transports, and provision boats, should run 
 boldly past the fourteen miles of Confederate bat- 
 teries that protected Vicksburg, while Grant, with 
 35,(300 men, marched by a roundabout route sixty 
 or seventy miles down the west bank of the Mis- 
 
 10 
 
i62 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 sissippi, crossed with the help of Porter's boats, 
 and proceeded northward again on the east side, 
 living meanwhile off the enemy's country and 
 fighting battles whenever necessary until they 
 reached and took Vicksburg. The generals pro- 
 tested that the boats could not possibly pass the 
 batteries, and that even if they did, and the army 
 got safely across, the expedition would be com- 
 pletely cut off from supplies, and from any 
 possible chance of reinforcement. Grant listened 
 to all they had to say, then answered, "I remain of 
 the same mind," and ordered that the movement 
 be made. The naval preparations went on behind 
 a screening forest that hid them from the enemy. 
 Here the boats were prepared with all possible 
 secrecy, being piled high with cotton and grain to 
 protect their boilers, and to hide as much as pos- 
 sible the light of their fires. The night of the i6th 
 of April was the time set for the attempt, and 
 when it came men were stationed in the holds of 
 the transports to stop up with cotton, as well as 
 they could, shot-holes that might be made in their 
 hulls. 
 
 Silently, at ten o'clock. Admiral Porter's flag- 
 ship swung out into the current. Silently, at 
 intervals of a few minutes, the others followed. 
 Grant and his staff watched from a transport 
 anchored in midstream as near the enemy as it 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 165 
 
 was safe to go. Silently the seconds passed in an 
 intensity of waiting. Then a shot from a single 
 battery pierced the night. Another and another 
 took up the alarm. Bonfires were lighted, and 
 the torch was laid to frame houses until a light 
 brighter than that of day illumined the whole 
 shore, and in the glare of flame and the noise 
 of cannonading the boats slipped past, out of 
 Grant's sight, though not out of his hearing, for 
 they were under fire for more than two hours. 
 Each one was struck many times, but no lives 
 were lost, and the damage to the boats themselves 
 was slight. Grant was greatly relieved when he 
 heard that they were safely past. He and his 
 men made their march and rejoined the fleet op- 
 posite Grand Gulf, where it had been planned to 
 silence the batteries and land; but after trying 
 for five and a half hours, without disabling a 
 single one of the Confederate guns planted high 
 on the bluff, the attempt was abandoned. Grant 
 watched this engagement from a tug well within 
 range of the enemy's fire, "but," he explains, "a 
 small tug, without armament, was not calculated 
 to attract the fire of batteries while they were 
 being assailed themselves." Once again the 
 Union ships ran past Confederate batteries, and 
 a landing was finally effected at Bruinsburg, a 
 few miles below. 
 
i66 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Then began a march which has few equals in 
 miHtary history. Gathering together a motley 
 collection of country vehicles to transport his 
 ammunition, depending entirely upon the supplies 
 his men could pick up on their march, as they had 
 been taught to do by the Holly Springs disaster, 
 he cut loose from the river, his only means of com- 
 municating with his own people, and pushed into 
 the enemy's country, sending as his last word to 
 Halleck the message, "You may not hear from 
 me for several days." 
 
 The army traveled with almost no baggage. 
 Only one tent was allowed each company, and 
 that to protect the supplies from rain. There is 
 a tradition that Grant's personal luggage was 
 limited to a toothbrush. The men soon learned 
 that their general had no camp-chest, not even a 
 valise, or a change of clothes ; that he was taking 
 the hardships of the campaign as they came, as 
 simply as any private soldier. They saw him 
 moving about among them on a borrowed horse, 
 silent, careworn, spattered with mud, but confi- 
 dent and determined; eating where he could, 
 sleeping on the ground wherever night overtook 
 him, bowing his head to the rain as patiently as 
 an Indian; and leading them to victory like one 
 inspired. They had respected him before. Now 
 they came to love him. They spoke of him as 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 167 
 
 "the old man," as he rode by, but if they had said 
 "the anointed of the Lord" they could not have 
 expressed more genuine admiration. 
 
 His responsibility was enormous. If he failed 
 he would not only lose his reputation but his 
 splendid army, and possibly the Union cause. If 
 he succeeded the Mississippi would once more be 
 free. He accepted the risk, cut himself off from 
 all chance of interference as well as of help, and 
 during the first twenty days of May marched his 
 men 180 miles and fought five battles— at Port 
 Gibson, at Raymond, at Jackson, the capital of 
 Mississippi that he had failed to reach before, at 
 Champion's Hill, and at Big Black river— win- 
 ning each one, capturing eighty-eight guns and 
 over six thousand prisoners, and by these victories 
 shutting General Pemberton and his army within 
 the fortifications of Vicksburg. 
 
 On the 19th of May Grant and Sherman stood 
 together on Haines's Bluff, looking down on the 
 spot from which Sherman had been beaten back 
 at Christmas time. Sherman turned with anima- 
 tion to the younger, quieter man. "General," he 
 said, "this is the end of one of the greatest cam- 
 paigns in history. You ought to make a report at 
 once." But Vicksburg was not yet taken, and 
 Grant, though pleased, shook his head and turned 
 to the matter in hand. 
 
i68 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 His men were eager to assault, and thought 
 they could capture the town in an hour. Grant, 
 hearing that General Joseph E. Johnston and a 
 large force were coming to the relief of Pember- 
 ton, gave permission. The result was the two 
 assaults of the 19th and 22d of May, days of in- 
 credible exertion and bravery, in which the Fed- 
 eral soldiers, scrambling through cane-brakes 
 and up and down rugged ravines, charged in 
 some places to the very base of the parapets, or 
 even planted their flags upon them, but, unable to 
 go further, were obliged to lie close under the walls 
 until darkness came and they could be brought 
 out of reach of the enemy's guns. The losses 
 were very great, and not a single redoubt was 
 taken. After that officers and men understood 
 that the brave city could only be conquered by 
 siege. It was, however, merely a question of time. 
 The Union gunboats commanded the river. 
 Union troops well supplied with food and ammu- 
 nition surrounded it by land. Slowly but surely 
 famine would undermine its defense. The people 
 in the town, both troops and non-combatants, 
 seemed animated by the same spirit of resistance. 
 The Union trenches pressed nearer and nearer, 
 and their guns crashed murderously into the 
 town. Then the inhabitants in their turn bur- 
 rowed into the clay bluffs, digging caves for 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 169 
 
 themselves and their famihes out of the way of 
 exploding shells. These they furnished and lived 
 in, family life and garrison life going on side by 
 side and mingling in scenes of horror and sublime 
 if misplaced heroism, while the army outside 
 crept relentlessly nearer, and food and ammuni- 
 tion became ever scarcer in the doomed city. 
 
 By the ist of July the two picket lines were so 
 close together that chaffing conversations were 
 held between the combatants. "Well, Yank, when 
 are you coming to town?" the besieged would ask, 
 and the Union soldiers would reply that they 
 meant to celebrate the 4th of July within its walls, 
 or retort that they were already holding the Con- 
 federates prisoners of war and making them feed 
 themselves. 
 
 The threat of the Yankee pickets to capture the 
 town on the 4th of July had its effect. Clearly the 
 Confederates expected an assault, and as clearly 
 they were not able to withstand one. On the 3d 
 flags of truce appeared, and General Pemberton 
 asked for an armistice. Grant replied that an 
 unconditional surrender would be required, but 
 added that troops as brave as the defenders of 
 Vicksburg must always command respect and be 
 treated with the honors due prisoners of war. 
 
 Pemberton was an old acquaintance. It was he 
 who had brought General Worth's compliments 
 
170 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 to Lieutenant Grant for his work in the church 
 steeple at the taking of the city of Mexico. They 
 met between the Hues — Grant, small, compact, 
 quiet, with short brown beard and thin closed lips, 
 showing no emotion, whatever he may have felt ; 
 Pemberton laboring under evident excitement. 
 There was an awkward silence, then Pemberton 
 broke out in protests that his troops were not to 
 be allowed terms and conditions. 
 
 "All the terms I have are stated in my letter," 
 Grant replied. 
 
 "Then," said Pemberton, "the conference 
 might as well end." 
 
 "Very well," the other answered, as cold and 
 inexorable as fate. 
 
 But the accompanying generals protested, 
 knowing that Grant's army was never better able 
 to fight, and that the Confederates had reached 
 the limit of their endurance. After further par- 
 ley, not too pleasant, Grant returned to his camp 
 and wrote out the terms he was willing to grant. 
 These were so liberal that his own officers remon- 
 strated, but he paid no heed to them. Next day — 
 on the 4th, as had been predicted— the Con- 
 federate army marched out of Vicksburg, a 
 ragged, sad-faced company over 31,000 in num- 
 ber, pinched and thin to the verge of starvation. 
 They stacked their arms, threw down their knap- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 171 
 
 sacks and other accoutrements, then sorrowfully 
 crowned the piles with their tattered battle-flags 
 and marched back again into the town to wait, 
 prisoners of war, until they could be paroled. Not 
 a cheer went up from the Union ranks. These 
 men were their enemies, but they were also their 
 brothers, and as brothers and not as enemies they 
 looked on at the scene of their humiliation. 
 
 Grant rode into Vicksburg with the troops, and 
 went to the water-side to exchange congratula- 
 tions with the navy. He saw the townspeople liv- 
 ing in their caves, and found that the supply of 
 food was indeed exhausted. He at once issued 
 ten days' rations to the inhabitants, and though 
 he came as a victor, it must have been with feel- 
 ings of thankfulness as well as grief that they 
 beheld him riding through their streets. 
 
 The country again rang with his praises. He 
 was quickly promoted to be major-general in the 
 regular army, the rank he held before being only 
 in the volunteer service. In addition to this offi- 
 cial recognition President Lincoln sent him a most 
 cordial private letter, thanking him for the "al- 
 most inestimable service" he had done the coun- 
 try, telling him how his own ideas of the campaign 
 had differed in certain particulars from Grant's, 
 and ending with the generous acknowledgment, 
 "you were right and I was wrong." 
 
172 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 Grant accepted the praise as he had the blame, 
 with outward calm, and went about his further 
 tasks with undiminished simplicity. He did not 
 exult over his victory — in fact, scarcely alluded to 
 it twice, even to his wife. When some friend tried 
 to compliment him on his "grand logistics" and 
 "brilliant strategy," he answered simply that he 
 did not know much about that. He had "just 
 pounded away until he pounded the place down !" 
 
IX 
 
 THE nation's hero *: 
 
 ON that same 3d of July a great victory was 
 gained over General Lee at Gettysburg, 
 Pennsylvania. These two successes proved the 
 turning point of the war. It was to continue for 
 two years longer, and the hardest fought and 
 bloodiest battles w^re still to come, but these two 
 victories, occurring almost at the same moment, 
 one in the East, the other in the West, gave the 
 Confederate cause a blow from which it never 
 rallied. 
 
 Next to Vicksburg the point of greatest im- 
 portance in the West was Chattanooga in East 
 Tennessee, near the border of Georgia. It was in 
 a mountain region where railroad lines from the 
 west and southwest centered and connected with 
 other lines to the Atlantic coast. Just as the fall 
 of Vicksburg opened the Mississippi river, the 
 undisputed possession of this place would close 
 the principal avenue from the southwest into Vir- 
 ginia and practically force the rest of the war 
 into the eastern States. General Rosecrans was 
 
 »73 
 
174 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 in command in that region, but things had not 
 gone well with him. To the country at large both 
 he and Grant had seemed to be dawdling inter- 
 minably. Really each was doing his best. 
 Grant's best resulted in the taking of Vicksburg. 
 Rosecrans, on the other hand, fought on Sep- 
 tember 19th and 20th the severe and losing battle 
 of Chickamauga, and October, 1863, found him 
 practically in a state of siege at Chattanooga, 
 with his leading commanders more or less at 
 odds, and his lines of communication so fre- 
 quently attacked that his army was on half ra- 
 tions, and 10,000 of his horses and mules had 
 already died of starvation. Jefferson Davis 
 visited the Confederate camp at this time, and 
 looking down from the heights of Lookout 
 Mountain rejoiced that his generals had the 
 Yankees ''like rats in a trap." 
 
 After Vicksburg some of Grant's troops had 
 been sent to help Rosecrans. Others were with- 
 drawn to other points, so that his desire to go at 
 once on an expedition against Mobile had to be 
 abandoned. In August he went to New Orleans 
 to confer with General Banks, and while there 
 suffered a serious accident, his horse falling upon 
 him and injuring him so severely that he was un- 
 conscious for some time and badly crippled for 
 several weeks. While lying helpless in bed in his 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 175 
 
 hotel at New Orleans he received telegrams urg- 
 ing him to despatch all the troops he could spare 
 to Rosecrans. He sent for a litter, had a steam- 
 I boat come to the point in the river nearest his 
 hotel, was carried aboard and taken to Vicksburg, 
 where, though still an invalid, he was with his 
 command. On the loth of October a despatch 
 dated a week earlier reached him, ordering him, 
 as soon as he was able to travel, to go to Cairo and 
 report from there by telegraph to Washington. 
 He was still painfully lame, but before nightfall 
 he and his staff were on their way. At Cairo he 
 was ordered to proceed at once to Louisville, 
 Kentucky, to meet an officer of the War Depart- 
 ment with his instructions. Within two hours he 
 was off for Louisville. Before reaching there he 
 was joined by the officer in question, who proved 
 to be no less a person than the Secretary of War 
 himself. Up to that time Grant had not been told 
 what was wanted of him. Now Mr. Stanton 
 handed him two orders dated October i6th, say- 
 ing he might take his choice. They were alike 
 except in one particular. Both created the mili- 
 tary Department of the Mississippi, giving Grant 
 command of all the territory between the Al- 
 leghanies and the Mississippi river, with the ex- 
 ception of that held by General Banks in the 
 southwest. The dift'erence was that one order 
 
176 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 left the department commanders as they were, 
 while the other relieved General Rosecrans and 
 placed General Thomas in his stead. General 
 Thomas's skill and steadiness had been the one 
 redeeming feature of Rosecrans's disastrous 
 battle of September 19-20, where he gained for 
 himself the name of the "Rock of Chickamauga." 
 
 Grant unhesitatingly chose this order, and 
 learning that there was a rumor that the Union 
 troops might abandon the town, telegraphed 
 Thomas to hold Chattanooga at all hazards. His 
 answer, "We will hold the town till we starve," 
 woke a responsive chord in Grant's own breast, 
 though he did not comprehend its full force until 
 he saw with his own eyes the pass to which 
 Thomas's army was reduced. 
 
 On the 20th of October he started for Chat- 
 tanooga, stopping the first night at Nashville— 
 because travel beyond that point could only be 
 prudently undertaken by day— and suifering 
 martyrdom there while Andrew Johnson the gov- 
 ernor rolled forth an interminable speech of wel- 
 come. All next day he traveled by train, and all 
 of the two following days on horseback through 
 drenching rain, over a country made desolate by 
 war. On the way he met General Rosecrans, the 
 superseded commander, who explained very 
 clearly the situation at Chattanooga, and made 
 
'ULYSSES S. GRANT 177 
 
 some excellent suggestions. Grant wondered 
 silently why he had not carried them out. It was 
 a cruel ride for a well man, let alone for one who 
 was lame. At some places the roads were unsafe 
 even for horses, and here the soldiers of Grant's 
 escort carried him in their arms. To his practised 
 eye the desolate way told its own tale of starva- 
 tion and disaster. Everything in the shape of 
 food and forage was gone — the ground was 
 stripped quite bare. The wrecks of broken 
 wagons and the carcasses of faithful horses that 
 had died in harness lined the road. The rain fell 
 in sheets, and he was racked with pain, for his 
 horse had slipped and further injured the bruised 
 limb. When he reached General Thomas's head- 
 quarters about nightfall of the second day he had 
 to be lifted from his horse. 
 
 But he gave no thought to bodily comfort. 
 Both he and General Thomas were too much en- 
 grossed with the situation to think of food and 
 dry raiment. When the suggestions were made 
 by the younger officers Grant refused the clothing 
 but ate the food, sitting in front of a blazing fire, 
 the floor around him wet with little pools from 
 his soaked garments, while he listened silently and 
 attentively to the chief of engineers and others 
 who pointed out on a large map the positions of 
 both armies. Then he began firing whole volleys 
 
178 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 of questions at the officers, each question going 
 like a dart to the center of the matter. After that 
 he turned to a table and became obHvious of their 
 presence, writing telegrams with an even, busi- 
 nesslike precision at which they marveled. Then, 
 making an appointment with General Thomas 
 and General Smith, the chief of engineers, for an 
 inspection of the lines early next morning, he 
 hobbled ofif to his bedroom. 
 
 Five days later the troops and such horses as 
 were left were again enjoying full rations. Even 
 before Grant arrived the fertile mind of General 
 Smith had suggested a plan by which the long line 
 of sixty miles over which provisions were being 
 hauled could be reduced to eight. Encouragement 
 and the energy of the new commander were all 
 that were needed to put it into effect. These 
 Grant gave in full measure. In ten days the men 
 were strong, and the horses almost able again to 
 haul the artillery, which had been rendered com- 
 pletely useless by their weakness. Grant had a 
 mind for everything, even to the smallest detail, 
 and gave everything his personal attention. 
 There was no telling when or how he might ap- 
 pear. It might be alone on the picket line, or it 
 might be in close conference with General 
 Thomas and General Smith. An officer superin- 
 tending a party of men working at night to lay a 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 179 
 
 pontoon bridge, heard a patter of hoofs in the 
 darkness. A man drew up, asked a few ques- 
 tions, and rode on without giving a hint of his 
 rank; but a ray of hght from one of the fires, 
 screened to hide them from the enemy, fell upon 
 his face as he passed, and the workers knew that 
 their general had been with them at one o'clock in 
 the morning. This was a new kind of general for 
 that army. The change in the spirit of the men 
 was remarkable. General Braxton Bragg and 
 the other Confederate commanders suddenly 
 awoke to the fact that they might not have their 
 prey like rats in a trap after all; and Grant and 
 his officers began to entertain fears lest the Con- 
 federates move away and escape them. 
 
 General Hooker had arrived from the east with 
 two corps from the Army of the Potomac. Gen- 
 eral Sherman had been sent for. As soon as he 
 arrived Grant meant to give battle. Meantime he 
 wrote his orders, leaving the dates blank. The 
 fight, when it took place on the 23d, 24th, and 25th 
 of November, was one of the most spectacular of 
 the whole war, and its setting the most pictur- 
 esque. Chattanooga lay in a great curve of the 
 Tennessee river. Back of the town a level plain 
 about two miles wide stretched to Missionary 
 Ridge, a long narrow mountain five hundred feet 
 
 high and several miles in length, the portion op- 
 11 
 
i8o THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 posite the town crowned with heavy guns and 
 abundant infantry. Some distance to the south 
 and west was a much higher ridge called Lookout 
 Mountain, whose northern end, dropping almost 
 sheer into the Tennessee river, was likewise 
 heavily fortified. The Confederates held both 
 these important heights, and also a low hill on the 
 level plain, called Orchard Knob. The task of the 
 Union army was to dislodge Bragg from all these 
 heights. Grant's plan in rough outline was that 
 Sherman with his Army of the Tennessee should 
 storm the north end of Missionary Ridge; that 
 General Hooker, with his two corps from the 
 Army of the Potomac, who had been camped some 
 thirteen miles away because of the famine, should 
 move toward Chattanooga, storming Lookout 
 Mountain on the way, while General Thomas's 
 men, being already in the city, should attack Mis- 
 sionary Ridge directly in front. He meant to 
 open battle on the 21st, but a rainstorm delayed 
 him two days longer. 
 
 On the 23d the clouds, which had filled the val- 
 ley with fog all the morning, suddenly lifted, and 
 the Confederates from their heights looked down 
 on two splendid divisions of Union troops moving 
 out with drums beating and colors flying. So 
 measured and precise were their movements that 
 the spectators thought it only a dress parade, and 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT i8i 
 
 looked on with pleased interest, but no deeper 
 emotion. Suddenly at a signal the troops rushed 
 forward, and before the Confederates realized 
 what was happening, had driven in the pickets, 
 seized the first line of Confederate rifle-pits and 
 the low hill called Orchard Knob, and turned their 
 guns upon the former occupants. It was a bril- 
 liant and easy success, gaining important ground 
 for future work, and invaluable in the cheer and 
 confidence it gave the troops who had been beaten 
 at Chickamauga and shut up so long in Chat- 
 tanooga. Evening closed with a roar of artillery 
 on both sides. 
 
 Before daylight next morning Sherman and 
 his men were on the south side of the Tennessee 
 river, and by night had gained the point he had 
 fixed upon in advance as the first position to be 
 reached. Here, however, a grave disappointment 
 awaited him. He had imagined Missionary 
 Ridge one continuous hill. He now found a con- 
 siderable valley between himself and the strong 
 position of the enemy that was his real objective. 
 He fortified himself and waited for daylight, the 
 lights of his camp-fires that night giving Grant 
 greater assurance of victory than he had really 
 attained. 
 
 It was at the other end of the valley that the 
 chief interest of this day had centered. General 
 
i82 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Hooker and his men fulfilled their part most gal- 
 lantly. Lookout Mountain, with its high pali- 
 saded crest rising into the sky, its steep and deeply 
 furrowed slopes defended by well-constructed 
 rifle-pits and breastworks, was such a natural 
 fortress that a handful ought to have held it in the 
 face of overwhelming numbers. Hooker's force 
 was about as large as the one that defended it. 
 The strength of the Confederate position made 
 the odds very strongly in favor of the latter. 
 Valiantly but circumspectly the Federal troops at- 
 tacked. Under trailing clouds of mist they 
 slipped in where their opponents least expected 
 them, and steadily, ceaselessly, intrepidly, ad- 
 vanced, crouching sometimes under the very 
 muzzles of the enemy's cannon ; again clambering 
 over ledges and boulders, but driving their foe ever 
 before them. All that their comrades in the plain 
 could see were dense masses of shifting vapor 
 through whose rifts came flashes of musketry, 
 glimpses of moving banners, and of steadily ad- 
 vancing Union lines. By two o'clock the clouds 
 were so dense that the combatants themselves had 
 to stop because of the darkness. Then when the 
 clouds lifted the fight went on, but by four o'clock 
 this unique battle above the clouds was over, and 
 the Union flag had been planted where it would 
 catch the first ray of the morning sun. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 183 
 
 That night the enemy withdrew from the moun- 
 tain. The Confederate commander, seeing where 
 the real danger lay, threw all his available force 
 against General Sherman, who attacked again at 
 daylight on the 25th. Of that morning's battle 
 little is to be said, except that both sides fought 
 with the utmost gallantry without materially 
 altering the situation. Sherman was not able to 
 reach his coveted point ; the enemy was not able to 
 do more than keep him at bay. From noon until 
 three o'clock Sherman looked anxiously for help 
 from General Thomas, who was to assault Mis- 
 sionary Ridge when news reached him that Sher- 
 man had progressed sufficiently to make his help 
 of use. Meantime Grant and Thomas and a little 
 group of Union officers stood together on Orchard 
 Knob, anxiously watching, and the troops not en- 
 gaged waited like well-bred hounds, straining at 
 the leash, excited and restless at their apparent 
 inaction, while the sounds of furious battle 
 showed how their comrades were striving. Be- 
 fore them, at a distance of from four hundred to 
 five hundred yards, was the first line of Con- 
 federate intrenchments. From there to the crest 
 of Missionary Ridge, bristling with batteries, was 
 another nine hundred yards. Half-way up was 
 still a third line of works. 
 
 At last the order was given— to take the first 
 
i84 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 line of batteries only, then halt and re-form. Like 
 men upon holiday drill they passed through a 
 wood, and then in the open beyond broke into 
 double-quick and rushed at full speed upon the 
 Confederate intrenchments. General Sheridan, 
 in the lead, looking back upon this magnificent 
 line of men and glittering steel, felt that nothing 
 could withstand them. The Confederates, seeing 
 the rush, threw themselves flat in their trenches, 
 and the Union soldiers passed over and beyond 
 them before they could stop. A thousand prison- 
 ers were taken and sent to the rear under a rain 
 of fire that their own batteries on the crest were 
 pouring down on friend and foe alike. Here, ac- 
 cording to orders, the Federal troops should have 
 halted, but a spirit had been raised that no order 
 could hold in check. The rifle-pits they had just 
 taken were exposed to a deadly fire from the bat- 
 teries above. To stop was death ; to go back im- 
 possible to men filled with their ardor of battle. 
 One by one, without orders, the color-bearers 
 rushed to the front, and the men sprang after the 
 colors. On and up they went, paying little heed to 
 regiments and lines of formation. The colors 
 led, the strongest men followed, the rest came 
 after. A feeling of victory possessed them one 
 and all, from the foremost corps commander to 
 the last private, and the whole mass seemed to 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 185 
 
 sweep up the hill together. Several times, out of 
 breath with the furious rush, they dropped pant- 
 ing on the mountain-side for a moment's rest, and 
 the enemy at the top thought they had been re- 
 pulsed. Then the blue line lifted itself and moved 
 on again, heedless of the grape-shot and canister 
 pouring down from the batteries above. 
 
 The group of commanders on Orchard Knob 
 watched with the utmost concern. When the 
 troops broke away from the first line of rifle-pits 
 and began the perilous ascent, Grant turned 
 quickly to General Thomas and asked, "By whose 
 order is this ?" Thomas, knowing his men, smiled 
 a half-proud smile and answered, "By their own, I 
 fancy." The blood of the little group on Orchard 
 Knob tingled with excitement as the soldiers drew 
 ever nearer to the summit. When they had 
 almost reached the top the suspense was intoler- 
 able. General W. F. Smith turned away his eyes, 
 fearful of failure, but Grant watched, his face set 
 in its battle-look of stern, alert intensity. As they 
 poured over the crest at last like a breaking wave 
 a cheer roused all the echoes in the valley. They 
 must have been breathless, and exhausted enough 
 to fall easy prey to fresh troops on the summit, 
 but the suddenness of their rush and the exalta- 
 tion that possessed them struck panic to the Con- 
 federates, who gave way without resistance. 
 
i86 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Only a moment before General Bragg had been 
 riding along the crest, waving his hat in triumph, 
 deeming the charge repulsed. He turned to find 
 his men in full flight, and the guns being turned 
 upon their former owners. General Phil Sheri- 
 dan, short and slight like a boy, but the most 
 gallant cavalry officer on the Union side, had been 
 
 
 in the lead below. He was at the top with the rest, 
 horseless, but he climbed astride a cannon, and 
 from there urged the men on in hot pursuit. 
 
 Grant's self-repressed calm gave way to sudden 
 and irresistible need for action. He ordered his 
 horse and galloped furiously to the newly cap- 
 tured ridge. When the men recognized him 
 cheers went up from throats already parched and 
 dry with shouting. They crowded around his 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 187 
 
 horse and even clung to his stirrups, and it was 
 night before he could escape from their ovation. 
 If the country had applauded him after Donel- 
 son, and blessed him for the fall of Vicksburg, it 
 rang with his praises now. Congress voted him a 
 gold medal, and E. B. Washburne, who had been 
 his champion through good and ill, introduced a 
 bill in Congress to revive the military grade of 
 lieutenant-general that had been created for and 
 had died with Washington, though it had been 
 conferred upon General Scott by brevet fifty years 
 later for his services in Mexico. There were 
 those who contended that such a high military 
 rank boded ill to the liberties of the republic, but 
 the majority in Congress and the people at large 
 felt that no honor was too great for their hero, 
 and that the liberties of the republic would be safe 
 in his hands. The bill was passed on the 26th of 
 February, 1864, and signed by the President on 
 the 29th. Grant was not mentioned in it by name, 
 but there was no doubt as to the person for whom 
 the honor was meant. Immediately upon signing 
 it President Lincoln nominated Grant to the 
 Senate for the office created by it. The nomina- 
 tion was quickly confirmed, and on March 3d the 
 Secretary of War directed him to report in person 
 to the War Department as soon as he could with 
 due regard to the welfare of his command. He 
 
i88 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 started the next day, taking with him his eldest 
 son Fred, but even in the hurry of departure 
 found time to write a letter to his friend and 
 trusted brother-officer Sherman, which shows 
 how far he was from taking too much credit to 
 himself. He said : 
 
 I start in the morning to comply with the order, 
 but I shall say very distinctly on my arrival there that 
 I shall accept no appointment which will require me 
 to make that city [Washington] my headquarters. . . . 
 While I have been eminently successful in this war, in 
 at least gaining the confidence of the public, no one 
 feels more than I how much of this success is due to 
 the energy, skill, and the harmonious putting forth of 
 that energy and skill, of those whom it has been my 
 good fortune to have occupying subordinate positions 
 under me. There are many officers to whom these re- 
 marks are applicable to a greater or less degree, pro- 
 portionate to their ability as soldiers, but what I want 
 is to express my thanks to you and McPherson as the 
 men to whom, above all others, I feel indebted for 
 whatever I have had of success. How far your advice 
 and suggestions have been of assistance, you know. 
 How far your execution of whatever has been given 
 you to do entitles you to the reward I am receiving, 
 you cannot know as well as I do. I feel all the grati- 
 tude this letter would express giving it the most flat- 
 tering construction. The word yon I use in the plural, 
 intending it for McPherson also. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 189 
 
 Grant wrote in this strain to few of his fellow- 
 officers. His friendships were warm and lasting. 
 Others, like General Sheridan and General Raw- 
 lins, were very near to him, but Sherman held a 
 place of love apart. 
 
 How fully Sherman returned the feeling is 
 manifest in his answer: 
 
 You do yourself injustice and us too much honor. 
 . . . You arc now Washington's legitimate successor, 
 and occupy a position of almost dangerous elevation; 
 but if you can continue as heretofore to be yourself, 
 simple, honest, and unpretending, you will enjoy 
 through life the respect and love of friends, and the 
 homage of millions of human beings. ... I repeat, 
 you do General McPherson and myself too much 
 honor. At Belmont you manifested your traits, neither 
 of us being near; at Donelson also you illustrated 
 your whole character. I was not near, and General 
 McPherson in too subordinate a capacity to influence 
 you. ... I believe you are as brave, patriotic, and 
 just as the great prototype Washington; as unselfish, 
 kind-hearted, and honest as a man should be; but the 
 chief characteristic in your nature is the simple faith 
 in success you have always manifested, which I can 
 liken to nothing else than the faith a Christian has in 
 his Saviour. This faith gave you victory at Shiloh 
 and at Vicksburg. Also when you have completed 
 your best preparations you go into battle without 
 hesitation, as at Chattanooga— no doubts, no reserve; 
 
I90 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 and I tell you that it was this that made us act with 
 confidence. I knew, wherever I was, that you thought 
 of me, and if I got in a tight place you would come, 
 if alive. 
 
 His friend then went on to urge him not to stay 
 in Washington, with its intrigues and politicians, 
 but to return to the West and from there put 
 down the rebelHon. They seemed both to have a 
 strange dread of Washington as a place of snares 
 and pitfalls — a dread partly due, no doubt, to 
 their western up-bringing, and partly to the fric- 
 tion and uncertainty that had seemed to assail 
 every commander who took service in the East. 
 
 But it was not to be. One of Grant's strongest 
 traits as a military commander was his power to 
 change his plans on the instant as change was 
 needed. The most rapid survey convinced him 
 that his true place was now in the East, and, 
 though he returned to Nashville, it was only to 
 make final arrangements, and turn over his com- 
 mand to his successor. 
 
 Meanwhile, as quietly and simply as he could, 
 he journeyed to Washington with his little son. 
 The clerks at Willard's paid scant attention to the 
 plain man who stepped up to the desk on the 8th 
 of March to register; but on reading his unpre- 
 tentious entry, "U. S. Grant and son. Galena, 
 Illinois," their manner underwent a sudden and 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 191 
 
 mighty change. When a little later he entered 
 the dining-room and took a seat in the corner, 
 anxious only for quiet and refreshment after his 
 long journey, people gazed curiously at the small, 
 stockily built man dining with a little boy. Mili- 
 tary uniforms were as plentiful as piccaninnies in 
 Washington, but the shoulder-straps of a major- 
 general on the shoulders of a stranger were 
 uncommon enough to rouse remark. "Who is 
 he?" was asked, and asked again, until somebody 
 w^as found w'ho answered. Then shouts of 
 "Grant! Grant! Grant!" echoed on every side. 
 People sprang to their feet. "Where is he?" 
 "Which is he?" "Three cheers for Lieutenant- 
 General Grant!" and in response to the latter, 
 given with a will, he had to rise and bow. Then, 
 as the company bore down upon him, bent on 
 shaking hands, he did what he had never done on 
 the field of battle — he turned and fled. 
 
 That night there was a public reception at the 
 White House and the throng was very great, for 
 it was thought the General might be present. 
 About half-past nine he entered with Senator 
 Cameron of Pennsylvania. Eager as the crowd 
 had been, it did not at first recognize him. When 
 it did a low murmur ran through the assemblage, 
 and a movement, as each tried to get a glimpse of 
 him. These heralded his approach, even before 
 
192 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 he reached the spot where the President stood. 
 It was the first time they had met, the tall, sad- 
 eyed President, stooping as if from the burden of 
 responsibility he bore, and the short, determined 
 soldier, who had done so much, and was to do still 
 more, toward lightening that heavy load. A glow 
 of genuine pleasure leaped into Mr. Lincoln's 
 careworn face as he looked down on Grant, stand- 
 ing before him, his head a little bent, his hand 
 grasping the lapel of his coat, his eyes turned up- 
 ward toward those of his taller chief. Moved by 
 a sudden impulse of delicacy the crowd drew 
 back, and there was a moment's hush as these two 
 men, the simplest, the most powerful, and the 
 humblest in the nation, clasped hands. Then Mr. 
 Lincoln introduced Mr. Seward, and the Secre- 
 tary of State took him away to present him to 
 Mrs. Lincoln. Later, when they passed on into the 
 great East Room, cheer after cheer rang out, and 
 the throng pressed upon him so closely that he 
 was forced at last, hot and blushing, to mount a 
 sofa, and from there shake hands with his eager 
 admirers. 
 
 Before Grant left the White House that night 
 the President, thoughtful as always of the needs 
 of the country and the comfort of his guest, 
 handed him the manuscript of the very short 
 speech he meant to make on giving him his com- 
 
ULYSSKS S. GRANT 193 
 
 mission, explaining- tliat he wished him to reply 
 to it, and addini^: that as he knew the General was 
 not accnstomed to public speaking-, they would 
 both read what they had to say. Next day at one 
 o'clock, in the presence of the cabinet, General 
 Halleck, two members of Grant's staff, his son 
 Fred, and the President's private secretary, 
 Grant's commission as lieutenant-general was 
 formally delivered to him by Mr. Lincoln. The 
 President said: 
 
 General Grant : The nation's appreciation of what 
 you have done, and its reliance upon you for what re- 
 mains to do in the existing great struggle, are now 
 presented with this commission constituting you Lieu- 
 tenant-General in the Army of the United States. 
 With this high honor devolves upon you also a cor- 
 responding responsibility. As the country herein trusts 
 you, so, under God, it will sustain you. I scarcely 
 need to add that with what I here speak for the nation, 
 goes my own hearty personal concurrence. 
 
 Grant had written his ansv^^er hurriedly in lead 
 pencil on a half sheet of note-paper. He was so 
 embarrassed and ill at ease that he found great 
 difficulty in reading his own writing. What he 
 said could, however, scarcely be improved upon: 
 
 Mr. President : I accept this commission with grati- 
 tude for the high honor conferred. With the aid of 
 
194 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 the noble armies that have fought on so many fields 
 for our common country, it will be my earnest en- 
 deavor not to disappoint your expectations. I feel the 
 full weight of the responsibilities now devolving on 
 me; and I know that if they are met, it will be due to 
 those armies, and above all to the favor of that Provi- 
 dence which leads both nations and men. 
 
 This short and formal ceremony was followed 
 by a brief informal conversation in which Grant 
 inquired of the President what special service 
 was expected of him. Mr. Lincoln answered that 
 the country wanted him to take Richmond, and 
 asked if he could do it. Grant replied without 
 hesitation that he could, provided he had troops 
 enough; and these the President assured him 
 would not be lacking. 
 
X 
 
 HIS NEW TASK 
 
 GRANT the unsuccessful was now head of all 
 the armies in the United States, Washing- 
 ton's "legitimate successor," in command of a 
 great many more men than Washington ever con- 
 trolled—and it was still possible to count in 
 months back to the time when he tramped the 
 streets of St. Louis looking for work, and his 
 acquaintances turned aside to avoid meeting him ! 
 He had gained his present position, not by trick 
 or favoritism, but because of services rendered 
 his country. Had he stopped to look back on all 
 this he might well have felt a thrill of pride ; but 
 one great secret of his success was that he did not 
 dwell on what was behind him. He learned by 
 experience, but in either success or failure, once 
 a thing was over he ceased to dwell upon it, and 
 turned his attention toward the problems of the 
 future. 
 
 The problem that confronted him now was 
 to capture Richmond and vanquish Lee's army— 
 
 12 
 
196 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 a problem that had broken the force or blasted 
 the reputation of every general who preceded him. 
 One after the other they had tried and failed. 
 McClellan, with his magnetism and his wonder- 
 ful power of organization, had created the Army 
 of the Potomac, but he could not lead it to victory. 
 McClellan's friend Burnside, who succeeded him, 
 failed dismally. Hooker, who followed him, 
 though warned by President Lincoln of the 
 dangers that beset him, in the kindest letter ever 
 written by a ruler of a great nation to the com- 
 mander of its chief army, succeeded only in allow- 
 ing Lee to penetrate into Pennsylvania. General 
 Meade, appointed in Hooker's stead, won the bat- 
 tle of Gettysburg, but threw away half his victory 
 by tardiness in pursuit, and let the Confederate 
 army, which he might have captured, escape 
 across the Potomac and back again into the 
 debatable ground between Washington and Rich- 
 mond. Here the two armies confronted each 
 other almost as they had done at the beginning of 
 the war. Nearly three years earlier they had 
 fought their first battle of Bull Run a short dis- 
 tance north of where they now lay. Campaign 
 had followed campaign, commander had followed 
 commander. Battle and skirmish and marching 
 had swayed them to the north and to the south, 
 but neither could claim any substantial gain in 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 197 
 
 ground or advantage. Now Grant, who had 
 "pounded away" at Vicksburg until it fell, who 
 by sheer force of will had retrieved the mistake at 
 Shiloh, whose presence and resourcefulness had 
 transformed the starving garrison of Chatta- 
 nooga into the inspired conquerors of Missionary 
 Ridge, had been called to undertake the task. It 
 was his supreme test, and if he failed all his other 
 successes would count as nothing. No wonder 
 that a man of his earnestness and simplicity 
 found little time to look into the past and grow 
 vain. 
 
 He had already made up his mind that his post 
 of duty lay in the East, and not one word had been 
 said about accepting the commission only on con- 
 dition that he be allowed to return to the West. 
 He had, however, no notion of lingering in Wash- 
 ington. On the day after receiving his commis- 
 sion he visited General Meade at his headquarters 
 with the army. He had known Meade slightly in 
 the Mexican War, but they had not met since. He 
 was, indeed, a stranger to the entire Army of the 
 Potomac, with the exception of a few officers he 
 had known in earlier days. General Meade re- 
 ceived him with the courtesy due his rank, and 
 the generous magnanimity of one great nature to 
 another. He knew, he said, that Grant might 
 want Sherman or some other officer who had been 
 
198 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 with him in the West to take command of the 
 Army of the Potomac. In that case he begged 
 him not to hesitate to make the change. The work 
 before them was too important to be blocked by 
 considering any individual. For himself, he would 
 serve to the best of his power wherever placed. 
 
 Grant was much pleased by this frank and 
 manly offer. It gave him a more favorable im- 
 pression of Meade than even his victory at Gettys- 
 burg had done. He answered that he had no 
 thought of making a change. As for Sherman, 
 he could not be spared from the West. After one 
 day with General Meade, spent in studying the 
 situation with the intensity peculiar to him, he 
 returned to Washington, refused Mr. Lincoln's 
 invitation to dinner and the many offers of hospi- 
 tality that were showered upon him, with the 
 characteristic explanation, "Really, Mr. Presi- 
 dent, I am tired of all this show business," and 
 started at once for Nashville to arrange his affairs 
 and sever his connection with the western armies 
 that had given him so many victories. He prom- 
 ised the President to be back inside of ten days. 
 
 Eastern newspapers made amazed and de- 
 lighted comments on these swift and businesslike 
 methods. "He hardly slept on his long journey 
 east," they said, "yet he went to work at once. 
 . . . He is not going to hire a house in Washing- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 199 
 
 ton and make war ridiculous by attempting to 
 manoeuver battles from an arm-chair." Another 
 paper summed up the general satisfaction by de- 
 claring, "We have found our hero." 
 
 His mind was already made up as to what he 
 wanted to do ; and in his military experience want- 
 ing was usually a preliminary to success. Sher- 
 man was promoted to fill his place in the West, 
 and General McPherson to the position thus made 
 vacant by Sherman ; McPherson in his turn being 
 replaced by General Logan, and so on down the 
 line. He telegraphed Sherman to meet him in 
 Nashville, and the two friends discussed the com- 
 ing campaign, Sherman accompanying him part 
 way on his journey east, so as to save valuable 
 time. The armies were now all under one head, 
 and were to move forward for one common 
 object, so far as possible at the same time and to- 
 ward a common center. General Banks was to 
 finish his work in Louisiana, and then with 25,000 
 men move on Mobile. Sherman was to strike at 
 General Johnston's army, with the heart of 
 Georgia as his final goal. General Butler was to 
 be given a force to operate against Richmond 
 south of the James river. General Sigel in the 
 Shenandoah Valley (by which route Lee had 
 slipped into Pennsylvania) was to keep that 
 natural highway free from intruders, and to cut 
 
200 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 the railroads that connected the Confederate 
 capital with the southwest. Grant himself was to 
 make his headquarters with the Army of the 
 Potomac, which, though still commanded by 
 Meade, would be under his own eye, and subject to 
 his own energetic direction in the campaign 
 against Lee's army and Richmond. Thus from 
 every side the Union forces were to be moved 
 against the Confederacy and the brave army that 
 for three years had held its own against the best 
 the Union generals and fighting men could do. 
 
 Inside of ten days Grant was back again, and 
 by the end of March had established his headquar- 
 ters at Culpeper Court-house. April was spent 
 in preparing for the great movement which it was 
 hoped would end the war. On the last day of 
 April, just before Grant started on his campaign, 
 the President sent him the following letter, which 
 shows, as nothing else could, the perfect trust ac- 
 corded the new commander : 
 
 Not expecting to see you again before the spring 
 campaign opens, I wish to express in this way my en- 
 tire satisfaction with what you have done up to this 
 time so far as I understand it. The particulars of your 
 plan I neither know nor seek to know. You are 
 vigilant and self-reliant, and pleased with this, I wish 
 not to obtrude any constraints or restraints upon you. 
 While I am very anxious that any great disaster or 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 201 
 
 />v^-t-#vv-^*^^ /^"AjSU^^ /^-t' «'v'"»-c^»<*_«^ */ A^-»»-<rs^ ^L^rCty-j-tj Jt-nruZZ^ 
 Z-o />Ki>>»-_ <L/ ^:!^ji.^ t^ ^.t^^^:^^ A-T^-w^Slj A/'^-«-^A» t-'fZ^^ 
 ^A^y-oc/ /Krf*-* A^ve-O a* £iy»t%Mt &*^*>^^ ^"•L.ot/ A, ^i.M>i^ c^o^^'tfi.^k^ 
 
 LINCOLN S GOD-SPEED TO GRANT. 
 Reduced facsimile of the orif^inat. 
 
202 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 capture of our men in great numbers shall be avoided, 
 I know these points are less likely to escape your atten- 
 tion than they would be mine. If there is anything 
 wanting which is within my power to give, do not fail 
 to let me know it. And now, with a brave army and 
 a just cause, may God sustain you. 
 
 Grant was much touched, and answ^ered with a 
 warmth he reserved for only Sherman and his 
 most intimate friends : 
 
 Your very kind letter of yesterday is just received. 
 The confidence you express for the future and satis- 
 faction with the past in my military administration is 
 acknowledged with pride. It will be my earnest en- 
 deavor that you and the country shall not be disap- 
 pointed. From my first entrance into the volunteer 
 service of the country to the present day I have never 
 had cause of complaint — have never expressed or im- 
 plied a complaint against the administration, or the 
 Secretary of War for throwing any embarrassment in 
 the way of my vigorously prosecuting what appeared 
 to me my duty. Indeed, since the promotion which 
 placed me in command of all the armies, and in view 
 of the great responsibility and importance of success, 
 I have been astonished at the readiness with which 
 everything asked for has been yielded, without even 
 an explanation being asked. Should my success be 
 less than I desire and expect, the least I can say is, the 
 fault is not with you. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 203 
 
 Grant had 122,146 men present for duty 
 equipped. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia num - 
 bered about 61,953. This was not so greatly in 
 Grant's favor as it seems, for it must be remem- 
 bered that the Confederate general had an immense 
 advantage in position. The dense woods and 
 swamps, as well as every hill, road, and footpath in 
 that part of Virginia, were as well known to Lee as 
 the trees on his own estate of Arlington, while to 
 Grant they were utterly strange. Lee was in a 
 country where each white inhabitant was his 
 friend, and to the best of that person's ability, his 
 assistant and co-worker. He could retire, if need 
 arose, into prepared fortifications, where, accord- 
 ing to Grant's opinion, given in after years, "one 
 man inside to defend was more than equal to five 
 outside besieging or assaulting." Of course this 
 did not hold good in so large a measure outside the 
 fortifications, but it went a long way toward 
 equalizing the two forces. Another element of 
 strength possessed by Lee's army was the con- 
 scious pride that for three years it had success- 
 fully barred the way to Richmond. 
 
 Both armies were of the very best material that 
 America could furnish. New troops in the Army 
 of the Potomac rapidly took on the stability of 
 veterans among their more experienced com- 
 rades, while in Lee's practised hand the Army of 
 
204 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Northern Virginia was like a well-tempered blade. 
 And on both sides the troops had commanders 
 worthy of them. Grant we know. Lee was the 
 man to whom the eyes of all southerners turned 
 to save the Confederacy. At the breaking out of 
 the war he had been the most promising of the 
 younger officers of the army, the one upon whom 
 General Scott relied to command the force of 
 75,000 volunteers called out by President Lin- 
 coln's first proclamation. He chose instead to 
 resign and cast his fortunes with the South, where 
 he speedily rose to a high place in its armies, and 
 handled his men with a skill that made his name 
 a household word in both sections of the country, 
 and inspired his soldiers with a confidence that 
 lasted long after their faith in Jefferson Davis 
 had died, and all real hope of success was gone. 
 
 Grant had known Lee in Mexico, and fully real- 
 ized the quality of his antagonist. He knew that 
 he was skilful and brave, the best commander on 
 the Confederate side, at the head of the best army 
 the rebellion could muster; but, as he says in his 
 Memoirs : "The natural disposition of most people 
 is to clothe a commander of a large army whom 
 they do not know, with almost superhuman 
 abilities. A large part of the national army, for 
 instance, and most of the press of the country, 
 clothed General Lee with just such qualities ; but 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 205 
 
 I had known him personally, and knew that he 
 was mortal— and it was just as well that I felt 
 this." 
 
 Grant realized that with such an antagonist the 
 first thing to do was to conquer Lee's army. He 
 might possess himself of the Confederate capital, 
 and scatter its civil government to the four winds, 
 but if Lee and his soldiers remained unharmed 
 they could carry the contest farther south and 
 prolong the war indefinitely. So Grant's plan 
 was beautiful in its simplicity. "Lee's army wall 
 be your objective point," he instructed General 
 Meade. "Where Lee goes, there you will go 
 also." 
 
 There was no road to success that would not 
 exact its frightful toll of blood, yet both sides 
 were ready to shed their blood in fair quarrel, and 
 the wearers of blue and gray looked forward with 
 equal eagerness to the orders that were to usher 
 in their final trial of strength. The patches of 
 snow faded from the summits of the Blue Ridge, 
 spring sunshine dried the roads and flung a veil 
 of blossoms over the battle-scarred orchards of 
 northern Virginia, and on the night of May 4, 
 1864, Grant's army started on its final march to 
 Richmond. Those who looked forward to a tale 
 of blood were only too correct in their apprehen- 
 sions. The orchards were once more to be 
 
2o6 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 wrecked by shot and shell. Spring was to pass 
 into the heat and oppression of a southern sum- 
 mer, summer into autumn, and winter again into 
 spring before the end came ; and each hour was to 
 take its toll of human life. 
 
 The campaign divided itself into two parts. 
 The first, a period of six weeks, was a season of 
 swift marching and hard fighting, during which 
 Grant strove to defeat Lee in open battle, and to 
 end the war without the long preliminary of a 
 siege. It was a contest of strategy and battle be- 
 tween the two armies— a contest nearly equally 
 matched, for while Grant did not succeed in con- 
 quering or capturing Lee's army, he kept moving 
 forward little by little and pushing it back upon 
 its intrenchments at Richmond. 
 
 The fighting was as intense and severe as the 
 world has ever seen, and new in some respects in 
 the history of war, for the lessons learned at 
 Shiloh had not been forgotten, and at every 
 change of position or halt for the night, whether 
 the enemy was known to be at hand or not, arms 
 would be stacked, and the soldiers turn from the 
 labors of the march to those of intrenching, and 
 almost before the tents were in place they would 
 be protected by a line of serviceable defenses. 
 Another innovation was the use of the telegraph, 
 not such a very old invention in those days, and 
 
1 tuiu A pllotugraph hy llraily 
 GENERAL GRANT AT HKAUyrAKTERS DURING THE VIRGINIA CAMl'AIGN 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 209 
 
 never before carried to perfection in campaign 
 and battle. 
 
 Grant's endeavor was to get south of the 
 enemy's forces, moving by the left flank — that is, 
 bearing off toward his own left, and around the 
 right of Lee's army. Lee instantly threw his own 
 men against the flanks of Grant's columns, and 
 before the campaign was two days old the armies 
 were engaged in furious combat in the tangled 
 country called the Wilderness, a labyrinth of trees 
 and watercourses, bad roads and underbrush, 
 where the commanders could not see their own 
 men, and all intelligent direction and working to- 
 gether of large masses of troops was impossible. 
 The fight raged from the 5th to the 7th of May, 
 and at the end was indecisive. The Army of the 
 Potomac wondered if Grant, like all the others, 
 had taken command only to be turned back. Most 
 generals would have called a halt at least, after 
 such an engagement. Instead, orders came to 
 march— and to march forward. The hearts of 
 the soldiers responded with a throb of joy. This 
 was the commander they had been waiting for. 
 
 On the loth of May there was a fight at Spott- 
 sylvania Court-house, where Lee's strong posi- 
 tion, made doubly strong by intrenching, was 
 fiercely assailed, but to no purpose. The next day 
 both armies rested, and it was at this point that 
 
210 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Grant, reporting the results of battle and loss in 
 the six days since he left Culpeper, added, "I pro- 
 pose to fight it out on this line if it takes all sum- 
 mer"— a phrase pounced upon by northern 
 newspapers and destined to as great celebrity as 
 his famous "unconditional surrender." 
 
 On the 1 2th there was a still more determined 
 attack, when the Union forces succeeded in storm- 
 ing and holding the earthworks that became 
 known as the Bloody Angle, or more graphically 
 still as Hell's Half Acre. Fortunately there have 
 been few battles so worthy of either name. It was 
 a hand-to-hand encounter across breastworks, in 
 which the breastworks themselves were shattered 
 into splinters, and trees a foot and a half in diam- 
 eter completely cut in two by musket balls. Op- 
 posing flags were thrust almost against each other, 
 skulls were crushed by clubbed muskets, and guns 
 fired muzzle to muzzle; and as rank after rank of 
 soldiers was.mowed down others rushed up to take 
 their places and fall in their turn. The story of it 
 reads like one of the fabled battles of antiquity. 
 
 Grant was not insensible to all this dreadful 
 loss of life, though to some he seemed almost 
 stolid on the field of battle. Not a muscle of his 
 face quivered, and he gave no sign that he saw or 
 heeded the carnage and the suffering. Quiet and 
 vigilant he moved about, and wherever he went 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 211 
 
 the troops cheered and fought the harder. He 
 paid no attention to the shrieking of shot and 
 shell, and the patter of balls. "There is no use 
 dodging," he said. "When you hear the noise the 
 thing has already passed by." He was one of the 
 very few men whose nerves are steady enough to 
 live up to this fact that their brains admit must be 
 true. 
 
 He was able to communicate a feeling of cer- 
 tainty in the outcome to those about him, even by 
 his silences. No matter how hurried the message 
 or how desperate the chance the messenger came 
 to announce, the mere sight of the chief sitting 
 quiet and apparently unmoved, whittling and 
 smoking, his hands, it may be, encased in a pair 
 of brown-thread gloves whose origin is shrouded 
 in mystery, but which appeared from time to 
 time when the fortunes of war were darkest, 
 brought with it an instant feeling of belief in the 
 power of the quiet man whose low-voiced orders 
 and pregnant questions showed that though his 
 body might be still his mind was ever on the alert. 
 The common soldiers felt this, too. People who 
 were not fighting might picture him as a Nero, 
 glorying in slaughter. To the men in the ranks, 
 he was a hero and a friend. 'Ts it all right. Gen- 
 eral?" one asked as the chief rode by. He re- 
 ceived a nod, and a "Yes, I think so," and another 
 
212 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 looking up assured him, "General, we '11 lick 'em 
 sure-pop next time." This was not familiarity; 
 it was confidence. 
 
 Only those who knew him intimately realized 
 what it meant when his cigar went out and he 
 chewed at it slowly, his eyes cast down, as if in 
 meditation. That with him was a sure sisrn of 
 
 o 
 
 anxiety and intense thought. He kept his 
 thoughts to himself, but the one who surprised 
 him late at night, sitting solitary over the camp- 
 fire, unable to sleep, read in his haggard looks and 
 the nervous shiftings of his position, how deeply 
 he was moved by all this frightful and seemingly 
 fruitless sacrifice of human life. It was not alone 
 the sufferings of his own wounded that filled him 
 with sorrow. In his Memoirs he says, "While a 
 battle is raging one can see his enemy mowed 
 down by the thousand or the ten thousand with 
 great composure; but after the battle . . . one is 
 naturally disposed to do as much to alleviate the"* 
 sufiferings of an enemy as a friend." 
 
 He was a great commander just because he had 
 the large faculty of seeing and using his army as 
 a collection of units and not as individuals; but 
 he was none the less human because of that, nor 
 did he grieve less sorely for the suffering he could 
 not help. 
 
 The past had been even more costly. Before 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 213 
 
 his coming over 130,000 men had perished in the 
 eastern armies, and there was httle to show for it. 
 It seemed to him better that the enemy should he 
 fought and concjuered, even at a tremendous loss 
 of life, than that the war should drag on and on. 
 Therefore haggard, but firm in his resolve to fight 
 it out on that line "if it took all summer," he kept 
 on his way. "Lee no longer commands both these 
 armies," the soldiers exulted. "We 've got a gen- 
 eral of our own now!" and they fell into line 
 singing: 
 
 "Ulysses leads the van! 
 
 For we will dare 
 
 To follow where 
 Ulysses leads the van." 
 
 And so, day after day the contest went on. Grant 
 moving continually by the left flank, and the 
 Confederates disputing every inch of the way. 
 
 On May 26th he reported : "Lee's army is really 
 whipped. The prisoners we now take show it, 
 and the action of his army shows it unmistakably. 
 A battle with them outside of intrenchments can- 
 not be had. Our men feel that they have gained 
 the morale over the enemy and attack him with 
 confidence. I may be mistaken, but I feel that 
 our success over Lee's army is already assured." 
 
 Another week of marching and flanking and 
 
 13 
 
214 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 fighting brought them to Cold Harbor, only ten 
 miles from Richmond. Here Lee's intrenched 
 army was once more between the Union troops 
 and the Confederate capital. There was fighting 
 on the 31st of May and on the ist of June; and on 
 the 3d of June Grant ordered a final attack in 
 front to break through the barrier. It failed dis- 
 astrously, with a loss of between 5000 and 6000 
 on the Union side, though the battle was practi- 
 cally over by half-past seven o'clock in the 
 morning. 
 
 For many commanders the next move would 
 have been a retreat. Grant and his men appar- 
 ently disappeared off the face of the earth. For 
 two days Lee did not know what had become of 
 his enemy. "Where is Grant's army?" "Find 
 Grant's army," he telegraphed frantically to his 
 generals. What Grant had done was to move 
 again by the left flank, "as though," one of his 
 biographers says, "Cold Harbor had never ex- 
 isted." It was a bold and audacious move, almost 
 as audacious as the one which led to success at 
 Vicksburg, for this time he had to withdraw his 
 troops from their positions within a few hundred 
 yards of the enemy, and there were two unbridged 
 rivers, the Chickahominy and the James, to cross, 
 while General Butler's army, with which he now 
 meant to join forces, was .fifty miles away. Lee, 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 215 
 
 having inside lines, with bridges across these riv- 
 ers, could get to the south of Richmond ahead of 
 him, or even fall upon General Butler and destroy 
 him completely before Grant could arrive. "But 
 the move had to be made," says Grant, "and I 
 relied upon Lee not seeing my danger as I saw it." 
 
 Cold Harbor had convinced him that Richmond 
 was not to be taken without a siege, and this move 
 was in preparation for it. He sent General Hal- 
 leck a despatch of remarkable clearness stating his 
 reasons for the change of plan. He had tried for 
 thirty days to fight Lee outside of his intrench- 
 ments, was convinced now that he would not ac- 
 cept battle in the open, and that without greater 
 sacrifice of life than Grant cared to make, he 
 could not, on the old lines, accomplish all he 
 wished to do. 
 
 The loss of life had already been enormous. 
 Sixty thousand men, the flower of the Army of 
 the Potomac, had melted away. The labors of the 
 comrades that remained had been prodigious, yet 
 their confidence in the man who led them never 
 faltered. The North might call Grant a 
 "butcher." To the men who had the best right to 
 make such a criticism he was "the old man," on 
 their lips a term of endearment and mighty re- 
 spect. Yet those w^re days when the glamour of 
 war was past — when men calmly sewed their 
 
2i6 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 names and addresses on the backs of their coats 
 before going into action, and when the shrieking 
 of shells and the whistling of bullets recorded the 
 loss of twenty-five lives every minute. This thing 
 called personal magnetism is very strange. Mc- 
 Clellan had it and kept his hold upon the men, 
 though he could lead them to no victory. Grant, 
 his opposite in every physical and soldierly quality, 
 sent men to their death by the tens of thousands, 
 yet possessed it in supreme degree. 
 
 The fortifications around Richmond were very 
 strong, and made to defend not only the city itself, 
 but Petersburg, a town twenty-three miles to the 
 south, from which the rebel capital' drew all its 
 supplies. Three railroads and two plank roads 
 centered there, and with Petersburg once in the 
 hands of the Union army, the larger town must 
 surrender or starve. Grant hoped by his secret 
 and sudden move across the James river to gain 
 possession of Petersburg before Lee could get 
 there in sufficient force to resist him. In this he 
 almost succeeded, but not quite, and the struggle 
 settled down into the second part of his campaign, 
 a nine months' siege of Richmond, or, more cor- 
 rectly, of Richmond and Petersburg combined. 
 The Confederate garrison of the two places num- 
 bered altogether about 70,000, and Grant's forces, 
 counting the reinforcements he received from the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 217 
 
 North and the addition of General Butler's army, 
 was about 150,000. But, as has been said before, 
 one man inside those splendid fortifications 
 equaled at least five men outside. 
 
 Grant made his headquarters at City Point, and 
 from there pursued the policy of alternately 
 threatening Lee's defenses, sometimes to the 
 north and sometimes to the south of the James 
 river, and at every opportunity pushing his siege- 
 works farther westward, to gain and command, 
 one after the other, the roads that brought food 
 and supplies to the Confederate armies and the 
 inhabitants of the two towns. In time Grant's 
 enveloping lines reached a total of forty miles, 
 and the end came when Lee's army was no longer 
 able to man his defenses along their entire length. 
 Then Grant, finding the weak places, broke 
 through, and the Confederate army was com- 
 pelled to abandon both cities and seek safety in 
 flight. But this end was still far ofif, and Lee did 
 nothing to make Grant's task easy. 
 
 All this time the other operations of the war 
 went on. The siege of Richmond was only the 
 central incident in the great drama. Grant was 
 general of all the armies. They were all working 
 toward the same end, and in a measure he was 
 responsible for the success of each. He had to 
 keep watch, not only of Richmond and of Lee, but 
 
2i8 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 of the whole field. Great things were pending. 
 The end drew near, though it came so slowly that 
 many good people in the North could not see its 
 approach and grew despondent, even hopeless. 
 They had looked for a speedy victory over Lee, 
 and when the campaign settled down into a sullen 
 siege they murmured, and thought only of the 
 terrible losses of Grant's May battles. 
 
 The time for electing a new President was fast 
 approaching. Lincoln had been renominated by 
 the Republican party in June in a whirlwind of 
 enthusiasm ; but as the summer advanced and the 
 progress of the war seemed again at a standstill 
 discontent grew daily louder. The Democratic 
 party nominated as its standard-bearer General 
 McClellan, whose career with the Army of the 
 Potomac had begun so brilliantly and ended so ill 
 for the country. He had retired from the army 
 and become a severe critic of the government and 
 all its acts. He was nominated for President on a 
 platform which demanded "that after four years 
 of failure to restore the Union by the experiment 
 of war . . . immediate efforts be made for a ces- 
 sation of hostilities." This was of course a direct 
 proposal to surrender to the Confederates, and 
 though in his letter accepting the nomination Mc- 
 Clellan coolly disregarded it and had much to say 
 about his devotion to the Union, he took the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 219 
 
 leadership of the party. There were other critics 
 and other candidates. One small faction tried to 
 array Grant himself against Mr. Lincoln and the 
 administration and to nominate him for Presi- 
 dent. The General paid no attention, and in his 
 Memoirs does not even mention the incident. 
 Previous to the war he had not been an ardent 
 Lincoln man, but he had come to reverence the 
 President's great qualities, and to feel that the 
 cause of the country absolutely demanded his re- 
 election. He knew that the action of his armies 
 would influence the result, and that in this way he 
 not only had the welfare of the armies, but the 
 political future of the country in his keeping. It 
 was a tremendous responsibility. He never 
 despaired of the end. "He was as sure of victory 
 as he was of dying," but to him as to others vic- 
 tory seemed a weary while in coming. 
 
XI 
 
 LIFE AT CITY POINT 
 
 AGAINST the grim immensity of his war-mak- 
 . ing— plans that embraced a continent, and 
 responsibiHties that charged him with the welfare 
 of millions of his fellow-men— the simplicity of 
 his daily life went on. He was no longer the man 
 who had cut cord-wood on the Gravois farm, or 
 even the man who had won the brilliant victory at 
 Donelson. He was maturer, older, and more 
 thoughtful. His shoulders stooped, and the spare 
 intensity in the lines on his face was a seal that 
 had been set there by much power. But in habits 
 of Hfe and of mind he was as simple and forgetful 
 of self as he had ever been. 
 
 At City Point he lived like his men, first in a 
 tent, then when the camp became a town of small 
 wooden houses, in a little building of two rooms, 
 scarcely larger than those of his officers— the 
 front room an office, the one behind it his sleeping- 
 room, containing his camp bed, a very small 
 trunk, which he sometimes forgot and left behind 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 221 
 
 when on the march, a tin basin standing on an 
 iron tripod, two folding- camp chairs, and a small 
 pine table— the fewest possible comforts and not 
 a single luxury. He was scrupulously careful 
 about the cleanliness of his linen and of his per- 
 son, even during an active campaign, but the 
 condition of his outer garments gave him very 
 little concern. His preference all through life 
 was to have only one coat, and to wear that morn- 
 ing, noon, and night, until it was retired from 
 active duty in favor of a successor. During his 
 campaign against Lee he wore a blouse like that 
 of a private soldier, with nothing to indicate his 
 rank except the shoulder-straps with their three 
 gold stars of a lieutenant-general. In this matter 
 of indifference to dress he resembled Mr. Lincoln. 
 Both men were always suitably clad, and with due 
 attention to custom, but it was a subject that did 
 not interest them. The same may be said in re- 
 gard to the pleasures of the table. They simply 
 did not exist for either of them. Mr. Lincoln 
 scarcely realized what he was eating, while Grant 
 was the despair of the officers whose duty it was 
 to cater for his table. They strove vainly to find 
 something to tempt his appetite, and when he 
 showed interest in a plate of oysters, or break- 
 fasted with relish before going into battle on a 
 cucumber and a cup of coffee, the occurrence was 
 
222 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 deemed of sufficient importance to be chronicled 
 in history. 
 
 There was absolutely no show or formality 
 about his headquarters. His staff officers came 
 and went as their duties permitted. All of them 
 dined at table with their chief, and their conver- 
 sation was as free and unrestrained as in a private 
 family. Grant ate less and talked less than any of 
 the others. His whole life had been a training in 
 silence. As a child it had seemed that he must tell 
 all he knew, or shut his lips so tight that nothing 
 could escape. As a lad he had kept quiet for fear 
 of ridicule. In the army the habit of unquestion- 
 ing obedience to orders had been drilled into him. 
 Before the war he lived in a town where people 
 believed things that he felt were not true. He 
 could not afford to quarrel with his neighbors, 
 and the only course left to him was silence. After 
 he reached a position of command the truth of the 
 proverb about the word and the sword came to 
 him with still greater force. "The unspoken 
 word is a sword in the scabbard ; the spoken word 
 a sword in the hands of one's enemy." If he did 
 not tell what he meant to do, his plans could not 
 become known to his adversaries. The line of 
 his lips shut tighter still, and people called him 
 Ulysses the Silent, and the American Sphinx. He 
 had no small-talk with which to pad intervals of 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 223 
 
 silence and make social encounters run smooth; 
 and many a man carried away with him smarting 
 memories of interviews where Grant sat grim 
 and uncommunicative, and his interlocutor well- 
 nigh dumb with cmharrassment. Yet in the pres- 
 ence of a few friends he could talk well and with 
 originality upon subjects to which he had given 
 thought. It was, however, very hard to make him 
 speak about matters personal to himself. His 
 stafif officers used to slyly draw him out by mak- 
 ing intentional misstatements about some occur- 
 rence. Then his regard for truth would get the 
 better of his reticence, and he would explain and 
 correct them, and in so doing be led sometimes to 
 talk with entire freedom on the desired subject. 
 
 He was fond of good stories, and had a dry and 
 somewhat biting humor of his own, but he would 
 not tolerate stories suggestively broad or in any 
 way indecent. "I see there are no ladies present," 
 some one remarked as a preface to such a tale. 
 "No, but there are gentlemen," was the quick 
 and crushing rejoinder, leaving an electrically 
 charged silence behind it. 
 
 Swearing he never indulged in, even under the 
 greatest provocation. "Somehow or other I 
 never learned to swear," he answered when a 
 friend asked how he had lived through the rough 
 and tumble of army experience and frontier life 
 
224 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 without acquiring the habit. ''When a boy I 
 seemed to have an aversion to it, and when I be- 
 came a man I saw the folly of it. I have always 
 noticed too that swearing helps to rouse a man's 
 anger; and when a man flies into a passion his ad- 
 versary who keeps cool always gets the better of 
 him. In fact, I could never see the use of swear- 
 ing. ... To say the least, it is a great waste of 
 time." 
 
 This remark of his is wondrous true and very 
 characteristic. He never let passion get the better 
 of his reason. Only two cases are recorded of his 
 flying into a rage. One was when he came upon 
 a private soldier insulting a woman, and promptly 
 knocked the wretch down ; the other, when he saw 
 a teamster violently strike the face of a horse. He 
 was always kind and lenient toward the mistakes 
 and temper of subordinate officers, if he thought 
 they were loyal and capable. Occasionally, how- 
 ever, their views roused him to vigorous com- 
 ment. A general officer who came excitedly to 
 Grant after the battle of the Wilderness got the 
 full force of this. ''General Grant," he said, "this 
 is a grave crisis. I know Lee's methods well. He 
 will throw his whole army between us and the 
 Rapidan, and cut us off completely from our com- 
 munications." Grant rose to his feet, took the 
 cigar out of his mouth, and answered with a spirit 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 225 
 
 he seldom showed: "Oh, I am heartily tired of 
 hearing about what Lee is going to do. Some of 
 you always seem to think he is suddenly going to 
 turn a double somersault and land in our rear and 
 on both our flanks at the same time. Go back to 
 your command and try to think what we are going 
 to do ourselves instead of what Lee is going to 
 do." 
 
 If Grant talked less than any officer on his staff, 
 he probably smoked more. There is a tale of 
 twenty large and strong cigars that he smoked in 
 one day, during the battle of the Wilderness, but 
 that was excessive, even for him. The way he 
 acquired the habit is curious. He tried to learn to 
 smoke at West Point, chiefly, as the other cadets 
 did, because it was forbidden ; but he did not be- 
 come addicted to the habit until after the taking 
 of Fort Donelson. On the morning of that en- 
 gagement he w^ent on board the flagship to confer 
 with Admiral Foote, who was wounded. The 
 Admiral offered him a cigar, which he smoked on 
 his way back to his quarters. On the road he was 
 met by news that the enemy was making a vigor- 
 ous attack, and galloped forward at once, the 
 forgotten cigar in his hand. It had gone out, but 
 he continued to hold it between his fingers 
 throughout the battle. The newspaper accounts 
 of the engagement represented him as smoking 
 
226 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 during the height of the conflict, and many people, 
 anxious to do something to please the new mili- 
 tary hero, sent him boxes of their choicest cigars. 
 It is said that ten thousand were received. He 
 gave them away right and left, but having so 
 many naturally smoked more than he would 
 otherwise have done, and once begun, the habit 
 continued to the end of his life. For convenience 
 in lighting his cigars he carried with him in the 
 field a small silver tinder-box in which were flint 
 and steel with which to strike a spark, and a coil 
 of fuse that could be ignited and not affected by 
 the wind. This little habit of his seems to make 
 him strangely remote. The days of flint and steel 
 and the days of telegraphs are at first glance so 
 far apart— yet he made constant use of both. 
 
 An immense deal goes into good generalship 
 besides fighting. There are interminable prob- 
 lems of supplying large bodies of men with food 
 and clothing and good spirits, of guarding against 
 disease, difficulties of transportation to be over- 
 come, the elements to be taken into account, and 
 excessive cold or heat to be turned if possible into 
 an advantage for one's own troops and a calamity 
 to the enemy. The mere matter of horse-shoe 
 nails is one detail in a thousand, yet a lack of them 
 might seriously cripple an army. A commanding 
 general cannot of course oversee all this per- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 227 
 
 sonally, but his mind must be big^ enough— and 
 charitable enough — to take account of all these 
 dilYerent factors. Grant's training, both in and 
 out of the army, had given him a sense of the re- 
 quirements and necessities of the great army 
 under him, and he was one of the few men hold- 
 ing high rank who did not waste their time over 
 tasks which belonged by rights to their subordi- 
 nates. He realized that all merely routine matters 
 could be attended to as well or better by some one 
 else, and he left them in the hands of those whose 
 duty it was to attend to them. He chose the best 
 men he could find, and held them strictly account- 
 able. His own time was kept for other matters. 
 He would sit just inside his tent, or outside it near 
 by, hour after hour, smoking very slowly, ap- 
 parently the laziest man in the army, but when the 
 time came, the well-matured plans that resulted 
 from this thinking were swiftly translated into 
 action. He had great powers of concentration. 
 When thus engaged nothing that went on around 
 him seemed to disturb him. Sometimes when his 
 quarters were filled with officers talking and 
 laughing, he would turn to his table and begin 
 writing important despatches, li they stopped or 
 made an attempt to keep silence, he bade them go 
 on, and in time they came to understand that the 
 noise really did not disturb him in the least. 
 
228 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 General Rawlins and Captain Parker, who, 
 though a full-blooded Indian, wrote the best hand 
 of any member of Grant's staff, helped him with 
 his correspondence: For important letters and 
 despatches, however, the General-in-chief seldom 
 employed a secretary. He is said to have written 
 as many as forty-two in a single day. He wrote 
 swiftly and steadily, seldom pausing for a word, 
 and very seldom making a change or an inter- 
 lineation. He used short Anglo-Saxon words in 
 preference to long ones derived from any tongue, 
 and his one aim was to make his meaning clear. 
 It was never necessary to read his orders over a 
 second time to understand them. Yet he was not 
 methodical. He could never find a paper that he 
 had once put away, and his desk at headquarters 
 was a whirlwind of disorder, in spite of the best 
 efiforts of his mihtary secretaries. 
 
 Because of his ability to withdraw his mind 
 from the hubbub and confusion of his surround- 
 ings, and also very likely because of his serene 
 faith in final success, he was able to sleep under 
 conditions that most people would have found im- 
 possible — against a tree on a rain-soaked battle- 
 field, or in his camp bed adjoining a tent full of 
 officers talking and telling stories far into the 
 night. There were times, however, when even his 
 iron nerves were not proof against the demon of 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 229 
 
 wakefulness — as on the night when the newspa- 
 per reporter found him sitting hent over tlie camp- 
 fire, or that other dreadful night after Shiloii, 
 when the groans of the wounded drove him from 
 the shelter of the improvised hospital back into 
 the less trying storm. 
 
 His family affections were very strong. He 
 wrote to his wife with great frequency, and al- 
 ways on the eve of battle. After he was estab- 
 lished at City Point Mrs. Grant and the children 
 came on from the West and made him several 
 visits. His children were his pets and playmates. 
 Fred, the eldest son, was quite a veteran. He had 
 been with his father at the beginning of the war, 
 and, when only thirteen, had, without the General 
 knowing it, been under fire at Port Gibson — and 
 after the engagement had rolled himself in a 
 blanket and gone to sleep upon the field, where he 
 was found some hours later by his astonished 
 parent. He had also been his father's companion 
 on the journey to Washington when Grant went 
 to receive his commission as lieutenant-general. 
 
 Headquarters at City Point were livelier for the 
 presence of these youngsters. On the morning 
 after their arrival an officer bringing in des- 
 patches found the lieutenant-general in his shirt- 
 sleeves, enjoying a wrestling match with the two 
 eldest, and laughing as if he were a boy again. 
 
 14 
 
230 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 They had just succeeded in tripping him, and he 
 was on his knees on the floor, very red in the 
 face. Seeing that business awaited him he disen- 
 tangled himself with difficulty and rose, brushing 
 the dust from his clothes, and saying in half 
 apology: "You know my weaknesses — my chil- 
 dren and my horses." 
 
 The younger ones were privileged to hang 
 about his neck when he was writing, and to turn 
 everything within reach into a toy. But they 
 were affectionate and obedient, and always re- 
 spected their father's wish if he told them 
 seriously what he wanted them to do. There was 
 no lack of courage among them. Jesse, the 
 youngest, a mere tot of six in Highland kilts, fol- 
 lowed his father into action one day on his Shet- 
 land pony "Little Reb," and remonstrated loudly 
 when the junior aide was detailed to lead him 
 back to safety. The aide was quite as much dis- 
 tressed as the boy, for he too was very young, and 
 he feared that all the troops who saw him gallop- 
 ing toward the rear would think he was running 
 away from the fight. 
 
 Mrs. Grant was soon on the best of terms with 
 the members of the staff, and won the liking of 
 every one around her. She also was an old cam- 
 paigner, having visited her husband several times 
 during his command in the West, and knew per- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 231 
 
 fectly how to adapt herself to army ways. She 
 took her meals with the mess, visited the sick, 
 soldiers and officers alike, conspired with the 
 cooks in their behalf, and managed, against the 
 black background of war, to make a home life for 
 her General as wholesome and simple as the one 
 they led together at Hardscrabble in the days 
 when he battled against adverse circumstance, 
 and his fight seemed to be a losing one. There 
 was no time now for the reading aloud that had 
 enlivened their dull evenings on the farm. He 
 had despatches to receive and send concerning 
 four great armies in the field, and orders to give 
 that decided the coming and going of thousands 
 of men. But for her there was no change, either 
 in him or in herself. She had always known that 
 he could do great things. Now other people were 
 beginning to find it out. That was all. She still 
 spoke of him as "Mr. Grant," from force of habit, 
 and called him "Ulyss," when they were alone, or 
 "Victor," a name she had coined for him after the 
 fall of Vicksburg. 
 
 Meantime the horrors of war did not cease,, 
 though the terrible slaughter of the first six 
 weeks of Grant's campaign against Richmond 
 was at an end. War, as Mr. Lincoln once pointed 
 out, cannot be profitably waged with "elder-stalk 
 squirts charged with rose-water." Grant's meth- 
 
1-^2 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 ods had changed, but it was war as before, as re- 
 lentless and as grim. 
 
 One of the grimmest incidents was the ex- 
 plosion of the mine at Petersburg, late in July. 
 The colonel of a Pennsylvania regiment which 
 was made up largely of miners, conceived the idea 
 of using the skill of his men in their old profes- 
 sion by preparing a mine large and powerful 
 enough to blow up the parapets and make an 
 opening for assaulting columns to rush through 
 and capture the town. It was planned with great 
 care, and carried to completion with every chance 
 of success. The garrison of Petersburg learned 
 what was going on, and countermined vainly to 
 find the spot and check the digging. The whole 
 town was in a panic, not knowing where or when 
 or how much damage the explosion would cause. 
 The attempt was timed for daybreak on the 30th 
 of July, and Grant bivouacked near the center of 
 the line to be upon the spot when the assault was 
 made. Half-past three, the hour for the explo- 
 sion, came — and went. The General-in-chief and 
 his officers stood gazing intently in the direction 
 of the mine. Orderlies with saddled horses 
 waited near by. Not a word was spoken, not a 
 sound heard. The silence was tense with expecta- 
 tion, then with apprehension. Ten minutes 
 passed by— twenty. Daylight was at hand, and 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 233 
 
 the enemy must soon see the troops formed ready 
 for the attack. An officer was sent to learn what 
 had happened. He came back with the report 
 that the fuse had been Hghted at the hour set. 
 Another fifteen minutes passed, each second an 
 eternity, for the success of the whole movement 
 hung on that little spark. Grant waited, his right 
 hand resting against a tree, his lips pressed close, 
 his look one of profound anxiety. There was 
 nothing to do except to wait. Then word came 
 from the Pennsylvanians that they were not 
 going to let the attempt fail. Two men had 
 volunteered, in face of almost certain death, to 
 enter the tunnel and find out the cause of the 
 delay. They found that the fire had been inter- 
 rupted at a point where two sections of the fuse 
 were spliced. It was mended and relighted. 
 There was a shock like an earthquake, a muffled 
 roar, and a great cone-shaped volume of earth 
 rose high into the air, tongues of flame playing 
 through it like lightning through the clouds. For 
 an instant it hung poised, then came down, a 
 dreadful shower of rock, clay, timber, guns, and 
 mutilated human bodies. It seemed as though the 
 greater part of it would fall forward on the Union 
 lines, and this caused some disorder, and a further 
 slight delay. 
 
 The crater made by the explosion was a jagged 
 
234 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 hole twenty or thirty feet deep, about fifty wide, 
 and almost two hundred feet long, while the 
 sides were so steep that once in, it was almost 
 impossible to climb out again. The officer in 
 charge of the actual assault proved unequal to 
 the task. The troops went on without su- 
 perior officers, and soon became confused. Some 
 stopped to help wounded Confederates strug- 
 gling out of the debris, some strove to scramble 
 up the steep sides of the crater. It was soon 
 filled with disorganized men, while shouting and 
 screaming, the tearing of shells and the roar 
 of artillery, made it a veritable pandemonium. 
 More men were struggling toward it, and the 
 Confederates were rallying to the defense on 
 the other side. Grant, quick to see that things 
 were not going as they should, cried, "Come 
 with me!" to an officer standing near him, 
 and the two galloped forward followed by a 
 single orderly. Soon they had to give up their 
 horses and make their way on foot. Grant's ob- 
 ject was to find the corps commander, and 
 through him, if possible, to bring order out of 
 this chaos. Save for his shoulder-straps he was 
 dressed like a private soldier, and few recognized 
 him as he elbowed his way energetically to the 
 front. The shots fell thick and fast, and to save 
 time Grant, seeing he could move more quickly 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 235 
 
 on that side, climbed to the outside of the Union 
 earthworks, and took his chances unsheltered, the 
 officer following, sick with apprehension. The 
 astonishment of the corps commander can be 
 imagined when his chief appeared from that di- 
 rection, horseless, breathless, black with dust and 
 perspiration. Grant wasted no time in explana- 
 tion or greeting. He had seen that the entire 
 opportunity was lost, and ordered the troops im- 
 mediately withdrawn. "It was slaughter to leave 
 them there," he said. Then he was gone again, 
 making his way back with no little difficulty to the 
 spot where the horses had been left. It is to be 
 doubted whether he had a right thus to expose 
 himself. The order to withdraw could certainly 
 have been sent by some one else; but when he 
 started it was not that order that he hoped to 
 give, and blood will tingle and hearts beat fast in 
 sympathy with a commander who so forgot his 
 own safety, and even his own duty, in an effort to 
 right a hopeless blunder. It was two hours past 
 midday before the last survivors were withdrawn. 
 Grant and his staff rode sadly back to headquar- 
 ters. He had few words of blame for those whose 
 failure had brought the enterprise to ruin, only 
 remarking that such an opportunity for carrying 
 a fortified line he had never seen, and never ex- 
 pected to see again. 
 
236 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 The taking of Richmond being the central act 
 in the miHtary drama, and the other armies and 
 commanders appearing to be accomphshing noth- 
 ing, all eyes turned toward Grant, who was in the 
 habit of doing things. Yet his army also seemed 
 to be at a standstill, and the siege stretched 
 through interminable weeks. The political situa- 
 tion grew daily more gloomy, until it reached a 
 point where even President Lincoln thought the 
 elections would go against him. And if he, with 
 his wide knowledge, felt so, it is no wonder that 
 people in a position to know only what their 
 limited vision disclosed should have been almost 
 in despair. Criticisms abounded, advice came to 
 Grant in full measure quite unasked, and all the 
 cranks in the country turned their genius toward 
 helping him solve the problem of victory. One 
 plan, accompanied by elaborate drawings, was for 
 a great wall to be built around Richmond, taller 
 than its tallest houses, after which water might 
 be pumped in from the James river and the garri- 
 son drowned out like rats. Another contemplated 
 shells filled with an all-powerful snufif, which 
 when exploded over the city in sufficient quanti- 
 ties was warranted to reduce the inhabitants to 
 helplessness, and allow the Union army to walk 
 in unopposed. A third, based on weather statis- 
 tics, averred that the following winter was sure 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 237 
 
 to see the James river frozen over, when, with all 
 in readiness beforehand, columns of troops could 
 be rushed across the ice to a position in the rear of 
 the enemy's lines, and Richmond be at their 
 mercy. All these visionary schemes were wasted 
 on Grant's practical mind. "This is a very sug- 
 gestive age," he remarked. "Some people think 
 that an army can be whipped by waiting for rivers 
 to freeze over, or by setting troops to sneezing; 
 but it will always be found in the end that the only 
 way to whip an enemy is to go out and fight him." 
 
 Then the country woke up to the fact that in 
 spite of their seeming inactivity, this was just 
 what the various Union armies were doing. Sher- 
 man, victorious in his campaign in Georgia, 
 entered Atlanta on the 2d of September, and 
 began preparations for his wonderful march to 
 the sea. General Sheridan, sent to clear the 
 Shenandoah Valley of Confederate cavalry, made 
 his famous "ride" that reads like a chapter of 
 romance, and sent the enemy "whirling through 
 Winchester"; and in November, the country, 
 responding to these and other successes, roused 
 from its despondency, and reelected President 
 Lincoln by a majority that showed the people's 
 trust in his guidance, and in Grant's firm 
 strength. 
 
 Of Grant's share in the nation's confidence 
 
238 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 there was no doubt. About this time he made a 
 hurried trip north to see his children who were in 
 school, stopping on his way back for a quiet day 
 or two in New York and another in Philadelphia. 
 But the days were not quiet. Crowds thronged 
 about his hotel, and when he appeared on the 
 streets he was almost mobbed by enthusiastic 
 strangers. He took it quietly, as was his nature, 
 and with good humor, as was his wont, but his 
 astonishment was great that people should be so 
 anxious to look at him. 
 
 The military successes of his friends made him 
 very happy. He read aloud Sheridan's despatch, 
 which began with a tale of reverses and ended in 
 victory, with a solemn voice and pretense of deep 
 chagrin, rejoicing with twinkling eyes over the 
 joke he was playing on his stafif officers ; and Sher- 
 man's triumphs were as welcome to him as if they 
 had been his own. 
 
 On November i6th, that general, having sent 
 back his sick and his surplus stores to Chat- 
 tanooga, burned the railroad bridges, tore up the 
 tracks, destroyed the vast array of mills and fac- 
 tories that made Atlanta of supreme importance 
 to the South, and started with 60,000 of his best 
 men on his march of 300 miles to the Atlantic 
 Ocean, as gaily as if they were entering on a 
 holiday. Such indeed it proved in comparison 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 239 
 
 with the canipai,c;'ns these sturdy veterans had al- 
 ready iindcrf^one. On December 15th and i6th 
 General Thomas defeated General Hood in Ten- 
 nessee. On December 22d Sherman telegraphed 
 to the President, "I beg to present to you as a 
 Christmas gift the city of Savannah" ; and slowly 
 but steadily Grant's sinister lines were stretching 
 westward, menacing the roads that brought food 
 and supplies into Richmond. The southern cause 
 was in its last throes. 
 
 On January 30, 1865, a letter was brought to 
 General Grant which had been sent into the Union 
 lines from Petersburg the night before. It was 
 signed by three persons high in Confederate cir- 
 cles, Alexander H. Stephens, Vice-President of 
 the Confederacy, J. A. Campbell, Assistant Secre- 
 tary of War, and R. M. T. Hunter, Senator and 
 Ex-secretary of State. They requested permission 
 to enter Grant's lines, saying they were a "Peace 
 Commission" seeking an interview with President 
 Lincoln. They were admitted and treated as 
 guests at City Point while President Lincoln sent 
 Secretary of State Seward down from Washing- 
 ton to Hampton Roads to meet them. Grant him- 
 self conducted them to the headquarters boat 
 where they were given state-rooms. They were 
 amazed at the simplicity of his dress and manners, 
 and the lack of military display in the bare little 
 
240 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 office room where they found him writing by the 
 light of a kerosene lamp. "The more I became 
 acquainted with him," wrote one of them, "the 
 more I became thoroughly impressed with the 
 very extraordinary combination of rare elements 
 in the character which he exhibited. During the 
 time he met us frequently and conversed freely 
 upon various subjects. Not much upon our mis- 
 sion. I saw however, very clearly, that he was 
 very anxious for the proposed conference to take 
 place." 
 
 It came to nothing. The commissioners had 
 not been quite frank in their application to enter 
 the Union lines. It was found that they were 
 empowered only to treat for the peace of the "two 
 countries." The North had never admitted that 
 there were two countries, and could entertain no 
 such proposition, although it was more than will- 
 ing to enter into negotiations looking to the peace 
 of "our one common country." So, though at 
 Grant's request President Lincoln himself went to 
 Hampton Roads and had a long informal talk 
 with these gentlemen, their mission was from the 
 first doomed to failure, and resulted only in show- 
 ing once more the President's great patience, and 
 in confirming the suspicions of the government at 
 Washington that Richmond was in extremity and 
 must soon surrender. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 241 
 
 This was indeed the case. The Confederacy 
 was at the end of its resources. In Richmond 
 flour cost a thousand dollars a barrel in Con- 
 federate money, and there was little of it to be 
 had, even at that price. The slaves, for whose 
 bondage the struggle had been begun, were of no 
 value at all. The war had defeated its own pur- 
 pose and brought about the very thing that eman- 
 cipation accomplished in the North. It was vain 
 for Jefferson Davis to issue proclamations to "fire 
 the southern heart." The heart of the South was 
 already chilled and numb with the certainty that 
 his government was a failure. But as faith in the 
 Confederate President went down, faith in Rob- 
 ert E. Lee, their brilliant general, rose to the 
 flood. The southern people felt him to be their 
 one and only hope. On the evening of March 3d, 
 about a month after the fruitless Hampton 
 Roads conference, Grant received a letter directly 
 from him, proposing a meeting between the two 
 commanders, with a view "to a satisfactory ad- 
 justment of the present unhappy difficulties by 
 means of a military convention." Lee was so 
 strong in the confidence of the South that it is 
 likely he could have secured the popular assent to 
 any measure he proposed. It is perhaps not strange 
 that he supposed Grant to hold a similar position 
 in regard to the North. Grant saw that it was not 
 
242 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 a military but a political move that the Confed- 
 erate general was making, and telegraphed the 
 proposal to Washington. _ The answer came back, 
 clear and decided : 
 
 The President directs me to say that he wishes you 
 to have no conference with General Lee unless it be 
 for capitulation of General Lee's army, or on some 
 minor or purely military matter. He instructs me to 
 say that you are not to decide, discuss, or confer upon 
 any political questions. Such questions the President 
 holds in his own hands, and will submit them to no 
 military conferences or conventions. Meanwhile, you 
 are to press to the utmost your military advantages. ' 
 
 The time for compromises was past. The game 
 must be played out to the end. 
 
 General Longstreet of the Confederate army is 
 authority for the statement that this proposed 
 meeting between Grant and Lee was but the be- 
 ginning of a fanciful plan for bringing about 
 peace; a further step being an interchange of vis- 
 its between Mrs. Grant and Mrs. Longstreet, who 
 were old friends. It was hoped that when one of 
 these ladies appeared at City Point and the other 
 in Richmond, the chivalry of the soldiers would 
 assure such enthusiastic greetings as to rouse 
 universal good will, and that this in turn would 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 243 
 
 lead to more substantial results. Mrs. Lon£2^street 
 was summoned to Richmond by telegraph, but the 
 airy fabric was pierced by Grant's very proper 
 and eminently sensible course in transmitting 
 Lee's proposal to Washington. 
 
 Toward the latter part of March the President 
 went down to City Point to visit General Grant 
 and his son Captain Robert Lincoln, who was a 
 member of Grant's staff. He was one of the most 
 welcome and satisfactory of the many visitors 
 who came and went at the camp of the'Lieutenant- 
 General. Mr. Lincoln greatly enjoyed these little 
 outings, which took him away for a time from the 
 many perplexing details of life at the White 
 House. These two greatest men of their country 
 and generation were as different as possible, yet 
 had much in common. They were plain, kind, 
 practical men, both of them, terribly in earnest 
 about their business of putting down the rebellion, 
 but not in the least concerned about themselves. 
 There was sympathy and trust between them 
 from the first. "The President," said Grant, "is 
 one of the few visitors I have had who has not 
 attempted to extract from me a knowledge of my 
 movements, although he is the only one who has 
 a right to know" ; and in the little things of life— 
 the dislike of the "show business" that Grant had 
 given as his excuse for refusing the President's 
 
244 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 first invitation to dinner, their shrinking from 
 seeing or inflicting pain, their lack of interest in 
 "sport," their fondness for children, and many 
 other traits— they were in full sympathy. 
 
XII 
 
 A GENEROUS FOE 
 
 **/^NE of the most anxious periods of my ex- 
 \^ perience during the rebellion," says Grant, 
 ''was the last few weeks before Petersburg. 
 I felt that the situation of the Confederate army 
 was such that they would try to make an escape at 
 the earliest practicable moment, and I was afraid 
 every morning that I would awake from my sleep 
 to hear that Lee had gone, and that nothing was 
 left but a picket line." 
 
 Lee still controlled one line of railroad running 
 south, and Grant feared that he might be secretly 
 moving men and stores out of harm's way. In 
 that case the Army of the Potomac would have 
 the same wary enemy to fight farther south, and 
 the war might drag on for another year. "I was 
 led to this fear by the fact that I could not see 
 how it was possible for the Confederates to hold 
 out much longer where they were. There is no 
 doubt that Richmond would have been evacuated 
 much sooner than it was, if it had not been that it 
 was the capital of the so-called Confederacy." 
 
 15 
 
 24s 
 
246 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 The loss of their capital would of course be 
 very demoralizing to the army as well as to the 
 southern people, and both Lee and President 
 Davis were anxious to delay it as long as pos- 
 sible ; but Lee, at least, saw that it must soon come. 
 Conscription laws had been passed, making old 
 men and boys of fourteen liable to military duty. 
 Squads of guards were sent into the streets of 
 Richmond with orders to arrest every able-bodied 
 man they met. Even the sick were not excused if 
 they had strength to bear arms for the space of 
 ten days. This was more than flesh and blood 
 could endure, and desertions were taking place 
 from the southern armies at the rate of a regiment 
 a day. Grant knew this, and also that they could 
 get no new men to replace them. It was only a 
 question of mathematics how long they could hold 
 out. Grant knew too that Lee's army was not 
 only losing numbers but courage. 
 
 The situation seemed thoroughly within his 
 grasp, and he was impatient to begin the move- 
 ment which he was confident would end the war. 
 Sherman had turned northward after his trium- 
 phant march to the sea, and would soon be in 
 touch with General Meade's army, but Grant felt 
 that the honor of defeating Lee and capturing 
 the Confederate capital ought to belong alone to 
 the Army of the Potomac, which had confronted 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 247 
 
 him and it for so long. Only two considerations 
 held him back. The winter had been one of heavy 
 rains, and it was necessary to wait for the roads 
 to be dry enough to move artillery and supply- 
 trains. Also, he must await the arrival of 
 Sheridan's cavalry, now returning from its final 
 expedition to the Shenandoah Valley. 
 
 Lee meantime visited Richmond to confer with 
 President Davis on the measures to be adopted in 
 the crisis which he saw approaching. They agreed 
 that sooner or later Richmond must be abandoned, 
 and that the next move should be to Danville, 
 Virginia, near the North Carolina border. 
 
 Before turning his back forever on the capital 
 he had so stoutly defended, he determined to make 
 one more dash at Grant's lines. Grant, foresee- 
 ing the possibility of some such move, warned his 
 generals to be on the alert, and to bring every 
 resource to bear on the point in danger, adding, 
 "With proper alacrity in this respect, I would 
 have no objection to seeing the enemy get 
 through"— a characteristic comment that throws 
 a flood of light on Grant's habit of mind, and the 
 mastery he had by this time attained in his profes- 
 sion. Under such generalship an enemy's lines 
 are a trap, and entrance into them is suicide. 
 
 The assault was made with great spirit at Fort 
 Stedman opposite the Petersburg defenses in the 
 
248 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 early morning of March 25th. It succeeded at 
 first owing to the fact that the Confederate skir- 
 mishers, steaUng through the darkness, were mis- 
 taken for an unusually large party of deserters, 
 and overpowered several picket-posts without 
 firing a shot. The storming party, following with 
 a rush, gained possession of the fort, but with the 
 growing light Union troops advanced from all 
 sides and made short work of the intruders. That 
 this mere incident of the siege, hardly large 
 enough to be called a battle, resulted in a loss to 
 Lee of about 4000 troops, and of half that number 
 to Grant, shows what mighty proportions the 
 struggle had taken on. 
 
 The day before this happened Grant had issued 
 his orders for a grand movement to the left, to 
 begin on the 29th. The sally at Fort Stedman 
 convinced him that this was not a moment too 
 soon, but Sheridan's cavalry, which had just ar- 
 rived, must rest and be re-shod, and it was deter- 
 mined to keep to the original date. Sheridan was 
 given his instructions and read them with deep 
 disappointment. They provided that under cer- 
 tain circumstances he was to cut loose from the 
 Army of the Potomac and take his cavalry down 
 into North Carolina to join General Sherman. 
 The commanding general, seeing his chagrin, rose 
 and followed him out of earshot of even the staff 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 249 
 
 officers, and then explained that this was merely a 
 blind. He fully expected to end the war there and 
 then, and not to have Sheridan go beyond his im- 
 mediate neighborhood, but the North was restless, 
 and many believed that an end of fighting could 
 only be brought about by compromise. If they 
 knew his real plan, and any part of it miscarried, 
 it would be looked upon as a disastrous defeat. He 
 therefore preferred that they should not know. In 
 case things did not go as he hoped, Sheridan could 
 join Sherman, help him to beat Johnston, and then 
 the two, coming north again, could assist Grant in 
 carrying out his original plan. Thus Grant pro- 
 vided for public opinion as well as for victory, and 
 Sheridan went away content. On the 27th Gen- 
 eral Sherman came up from North Carolina for a 
 brief visit, and an interesting meeting took place 
 between the President who was still at City Point, 
 and the three famous brothers in arms; Grant 
 meanwhile continuing his preparations with even 
 more than his customary vigor. The army was 
 jubilant, for every one, down to the smallest 
 drummer-boy, felt that the end was at last at 
 hand. 
 
 On the morning of the 29th Mr. Lincoln came 
 ashore from his boat, the River Queen, to bid 
 good-by to Grant and his stafif, who were to make 
 the first few miles of their journey by rail. Mrs. 
 
250 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Grant was to remain at City Point, and the Presi- 
 dent and Mrs. Lincoln were also to stay there 
 some days longer before returning to Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 General Grant's parting with his wife was more 
 than usually affectionate as she stood at the door 
 of his quarters, calm and pale, her sorrowful 
 looks showing what was in her heart. Then Mr. 
 Lincoln walked with the party to the railroad sta- 
 tion only a short distance away. He also was 
 serious. He had chatted gaily enough at head- 
 quarters, telling stories and striving to cheer the 
 parting between the General and his wife, but now 
 the lines in his face were as if chiseled, and his 
 deeply shadowed eyes seemed to sink back into 
 ineffable sadness. It was plain that the moment 
 with its responsibility and its uncertainty op- 
 pressed him. As the officers mounted the train he 
 gave the General and each member of the staff a 
 cordial clasp of the hand. The little group on the 
 rear platform raised their hats respectfully; the 
 President returned the salute, and in a voice 
 broken with emotion bade them God-speed. A 
 signal was given. Grant's last campaign had be- 
 gun, and as the cars bore the officers away, the 
 tall President, left almost alone upon the plat- 
 form, stood looking after them, hat in hand. 
 
 As they went on Grant's plan developed from 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 253 
 
 hour to hour. "1 now feel hke ending the matter 
 , . . before going back," he wrote Sheridan. 
 "We will act all together as one army here, until 
 it is seen what can be done with the enemy." A 
 depressing storm of rain set in and reduced the 
 roads again to a liquid in which horses floundered 
 and wagons refused to move. This put a damper 
 on the enthusiasm of the troops which had been 
 at white heat the day before, but Grant's quiet 
 confidence and Sheridan's irrepressible courage 
 swept everything before them. Sheridan moved 
 to Five Forks, a junction of five roads a little 
 southwest of Petersburg, that both Grant and 
 Lee recognized as a strategic point of great im- 
 portance. Here he found a strong force of the 
 enemy. On the 31st there was a battle in which 
 Sheridan was pressed back as far as Dinwiddie 
 Court-house ; but an officer, despatched by Grant 
 to see how things were going with him, found the 
 little general stout of heart, and the band of his 
 slowly retreating rear-guard playing "Nelly Bly" 
 as cheerfully as if furnishing music for a country 
 picnic. He always made fine use of his bands. 
 Some of the instruments might be pierced by 
 bullets and his drums the worse for contact with 
 shells, but the spirit of the performance was all 
 that could be desired. Sheridan confessed that he 
 had had one of the liveliest days in his experience, 
 
254 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 but declared that the enemy was in more danger 
 than he. He might be cut off from the Army of 
 the Potomac, but his opponent was cut off from 
 Lee's army, and not a man ought to be allowed to 
 get back to it. The intrepid cavalry leader vowed 
 he was able to hold the spot where he then stood, 
 and by morning could again take the offensive. 
 
 Grant, much more alarmed for Sheridan's 
 safety than Sheridan was for himself, spent the 
 night raining orders and suggestions on his 
 various commanders for a concentration of 
 troops to go to his assistance ; but the Confederate 
 General Pickett, his immediate opponent, finding 
 himself out of position, silently withdrew during 
 the night into his intrenchments at Five Forks, 
 whither Sheridan, true to his promise, followed 
 him next day, a very incarnation of battle, charg- 
 ing through the thick of the fight on his coal-black 
 horse "Rienzi," exhorting, ordering, encouraging 
 — hypnotizing even the mortally wounded into 
 renewed life, and repeating the tactics of his 
 Shenandoah Valley exploits so brilliantly that the 
 right of Lee's army was entirely shattered. 
 
 This battle of Five Forks on April ist should 
 have ended the war. After it there was no longer 
 any hope of saving Richmond. But Lee seemed 
 to feel that even a temporary delay was worth all 
 the lives it cost. Grant ordered an assault for 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 255 
 
 the morning of the 2d aU along the hnes. The 
 answers came with electric confidence. General 
 Wright said that he would "make the fur fly"; 
 General Ord, that he would go into the Confeder- 
 ate lines "like a hot knife into butter." It is dis- 
 tressing to record the hard fighting that followed, 
 for the contest was already decided, and all this 
 heroic blood was shed needlessly. The Con- 
 federates fell slowly back to their inner line of 
 defenses, and Lee, watching the formidable ad- 
 vance before which his troops gave way, sent a 
 telegram to Richmond, announcing that the time 
 had come to give up the town. 
 
 It was Sunday, and Jefiferson Davis received 
 the fateful message in church. "My lines are 
 broken in three places. Richmond must be 
 evacuated this evening," he read, and rose quietly 
 and left the church. As speedily as possible the 
 rector brought the services to a close, and made 
 the announcement that General Ewell desired the 
 military forces to assemble at three o'clock that 
 afternoon. Soon the Sabbath quiet gave way to 
 hurried activity. Davis called his cabinet to- 
 gether, and the packing of the Confederate papers 
 and archives began. Banks were opened and 
 depositors flocked to them to withdraw what little 
 remained of their money and valuables. A rem- 
 nant of the Virginia legislature gathered at the 
 
256 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Capitol, and later departed with the governor on 
 a canal-boat for Lynchburg. Citizens who had 
 means of escape made hasty preparation for 
 flight, and the streets were filled with hurrying 
 teams. In the slave-traders' jail, sixty people- 
 men, women, and children— were hastily chained 
 together, and made ready to be taken south— the 
 last slave coffie that ever trod the streets of Rich- 
 mond. But the departing trains were already 
 over-full, and this slave gang went to pieces, as 
 did every other organization in Richmond, mili- 
 tary or political. 
 
 Some Confederate writers have expressed sur- 
 prise that General Grant did not attack and de- 
 stroy Lee's army on the afternoon of the 2d of 
 April. One of Grant's wise words, written, not 
 of this, but of criticism in general, is : "My later 
 experience has taught me two lessons. First, that 
 things are seen plainer after the events have oc- 
 curred. Second, that the most confident critics 
 are generally those who know the least about the 
 matter criticized." The men on the Union left 
 had been on foot eighteen hours ; they had fought 
 an important battle, and marched and counter- 
 marched many miles. Grant, anticipating an 
 early retirement by Lee from his citadel, wisely 
 resolved to avoid the waste and bloodshed of an 
 immediate assault on the inner lines of defense at 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 257 
 
 Petersburg. He ordered General Sheridan to get 
 upon Lee's line of retreat; sent General Hum- 
 phreys to strengthen him ; ordered a general bom- 
 bardment for five o'clock the next morning, with 
 an assault at six, and gave himself and his soldiers 
 a few hours of the rest they had so richly earned 
 —and needed, to prepare them for the labors to 
 come. 
 
 Next morning Meade and Grant entered 
 Petersburg together, so closely on the heels of the 
 flying Confederates that they could see the streets 
 near the bridge packed with gray-coated soldiers. 
 Grant had not the heart to turn his artillery on 
 such a mass of defeated men, and let them pass 
 out of the town, convinced that Lee's speedy sur- 
 render would deliver them into his hand. His 
 soldiers went on in pursuit of the enemy, and 
 Petersburg, deserted by both sides, seemed like a 
 city given over to the dead. Not even an animal 
 was to be seen on the streets. Only Grant and his 
 officers waited on the piazza of an empty house 
 for Mr. Lincoln, who rode over from City Point 
 to join them. Like Grant, he was delighted at the 
 large number of prisoners taken. Grant's des- 
 patch of the previous day, "the whole captures 
 since the army started out gunning will not 
 amount to less than 12,000 men," had filled him 
 with a satisfaction equal to Grant's own; and 
 
258 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Grant's first question after an engagement was 
 always, "How many prisoners?" knowing that 
 such captures reduced the enemy's forces without 
 inflicting suffering on either side. After thank- 
 ing him and his army most warmly for their vic- 
 tory, and talking a little while about what was yet 
 to be accomplished, the President remounted his 
 horse and rode back to City Point, and Grant and 
 his officers started on to join the army which was 
 already far in advance. 
 
 Word came from General Weitzel that he had 
 entered Richmond on the morning of the 3d to 
 find it in flames. It had indeed been given over 
 by the Confederates to every sort of wanton 
 destruction. But this was no time to turn aside 
 for captured capitals. Grant left General Weitzel 
 and his soldiers, white and black, to put out the 
 fire and restore order as seemed to them wise. 
 "Lee's army will be your objective point. Where 
 Lee goes, there you will go also," he had in- 
 structed General Meade at the outset of the cam- 
 paign a year ago. "Where Lee goes, there I go 
 also," was his thought now that the end was at 
 hand. 
 
 Flight and pursuit had begun almost at the 
 same moment. Lee was bending every energy to 
 get his army safely away to join General Johns- 
 ton in North Carolina. The first rendezvous for 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 259 
 
 his fleeing troops was Amelia Court-house, where 
 he had (hrected suppHes to be sent. When all 
 preparations for abandoning Richmond were 
 completed he had ridden out of town at nightfall, 
 and dismounting, had stood, bridle in hand, 
 watching his troops file noiselessly by in the 
 darkness. 
 
 All day of the 3d he and his men pushed for- 
 ward. He seemed in higher spirits than usual. 
 "I have got my army safe out of its breastworks," 
 he said, "and in order to follow me the enemy 
 must abandon his lines and can derive no further 
 benefit from his railroads or the James river." 
 Such spirit was admirable, but he was dealing 
 with a man who cared nothing for lines— who in 
 Mississippi had swung clear of all such hamper- 
 ing restraints, had faced an army equal to his 
 own, and had won a victory a day in a hostile 
 country, without even a wagon-train. 
 
 When Lee and his half-famished men reached 
 Amelia Court-house on the 4th they found that 
 no food had been sent to meet them. It was a 
 terrible disappointment, and twenty-four hours 
 were lost in collecting subsistence for men and 
 horses. This delay proved fatal. By the time 
 they started again the whole pursuing force was 
 to the south and stretching out to the west of 
 them, and Lee was compelled to change his route. 
 
26o THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 He started for Lynchburg, which he was destined 
 never to reach. 
 
 Sheridan, in advance, learned of his change of 
 plan, and fearful that some mistake might be 
 made, and Lee manage to escape after all, sent 
 Grant a despatch describing the situation, and 
 adding, 'T wish you were here yourself." Grant, 
 who had been riding with General Ord's com- 
 mand ten miles to the left, was about to go into 
 camp after a hard day in the saddle when a man 
 in Confederate uniform emerged suddenly from 
 the woods at the side of the road. He was sur- 
 rounded in an instant, but proved to be Sheridan's 
 scout, and not an indiscreet southerner. Taking 
 a tin-foil pellet from his mouth he opened it and 
 produced the despatch. Grant gave it one glance, 
 and calling for a fresh horse, bade him lead the 
 way. He would not even wait for a cup of coffee. 
 If Sheridan thought there was need of him at 
 that point, there he would go. Followed by four 
 officers and an escort of only fourteen men they 
 rode through the gathering darkness, then 
 through the moonlight, in a country perilously 
 near the enemy's lines. They saw rebel camp- 
 fires gleaming, and signs that cavalry had passed 
 that way. One of the officers cocked his pistol 
 and prepared to make short work of the scout if 
 he were leading their chief into hidden danger. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 261 
 
 But he was one of Sheridan's most trusted men, 
 and brought them in time to his pickets. These 
 could scarcely believe that the Lieutenant-Gen- 
 eral was roaming about the country at that hour 
 with so small an escort, and the parley was 
 spirited before they would let him pass. The 
 troops were sleeping on their arms. As the little 
 party picked its way among them, they woke up 
 and recognized Grant in the moonlight. "Great 
 Scott!" they said, and fell to speculating as to 
 what would happen on the morrow. Sheridan 
 was expecting him. After talking the situation 
 over Grant went on to General Meade's camp 
 near by. He was sick, but full of soldierly en- 
 thusiasm, and readily agreed to all the changes 
 Grant suggested in his plans for the following 
 day. 
 
 It rained, and there were scant rations, but the 
 troops, forgetting all weariness, swept on in fine 
 form. The friendly rivalry between infantry and 
 cavalry found voice in sly remarks as the General 
 rode beside the columns of marching men. "Cav- 
 alry 's gi'n out, General. Infantry 's goin' to 
 crush the rest of the mud" ; and, "We 've marched 
 twenty miles on this stretch, and we 're good for 
 twenty more if the General says so. We 're not 
 straddlin' any horses, but we '11 get there all the 
 same." The General raised his hat in acknowl- 
 
262 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 edgment of the cheers, and had a pleasant nod for 
 each of the men who addressed him. That night 
 headquarters was at a Httle country hotel in the 
 village of Farmville, south of the Appomattox 
 river. The troops spied their general, sitting on 
 the dark piazza, watching them with evident pride 
 as they swung past. Cheers rose from throats 
 already hoarse, bonfires were lighted on the sides 
 of the street, the men improvised torches out of 
 straw and pine knots, and the scene changed in an 
 instant to an ovation and a review, with a quiet, 
 silent man, clad like themselves, as the central 
 figure. 
 
 Pursuit and flight continued all through the 
 6th, the Confederates halting and partially in- 
 trenching, and the national forces driving them 
 out of every position. By nightfall Lee's army 
 could no longer hope to escape. Sheridan, ap- 
 preciating to the full the day's work, telegraphed 
 to Grant : *'If the thing is pressed, I think that Lee 
 will surrender." Grant sent the despatch on to 
 President Lincoln, who instantly replied, "Let the 
 thing be pressed." 
 
 On the 7th Lee's officers made known to him 
 their belief that resistance was useless, and ad- 
 vised him to surrender. He answered that they 
 had too many bold men to think of laying down 
 their arms. He seemed to fear that if he made the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 263 
 
 first overtures Grant would demand an uncon- 
 ditional surrender. Grant had no wish to drive a 
 gallant antagonist to extremes. That evening he 
 sent Lee a note saying that the results of the past 
 week must have convinced him of the hopelessness 
 of further resistance, and that he regarded it as 
 his duty, in order "to shift from myself the re- 
 sponsibility of any further effusion of blood," to 
 ask him to surrender the Army of Northern Vir- 
 ginia. He slept that night in a room said to have 
 been occupied by Lee only a few hours before. 
 Lee's answer, which reached him before morning, 
 was not, to Grant's mind, "satisfactory," but it 
 asked what terms Grant would be willing to allow. 
 Grant replied that, peace being his great desire, 
 he would only insist upon one condition, namely, 
 that the men and officers surrendered should not 
 take up arms against the United States until prop- 
 erly exchanged ; and he offered to meet Lee, or to 
 send officers to meet any officers Lee might name, 
 to conclude the terms. 
 
 The remnant of the Confederate army mean- 
 while stole away in the night, on the desperate 
 chance of finding food at Appomattox, and a way 
 of escape to Lynchburg; and again there was a 
 day of flight and pursuit, this time through a part 
 of Virginia not yet wasted by the passage of 
 hostile armies. Through the young green of 
 
 16 
 
264 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 spring the two armies marched — the Confeder- 
 ates in dogged apathetic obedience, all that is left 
 to brave men when hope is gone; the soldiers of 
 Grant inspired to forgetfulness of fatigue by the 
 certainty of victory. 
 
 On the evening of the 8th Sheridan by great 
 exertions succeeded in planting himself squarely 
 across Lee's line of retreat. This was near sun- 
 set. He had only his cavalry, and Lee's whole 
 army was coming up the road, but he held his 
 ground, and by morning the infantry was there 
 to support him. The Confederates, thinking they 
 had only his horse to contend with, advanced to 
 the attack. The Union cavalry, obedient to or- 
 ders, fell slowly back, and disclosed to their 
 amazed opponents road and hills and valley cov- 
 ered with serried lines of blue-coated men. 
 
 Lee awoke suddenly to a realization of the 
 truth. He had answered Grant on the day before, 
 refusing to surrender but proposing a meeting to 
 negotiate generally on "the restoration of peace." 
 Grant, too wary to be trapped into any political 
 discussion, had answered in a despatch of perfect 
 courtesy but equal frankness, saying that such a 
 meeting could do no good, and had set out to join 
 Sheridan, who was barring Lee's last way of 
 escape. He was sick, physically and mentally — 
 sick with the futility of his correspondence with 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 265 
 
 Lee ; sick with the exertions and anxieties of these 
 last hard days of marching and battle. A severe 
 headache had deprived him of all rest the night 
 before. He mounted his horse and rode on toward 
 Sheridan, suffering excruciating pain; but when 
 a messenger came to him bearing a letter from 
 Lee asking an interview ''in accordance with the 
 offer contained in your letter of yesterday," the 
 pain disappeared as if by magic. The army de- 
 murred, believing it to be a ruse. They begged to 
 be allowed to go in and whip the enemy, which 
 they knew they could do in five minutes, but 
 Grant of course would not hear of anything so 
 brutal. 
 
 It will be remembered that in his note of the 
 8th he had offered to meet Lee in person, or to 
 send officers to meet any officers Lee might name. 
 This was an act of courtesy meant to spare Lee 
 the mortification of personally conducting the sur- 
 render of his army. Washington had been equally 
 courteous to Cornwallis at Yorktown, and Corn- 
 wallis accepted the opportunity, and sent General 
 O'Hara in his stead. Lee scorned to make a cloak 
 of any such subterfuge, and came himself in 
 manly fashion to give up his sword. 
 
 The two generals met at the house of Air. Mc- 
 Lean at Appomattox Court-house, on Sunday, 
 April 9, 1865, ^t about half after one o'clock. 
 
266 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Lee was already there when Grant arrived. Grant 
 had known him very sHghtly in Mexico, where 
 the Virginian served as General Scott's chief 
 of staff. He was a large, austere man, of great 
 dignity and handsome presence, several years 
 Grant's senior, and for this occasion had donned 
 his newest uniform and finest sword, while Grant, 
 who had not seen his personal belongings since his 
 night ride to Sheridan's camp, was in the costume 
 he had worn all through the campaign, the sol- 
 dier's blouse, with the shoulder-straps of his rank. 
 His top-boots were spattered with mud. He had 
 not even a sword, for he rarely wore one when 
 riding. His hands were encased in the mysterious 
 yellow-brown gloves, though he quickly removed 
 these on entering the room. His hat was of the 
 kind known as "sugar-loaf," with a stiff brim. 
 
 General Lee, gray of hair, gray of beard, gray 
 of uniform, dignified, elegant, and courtly, as im- 
 maculate as though just dressed for church, or for 
 parade, advanced to meet his brown-bearded, 
 unmilitary-looking conqueror. The little group 
 of officers who accompanied Grant held back, 
 thinking the meeting would perhaps be easier in 
 private, but Grant soon made it known that he 
 wished their presence, and they filed in and 
 ranged themselves around the sides of the room, 
 "very much," says one of his staff, "as people 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 267 
 
 enter a sick chamber when they expect to find the 
 patient dangerously ill." 
 
 Grant had been jubilant on receipt of Lee's let- 
 ter, but now in the presence of his enemy he was 
 sad and depressed. Striving to make Lee feel at 
 ease he talked about the old army, and of Mexico. 
 His desire to inflict as little humiliation as pos- 
 sible on a brave adversary was so marked that one 
 of the subordinates whispered under his breath, 
 ''Who is surrendering here, anyhow?" 
 
 Whatever Lee may have felt, his face betrayed 
 no sign. It was he who brought the conversation 
 to the business before them by a request for the 
 terms on which the surrender of his army would 
 be received. Grant briefly stated them, Lee ac- 
 cepted them, and the talk drifted again to other 
 matters, to be once more brought back by Lee 
 with the suggestion that the terms be set down in 
 writing. In his Memoirs Grant states that when 
 he put his pen to the paper he had not given a 
 thought to the words he should use. The terms 
 he had verbally proposed and Lee accepted were 
 soon in writing. There he might have stopped, 
 but a glance at Lee's jeweled sword suggested a 
 paragraph allowing officers to retain their side- 
 arms and private property ; and his sympathy for a 
 brave foe increasing as he wrote, he closed with 
 the assurance that ''each officer and man will be 
 
268 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 allowed to return to their homes, not to be dis- 
 turbed by United States authority so long as they 
 observe their parole and the laws in force where 
 they may reside"— thus practically pardoning 
 every man in Lee's army, a thing he had refused 
 to do the day before, and which had been ex- 
 pressly forbidden by Lincoln's order of March 
 3d. But the gratitude of the government and 
 the people was so great, and their desire for peace 
 so very deep, that this was quite overlooked. 
 
 Lee must have read the memorandum with as 
 much surprise as gratification. He asked for and 
 obtained another important concession — that 
 those of the cavalry and artillery who owned 
 their horses should be allowed to take them home 
 for use on their farms. Colonel Parker, whose 
 Indian features and coloring had given General 
 Lee a start of surprise when the staff came into 
 the room, was called upon to make copies of this 
 important paper, and General Lee's secretary per- 
 formed the same service for the short letter of 
 acceptance that his chief prepared. These were 
 signed by the respective generals and duly deliv- 
 ered. 
 
 Shortly before four o'clock General Lee bade 
 good-by to General Grant, bowed to the other 
 officers, and left the house. A group of Union 
 officers in the yard rose as he appeared on the 
 
M<-1.i:an's HOl"SE, APPOMATTOX COfRT-llllI SE 
 
 ■^.m "^^^X^i -^.-M: w ■■^-'. 
 
 
 GENEKAL LEE AND COLONEL MARSHALL LEAVING MCLEAN S HOUSE 
 AFTEK THE SIKRENUER 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 271 
 
 porch, but he seemed not to see them as he stood 
 waiting for the orderly to bring up his horse. His 
 gaze was turned sadly toward the valley where his 
 army lay, and he beat his hands together in an 
 absent way. Grant and his officers followed him 
 out of doors. As the vanquished general mounted 
 and rode away Grant stepped down from the 
 porch and raised his hat. All the others imitated 
 this act of courtesy, and Lee, acknowledging the 
 salute, rode off at a slow trot. 
 
 Grant, who had learned from Lee that the Con- 
 federate army was in a starving condition, at 
 once gave orders that rations be issued to them. 
 Their General had thought that 25,000 would be 
 sufficient. The number surrendered proved even 
 greater, the actual number of paroles signed being 
 28,231 ; which, added to the captures made in the 
 preceding week, and the thousands who deserted 
 at every cross-roads leading to their homes, shows 
 how considerable an army Lee commanded when 
 Grant "started out gunning." 
 
 The news of the surrender spread like wild-fire 
 among the Union troops. The gunners prepared 
 to fire a national salute, but Grant would not per- 
 mit it. He forbade any rejoicing over a fallen 
 enemy, who, he hoped, would be an enemy no 
 longer. This was as it should be, and as he had 
 decreed at Vicksburg. 
 
272 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 As General-in-chief, Grant's place was now in 
 Washington. His task in the field was finished. 
 Richmond had fallen, and Lee's army was van- 
 quished. He was anxious to communicate with 
 his various generals, and to stop at once the im- 
 mense purchases of supplies and ammunition 
 rendered unnecessary by the victory of the day 
 before. Before leaving he rode out beyond his 
 lines toward the Confederate headquarters to 
 make a visit of farewell to General Lee. The 
 habit of years was too strong. At the Confeder- 
 ate picket line he was politely but firmly halted! 
 General Lee came at a gallop to receive his distin- 
 guished visitor, and to correct the mistake of his 
 too zealous guard. They met on a bit of rising 
 ground overlooking the lines, and, still on horse- 
 back, remained in conversation for half an hour 
 or more, the officers who accompanied them 
 drawn up in a semicircle quite out of earshot. 
 The talk was of the present and the future. Lee 
 thought the war at an end, and slavery dead. 
 The sooner the other Confederate armies sur- 
 rendered, the better. Grant, who realized that 
 Lee had more influence than any man in the 
 South, urged him to make a public appeal to 
 hasten the coming of peace; but Lee, loyal to 
 Jefiferson Davis and a government that had 
 ceased to exist, answered that he could not, with- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 273 
 
 out first consulting "the President." Then they 
 parted, Lee to take a final farewell of his army, 
 and Grant to begin his journey to Washington. 
 
 The trip was long and tedious, owing to the 
 badly mended railroad. Grant thought earnestly 
 on the way, as he had thought in the weeks before 
 Appomattox, about what was to happen after the 
 Confederates laid down their arms. Since Lee's 
 surrender the officers of the two armies had 
 mingled joyously. It was almost as if they were 
 friends long separated while fighting under one 
 flag. Grant knew that the rank and file of both 
 armies were as friendly. He remembered the 
 chaffing before Vicksburg, and the time at Chat- 
 tanooga when he had appeared unheralded at a 
 picket post while the men had arranged a tempo- 
 rary truce to get water from the stream that 
 flowed between the lines. ''Turn out the guard — 
 commanding general," his men had cried, while 
 from the Confederate side the echo had come, 
 "Turn out the guard— General Grant"; and they 
 had turned out and given him the proper salute. 
 He felt that if the two armies could work to- 
 gether, literally under one flag, for even a short 
 campaign, much bitterness would be extin- 
 guished, and much good-will gained. And he 
 thought of Mexico, where the French were trying 
 to establish a monarchy— a proceeding our gov- 
 
274 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 ernment disapproved, but up to that time had not 
 had the leisure or the strength to openly resent. 
 The thought came to him of leading the Union 
 and Confederate armies toward if not against 
 these interlopers, and he wondered if that were 
 the solution of the problem of once more uniting 
 the South and the North. 
 
 It was only a fancy, and it got no farther than 
 his brain, but he felt sure that there might be 
 worse plans. 
 
XIII 
 A soldier's honor 
 
 GRANT had won a colossal victory— had ren- 
 dered an inestimable service to his country, 
 and won undying honor for himself. But as 
 usual, thoughts of himself found little lodgment 
 in his brain. He was as simple and unassuming 
 the day after Appomattox as he had been the day 
 before Sumter. 
 
 Once in Washington he found much to do. It 
 is possible he did not even realize that the 
 throngs that blocked the streets about his hotel, 
 and the shouts that rent the air when he ap- 
 peared, were for Grant the conqueror as well as 
 for the peace that he had won. But his wife who 
 was with him doubtless understood. 
 
 The Secretary of War issued an order to stop 
 at once all drafting and recruiting, cutting down 
 the purchase of supplies, reducing the number of 
 officers, and removing all hindrances to commerce 
 wherever practicable. This was in effect a public 
 announcement of peace, and the city gave itself 
 over to rejoicing. Bands of music playing pa- 
 
276 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 triotic airs were everywhere, crowds were shout- 
 ing, and Grant's name was the burden of their 
 cry. 
 
 He visited the White House, where Mr. Lin- 
 coln wrung his hand in welcome, thanking him 
 with all the earnestness of a friend and all the 
 dignity of a President for the great service he 
 had done the nation. He was invited to attend 
 the meeting of the cabinet, and listened while the 
 great President, loving and magnanimous toward 
 the South, spoke of the work next to be done— the 
 perfecting of peace and reestablishment of civil 
 government. He was especially anxious to avoid 
 anything that looked like punishment. They 
 need not expect him to take part in trying and 
 hanging these men for treason. "Enough lives 
 have been sacrificed!" he exclaimed, and to that 
 the peace-loving General could heartily echo, 
 "Amen !" Not one of the little company dreamed 
 that the man who gave utterance to these 
 thoughts, his strong deeply-lined face a-quiver 
 with emotion and kindly impulse, was to be him- 
 self the next sacrifice. 
 
 Yet so it was. That same night, Friday, the 
 14th of April, the pistol of a hate-crazed fanatic 
 brought his noble life to a close, and Grant, who 
 had been asked to accompany him to the theater, 
 perhaps narrowly escaped the same fate. The 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 277 
 
 evening papers had piade the announcement that 
 General and Mrs. Grant, as well as Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lincoln, would be present, but Grant in replying 
 to the President's invitation only said that they 
 would go if they were in the city. Finding it pos- 
 sible to finish his most pressing tasks and leave that 
 afternoon for Burlington, New Jersey, where his 
 children were in school, he sent his excuses to the 
 President and took the four-o'clock train. Twice 
 during his drive to the station a dark, reckless- 
 looking man on horseback rode by and peered into 
 the carriage, and Mrs. Grant, seeing him, drew 
 back and exclaimed that the same man had sat 
 near her in the hotel dining-room at lunch-time. 
 The General made light of it, ascribing the rider's 
 curiosity to the wild enthusiasm that possessed 
 the town; but he was glad to be getting away 
 from all this "show business," and had no regrets 
 for the crowded theater, and the shouts that 
 would have greeted him if he had appeared in the 
 President's box that night. Next day, when por- 
 traits of the murderer were flung broadcast, his 
 face was recognized as the face of the man who 
 had followed the carriage of the General-in-chief. 
 What motive Booth had will never be known. It 
 may have been mere curiosity to learn the Gen- 
 eral's movements, or it may have been some far 
 blacker design. 
 
278 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 It was at Philadelphia, about midnight, that the 
 news of the night's tragedy reached Grant. 
 Crowds were there to greet him, despite 'the late- 
 ness of the hour— but there were also telegrams 
 which made him deaf to the noise of their cheers. 
 After reading them he sat with bowed head, per- 
 fectly silent, until his wife asked him gently what 
 bad news they brought. 
 
 It was not only that he had lost a friend, and 
 that the country had lost a President. He real- 
 ized as few others did the magnitude of the loss 
 —how much the broad statesmanship and kindly 
 wisdom of the martyred ruler would have meant 
 to the country, and especially to the South, in the 
 days that were at hand. "To bind up the nation's 
 wounds," to "do all which may achieve and 
 cherish a just and lasting peace," had been the 
 concern of the great heart and noble mind of the 
 man who was dead. Where would the passions 
 aroused by his murder, the hatred and terror and 
 revenge into which the people were thrown, the 
 power suddenly thrust into the hands of an un- 
 trained and untried man, lead a country blind 
 with grief? 
 
 A special train was made ready to take Grant 
 back to Washington. He had left the city gay 
 and brilliant like a festival, decorated with flags, 
 and echoing with patriotic music. When he re- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 279 
 
 turned people were going about pale with sorrow, 
 somber trappings of black were being raised over 
 the white marble porticos of the public buildings, 
 private houses of all classes, from the dwellings 
 of the wealthy to the huts of the poorest laborers, 
 showed their sable tributes of respect, and in grief 
 for the man who was gone, 'iittle children cried 
 in the streets." 
 
 Lincoln, the President, had been killed. Mr. 
 Seward, the Secretary of State, had been seri- 
 ously, it was feared mortally wounded. Andrew 
 Johnson, the new President, was unknown and 
 little trusted. To the people at large it was a 
 relief to know that Grant, on whom they had come 
 to rely as on a tower of unfailing strength, was at 
 his post in Washington. On him, and on Secre- 
 tary Stanton of the War Department, fell the 
 great task of disbanding the immense army of 
 volunteers that had fought the war to a victorious 
 close. Though it was practically over when Lee 
 laid down his arms at Appomattox, the other Con- 
 federate forces did not immediately surrender. 
 General Johnston, who had been contesting Sher- 
 man's progress in North Carolina, finally capitu- 
 lated on the 26th of April. General E. Kirby 
 Smith held out beyond the Mississippi for a month 
 longer. Before the end of May, however, all the 
 Confederate forces had laid down their arms, the 
 
28o THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 civil government of which Jefferson Davis had 
 been the head was disbanded, and its chief in 
 prison. The great rebelhon was over, and the 
 national government once more supreme. 
 
 What was to become of the immense army that 
 had brought this about? Would it, could it, melt 
 peaceably again into the greater body of citizens 
 out of which it had sprung at its country's call? 
 Now that their work was done there was no room 
 for them, as an army, in our American scheme of 
 government; but was it reasonable to suppose 
 that a million men trained to the use of arms, 
 flushed with victory, and led by officers they loved 
 and trusted, would consent to disband and go to 
 work again at the humdrum tasks of civil life? 
 All the countries of Europe, even those most 
 friendly, watched to see, and those not so friendly 
 prophesied, with ill-concealed joy, of trouble sure 
 to come when "a few men in black coats at Wash- 
 ington" attempted to disband the army. They 
 little knew the temper of the volunteers who had 
 fought and won. They had not joined the army 
 from any love of soldiering, but for love of coun- 
 try. With incredible ease and swiftness the army 
 of 1,000,000 men was brought down to a peace 
 footing of 25,000. 
 
 Before they were mustered out they enjoyed 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 281 
 
 one last triumph, a march through the streets of 
 Washington, the national capital, under the eyes 
 of the officers of the country they had saved, and 
 of Grant, their heloved captain. For two days 
 they marched, filling the wide stretch of Pennsyl- 
 vania Avenue from the Capitol to Georgetown, 
 while the street rang with the tramp of their feet, 
 the music of regimental bands, and the applause 
 of people gathered from far and near. 
 
 In front of the White House a reviewing stand 
 had been built, whereon sat the new President, 
 Andrew Johnson, with General Grant at his right 
 hand. Behind and around them were high of- 
 ficials of the government, and groups of ladies 
 bright as beds of flowers in their spring finery. 
 An unclouded May sun shone on the endless 
 stream of blue and flashing steel that rounded the 
 turn of the avenue, detached itself into regiments 
 and companies as it drew near, brought burnished 
 weapons to "present" in passing the stand, and 
 swept on again, a solid wall of men that ended 
 only where the street was lost to view. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac was given the first 
 place, as was its right, since it was older in point 
 of time than the armies of the West, and had been 
 for four years the living bulwark and defense of 
 the capital. General Meade rode at the head of 
 
 17 
 
282 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 the column, and the people cheered and strewed 
 flowers in his way. Next came the cavalry — 
 seven miles of cavalry — not led by Sheridan, for 
 he was already on his way to new duties in the 
 West, but by his able lieutenants, generals whose 
 renown was only less than that of their gallant 
 chief. For two hours these swift horsemen 
 passed, and as each of the regimental colors ap- 
 peared opposite the reviewing stand the President 
 doffed his hat— but the Lieutenant-General rose 
 and saluted. Afterward came the infantry, their 
 step elastic, their weapons glittering like new, 
 their uniforms, not new and spotless, but dulled to 
 the faded blue of honorable service. The battle- 
 flags they carried were faded too, and every rent 
 in their tattered folds was eloquent of deeds of 
 heroism and the bravery of comrades who had laid 
 down their lives on well-fought fields. The men 
 walked shoulder to shoulder, but there was room 
 in their ranks, and in the minds of all who saw, 
 for that large and silent army that had not re- 
 turned from the war. People threw flowers upon 
 these veterans as they passed, until some, men as 
 well as officers, were almost hidden under their 
 fragrant burden. The music of the regimental 
 bands, the sounds of shouting and applause, vied 
 for mastery, and when some favorite marching 
 song was played, the spectators along the route 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 283 
 
 joined in the chorus. All day long the blue-clad 
 host marched by, until the whole Army of the 
 Potomac had passed once more under the eye of 
 Grant its leader. 
 
 Next day came Sherman's men from the West, 
 bronzed and sinewy, with a trifle more swinging 
 vigor in their stride, and a trifle less neatness and 
 discipline, perhaps, but as like the army of Meade 
 as brothers of one family. At their head rode 
 Sherman, tall and spare and martial. Before each 
 division came a pioneer corps of negroes with 
 picks and spades and shovels ; and after each a 
 squad of "bummers," who had been foragers for 
 the army on its march to the sea, dressed in their 
 characteristic garb, and leading donkeys laden 
 with queer spoil, regimental pets sitting gravely 
 on the backs of mules, or piccaninnies rolling 
 their eyes and grinning with delight. There was 
 laughter at these grotesque figures, with more ap- 
 plause, and showers of fragrant flowers, and not 
 one whit less enthusiasm than on the previous 
 day. Here too the flags were faded and torn, and 
 the laughter would choke with sudden sentiment, 
 and then begin again louder than before. It was 
 a great and moving spectacle; but it was more 
 than that. It was an army of citizens marching 
 joyously home again, after a long and terrible 
 war. To each and all who saw it it meant more 
 
284 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 than shouting or tears or speech could express. 
 The kindly, loving Abraham Lincoln, to whom 
 the sight would have brought untold happiness, 
 had gone to join their silent absent comrades. 
 The new President who sat in his stead doffed his 
 hat in token of respect, but it did not mean to him 
 what it would have meant to his predecessor. To 
 no one in the mighty throng could it mean all that 
 it meant to the quiet man who hurried on foot 
 across the White House lawn and took his place 
 in a burst of applause at the new President's right 
 hand. His emotions were deep and moving, 
 though well-nigh mute. He hardly spoke, even 
 to those he knew. As each division came into 
 sight he eyed it critically, lovingly. These men 
 had been his companions— later his children. The 
 armies of the West had helped him win his fame. 
 The Army of the Potomac had cemented his 
 greatest victory. The people, seeing him, cheered 
 and cheered, as if they would never cease, but he, 
 unmindful of them all, rose and saluted the colors 
 as they passed by. 
 
 After the mustering out of troops was well 
 under way, and Sheridan was despatched to the 
 Mexican border to be at hand in case of disturb- 
 ance, Grant allowed himself a short vacation in a 
 two weeks' trip to New York and Chicago— a trip 
 that was one prolonged ovation, people thronging 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 285 
 
 the streets to see him and shouting themselves 
 hoarse when he appeared. There were some 
 among- them who greeted him as the coming 
 President. Of this he took no notice, not betray- 
 ing by so much as the quiver of an eyelash that 
 he heard what was said. 
 
 The most interesting part of his trip was his 
 visit to West Point, which he had not seen since 
 his graduation twenty-two years before. He 
 came back loaded with honors, bearing a higher 
 military rank than any American had held since 
 the days of Washington. General Scott, feeble 
 and venerable, the hero of his boyhood, the com- 
 mander of his first wonderful march, met him 
 with courtly ceremony. Salutes boomed, and the 
 cadets of '65 looked upon him with deeper awe 
 and admiration than he had ever felt for the gal- 
 lant, massive old soldier who now donned his 
 showiest uniform and uncovered his white head 
 to do him honor. The successor of Washington 
 experienced a strange return to the sensations of 
 his youth. He felt himself once more that shy, 
 awkward creature, an undergraduate, in the pres- 
 ence of learned instructors and superior military 
 genius — and the Academy, faculty and cadets 
 alike, divining his state of mind, adored him for 
 it, and cheered him to the echo. 
 
 He returned to Washington to find trouble in 
 
286 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 the air. President Johnson, who took his oath of 
 office in a moment of great bitterness and excite- 
 ment, was unfortunately a man of very different 
 character from the just and forbearing Lincoln. 
 Like him he was self-educated, and like him he 
 had been born in a slave State ; but there the re- 
 semblance ceased. He was shrewd instead of 
 wise, self-willed rather than strong, and he had a 
 quite ungovernable temper. This was a poor man 
 to take up the task laid down by his great pred- 
 ecessor. He began his term of office by violently 
 denouncing the "rebels'* as traitors for whom 
 hanging was altogether too good. He even went 
 so far as to accuse General Sherman of disloyalty 
 because of the too generous terms he offered his 
 opponent General Johnston when the latter came 
 to surrender. Grant had his first struggle with 
 the administration then and there, for it filled 
 him with indignation that all Sherman's splendid 
 work should be forgotten by the new President 
 and by Secretary Stanton, who ought to have 
 known better, just because of one mistake which 
 was an error of judgment and not of intention. 
 "It is infamous," Grant said, "infamous!" And 
 when they ordered him down to North Carolina to 
 take the matter out of Sherman's hands, he 
 obeyed, but carried out the command with ex- 
 treme delicacy, keeping himself in the background 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 287 
 
 and leaving Sherman all the honor of concluding 
 the surrender. 
 
 Johnson announced his determination to "make 
 treason odious," and as a means to that end pro- 
 posed to arrest Generals Lee and Johnston. This 
 Grant set himself to oppose with all the strength 
 of his iron will. He had taken their paroles, and 
 had given his promise that they would be allowed 
 to return to their homes, "not to be disturbed by 
 the United States authority so long as they ob- 
 serve their paroles and the laws in force where 
 they may reside." In this he had perhaps exceeded 
 his authority, but the promise had been given, had 
 been ratified by the government, and accepted by 
 the nation. No power on earth could make it 
 right to disregard that promise now. Johnson 
 persisted in his purpose. "I will make treason 
 odious," he repeated. "When can these men be 
 tried?" 
 
 "Never," said Grant, the battle-look settling on 
 his face. "Never, unless they violate their 
 parole." 
 
 The President grew angry, and demanded by 
 what right a commander interfered to save arch- 
 traitors from punishment. 
 
 At that Grant spoke words at white heat, but 
 slow and low, and deadly as bullets. His soldier's 
 honor was involved. He pointed out with merci- 
 
288 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 less distinctness the difference between a soldier's 
 word and a politician's revenge, and he ended by 
 declaring that rather than see these men arrested 
 he would resign from the army. The President's 
 rage beat back upon itself. He knew that Grant 
 would carry out his threat, and he knew also that 
 without Grant's help his administration was sure 
 to fail. The question of arresting the two gen- 
 erals was dropped and never mentioned again. 
 
 And now began a struggle more trying than 
 any of Grant's military battles— a struggle to 
 strike a balance with the President's unstable 
 policy, and to obtain something like justice in his 
 dealings with the South. In the months that fol- 
 lowed, President Johnson's attitude underwent a 
 complete change. Whether it was due to rising 
 ambition, whether he thought he saw a chance to 
 be reelected by southern votes to the office he had 
 reached through violence, or whether it was due 
 to his birth and up-bringing, who shall say? Am- 
 bition and the ties of blood are very strong. 
 From being anxious to punish ''traitors" he began 
 to advocate granting them unusual privileges, 
 and in the end came apparently to think them the 
 only people worth considering. 
 
 Grant, as the head of the army, had great 
 power in the South, for the war left behind it 
 many troublesome questions, chief among which 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 289 
 
 was how to deal with the conquered States whose 
 governments had been swept away by the prog- 
 ress of Union armies. The inhabitants could not 
 be left without laws and officers of some kind, so 
 the military had to guard property and preserve 
 order until the people were again ready to assume 
 the task. President Lincoln's policy had been to 
 encourage the people to do this as rapidly as pos- 
 sible. In Missouri and West Virginia they did 
 it of their own free will. In other places he ap- 
 pointed military governors to begin the work. It 
 was as military governor of Tennessee that An- 
 drew Johnson won the laurels that made him 
 candidate for Vice-President, and, through a 
 tragedy of fate, President of the United States. 
 The end of the war opened wide the flood-gates 
 of discussion as to how this "reconstruction" of 
 civil rights ought to be brought about. Views were 
 various, ranging from liberals who wanted all 
 rights restored to the erring States, to men like 
 Senators Charles Sumner and Thaddeus Stevens, 
 who contended that the States committed suicide 
 when they rebelled, and that they therefore no 
 longer existed as States, but were merely "men 
 and dirt," to be dealt with as the government saw 
 fit. The question was made infinitely harder to 
 settle by the presence of four millions of black 
 people who had become free as a result of the war. 
 
290 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 When they were slaves they of course took no 
 part in making or executing the laws. Now that 
 they were free what ought to be done about them ? 
 The southern whites objected savagely to being 
 governed, or even assisted in governing, by their 
 former slaves, whom they considered vastly their 
 inferiors. People in the North agreed that the 
 blacks were not ready to take up such tasks and 
 duties, but that in course of time, after they be- 
 came fitted for the rights of citizenship, they 
 ought to have them. A few radicals contended 
 that since the slaves were free they should be 
 treated exactly like their former masters. 
 
 The war practically came to an end in April. 
 Congress did not meet until the following Decem- 
 ber. In the eight months that intervened Presi- 
 dent Johnson was free to follow his own will. 
 After his first frenzy of severity he leaned more 
 and more toward the side of the southern whites ; 
 and he set up the claim that he as President had 
 the sole right to decide what form of government 
 should be given to the States lately in rebellion. 
 This, of course, angered Congress, which felt 
 that it had at least an equal right in the matter. 
 
 When Congress came together it passed bills 
 intended to guard against the abuse of privileges 
 already granted by the President, and to protect 
 the rights of the colored people, who were clearly 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 291 
 
 neither wise enough nor strong enough to hold 
 their own if their former masters chose to oppress 
 them. The President considered this an en- 
 croachment on his rights and vetoed the bills. 
 Congress retaliated by passing them over his veto, 
 and making them laws in spite of him. Meantime 
 acts of bloodshed and violence took place 
 throughout the South. Each side interpreted 
 them as justifying its own line of action, and 
 strove all the harder to carry its point. One 
 measure led to another until Congress and the 
 North became convinced that the only way to pro- 
 tect the negro was to give him at once the right to 
 vote and protect himself. An amendment to the 
 Constitution called Article XIV was prepared with 
 this in view, and offered to the southern States for 
 acceptance. When it was rejected, a much severer 
 measure was passed, taking away the rights al- 
 ready bestowed, placing practically the whole 
 South under military rule, ignoring the President 
 to the point of insult, and giving Grant, as head 
 of the army, almost the powers of a dictator. In- 
 deed the law as first framed made him absolutely 
 independent of the President, and provided that 
 he could not be removed from office while Johnson 
 remained President of the United States. Grant 
 objected so strongly to these extraordinary pro- 
 visions that they were modified. 
 
292 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 He would gladly have kept out of the quarrel if 
 he had been able to do so, but his official position 
 and his personal influence were too great to admit 
 of that. Both sides wanted him. The President 
 plied him with unsought personal favors, and lost 
 no opportunity to emphasize the friendly relations 
 between them, even to the extent of appearing un- 
 bidden at his home at an evening party and stand- 
 ing beside him to receive his guests. Such a mark 
 of intimacy at a time when a President was sup- 
 posed never to appear in society except under his 
 own roof, created the greatest sensation. 
 
 Congress promoted Grant once more — this time 
 to the full rank of General — and called upon him 
 to carry out its wishes. His position was most 
 trying, for he could not sympathize fully with 
 either side. He strove in his quiet, taciturn way 
 to do his duty as he saw it. During the time that 
 the President was so bitter against "traitors," he 
 urged greater liberality, and scores of southern 
 officers and hundreds of civilians appealed to him 
 for help and protection. After Mr. Johnson's 
 marked change of policy Grant felt that he was 
 going too far, politically as well as with him per- 
 sonally, but he had no more wish to be discour- 
 teous to the President of the United States, who 
 was his military superior, than he had to be 
 abused by Congress and the North for views he 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 293 
 
 did not hold. His friend Sherman, who watched 
 him with eyes of sympathy, said of him at this 
 time : 
 
 I have been with General Grant in the midst of 
 death and slaughter; when the howls of people 
 reached him after Shiloh ; when messages were speed- 
 ing to and fro from his army to Washington, bearing 
 slanders to induce his removal before Vicksburg; in 
 Chattanooga when the soldiers were stealing the corn 
 of the starving mules to satisfy their own hunger; at 
 Nashville when he was ordered to the 'forlorn hope.' to 
 command the Army of the Potomac so often defeated; 
 and yet I never saw him more troubled than since he 
 has been in Washington. 
 
 As for the South, it cried out bitterly against 
 this "terrible" new measure of Congress which 
 took away all civil rights and put it under army 
 rule until such time as it chose to humble itself 
 and accept the Fourteenth Amendment that gave 
 negroes the right to vote. It is a great tribute to 
 Grant's fairness and justice that the people he 
 had conquered regarded the fact of his holding 
 this immense power as the one ray of hope in the 
 situation. They felt sure that so long as he 
 wielded the trust it would not be abused. He in- 
 structed officers who were sent into the various 
 districts to act with the greatest forbearance and 
 
294 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 moderation. Nothing excited him to vindictive 
 punishment, and yet on the other hand his firm 
 rule caused evil-doers to regard him with respect. 
 Southern newspapers were forced to admit that 
 no man suffered intentional injustice at his hands. 
 
 Yet it was an impossible situation. No mortal 
 living could please at once the South and the 
 North, the President and Congress. It was only 
 a question of time when the break would come. 
 Finding he could not bend Grant to his will, Presi- 
 dent Johnson tried to get him out of the way by 
 sending him on a mission to Mexico; but Grant 
 flatly declined to undertake it, saying that he was 
 a military officer and bound to obey the Presi- 
 dent's military command, but that this was a 
 purely diplomatic office which he did not propose 
 to accept. Johnson would gladly have dismissed 
 him, but he did not dare. He was astute enough 
 to see that if he could not make him do his bid- 
 ding, or send him out of the country, the next best 
 thing was to keep up a show of friendliness that 
 would prevent the party opposed to himself from 
 making Grant its choice for President. If once 
 he should be nominated Johnson's own chances 
 would be gone. 
 
 The President grew daily more headstrong. 
 On August 5, 1867, he attempted to remove Ed- 
 win M. Stanton, the Secretary of War, who had 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 295 
 
 been a member of President Lincoln's cabinet, 
 and was now the only cabinet minister who op- 
 posed his wishes. He sent him a curt note asking 
 him to resign, which Stanton answered with one 
 equally curt, refusing to do so until the meeting 
 of Congress, Congress having passed a law which 
 forbade the President removing a cabinet officer 
 without the consent of the Senate. The Presi- 
 dent then suspended him, and made Grant Secre- 
 tary of War ad interim until Congress should 
 investigate and decide whether Stanton had been 
 justly removed. 
 
 This placed Grant in another unpleasant pre- 
 dicament. He had protested in writing against 
 the removal of Stanton, but the President had not 
 seen fit to make this fact public. The personal 
 relations of Grant and Stanton were those of 
 respect rather than of affection or even liking, 
 but of late they had worked together in opposition 
 to Mr. Johnson, and their official relations were 
 very close. If Grant did as the President wished, 
 Secretary Stanton would misunderstand and 
 think he was again in full sympathy with John- 
 son. If, on the other hand, he declined, some one 
 else would be appointed who could do much harm 
 that Grant might be able to avoid. This con- 
 sideration led him to accept, but he called upon 
 Stanton and personally explained his reasons for 
 
296 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 doing so. To the public he could not explain, and 
 he reaped the reward of abuse, and of being de- 
 nounced as a political trimmer. 
 
 In his own mind he considered that he held the 
 place "in trust" for Stanton, and he even decided 
 questions more harshly than was his wont, be- 
 cause he felt sure that Stanton would settle them 
 in that way. His determination to keep the two 
 positions perfectly distinct led to situations that 
 would have been laughable had not the causes 
 which brought them about been so vexatious. 
 Stanton's office was on one side of the street, his 
 own on the other. He transacted the business of 
 each in its proper place, and wrote orders as 
 Secretary of War to himself as General U. S. 
 Grant, and made reports and answers in the char- 
 acter of General Grant to the Secretary of War 
 across the way. 
 
 At first glance this seems like silly child's play, 
 or at most a bit of sentiment totally out of keep- 
 ing with Grant's matter-of-fact character. On 
 the contrary it was the most matter-of-fact and 
 correct proceeding. It kept the official records 
 perfect as they should be ; merely routine matters 
 were hastened by being attended to in their ac- 
 customed place, and it emphasized the fact that 
 Grant considered the office not his own, but 
 merely held in trust until the reinstatement of 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 297 
 
 Stanton or the aj)pointmcnt of Stanton's succes- 
 sor. The assertion of one of his officers that he 
 treated the members of his mihtary staff with 
 more formahty on Stanton's side of tlie street 
 than on his own, niav l)e a hit of hvcl\' imag'ina- 
 tion, or it may have been a quite real and totally 
 unconscious expression on Grant's part of his 
 earnest determination to do an unpleasant duty 
 thoroughly and well. 
 
 It was an unpleasant duty. It was a more or 
 less open conflict with the President from begin- 
 ning to end. Johnson insisted on removing some 
 of Grant's most trusted officers in the South, and 
 as he was within his rights as President and as 
 Commander-in-chief of the army, this had to be 
 done; but in every w^ay possible Grant upheld the 
 will of Congress against that of Johnson's system 
 of reconstruction. 
 
 He found it very irksome to attend cabinet 
 meetings and listen to discussions and arrange- 
 ments of which he entirely disapproved; and he 
 asked to be relieved of the duty on the ground 
 that he was a military officer, and as such had 
 nothing to do with the making of policies and 
 plans. No attention being paid to this, he formed 
 the habit of attending the meetings only long 
 enough to submit papers that required the atten- 
 tion of the President and cabinet, and then with- 
 
 18 
 
29B THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 drawing. This, with a letter he wrote Mr. John- 
 son while trying to save General Sheridan from 
 removal, showed the country that he was not 
 thoroughly in accord with the President after all ; 
 but it resulted in more criticism rather than less, 
 the South abusing him for opposing his chief, 
 and the North for not opposing him more success- 
 fully. 
 
 Grant retired behind his usual rampart of si- 
 lence and waited for the Senate to decide whether 
 or not Stanton was Secretary of War. In 
 January it took the matter up, and on the 13th 
 resolved that the President's reasons for remov- 
 ing his minister had been insufficient. This, of 
 course, reinstated Stanton. The decision was 
 reached quite late on Monday. Early next 
 morning Grant went to the War Department, 
 locked and bolted the door of the Secretary's of- 
 fice on the outside, handed the key to the Ad- 
 jutant-General of the Army, with the remark 
 that he could be found in his own office at army 
 headquarters, and marched across the street, feel- 
 ing no doubt like a free man once more. He had 
 informed the President a few days before that he 
 would instantly give up the office if the Senate de- 
 cided in favor of Stanton; and to his mind that 
 closed the whole matter. 
 
 Not so with the President. He flew into a rage. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 299 
 
 summoned Grant to the White House, and ac- 
 cused him of having promised to stay in the 
 cabinet, and then of deserting him without suffi- 
 cient warning; called on other cabinet members 
 to bear out what he said, and raised the bald ques- 
 tion of the truth between them. Grant had been 
 accused of many things in his day, but never of 
 lying. He answered with spirit, and after a 
 stormy scene left the White House the avowed 
 and open enemy of Mr. Johnson, and — had he but 
 known it— the inevitable candidate of the Repub- 
 lican party for President of the United States. 
 
XIV 
 
 THE nation's choice 
 
 THE patience of Congress was exhausted. 
 President Johnson's conduct in removing 
 Secretary Stanton proved the last straw. In 
 March, 1868, he was impeached, and the Senate, 
 sitting as a court, tried him for high crimes and 
 misdemeanors. A vote of two thirds was neces- 
 sary to convict him, and he escaped conviction by 
 the narrow margin of one vote. During the trial 
 Grant was called upon to testify, and did so 
 clearly and dispassionately, not allowing his per- 
 sonal resentment to color or in any way influence 
 his statement of what had passed between them. 
 Grant felt that Johnson was a dangerous man, 
 and desired his conviction; but after the passions 
 of the hour had time to cool he was glad the 
 Senate decided as it did, being convinced that 
 Johnson had received his lesson, and that the 
 precedent of a successful impeachment would be 
 worse for the country in the long run than any 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 301 
 
 harm Johnson could do during the short re- 
 mainder of his term in office. 
 
 On May 20th, a few days before President 
 Johnson's trial came to an end, 650 delegates of 
 the Republican party, representing every State in 
 the Union, even the extreme South, met in 
 Chicago to choose a candidate for President of 
 the United States. Only one person was seriously 
 mentioned for the place, and that was Ulysses S. 
 Grant. The idea was not a new one. Missouri 
 had cast her vote for him in the convention that 
 nominated Lincoln for his second term. Ever 
 since the war people had spoken of him as the 
 next President; but the strange fact remained 
 that until his quarrel with Johnson nobody really 
 knew to which political party he belonged. He 
 had entered the army before he was twenty-one, 
 and until he reached middle life his military duties 
 had prevented his taking any part in political af- 
 fairs. He had voted for Buchanan, but he had 
 fought for the Union. He was America's great- 
 est living citizen. Both parties were eager to 
 claim him; and his talent for silence had been so 
 great that no man could say from actual knowl- 
 edge, **He is a Democrat," or "He is a Repub- 
 lican." During his residence in St. Louis he 
 joined a lodge of the ''Know Nothing" or Ameri- 
 can party, but one meeting convinced him that its 
 
302 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 doctrines were not for him. He had gone on 
 consistently doing his duty as he saw it. The 
 Repubhcans claimed him because of his acts. The 
 Democrats pointed triumphantly to the fact that 
 he was a member of Johnson's cabinet, and ap- 
 parently his warm personal friend. 
 
 The idea of being President had little attraction 
 for Grant. He had looked too deep into Lincoln's 
 care-saddened eyes, and had himself stood in the 
 blinding glare of prejudice and abuse that beat 
 about Johnson. He had no illusions concerning 
 the office, and much preferred the honorable place 
 he already held— the highest possible grade in the 
 army, with its assured social consideration and 
 an ample salary for the rest of his life. He must 
 of course resign all this if he became President. 
 He was a comparatively young man. He would 
 be only fifty-one when his term of office came to 
 an end. What could he do after that? He had 
 no private fortune, and no training outside of the 
 army. Was it wise to give up a competency and 
 comparative ease for the vexatious and trouble- 
 some honor of four years in the White House? 
 He was distinctly annoyed when people began to 
 speak to him on the subject, and would make no 
 answer, but simply look at them and leave them to 
 continue the conversation as best they might. 
 Had he spoken they could have replied and re- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 303 
 
 newed their urging, but this absolute silence was 
 the most baffling and disconcerting comment he 
 could make. No matter how ready, they would 
 stammer and blush, strive to change the subject, 
 and at the end of a very few minutes take their 
 leave. 
 
 But as time passed circumstances seemed to 
 thrust upon him more and more the task of oppos- 
 ing President Johnson and his policies; and he 
 began to realize and admit to himself and his inti- 
 mate friends the possibility, even the duty, of 
 becoming a candidate. His break with Johnson, 
 and the letters that passed between them after 
 that famous interview, made the possibility a cer- 
 tainty ; and as Grant was only human, he took an 
 interest in the outcome of the struggle, though as 
 usual he was uncommunicative. 
 
 The Convention met on May 20th. The dele- 
 gates, eager to do honor to Grant, could hardly 
 wait for the routine preliminary business to be 
 disposed of, and hurried through with it as rap- 
 idly as possible. On the 21st they adopted their 
 "platform" of party principles on which the cam- 
 paign was to be made— a short document pro- 
 fessing ''sympathy wnth all oppressed people 
 struggling for their rights," and laying stress on 
 the duty of the government to see that fair elec- 
 tions were held in the South. It also declared in 
 
304 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 favor of honest money, encouraging foreign im- 
 migration, and of restoring civil rights to re- 
 pentant southerners. 
 
 The platform disposed of, the presiding officer 
 announced that nominations were in order. Gen- 
 eral John A. Logan, the man who had introduced 
 Grant to the Twenty-first Illinois Volunteers, was 
 on his feet almost before the announcement was 
 concluded. "Then, sir," he said, "in the name of 
 the loyal citizens and soldiers and sailors of this 
 great Republic, in the name of loyalty, liberty, 
 humanity, and justice, I nominate as candidate for 
 the chief magistracy of this nation, Ulysses S. 
 Grant." The audience sprang to its feet, and the 
 building rocked with cheers. As soon as he could 
 make himself heard a delegate from South Caro- 
 lina moved that the vote be taken by acclamation, 
 but the answer was a chorus of "No, no !" Every 
 State wanted to be heard, and the roll was called. 
 One after the other they answered, giving him all 
 the votes they had, and accompanying the an- 
 nouncement with expressions of hearty good will, 
 or quotations from some one of his famous letters 
 or telegrams. California cried that it had come 
 thousands of miles to cast its vote for General 
 Grant. Ohio cast "Forty-two votes for her illus- 
 trious son." Louisiana "proposed to fight it out 
 on that line if it took all summer," and so on until 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 305 
 
 all of the States had paid their tribute. When the 
 last name had been called the president of the con- 
 vention announced the result : 
 
 "Gentlemen of the Convention : The roll is 
 completed. You have 650 votes, and you have 
 given 650 votes for Ulysses S. Grant." 
 
 Again the audience cheered, and when a large 
 portrait of the General was displayed, with the 
 motto, ''Match him," it seemed as though the 
 shouting would never come to an end. Old Jesse 
 Grant, the proudest man in the United States, sat 
 on the platform, silenced and overcome by this 
 ovation to his son. After the applause had suf- 
 ficiently quieted down Schuyler Colfax of In- 
 diana, Speaker of the House of Representatives, 
 was nominated for Vice-President. 
 
 It was Stanton who brought the news to the 
 new candidate as he sat in his ofiice at the War 
 Department. The old War Secretary came hur- 
 rying up the stairs, breathless in his haste lest 
 some one should be before him. "General!" he 
 burst out as soon as he entered the room, "I 
 have come to tell you that you have been nomi- 
 nated by the Republican party for President of 
 the United States!" On the battle-field Grant 
 never paid exploding shells the compliment of a 
 start of surprise. He received this bomb with 
 equal composure. "There was no shade of 
 
3o6 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 exultation or agitation on his face, not a flush on 
 his cheek, nor a flash in his eye," said one who 
 witnessed the incident. "I doubt whether he felt 
 elated, even in those recesses where he concealed 
 his inmost thoughts." It must have reminded 
 those who looked on of unforgetable battle days, 
 when danger and excitement were all about, and 
 Grant was the calmest man on the field. 
 
 There was always apprehension for the chief in 
 those days, and there might well be now, when he 
 was entering on a new career — throwing down 
 the gage of war to forces about which he knew 
 little, and whose powers of destruction were more 
 insidious than shot or shell. The position he took 
 was extremely characteristic. He had not sought 
 the nomination. Being in the fight he hoped to 
 win; but he felt it unfitting, indeed impossible, for 
 him to take any active part in the campaign. If 
 elected he would take command and govern the 
 country as he had fought his campaigns, as 
 seemed to him wise. Until the people made him 
 their President he would not lift a finger to in- 
 fluence their choice. To the crowd that gathered 
 around his house and shouted, "Grant! Grant! 
 General Grant !" he made his-first .political speech. 
 It was three sentences long, and the last two 
 showed the stand he took. "All I can say is, that 
 to whatever position I am called by your will, I 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 307 
 
 will endeavor to discharge its duties with fidelity 
 and honesty of purjiose. Of my rectitude in the 
 performance of public duties you must judge for 
 yourselves from my record which is open to you." 
 
 That was it — the people must judge for them- 
 selves. He went to his home in Galena, as far 
 removed as possible from the bustle of the cam- 
 paign, and there spent the summer, refusing even 
 to have letters forwarded to him. This was not 
 what the prominent men in the party wanted. 
 They wished to consult him. He. answered with 
 chilling dispassionateness that he had no wish to 
 consult them. He did not explain what was really 
 in his heart— that he hoped to keep himself clear 
 of all party pledges and entanglements, to be, if 
 elected. President of the whole people, and not 
 merely of the Republican party. 
 
 He spent the summer quietly in the home the 
 people of Galena had given him when he returned 
 from the war — the gift he valued most of all that 
 had been showered on him in the days of enthu- 
 siasm after Appomattox, when people swarmed 
 streets and corridors to see him, and even carried 
 off his shoes as mementos if he unwarily set them 
 outside his bedroom door to be blacked. There is 
 a story about this house that connects it with his 
 •candidacy. One day in 1864 when somebody sug- 
 gested the possibility of his being President he 
 
308 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 replied testily, "I am not a candidate for any 
 office, but I would like to be mayor of Galena long 
 enough to fix the sidewalks — especially the one 
 leading to my house." When he returned a popu- 
 lar hero, and was driven toward this gift of which 
 he knew nothing, he saw that the people had 
 erected two triumphal arches over the street. One 
 bore the names of his principal battles, and the 
 other the inscription, "General, the sidewalk is 
 built !" At the end of the sidewalk was this new 
 house, furnished in every part, where a smoking 
 western dinner awaited him, and a committee of 
 old friends, men and women, stood ready to wel- 
 come him to his own. Tears of emotion had been 
 in his eyes as he thanked them, and it was here 
 that he came to wait while the people of the coun- 
 try "judged for themselves." 
 
 It was not lack of interest that made him deny 
 himself and keep that mended sidewalk free from 
 the feet of hundreds of party followers who 
 would gladly have come if he had given the word. 
 He read the papers earnestly and thoroughly, and 
 talked freely with intimate friends about the 
 chances of election. He would look at a map and 
 say with confidence, "We shall carry this State, 
 and this one, and this." It was a very bitter 
 campaign. Johnson, who had betrayed his own 
 party, and hoped to be the Democratic standard- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 309 
 
 bearer, was not even considered, though the 
 Democratic convention which met in New York 
 in July was decidedly southern in sentiment. 
 Horatio Seymour of New York was its nominee 
 for President, and Frank P. Blair of Missouri for 
 Vice-President. Compared with some of the 
 utterances in the North the political leaders in the 
 South were guarded and respectful in their tone 
 toward Grant. In the North nothing bad enough 
 could be said about him. He was a "butcher," and 
 a "drunken tanner," and a great many other things 
 quite as near the truth ; while every town in which 
 he had lived was searched for people of ill repute 
 who would bear witness to tales of his vice and 
 wickedness. It was natural that papers on the 
 other side should retaliate. The campaign was a 
 revelation of things that need not have been said. 
 Once during the campaign Grant went to St. 
 Louis, and once to Chicago, but he stayed at the 
 houses of intimate friends, and avoided political 
 meetings. He did not even attend the meetings 
 in his own town of Galena. Though they did not 
 approve, the influential men in his party generally 
 respected his wish to be left alone. He enter- 
 tained many casual visitors, and he walked and 
 drove and visited among his neighbors as if he 
 had no personal concern in what was going on. 
 When elec4:ion day, November 3, 1868, arrived, 
 
3IO THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Grant went to the polls like any other citizen of 
 Galena, and cast his vote for the entire Repub- 
 lican ticket, with the exception of President. 
 
 At about ten o'clock that night he was at the 
 house of his friend E. B. Washburne, not far 
 from his own, where private wires had been laid, 
 and arrangements made to receive the returns. 
 There were perhaps two dozen people present, in- 
 cluding newspaper reporters. With the excep- 
 tion of the candidate, Mr. Washburne was the 
 only one in the company of national prominence. 
 Grant did not pretend indifference, but neither did 
 he seem vitally interested. His friends had often 
 seen him display more enthusiasm over a game of 
 cards. There were moments during the evening 
 when the news was unfavorable, and the chances 
 for and against his election seemed evenly bal- 
 anced, but between one and two o'clock in the 
 morning all doubt was at an end, and the little 
 company began to congratulate him on his elec- 
 tion. Then they walked with him back to his own 
 home. Fifty or a hundred people had gathered in 
 honor of the new President-elect. Standing on 
 the doorstep in the starlight he made them a little 
 speech, calm and simple and free from elation, 
 and carrying the same meaning as the words he 
 spoke at the time of his nomination. One expres- 
 sion he used which was afterward harshly criti- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 311 
 
 cized, yet it expressed his spirit and his attitude 
 to perfection. "The responsibihties of the posi- 
 tion I feel," he said, "but accept them without 
 fear." 
 
 Shortly after the election he went to Washing- 
 ton, where he remained attending to his duties in 
 the War Department, for he did not resign his 
 commission in the Army until he took the oath of 
 office as President. The 4th of March, 1869, 
 inauguration day, was raw and disagreeable, but 
 the streets were filled with a throng almost as great 
 as at the time of the grand review. About the 
 time the President-elect started toward the Capi- 
 tol the sun shone out bright and warm — an 
 augury, as some fanciful people claimed, for the 
 new administration. 
 
 It is the custom for the outgoing and incoming 
 Presidents to ride to the Capitol in the same car- 
 riage, escorted by a procession made up of mili- 
 tary and civic dignitaries ; and after the oath of 
 office has been taken and the inaugural address 
 read, for them to return together to the Executive 
 Mansion, where the man who has laid down the 
 cares of office takes leave of his successor, and 
 wishes him all good fortune. It is a gracious if 
 formal custom, and as such much to be com- 
 mended; but Grant was too blunt an enemy, and 
 his relations with Johnson were too strained to 
 
312 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 admit of this bit of official etiquette. He declined 
 to drive with the man who accused him of un- 
 truth, and took his way to the Capitol in his own 
 phaeton, accompanied only by General Rawlins. 
 Andrew Johnson remained at his desk signing 
 papers until twelve o'clock. 
 
 The waiting crowd was disappointed. Instead 
 of a general in full uniform, mounted on a mag- 
 nificent charger, or drawn in a carriage by pranc- 
 ing horses, they saw a short, rather stockily built 
 man, wearing civilian dress, 'driving with a single 
 companion in his own modest turnout. There 
 was a military band, and he had a mounted escort, 
 but there was little warlike splendor, and no pos- 
 ing for effect as the General of a great country 
 laid down his sword to become its President. 
 
 Out from the east portico of the Capitol, where 
 Presidents have taken the oath of office since the 
 nation was young, a temporary platform had been 
 built to hold the great number of dignitaries 
 whose office gave them a right to places near the 
 chief actors in the day's drama. Below in front 
 of the platform the military was drawn up, and 
 beyond the soldiers stretched a crowd filling the 
 wide plaza. Men, and women too, had been 
 standing there for hours, intent on getting and 
 keeping a good place from which to see the new 
 President. At twelve o'clock a stately but simple 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 313 
 
 l)rocession passed througii the sculptured bronze 
 doors and out upon the j^Iatforni. First came tlie 
 justices of the Supreme Court in their long silken 
 robes, then the President-elect, who made his way 
 to the little table at the front of the platform. 
 After him, Mr. Colfax, the new Vice-President, 
 followed by a long line of senators and diplomats, 
 and other people of note. A cheer went up when 
 the soldiers caught sight of Grant, and it was 
 echoed and carried back far into the crowd. 
 When it was stilled the Chief Justice opened his 
 Bible, Grant reverently laid his hand upon it, and 
 in his characteristic attitude, right foot slightly 
 forward, and head a little bent, repeated after the 
 Justice the words of the oath : 
 
 "I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully 
 execute the office of President of the United 
 States, and will, to the best of my ability, pre- 
 serve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the 
 United States." 
 
 At the conclusion he bent and kissed the sacred 
 book, and at the same instant the booming of 
 cannon announced to all who heard that Grant 
 the soldier had sworn to preserve, protect, and 
 defend as President the country his sword had 
 helped to save. 
 
 Then he began his inaugural address, reading 
 in a voice so low that only those nearest could 
 
 19 
 
314 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 hear him. When he was part way through little 
 Nellie Grant, his daughter, tired of staying with 
 her mother and a group of ladies back of the 
 grave Supreme Court judges, came forward and 
 slipping her hand in his stood beside him until 
 some one gave her a chair where she could sit 
 almost within touch of the man who was more to 
 her than to the thousands who made the heavens 
 ring with cheers when he ended his address. 
 
 His inaugural was quiet, measured, and ear- 
 nest, touching on many subjects, and treating all 
 with moderation. It outlined his policy, which 
 was to deal justly with all parts of his own coun- 
 try, and also with the other nations of the world; 
 to urge that the great war debt be paid in honest 
 money; to appoint to office only such men as 
 would execute all the laws in good faith; to 
 advocate the adoption of a Fifteenth Amendment 
 to the Constitution, which should establish beyond 
 a doubt the right of colored people to vote; to 
 exercise his power of vetoing bills if he thought 
 them unwise, but if Congress should pass them 
 over his veto, to regard them as law, and faith- 
 fully to execute them. "I shall have a policy to 
 recommend," he said, "but none to enforce 
 against the will of the people." In conclusion he 
 said: "I would ask patient forbearance one to- 
 ward another throughout the land, and a deter- 
 
GESKRAI. liKANT AS rKKSIl>KNT 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 317 
 
 mined eflforl on the part of every citizen toward 
 cementing a happy Union ; and I ask the prayers 
 of the nation to Ahiiighty God in behalf of this 
 consiminiation." 
 
 When he had finished President Grant and 
 Vice-President Colfax drove to the White House, 
 where they were received by the Secretary of 
 War, General Grant's staff, and a few others. 
 People waited patiently about the gates, hoping 
 that he would open them and hold a general recep- 
 tion, but he refused. He had been too deeply 
 moved by the ceremony he had just passed 
 through to submit to the ordeal, though an added 
 reticence, almost a sternness, was the only sign he 
 gave of his emotion. 
 
 That night there was a grand reception and 
 ball, such as always closes the day of inaugura- 
 tion. This one, like many that went before, and 
 many that came after, was a huge affair, repre- 
 senting all classes of society, and nearly all na- 
 tions of the earth. Grant would gladly have 
 dispensed with it if that had been possible, but it 
 was like the tinsel on his general's uniform, grati- 
 fying to others, if not to himself. Possibly the 
 satisfaction of his wife atoned in some measure 
 for his own discomfort. 
 
XV 
 
 GRANT, THE PRESIDENT 
 
 IN his reply to the committee of the Republican 
 Convention that came to notify him of his 
 nomination, Grant had said : 
 
 If chosen to fill the high office for which you have 
 selected me, I will give to its duties the same energy, 
 the same spirit and the same will that I have given to 
 the performance of all duties which have devolved 
 upon me heretofore. Whether I shall be able to per- 
 form these duties to your entire satisfaction time will 
 determine. 
 
 Under the morning stars, as he paused before 
 entering his door after learning of his election, he 
 said: "The responsibilities of the position I feel, 
 but accept them without fear." 
 
 His formal letter accepting the nomination 
 closed with the noble words : "Let us have peace." 
 
 These three utterances show the spirit in which 
 he approached his great task. His earnest desire 
 was to govern rightly; to heal the wounds and 
 
 318 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 319 
 
 still the bitterness caused by the late war; tn 
 brinc;^ order and contentment into the South ; to 
 be, in short, by fairness and not by favor, Presi- 
 dent of a united and happy country. Nobody 
 questions his sincerity, yet no one can deny that 
 his administration fell far short of what he de- 
 sired and what the country expected of it. Worse 
 men have made better Presidents. It is a period 
 of his life that his admirers do not like to dwell 
 upon— the spectacle of a great man, out of his 
 element, battling doggedly with forces outside 
 his knowledge and beyond his control. 
 
 We Americans are noted for our adaptability 
 — for the power of turning from one task to an- 
 other, and doing each fairly well. This leads us 
 perhaps to expect too much of our heroes, and 
 particularly to regard the delicate art of govern- 
 ing as merely a by-product of their other attain- 
 ments. It would really be quite as logical to ex- 
 pect a great civil engineer to be an equally great 
 astronomer, just because he has a knowledge of 
 mathematics and is an honest man, as to expect 
 that Grant, preeminent in war, must make a cor- 
 respondingly brilliant success of civil govern- 
 ment. 
 
 The truth is that the very qualities that made 
 him a great general proved almost his undoing 
 in the new office. Some of these were habits of 
 
320 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 mind, and some the results of life-long training. 
 In military life there is a commander who orders, 
 and all others obey. Grant had learned in the 
 army to do both, but he had not learned to take 
 others into his confidence, and to discuss with 
 them the reasons for or against things that had 
 to be done. He had planned his own campaigns, 
 and kept his plans to himself up to the moment of 
 their execution. His attempt to choose his 
 cabinet in the same military fashion was a grave 
 mistake at the very outset of his administration. 
 
 To his military mind he was commander-in- 
 chief of the Executive branch of the government ; 
 and the cabinet— the Secretary of State, the 
 Secretary of the Treasury, the Secretaries of War, 
 Navy, Interior, etc., who were to direct the afifairs 
 of the great departments of civil government and 
 act as his council of advisers, were nothing more 
 than stafif officers. He chose them on that basis, 
 not because of national prominence or reputation, 
 but because he personally liked them and thought 
 them fit for the place. Also, following his old 
 habit of secretiveness, he took no one into his con- 
 fidence, in some cases not even the men them- 
 selves, until the list was sent to the Senate for 
 confirmation. 
 
 It raised a deal of comment, all unfavorable. 
 His friend Washburne was nominated for Secre- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 321 
 
 tary of State, but there was a private understand- 
 ing that he would serve only one week, and then 
 be sent as minister to England. A. T. Stewart, 
 a powerful New York merchant, was selected 
 for Secretary of the Treasury, on the theory that 
 a man who could successfully conduct his own 
 large business would succeed with the finances of 
 the government. Air. A. E. Borie of Philadel- 
 phia, nominated for Secretary of the Navy, knew 
 nothing about it until he read his name in the 
 papers, and was more astonished than pleased. 
 General Grant's old friend Rawlins was his 
 choice for Secretary of War, but out of compli- 
 ment to General Schofield, who had held the 
 office since Stanton resigned at the close of the 
 Johnson impeachment trial, Rawlins's nomina- 
 tion, like that of the permanent Secretary of 
 State, was withheld for one week. Mr. J. A. G. 
 Creswell as Postmaster-General, Mr. E. Rock- 
 wood Hoar as Attorney-General, and Jacob D. 
 Cox for Secretary of the Interior, completed the 
 list. 
 
 The Senate confirmed these nominations at 
 once, in spite of the criticism, but in a week the 
 work all had to be done over again. Washburne 
 and Schofield withdrew according to agreement. 
 It was found that Mr. Stewart could not be Secre- 
 tary of the Treasury, because of a law which for- 
 
322 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 bade any man engaged in trade from assuming 
 that office. Neither Grant nor the Senate had 
 been aware of this law. Some of the other n*ew 
 cabinet members did not enjoy this peremptory 
 way of being drafted without so much as *'by your 
 leave." The men asked to take the vacant places 
 showed unwillingness to do so. Hamilton Fish 
 finally became Secretary of State, and George S. 
 Boutwell Secretary of the Treasury, but the whole 
 affair created a tempest of abuse and criticism 
 that might have been avoided if Grant had been 
 less secretive by nature, or better versed in the 
 ways and temper of public men. He knew the 
 army thoroughly, but he had yet to learn that peo- 
 ple could not be commanded into office as soldiers 
 are ordered to duty on the field. Criticism once 
 aroused was not allowed to die down. He had 
 demonstrated his inexperience, and thereafter 
 every one was on the lookout for mistakes. Of- 
 fice-seekers swarmed around him. He had a 
 theory that men who asked for office were usually 
 unfit to hold it, and for every friend he made he 
 made at least ten enemies by his manner to those 
 he turned away. His loyalty to old friends in- 
 spired him to appoint some whom others con- 
 sidered unworthy; and this same loyalty 
 combined with his inborn instinct to fight 
 things out on one line ''if it took all summer," 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 323 
 
 led him to persist in courses of action that were 
 unwise. Once convinced, however, that a friend 
 was false or a policy wrong, he was iron in his 
 disapproval. He respected an open enemy, but 
 treachery and falsehood filled him with im- 
 placable wrath. 
 
 Of course he was criticized socially as well as 
 politically. For several weeks after the inaugura- 
 tion he and his family continued to live in their 
 own home in Washington, though all official 
 duties and ceremonies were performed at the 
 Executive Mansion. Grant hated the ceremonies, 
 but submitted to them as part of the office, just as 
 he submitted to the regulation evening dress and 
 white tie of civil life, which he despised. Gradu- 
 ally it came to him that these and other conven- 
 tionalities stood for something in his new life, 
 after which he adhered rigidly to the etiquette of 
 his position, even to the matter of selecting his 
 dinner guests and deciding how they should be 
 seated at table. He became less shy and con- 
 strained in manner, but though he grew in social 
 graces all through his presidency, he never 
 reached the polished elegance of the man of the 
 world. He had dignity and reserve and com- 
 posure, and a kindly wish not to injure the feel- 
 ings of his guests, which are good substitutes, but 
 his social critics shook their heads and said: 
 
324 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 "What a pity we cannot have a gentleman in the 
 White House!" They could not appreciate the 
 relief with which he went back to his democratic 
 habits in the hours when "off duty," so to speak— 
 the long walks that he took unattended, or long 
 drives in a light buggy, himself handling the 
 reins ; or why he should like to linger and watch 
 the boys who in those days played ball in the "lot" 
 south of the White House. Occasionally he 
 joined in the game for a few minutes, to their 
 delight, for they loved him, and being democratic 
 by nature of their youth, had no notion that he 
 might be doing an "ungentlemanly" thing in tak- 
 ing part in their fun. 
 
 Grant's own family was very little in evidence 
 at the White House. His father and sister at- 
 tended the inauguration, and occasionally old 
 Jesse came to feast his eyes upon his illustrious 
 son, but there was a sturdy pride in the old man 
 which forbade his forcing himself upon the social 
 life of the White House. He put up at a modest 
 hotel. The two would have a talk and a drive 
 together, and then he would go back to the little 
 western town where he was postmaster. He died 
 during Grant's second term, the only man who 
 has lived to see his son twice elected President. 
 Grant's mother never saw him in his exalted sta- 
 tion. When asked if she were not proud of his 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 325 
 
 being" President, slie would murmur some unin- 
 telligible word. If one were bold enough to ask 
 if she did not wish to go to Washington, she 
 would look at her questioner with the same ex- 
 pressionless face that her son could show to 
 people who pried into affairs that were not their 
 concern. Who can tell if it was pride, or shyness, 
 or a fear of discrediting him in his new sur- 
 roundings that filled her mother-heart? She was 
 more Grant than Grant himself. 
 
 The fire of criticism and opposition never 
 slackened. No man can hope to be President and 
 please everybody. Grant was accused of almost 
 all the crimes on the political calendar, from ap- 
 pointing too many of his wife's relations to office, 
 to an eagerness to debase his own great military 
 skill and the immense army of American ex- 
 soldiers in a war of foreign conquest. This about 
 the man w^ho bent all his energies toward disband- 
 ing the mighty host in 1865! He tried to bring 
 about a treaty that would make the island of San 
 Domingo part of the United States. In this he 
 was simply carrying out the policy of several 
 former Presidents, but it was enough to base the 
 story upon. That he followed his usual practice 
 of silence, and did not take party leaders into his 
 confidence, was another cause for grievance, 
 especially to men like Charles Sumner, who 
 
326 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 thought they had a right to know all that went on 
 in high political circles. Charles Sumner, being 
 vain as well as able, was particularly aggrieved 
 because Grant paid scant attention to his recom- 
 mendations for office, and became the most violent 
 of all the President's critics. 
 
 So, with the handicap of his inexperience, and 
 his reticence, and his inability to see through the 
 maze of politics as clearly as through the smoke 
 of battle, Grant struggled on to the end of his first 
 term. He made mistakes, serious ones, as he was 
 willing to admit, but they were mistakes of under- 
 standing and not of intention ; and if his reputa- 
 tion had not been so great, criticism of his acts 
 would have been much less. A less famous Presi- 
 dent, indeed, might be remembered for the suc- 
 cesses of his administration, instead of being 
 abused for its failures. 
 
 As the time drew near for the next presidential 
 election it became clear that in spite of all this 
 abuse. Grant's place was secure in the hearts of 
 the people. Senator Sumner, determined to de- 
 feat him for reelection, if defeat were possible, 
 summed up all the charges against him in a long 
 and bitter speech delivered from his place in the 
 Senate chamber, most violent in its expressions, 
 and nicely timed to work him harm. In the streets 
 the news flew from lip to lip: "Sumner is attack- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 327 
 
 ing Grant!" and crowds rushed into the Senate 
 galleries to hear. 
 
 According to Senator Sumner, Grant's one de- 
 sire was to make himself a national dictator, and 
 to keep and hold power all the days of his life. To 
 that end he had turned the Executive Mansion 
 into a military headquarters. His interest in re- 
 form and good government was only a mask. He 
 used his great power only to reward friends and 
 punish enemies. He was lazy and self-indulgent; 
 loitered at the seaside, rode in palace cars, piled up 
 for himself ill-gotten wealth, had made a failure 
 of diplomatic relations abroad and a muddle of 
 affairs at home, chose his cabinet in defiance of all 
 established rules, and instead of entering office 
 humbly, had dared to say, "The responsibilities of 
 the position I feel, but accept them without fear." 
 
 The eloquent Senator overreached himself. 
 The wounded self-love that lay at the bottom of 
 the attack was too plainly visible. His speech 
 became the text and sum of all that Grant's oppo- 
 nents could say, but when the Republican con- 
 vention met in Philadelphia on June 5 and 6, 
 1872, it once more gave every vote at its com- 
 mand for the man whose critics called him the 
 "dummy," the "butcher," and the "American 
 Caesar." Henry Wilson of Massachusetts was 
 nominated for Vice-President, and whatever may 
 
328 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 have been expressed in party platforms, the real 
 issue of the campaign was whether or not Grant 
 should continue in office. The campaign was even 
 more bitter than that of 1868, for in addition to 
 all the abusive things that were said and invented 
 at that time, every disappointed office-seeker and 
 discredited politician added his bit of personal 
 venom to the general account. 
 
 There were three other sets of candidates. 
 Horace Greeley, the venerable editor of the "New 
 York Tribune," and B. Gratz Brown of Missouri, 
 were the candidates for President and Vice-Presi- 
 dent of the "Liberal Republican" and Democratic 
 parties, who united their wide political differences 
 in the cry, "Anything to beat Grant!" The 
 "Straight-out Democrats," unable to bring them- 
 selves to labor for Horace Greeley, who had op- 
 posed them actively in speech and print through 
 the whole of his long and energetic life, nominated 
 Charles O'Conner of New York, and John Quincy 
 Adams of Massachusetts, both of whom speedily 
 declined the honor ; while the Liberal Republicans 
 who felt themselves too liberal to enter into an 
 alliance with Democrats, got together and sug- 
 gested Wm. S. Groesbeck of Ohio for President, 
 and Frederick Law Olmstead of New York for 
 Vice-President. 
 
 Grant as usual kept silence. The people must 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 329 
 
 again "judge for themselves." They did so in no 
 uncertain terms. Grant's majority over Greeley 
 on election day was over three quarters of a mil- 
 lion—more than double his majority over Sey- 
 mour four years before. It is a little hard to 
 believe that the people of the country would have 
 gone mad and committed such an act of folly if 
 Grant's course had been as evil as his detractors 
 would have us think. 
 
 On March 4, 1873, he again stood on the east 
 portico of the Capitol, and swore, in the presence 
 of a vast throng to "preserve, protect, and de- 
 fend" the Constitution of the United States ; and 
 cannon boomed and people shouted when he 
 ended his inaugural, although not one man in a 
 hundred had heard a single word. The day was 
 mercilessly cold. An icy wind beat down the 
 decorations that had been raised along the line of 
 march in his honor, and snatched the sentences 
 out of his mouth almost before they were uttered. 
 It must have reminded him of the storm that 
 raged when the soldiers were on their way to 
 Donelson. Those who made auguries from the 
 sunshine at his first inauguration were too chilled 
 to indulge in their fruitless occupation. That 
 night men wore overcoats and even hats in the in- 
 augural ball-room, and the splendor of the ladies 
 was eclipsed beyond recognition under countless 
 
330 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 layers of wraps. It was the '^show business" un- 
 der difficulties, and it is not to be wondered at 
 that the presidential party arrived late and de- 
 parted as soon as courtesy permitted from this 
 frigid entertainment. 
 
 The President looked older, ten years older, 
 than he had at his previous inauguration. He 
 had also grown heavier. The address that he 
 read in the icy wind after taking his oath of office 
 showed more practice in the art of public speak- 
 ing and writing; but the spirit was the same. He 
 still wanted to govern justly and peaceably, and 
 knowing his wishes to be honest, was still willing 
 to accept the responsibility. In closing he re- 
 ferred very frankly to the torrent of abuse that 
 had swept over him during the campaign— 
 ''abuse and slanders scarcely ever equaled in 
 political history," he said, "which to-day I feel 
 that I can afford to disregard, in view of your 
 verdict, which I gratefully accept as my vindica- 
 tion." 
 
 Happy in the people's vindication he began his 
 second term of office. There was, of course, no 
 change of policy. He simply went along on the 
 old lines. 
 
 The South was still a seething mass of discord 
 — negroes distrusting the whites, whites despis- 
 ing the negroes, and hating with a deadly hatred 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 331 
 
 northern men who took up their homes among 
 them after the war. "Carpet-baggers," these 
 latter were called, and as soon as the military 
 governments were withdrawn, any attempt, real 
 or imaginary, at a political partnership between 
 these interlopers and the newly freed blacks was 
 met with deeds of violence and bloodshed. The 
 negroes were ignorant, and their "carpet-bag" 
 leaders often unscrupulous. It w^as only natural 
 that the men who had ruled before the war should 
 try to assert themselves, but the methods they 
 chose were as evil as the practices they tried to 
 put down. Bands of masked horsemen rode about 
 the country at night, administering what they 
 called "justice," and leaving behind them a trail of 
 horse-whipped blacks, burned cabins, and trees 
 bearing a burden of dangling corpses, as evidence 
 of their wish and ability to restore good govern- 
 ment. Grant was blamed for this condition of 
 things, and equally blamed for his vigorous at- 
 tempt to put it down. Congress gave him unusual 
 powers to cope with the disorder. He sternly 
 insisted that all men must keep the peace, and 
 announced that if he should be forced to call upon 
 the military, it would prove "no child's play." 
 The malcontents knew that such words from him 
 were not to be lightly regarded, and the reign of 
 
 violence came to an end. 
 20 
 
332 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 With equal firmness he insisted that all gov- 
 ernment debts must be paid in coin, or in other 
 money that was worth as much as gold or silver. 
 This caused him to veto what was known as the 
 Inflation Act, a bill intended to relieve the hard 
 times that had come upon the country in 1873, 
 by the simple expedient of issuing paper money to 
 the face value of one hundred million dollars, 
 without anything more than the government's 
 word to prove that it was worth that or any other 
 sum. This would, in effect, be paying debts with 
 other promises to pay. It had been necessary to 
 resort to such measures during the war, but from 
 his first hour as President Grant had insisted 
 that the country ought to go back to the good old 
 way of paying its debts in money like gold, which 
 had a value of its own, quite apart from any the 
 government could give it. 
 
 The other view was, however, very popular, 
 and great pressure was brought upon him to sign 
 the bill. Unwilling to act against the expressed 
 wish of Congress unless he felt compelled to do 
 so. Grant sat down and tried to write a message 
 approving the bill ; but the more he tried to state 
 reasons in its favor the less convincing they be- 
 came, and the stronger appeared the arguments 
 against it — until finally, assured of the justice of 
 his former views, he tore up what he had written. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 333 
 
 and sent a short message vetoing it instead. This 
 one action of his shows better than a whole vol- 
 ume of explanation the true man behind his 
 silences and his apparent self-will. 
 
 Grant's trials as President had begun with his 
 cabinet. His cabinet was destined to bring scan- 
 dal and disgrace upon the closing days of his 
 administration. After the troubles at the South 
 had died down, and his sturdy regard for right as 
 he saw it had silenced a large number of his critics, 
 it was learned that dishonesty had eaten like a 
 canker through many of the departments of the 
 civil government. Great frauds were discovered 
 in collecting the tax on whisky, and it was insin- 
 uated that the President was not altogether 
 innocent. Grant indignantly indorsed upon the 
 letter which brought him this news : ''Referred 
 to the Secretary of the Treasury. . . . Let no 
 guilty man escape if it can be avoided. Be spe- 
 cially vigilant against all who insinuate that they 
 have high influence to protect, or to protect them. 
 No personal considerations should stand in the 
 way of performing a public duty." 
 
 Investigation disclosed the fact that many in 
 high places were concerned, even the President's 
 private secretary. General O. E. Babcock. Also, 
 that one of the chief offenders, Supervisor J. A. 
 McDonald, was a friend of Grant's and often seen 
 
334 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 in his company. The opponents of the adminis- 
 tration were wild with glee, and lost no oppor- 
 tunity to air the scandal. Grant appointed 
 ex-Senator John B. Henderson, a violent critic 
 of his administration, prosecuting attorney, in 
 order to forestall all doubt of his wish to have the 
 matter thoroughly investigated, but when Hen- 
 derson went out of his way to attack the Presi- 
 dent's honor, every member of the cabinet voted 
 to have him removed. Mr. Broadhead, a Demo- 
 crat, was appointed in his stead, and the trial went 
 on, but the change had been impolitic, and all the 
 criticism that went before was as nothing to the 
 storm of denunciation let loose upon him now. 
 Men seemed eager to see Grant stripped of all his 
 honors and wearing convict's dress. Friends and 
 adherents fell away from him on all sides. Even 
 his own party began to doubt him. With stub- 
 born loyalty he stood by Babcock, and kept him 
 as his secretary until the day of the trial. At the 
 trial he gave testimony in his favor. The others 
 were convicted and sent to prison. Babcock was 
 acquitted, largely because of the President's 
 testimony, and people claimed that Grant had 
 perjured himself to save a friend. But in spite of 
 all the efforts made to bring disgrace upon him, 
 not one bit of direct evidence was unearthed to 
 show that he knew about or had countenanced 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 335 
 
 these frauds. His bitterest enemies were forced 
 to admit that he meant all he said in his order, 
 "Let no guilty man escape." 
 
 Scarcely was Babcock acquitted when it was 
 charged that Secretary of War Belknap, one of 
 the most popular men in the administration, was 
 receiving bribes for appointing men to office. 
 Belknap, in an agony of remorse, admitted to 
 Grant that this was true, and begged to be al- 
 lowed to resign, so as not to bring further dis- 
 grace upon the administration. Grant consented; 
 but the critics declared that this had an evil look. 
 Grant's friends, on the other hand, pointed out 
 that he had most openly desired investigation, 
 that he had answered a cabinet officer who hinted 
 at being able to tell things if courtesy did not 
 forbid, with the stern injunction to speak out, 
 and the statement that he wished all cabinet mem- 
 bers and ex-cabinet members to testify on the 
 same subject. "Do your worst," he had seemed 
 to say to his accusers, and they had not been able 
 to lay one charge against his name. As for Bel- 
 knap, Grant was not the only man deceived in his 
 character. He had been one of the best-loved 
 men in public life. 
 
 It was, of course, absurd to denounce Grant 
 for the sins of his party followers. He was too 
 straightforward and single-minded himself to 
 
336 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 imagine such double-dealing on the part of men 
 he knew and trusted. In spite of all his experi- 
 ence, and all the hard knocks of his varied life, 
 something of the crystal clearness and simplicity 
 of his boyish trust in human nature remained. 
 The old story of the horse-trade comes to mind. 
 He had learned to keep a dogged silence, and not 
 to tell everything that was in his mind as in that 
 far-off time, but to the end of his days he seemed 
 unable to learn that there were people with a 
 talent for deceit as great as his for straightfor- 
 ward honesty. That was the chief reason of his 
 failure to meet the highest requirements of the 
 office of President— his absolute inability to com- 
 prehend the complicated and involved game of 
 cross-purposes called politics. His genius was. 
 undoubtedly military, and not for the more subtle 
 problems of peace. Yet, as some one has pointed 
 out, the acts of his two administrations have not 
 had to be undone. Criticism raged about him 
 and abuse was showered upon him in a way to 
 make the stoutest heart quake, but the principles 
 for which he labored were the ones that have 
 stood the test of time. 
 
 He governed in a period of exceeding difficulty. 
 The South was smarting with defeat, the North 
 demoralized in politics and business by the ad- 
 ministration of President Johnson. One of 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 337 
 
 Grant's hiog^raphers has said that even the arch- 
 angel Michael, trying to govern just then by 
 heavenly law, would have found himself at fault. 
 Grant was not an angel. He was not even an "all- 
 around" man. Certain sides of his character had 
 never been developed. But he was a great man— 
 preeminently great in war— and the list of 
 measures he favored as President proves that his 
 record in peace is an honorable one. 
 
 It was while he was President that the first Civil 
 Service Commission was appointed. He urged 
 building a canal across the Isthmus of Panama. 
 He favored treating the Indians peaceably, and 
 in time making citizens of them. It was while he 
 was in office that the Weather Bureau was created, 
 and under him that the United States became 
 a member of the Universal Postal Union. Dur- 
 ing his term of office the Fifteenth Amendment to 
 the Constitution, which declares that no citizen's 
 right to vote shall be denied "on account of race, 
 color, or previous condition of servitude," became 
 the law of the land. Violence was put down in 
 the South, and he recommended restoring civil 
 rights to the classes to whom it had been denied 
 by the Fourteenth Amendment. He battled suc- 
 cessfully to preserve the credit of our country, 
 and pay its debts in honest money. He strove to 
 restore American shipping to the place it once 
 
338 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 held in the commerce of nations. He wished to 
 recognize and help the struggling independent 
 government of Cuba. He favored improving 
 Washington city, and making it a fitting capital 
 of a great nation. He advocated establishing the 
 principle that private property at sea shall not be 
 subject to capture in time of war ; and, what is the 
 crowning triumph of his administration, the 
 greatest warrior of our day took the longest step 
 that had been taken up to that time toward settling 
 disputes by peaceful means instead of by the 
 sword. 
 
 This was by the Treaty of Washington. The 
 United States had many claims against Great 
 Britain, growing out of her friendliness to the 
 South during the war. England had not formally 
 recognized the Confederate States, but had given 
 them every aid and advantage in her power short 
 of that, with the result that the war had been 
 prolonged and much shipping destroyed. These 
 claims, all together, were known as the Alabama 
 Claims, the Alabama being the name of one of 
 the vessels concerned. England finally admitted 
 that she had been wrong, but refused to make 
 amends, on the ground that it was beneath her 
 dignity. Just before Grant came into office Presi- 
 dent Johnson concluded a treaty on the subject so 
 humiliating to the United States that the Senate 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 339 
 
 very properly declined to ratify it. When Grant 
 became President there was a sudden and most 
 gratifying change in the attitude of England. 
 Whether the Queen's ministers feared the great 
 General who was now at the head of affairs, or 
 recognized that England's own interests de- 
 manded a different policy, is of little moment. At 
 that nation's own request negotiations were re- 
 opened, and resulted in the Treaty of Washing- 
 ton, by which it was agreed to submit the matter in 
 dispute to competent judges, and to abide by their 
 decision. The judgment went against England, 
 and she paid a substantial sum to this country for 
 the losses caused to our shipping. The victory 
 lay, of course, not in the money involved, but in 
 forcing England to admit her error, and to agree 
 to this principle of arbitration as a means at once 
 dignified and humane of settling disputes between 
 nations. 
 
 The scandal in Grant's cabinet came at a time 
 most opportune for his enemies ; they were begin- 
 ning to harp once more upon "Caesarism," and to 
 claim that Grant meant to get himself elected to 
 the presidency for the third time. Every tale 
 that seemed to bear on his unfitness was hailed as 
 a joyful aid in their campaign of slander. There 
 was nothing in the Constitution to forbid his tak- 
 ing a third term if it were offered to him, and it 
 
340 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 was not in his nature to speak on any subject until 
 he had to do so. When the matter came up before 
 the Pennsylvania State convention he thought the 
 time had come to make his position clear, and 
 wrote to the chairman, saying: "The idea that 
 any man could elect himself President, or even 
 nominate himself, is preposterous. Any man can 
 destroy his chances for an office, but no one can 
 force an election or even a nomination. I am not, 
 nor have I ever been, a candidate for renomina- 
 tion. I would not accept the nomination if it were 
 tendered, unless it should come under such cir- 
 cumstances as to make it an imperative duty- 
 circumstances not likely to arise." 
 
 Nor did they. Even if the scandal of the latter 
 days of his administration had not occurred, the 
 time had come for Grant to go out of office. Feel- 
 ing in our country is strong against allowing one 
 man to wield the vast power of President for too 
 long a time. But though not a candidate. Grant 
 was still easily the most important person in the 
 United States, and the question of whom he fa- 
 vored for his successor assumed great impor- 
 tance. James G. Blaine was the most prominent 
 aspirant, but he had many enemies, and Grant 
 doubted if he could be nominated. Rutherford B. 
 Hayes was another prominent man, and when it 
 was known that both General Grant and General 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 341 
 
 Sherman considered him a suitable man for the 
 place, the contest narrowed down to him and 
 Blaine. Hayes won the nomination, with Wm. 
 A. Wheeler of New York for Vice-President. 
 The Democrats chose Samuel J. Tilden of New 
 York and Thomas A. Hendricks of Indiana, and 
 the contest was again very bitter. If the south- 
 ern States voted for Tilden he would surely be 
 elected. The temptation to fraud was very great, 
 and it seemed likely that election day would be one 
 of excitement if not of violence. Grant issued 
 orders to General Sherman to see that the peace 
 was kept at all costs, and the day passed more 
 quietly than had been anticipated. It was after 
 the results were partially known that the trouble 
 began. The election was very close. Both sides 
 claimed the victory, and each declared that its 
 candidate and no other should be seated. A com- 
 mission had finally to be appointed to determine 
 the result. It decided in favor of Mr. Hayes by 
 just one vote. There was much excited talk, and 
 threats were made that he would never be allowed 
 to take possession of an office to which, as the 
 Democrats declared, he had not been elected. 
 Grant was not much disturbed by this, or by the 
 suggestion that Tilden be inaugurated in New 
 York; but he was a soldier, and took all needful 
 precautions. • He moved troops to the points 
 
342 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 where their services were most likely to be 
 wanted, saw that arsenals were properly guarded, 
 gave orders to place New York in a state of siege 
 in case the Democrats should be foolish enough to 
 attempt to inaugurate their candidate, and let it 
 be known that he proposed to hold his office until 
 his successor was legally and properly inaugu- 
 rated. He did not intend to have two govern- 
 ments, or to put up with any revolutionary folly. 
 It was a return to warlike conditions, and his 
 military mind met and promptly overcame them. 
 He was the general again, and therefore at his 
 best. 
 
 The 4th of March fell on Sunday. On Satur- 
 day, the 3d, he was present when Mr. Hayes 
 privately took the oath of office ; and on Monday, 
 the 5th, he rode with him in the same carriage to 
 the Capitol where the public inauguration took 
 place with a due amount of brass bands and 
 shouting. If the Electoral Commission had de- 
 clared Tilden elected he would have done the same 
 as cordially for him. The office was neither per- 
 sonal nor political, but national, as he justly said, 
 and his one wish was to turn it over peaceably to 
 his successor. That done, he retired thankfully 
 into the role of private citizen. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE GUEST OF KINGS 
 
 GRANT'S boyish dream had been to travel and 
 see the world. That was what reconciled 
 him, it will be remembered, to the appointment to 
 West Point. Now that he was through with the 
 eight troublesome years in the White House he 
 had earned a holiday, and he resolved to spend it 
 in the way his early dreams had outlined. 
 
 After bidding the new President and Mrs. 
 Hayes welcome to the Executive Maftsion, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Grant were driven to the house of Secre- 
 tary Fish, where they remained for about a 
 month, receiving many courtesies from officials 
 and personal friends. Then they set out upon 
 their travels. It was to England that they first 
 turned their steps, for their daughter Ellen, or 
 Nellie, the little girl who had slipped her hand 
 into her father's while he was reading his first 
 inaugural address, had grown up in the interval, 
 and was married, and that was now her home. 
 They sailed on the 17th of May, 1877, on the 
 American steamer Indiana, and the honors and 
 
344 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 ovations that preceded their departure from 
 Philadelphia, as well as the crowds that followed 
 the ship down the harbor, testified to the good 
 wishes that accompanied them. Grant had felt 
 the criticism and coldness of his party friends 
 deeply, and this manifestation of renewed regard 
 after he laid down the cares of office gave him 
 great delight. **Why," he said, "it is just as it 
 was immediately after the war !" 
 
 The crossing was a rough one, but he proved 
 a good sailor, and the weight of sixteen years 
 seemed to roll away as the voyage advanced. 
 He traveled, of course, as a private citizen, but 
 his reputation had preceded him. When the ship 
 reached Liverpool crowds were waiting for him, 
 the Mayor was on hand with an address of wel- 
 come, and a committee of distinguished citizens 
 bent on showing him the wonders of the town, 
 hovered in the rear. 
 
 This was but the beginning. It was plain that 
 he could not escape into private citizenship. He 
 was a public personage in spite of himself. At 
 that distance the party disputes that had dark- 
 ened his fame in his own country had not been 
 heeded. The great facts of his career, his gener- 
 alship, his two triumphant elections to the presi- 
 dency, his having disbanded a vast army, and 
 gained a notable victory for peace in the Treaty 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 345 
 
 of Wasliinglon, outshone in tlieir rightful degree 
 all the minor mistakes and quarrels of his ad- 
 ministration. His journey was almost like a royal 
 progress. Crowds closed about his carriage, 
 mayors and corporations did him honor. Factory 
 operatives left their spindles, and colliers climbed 
 out of the black depths of the earth to see this 
 man and hear him speak. For, to the amazement 
 of his friends at home, he did speak. The silent 
 Grant, who had gone through all the varied 
 phases of his life with scarcely a public utterance, 
 found his voice to answer addresses of welcome 
 and respond to the toasts that were showered 
 upon him with hearty good will. His little 
 speeches were short and modest, but apt and to 
 the point. He thanked the people for their unex- 
 pectedly hearty welcome, disclaiming all thought 
 of taking it to himself, but accepting it as being 
 meant for his country rather than for him per- 
 sonally. This, of course, endeared him yet more 
 to his hearers. It was a welcome of the great 
 middle class, however, for up to this time no per- 
 son of exalted rank had taken part in the demon- 
 stration. They waited to take their cue from 
 royalty, but the tradespeople hurried to present 
 addresses of welcome, and the workingmen to 
 enjoy a "free hand-shaking" with the distin- 
 guished visitor whom they regarded not only as a 
 
346 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 great man, but as one who had risen without the 
 help of family or wealth from circumstances as 
 humble as their own. They cheered him, not only 
 for what he was, but as an example of what they 
 or their children might one day become. 
 
 Meantime grave discussions went on in court 
 circles as to how the visitor ought to be received 
 when he reached London. He was one of the 
 most noted men on earth, but he had no official 
 status, and no credentials, beyond a letter from 
 the State Department at Washington to its rep- 
 resentatives abroad, asking them to do what lay 
 in their power to make his stay in Europe agree- 
 able. At length it was decided to treat him as an 
 ex-sovereign, with the honors due that lofty if 
 fallen station. So the ex-woodchopper of the 
 Gravois farm found himself involved in the mazes 
 of court etiquette — invited to dinner by the 
 Prince of Wales, "commanded" by the Queen to 
 dine and pass the night at Windsor Castle, and 
 bombarded with invitations from the lesser world 
 of fashion and rank that follows the example set 
 by royalty. Jealous eyes watched his treatment 
 in these high places, lest some affront be offered 
 his Republican unsophistication in the all-impor- 
 tant details of his place at table or the number of 
 minutes the sovereign engaged him in conversa- 
 tion. Curious eyes watched from the other side 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 347 
 
 to note any mistake or awkwardness he or his 
 wife mig'ht commit in their unaccustomed sur- 
 roundings; but by this time the "show business" 
 had fewer terrors for Grant — and common sense 
 and simphcity are capital guides to conduct even 
 before a throne. 
 
 Grant had gone abroad without any definite 
 plans, saying smilingly that he would travel as far 
 and stay as long as his money held out. What- 
 ever route he took he meant to follow quietly and 
 unostentatiously as a private citizen of the United 
 States ; but his experience in England proved that 
 this was not possible. When he wished to visit 
 Paris he was asked by the American Minister to 
 postpone his journey for a time until French 
 politics, then at white heat, cooled and quieted a 
 bit, so that he might enter the town without being 
 suspected of taking sides. He took a little tour on 
 the continent, through Belgium and the Black 
 Forest, and down into Switzerland, then to Scot- 
 land and back to London before he could enter the 
 French capital. On his arrival in October Gam- 
 betta and President MacMahon met him with the 
 greatest cordiality, and the French people, if not 
 so enthusiastic as the British, filled his days and 
 kept him more busily occupied than when he was 
 in the White House. 
 
 After France came Italy, then he passed on to 
 21 
 
348 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 Egypt and the Holy Land for the winter, then to 
 Greece and Constantinople, through Italy again, 
 lingering in Rome and Florence and Milan, to 
 Paris— from Paris to Holland, and from Holland 
 into Germany, whose people he was eager to 
 study. From Germany to Denmark, Norway and 
 Sweden, then to Russia and Austria and Spain 
 and Portugal, and back once more to England and 
 Ireland— a great tour of the kingdoms of Europe. 
 At every frontier the question of how he was to 
 be received came up. Some countries solved it in 
 one way, some in another. If the idea of the ex- 
 sovereign did not appeal to them, there was his 
 General's rank and reputation to fall back upon. 
 But whatever the name by which they called it, 
 their welcome had a heartiness that showed how 
 great was the interest felt in him. Kings and 
 queens invited him to be their guest. Palaces and 
 royal pleasure-boats and state coaches were 
 placed at his service, and everywhere his hosts, 
 knowing him to be a great general, arranged re- 
 views and military pageants to show him their 
 finest soldiers— which Grant, poor man, tired of 
 war, avoided seeing whenever possible. 
 
 In vain he protested that he was more of a 
 farmer than a warrior, that he had never fought a 
 battle willingly, and never left the army without 
 joy. His hosts marveled at his attitude and were 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 349 
 
 puzzled by his indifference, but gallantly deter- 
 mined to do him honor, ordered out more and 
 more soldiers, until he actually went around the 
 world to the sound of drums and holiday guns, 
 lie probably saw more kinds of troops than any 
 man who has ever lived, and responded to more 
 different military salutes. It became a joke with 
 the members of his suite that he would go ten 
 miles out of his way to "see a new kind of plow, 
 or to avoid seeing a gun or a soldier." 
 
 He was an untiring sightseer, determined to 
 miss nothing that he ought to look at, but frankly 
 more interested in the industrial customs and 
 resources of a country than in its rulers or its art. 
 His happiest moments were when he could escape 
 from court functions and the well-meant but tire- 
 some salutations of burgomasters and civil dig- 
 nitaries, to stroll through narrow city streets or 
 in country lanes among the common people, seeing 
 how they performed their daily tasks, and finding 
 out what they thought and felt. Why the peas- 
 ants in some lands chose to yoke the great 
 cream-colored oxen in a way different from that 
 he was used to in Missouri, was a problem of 
 greater interest to 1pm than any question of 
 precedence at court ; and the way of an Egyptian 
 fellah with his water-wheel of greater moment 
 than any royal tomb or graven image. All his 
 
350 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 training had been in the practical things of life. 
 Esthetics had absolutely no place in his world. 
 He liked the big things in nature, and in art he 
 liked only the things so tremendous that they 
 resembled nature — the Pyramids, or the most 
 stately cathedrals. The more delicate beauties 
 of pictures and sculpture escaped him entirely. 
 He could feel the beauty as well as the grandeur 
 of a noble mountain view, but the genius of 
 Michelangelo or of Raphael left him utterly un- 
 touched. 
 
 It was, indeed, the same way with literature. 
 When he read it was for facts, never to enjoy 
 style, or for the mere pleasure of reading. 
 
 Of course he did not like the peasants just be- 
 cause they were common, or dislike noted people 
 because of their wealth and position. It was al- 
 ways the person and not the rank that attracted 
 him. In Spain the one man that he wanted to 
 meet was Emilio Castelar, the patriot and orator, 
 who had been President for a few months during 
 the short and troubled time that Spain tried to be 
 a republic. In Egypt he met Henry M. Stanley, 
 just back from his explorations in the wilds of 
 Africa; in Berlin, Prince Bismarck, Chancellor 
 of the German Empire, with whom he developed 
 a sympathetic intimacy. With Wagner, another 
 noted German, he did not get on so well. The 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 351 
 
 great musician called upon hini at Heidelberfj^, but 
 there was little in common between the man who 
 wrote Tristan and Isolde, and the man who 
 thought he knew Yankee Doodle, but could never 
 recognize Hail to the Chief, though it had been 
 played at him with unfailing regularity ever since 
 the fall of \'icksburg. Each great man was dumb 
 in the presence of the other — as dumb almost as 
 the nameless Roman warrior whose grave was 
 opened at Homburg, while the living general 
 looked down in silence on the weapons and 
 trinkets and fast-crumbling skeleton of his long- 
 dead brother in arms. 
 
 Everywhere, as in England, Grant answered 
 the speeches of welcome, and everywhere, if he 
 could, he escaped the parades and reviews. He 
 was always pleased when somebody else in the 
 party was mistaken for him, and he was thus 
 allowed to get a more objective view of the recep- 
 tion than was otherwise possible. He was best 
 pleased when he could wander at will observing 
 the people. If he got separated from his friends 
 and lost in a tangle of strange streets as was 
 sometimes the case, there was usually a cab within 
 call to take him home. And if, as on one occasion, 
 he forgot the name of his hotel, the cab driver 
 was still his salvation. He could not bring him- 
 self, even then, to tell his name, but he asked if 
 
352 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 the man knew where General Grant was stopping. 
 The driver assured him in fragments of several 
 languages that he knew all about General Grant, 
 whereupon the General, throwing himself upon 
 the cushions with a sigh of relief, said, "Take me 
 to his hotel," and the day was saved. 
 ' Thus the great tour of Europe was made — a 
 succession of ovations from beginning to end — 
 men of birth, and men of deeds, and the countless 
 thousands who tilled the soil, all doing him honor, 
 those born to the purple because he had worn it, 
 the men of deeds because he had achieved great 
 things, the men of toil because in the past he had 
 been one of themselves. 
 
 When it was ended came a trip to the Orient- 
 through the Red Sea and on to India, Burma, 
 Siam, Cochin China, China, and Japan — where 
 the same consideration and the same honors were 
 shown him, clad in different guise. The shabby, 
 sumptuous, bewildering East spread its treasures 
 before him as the Occident had done. Mahara- 
 jahs sent their elephants and sedan chairs in place 
 of royal yachts and palace cars. Servants in 
 flowing robes drew near to supply quite unimag- 
 ined wants. Interpreters translated the remarks 
 of gorgeous rulers whose turbans were fastened 
 with jewels worth a king's ransom, but whose 
 power was not always worth ten British guns; 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 353 
 
 and for a backs^round there were pagan temples 
 instead of cathedrals, strange beasts of burden, 
 unfamiliar trees, and teeming, scantily fed, 
 brown peasant-folk who stood and silently 
 watched him out of unconvinced, unfathomable 
 eyes. They could not understand why such a 
 great man should go about in plain, undecorated 
 garments — or why, indeed, he should come at all. 
 Their rulers did everything that courtesy and 
 Oriental imagination could contrive to give Grant 
 pleasure. There were endless ceremonies of re- 
 ception and farewell, which bored as well as inter- 
 ested him ; nautch dances at which he looked with 
 resigned despair; offers of tiger-hunts and pig- 
 sticking that he declined; and by one devoted 
 Indian potentate, an effort to lose a game of bil- 
 liards to his distinguished guest — a bit of hos- 
 pitality rendered quite impossible by the General's 
 erratic playing. There were feats of horseman- 
 ship that left the champion of West Point frankly 
 amazed; exhibitions of wise old war elephants; 
 and reviews of soldiers in uniforms like nothing 
 short of a fancy ball gone mad. And once in a 
 while a strangely familiar note would be sounded 
 amid all this orientalism; as when the girls in the 
 mission school at Lucknow sang John Brown s 
 Body, or, in the midst of a Japanese banquet a 
 dish of orthodox and irreproachable Boston baked 
 
354 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 beans made its appearance. These were all little 
 things, but they showed how anxious his hosts 
 were to please him. At Canton it was proposed 
 to please him by closing all the houses and lining 
 the streets with troops as for an emperor's visit ; 
 but Grant let it be known that he preferred to see 
 the people, so there as elsewhere there were 
 crowds — silent, hushed crowds that watched with- 
 out a sound as his sedan chair was carried past. 
 
 In the East as well as in Europe he held long 
 and interesting talks with the foremost statesmen 
 and clearest thinkers of their time. In China he 
 saw much of Li Hung Chang, who "did not wish 
 to meet him formally, but to know and talk with 
 him," a wish he brought to fulfilment to the happi- 
 ness of both men. Many were the talks they had 
 about the progress and future of China, and the 
 part the country of each was to play in the history 
 of the world. Li Hung Chang broke through the 
 traditions of all time and had his wife give an 
 entertainment in honor of Mrs. Grant, with a 
 dinner and a Chinese Punch and Judy show, while 
 the tall Viceroy looked on over the shoulders of 
 others from afar to see how the ladies got on. In 
 Japan, the last country he visited, that mysterious 
 "Son of Heaven," the Mikado himself, came to 
 see him "informally" in the royal palace that was 
 placed at his disposal. 
 

ULYSSES S. GRANT 357 
 
 It was a very wonderful journey, perhaps (he 
 most wonderful, taking into account its extent 
 and the variety of things and people he saw, and 
 the courtesies offered him, that it has hecn (he 
 fortune of any man to make. When it was over 
 he set sail from Yokohama on the steamer City of 
 Tokio, and about sunset on September 20, 1879, 
 two years and four months after leaving Phila- 
 delphia, steamed into the Golden Gate to find the 
 shipping bright with flags, guns booming, steam- 
 whistles blowing, great ships black with people 
 coming out to meet him, and the city of San Fran- 
 cisco echoing with hearty American cheers. The 
 first man to grasp his hand was his son Ulysses, 
 who had come from his home in the East. After 
 him came a committee of invitation, with his old 
 friend General McDowell at the head. The 
 Mayor of San Francisco was not far behind, and 
 the greeting and the speechmaking and the boom- 
 ing of guns went on just as it had done across the 
 seas— but with a difference, for this was a wel- 
 come home. In San Francisco there was a review 
 that he did not object to witnessing, a review of 
 his old soldiers who had made their homes in 
 California since the war— and yet another, of five 
 thousand school children who threw roses at his 
 feet. 
 
 Some of the people who greeted him had known 
 
358 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 him in the old days when he left the Pacific coast 
 in poverty and disappointment. Whatever may 
 have been the truth about that unhappy time, 
 Grant never cherished feelings of bitterness to- 
 ward the country where he had fared so ill. He 
 had indeed a real affection for it, and now that he 
 was back again he was anxious to visit all the 
 familiar places and see for himself the changes a 
 quarter of a century had brought about. After a 
 few days in San Francisco he went up to Portland 
 and Vancouver to visit "the old fort," and then, 
 by a route that embraced many of the large west- 
 ern towns, turned homeward toward the East. 
 
 The flood of greetings and huzzas swept with 
 him across the country, and to the amazement of 
 his old friends the General answered the speeches 
 of welcome with speeches of his own. "When I 
 was in Europe I had to speak," he said, "and hav- 
 ing done so, it seemed to me it would be very un- 
 civil to refuse the folks at home." He did not like 
 to do it, but he had found that he could. His 
 friends were pleased to see that he thought as 
 much of the "folks at home" as before he went 
 away. So far as they could discover he was in 
 no way spoiled by flattery, and his fund of com- 
 mon sense was as great as ever. "General, since 
 you came to the coast business has revived, 
 money flows freely, and the people are all hap- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 359 
 
 pier," some one told him. "T p;-iiess wheat g'oing 
 up thirty cents a cental has more to do with it 
 than I have," was the matter-of-fact reply. 
 
 "We will make you President," was a cry 
 heard again and again. To this he made no an- 
 swer. His friends were thinking of it seriously. 
 They had urged him to remain abroad a few 
 months longer, and time his home-coming with 
 the meeting of the Republican national conven- 
 tion, sure that the enthusiasm of his welcome 
 would make him a triumphant candidate. Grant 
 refused to be influenced by their suggestion. If 
 the American people wanted him to be President 
 again, well and good, they could elect him ; but he 
 did not propose to have them tricked into a nomi- 
 nation by any connivance on his part. He came 
 home when he saw fit ; and when they cried, "We 
 will make you President!" he reentered his old 
 stronghold of silence and uttered never a word. 
 Personally he felt that he was better qualified for 
 the office than ever before. He had eight years 
 of experience, and his recent journey had given 
 him an insight into foreign governments and 
 policies that he had never before possessed. The 
 people who had objected to a third continuous 
 term could not make the same objection to his re- 
 suming the office after a lapse of four years — but, 
 it was for the people to say. 
 
36o THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 He went to Galena, where again there were 
 triumphal arches, and where old friends and 
 neighbors gave him a welcome that brought tears 
 to his eyes. That winter he traveled in Cuba and 
 Mexico, and on his return through the southern 
 States encountered the warmest and most whole- 
 souled welcome. A committee from Vicksburg 
 met him in New Orleans to ask him to visit their 
 town and stay as long as he would. "I shall be 
 glad to go to Vicksburg," he answered, thinking 
 with a smile of the day when he had to break into 
 the place by force. Wherever he went in the 
 country that had once been hostile all was now 
 friendliness. The opposition journals were forced 
 to admit that he had never been so popular or so 
 dangerous to their plans, and they raised a cry 
 against this "hero-worship" that pointed straight 
 toward imperialism and would surely lead the 
 country to ruin. 
 
 There were other candidates in the Republican 
 party, and they felt that Grant had had his turn, 
 and ought not to deprive them of theirs. It be- 
 came evident that the real struggle for the presi- 
 dency would take place in the convention when it 
 met in Chicago on the 26. of June. Grant had 
 more votes pledged to him than any other candi- 
 date, but everybody knew that the nomination 
 could not be unanimous, as it had been twice be- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 361 
 
 fore. His friends hoped that he mie^ht win on the 
 second ballot. Others were sorry to see him try 
 at all. He did nothing to help or hinder, hut 
 remained quietly in Galena. Young Ulysses 
 Grant came from New York to be with his father 
 durinq- the hours of suspense. The first news 
 that reached them was of uncontrolled enthusiasm 
 in the convention when his name was proposed. 
 Grant, who was with his son in a friend's office, 
 rose abruptly, saying, ''Come, Buck, let 's go 
 home." Outside in the street after they had walked 
 a way in silence, he sighed and said, "I am afraid 
 I am going to be nominated." The heart of his 
 son leaped for joy at the words. He had feared 
 his father would be bitterly disappointed in case 
 he failed — and he still saw the chance of failure. 
 It took many ballots to settle the result. Grant 
 had 304 votes on the first ballot. On the thirty- 
 sixth, when Garfield was finally nominated, he 
 had 306. The faithfulness of his supporters won 
 for them the name of "the Old Guard." John 
 Sherman, brother of the general, was also a 
 candidate, and during the struggle a telegram 
 came saying the Sherman men were willing to 
 vote for Grant if the latter would promise to give 
 Sherman a place in his cabinet. In an instant the 
 old warrior's indignation was on fire. 'T will not 
 consent to any agreement in order to secure the 
 
362 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 nomination for President of the United States," 
 he repHed, and the Sherman men made their bar- 
 gain elsewhere. 
 
 When he heard that Garfield was nominated 
 Grant brushed the ashes from his cigar. "Gar- 
 field is a good man," he said rising. "I am glad 
 of it. Good night, gentlemen," and walked away. 
 To show his good will he did what he had never 
 done before. He took an active part in the cam- 
 paign, making political speeches and doing every- 
 thing in his power to bring about the election of 
 his successful rival. 
 
XVII 
 
 HIS LAST BRAVE FIGHT 
 
 SHORTLY after Garfield's election Grant pur- 
 chased a house in East Sixty-sixth Street, and 
 went to live in New York. His sons were already 
 settled there, and he and his wife wished to be near 
 them. He also felt that he must do something to 
 earn money. His fortune was not large enough 
 to enable him to live in the style to which both he 
 and Mrs. Grant had become accustomed, and 
 which their position seemed to demand. A third 
 reason for the change was that he craved action. 
 After a life of intensest care and responsibility it 
 did not seem possible for him to settle down to the 
 quiet routine of a country gentleman, with no 
 interests except his crops, and no duties beyond 
 those of providing food and shelter for his family 
 and his live stock. 
 
 When his friends learned thai he meant to 
 enter business in Wall Street they were distressed, 
 for they felt that he was not fitted by nature, and 
 certainly not by training, for such an enterprise. 
 
 36J 
 
364 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 But Grant was not the man to be turned from his 
 purpose by mere advice. Pohtics had been closed 
 to him. War was fortunately at an end. There 
 seemed to be nothing left but the activity of trade, 
 and perhaps he had a wish to show his admirers 
 that in this too he was able to win and hold a high 
 place. He was very careful about the use to be 
 made of his great name. The presidency of the 
 Nicaraguan canal was offered to him, but he 
 declined. He accepted the same office for the 
 Mexican Southern Railway only on condition that 
 he receive no salary and own no stock. 
 
 His son Ulysses had become connected with a 
 young and highly successful man named Ferdi- 
 nand Ward, one of the geniuses of trade at whose 
 touch everything turns to gold. Grant had un- 
 limited faith in his son's judgment. Ward's 
 private life and financial standing appeared 
 equally unexceptionable, and the business secure 
 and perfectly honest. The General invested all 
 the money he had, about $100,000, with them, and 
 became a "silent partner" ; but he did this only on 
 the understanding that no government contracts 
 should be handled. Such business might be per- 
 fectly lawful, but he did not wish his name con- 
 nected with any transactions that the most critical 
 might call in question. J. D. Fish, the president 
 of the Marine National Bank, was a fourth part- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 365 
 
 ner, and with the name of Grant and the mone\ 
 of the Marine Bank at its back, the new firm at 
 once took a high standing. Its credit was un- 
 questioned, and its dividends large and frequent. 
 The books of the firm were open to the General's 
 inspection, but he had nO knowledge of its busi- 
 ness details. His son, who was a lawyer, attended 
 to certain parts of the business, but left the 
 financial management in the hands of his abler 
 partner. 
 
 All went on prosperously. The General had 
 occupation in his railroad presidency, and a suffi- 
 cient income from the firm of Grant and Ward. 
 He told a friend in confidence that he was worth 
 a million dollars, and frankly rejoiced in his suc- 
 cess. Then out of a clear sky the blow fell. One 
 day in early May, 1884, Ward disappeared. The 
 Marine Bank closed its doors; and it was found 
 that Fish and the young money king had been 
 engaged in speculations and deals about which 
 the Grants knew nothing. There were other sets 
 of books that they had never seen, and huge debts, 
 the very existence of which had been kept a secret 
 between Fish and Ward. In a single hour 
 Grant's dream of opulence tumbled about him. 
 Instead of being a millionaire he and all his peo- 
 ple were penniless. One son was a partner in the 
 firm. Another was its agent. A third had de- 
 
 22 
 
366 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 posited all his savings in the bank with which his 
 father had been connected. Other members of 
 the family and personal friends had brought him 
 their money to invest. Even this was not all. It 
 was found that Grant's great name had been used 
 to decoy people into the questionable transactions 
 that Fish and Ward carried on without his know- 
 ledge. The people who had been duped would not 
 believe his innocence in this regard ; so shame and 
 scandal were added to misfortune. 
 
 He learned the truth from his son in the office 
 of the company, when the shock of discovery was 
 yet so fresh that the younger man scarcely knew 
 how harshly he told it. 
 
 "Grant and Ward have failed, and Ward has 
 fled," he said. 
 
 The old General, lame and on crutches from a 
 fall he had suffered some months before, had just 
 come in. The two faced each other for a few 
 seconds, eye to eye, the elder reading to the very 
 bottom the message his son's words only faintly 
 conveyed. Then, without a change of expression 
 he turned and hobbled slowly to his own office on 
 the floor above, to be alone with this stupendous 
 blow. 
 
 He bore it, as he had borne the other afflictions 
 of his life, in silence, but it was a silence that cov- 
 ered quivering torment. To have lost everything 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 367 
 
 — to have impoverished his family and his friends 
 —this was bitter, but it was nothing to the bitter- 
 ness of the treachery that had smirched his good 
 name, and the sting of scandal that accused him 
 of wilfully luring people to ruin. One transaction 
 especially weighed upon him. Only two days be- 
 fore the failure Ward, by a skilful deceit, had 
 prevailed upon him to borrow $150,000 of Mr. 
 William K. Vanderbilt. He thought he had repaid 
 it next morning by a check on the Marine Bank, 
 but it now appeared that the check was worthless. 
 The loan had been made to him personally as a 
 favor, and he felt it to be a debt of honor. He at 
 once turned over to Mr. Vanderbilt all that he 
 owned of value, even to the swords that had been 
 presented to him during the war, and the carvings 
 and caskets and precious things given him by 
 kings and emperors during his trip around the 
 world. Mr. Vanderbilt tried to prevent this 
 sacrifice, but the General and Mrs. Grant insisted 
 that the debt be paid at once in full. 
 
 li it had not been for the generosity of two 
 men, one of whom Grant had never seen, they 
 might literally have wanted money to buy bread. 
 Four days after the failure a Mr. Charles Wood, of 
 Lansingburg, New York, wrote to Grant, offer- 
 ing to lend him $1000 without interest, and in- 
 closing his check for $500, "on account," as he 
 
o 
 
 68 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 expressed it, "of my share for services ending 
 April, 1865," and about the same time Senor 
 Romero, the Mexican minister at Washington, a 
 friend of many years' standing, came to him per- 
 sonally and almost forced upon him a similar 
 loan. Upon these the family lived until Mrs. 
 Grant could sell a house that she owned in Wash- 
 ington, which furnished the family with money 
 for their daily needs, and enabled them to repay 
 Romero's generous loan. 
 
 It has been thought humiliating that with all 
 the men Grant helped to place and fortune, the 
 two most ready to aid him were a total stranger 
 and a man of alien race. Yet it was not unnat- 
 ural. His instinct was like that of the animal that 
 carries its hurt into the deepest shade to suffer 
 alone, and it was easier for a warm-hearted im- 
 pulsive stranger to write and offer him a slight 
 equivalent "for services ending April, 1865," 
 than for people who knew the reticent old General 
 to break through his reserve and approach him in 
 his misfortune. As for Romero, he was a warm 
 friend and a gallant gentleman, and it is pleasant 
 to think that Mexico, the wonderland of Grant's 
 youth, and the land to which his thoughts turned 
 as a means of uniting the South and the North 
 after the war, should have been so ready to ex^ 
 tend a helping hand. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 369 
 
 Ward and Fish were brought to trial. The 
 president of the Marine Rank tried to pose as a 
 victim, and published letters which distinctly con- 
 nected General Grant with the business methods 
 employed by the dishonest partners. This was the 
 heaviest blow of all. 'T have made it the rule of 
 my life to trust a man long after other people 
 gave him up," he said in bitterness, "but I don't 
 see how T can ever trust any human being again." 
 The letters were undoubtedly signed by Grant. 
 They had been cunningly worded for their pur- 
 pose, and slipped among other papers brought for 
 him to sign in a moment of haste. He was guilty 
 of over-confidence in his business partners, and of 
 putting his name to papers he had not read, but 
 free from all knowledge of their villainy. 
 
 Fish was sentenced to seven years' imprison- 
 ment, Ward to ten years'. Grant, their victim, 
 died a year later, his end undoubtedly hastened by 
 their crimes. It is an inexpressibly sad tale. And 
 yet, that last year of his life is a year that we 
 would not willingly lose from the history of his 
 career, for in it he rose to heroism unapproached 
 by even the best of his battle days. He was Grant 
 the unconquered to the end. 
 
 A fall on the icy pavement had made him a 
 cripple in the winter of 1883. In IMay, 1884, when 
 the trouble came, he was still unable to move 
 
370 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 about without crutches. The shock of discovery 
 did not at first appear to affect his health, but the 
 frame that had responded so splendidly to his will 
 on the battle-field, resisting cold and hunger and 
 fatigue as though not bound by ordinary mortal 
 laws, was sapped of its vitality. Little by little it 
 became evident to those about him that he was 
 not only an old man but a sick one. He had borne 
 a stirring part in the affairs of the world, and 
 now all that seemed left of life for him was the 
 pity of some men, the slander of others, and the 
 sinking into an obscure old age. He was a man 
 of deep though inarticulate emotions, and his 
 mind preyed upon his strength. He looked, as 
 one near him expressed it, "like a man gazing into 
 his open grave." Yet when that same friend 
 ventured to exhort him to cheerfulness, he an- 
 swered sharply that he was "not going to commit 
 suicide." 
 
 Then a way was opened to him, and brooding 
 gave way to action. Before the failure of Grant 
 and Ward the publishers of a famous magazine 
 had asked him to write an article for them about 
 the battle of Shiloh, and he refused. After his 
 fortune was swept away the offer was repeated, 
 for two articles instead of one, and he found to 
 his delight that the work not only distracted his 
 mind and gave him pleasure, but provided a 
 
GKNKKAL OKAN T Al Ml. .\K(;ki;( 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 373 
 
 means by which he could earn the money his 
 family so sorely needed. Out of the first-fruits 
 of his |x^n he paid his del)t to J\lr. Wood. 
 
 When it became known that he was willing to 
 write about his past experiences it seemed that 
 half the publishers in the country came to him 
 with oiTers, and he began to realize that he had it 
 in his power to provide not only for the present, 
 but for the f utu're of his family. 
 
 He set to work upon his Memoirs, for he felt 
 there was no time to be lost. A strange and pain- 
 ful alTection of the throat had come upon him, 
 with symptoms that made the doctors look grave. 
 Then the dreadful word "cancer" began to be 
 whispered, first as a suspicion, later as a certainty 
 — and it was clear that he was indeed looking into 
 his open grave. But he was a soldier. No Grant 
 had ever been afraid to die, he told his son ; and 
 quietly, resolutely, just as he had fought his bat- 
 tles, he set to work to hold his grim enemy at bay 
 until he had done what he could for the family he 
 must leave behind. Five or six hours a day he 
 worked upon his book. When the pain increased 
 and the languor became so great that he could not 
 hold the pen, still he worked, dictating in a voice 
 sunk to a whisper. It was the bravest, most 
 courageous, most loyal fight that ever great 
 commander waged. 
 
374 THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 He was handling a new weapon, and facing a 
 new foe, and the certain outcome of the struggle 
 was death, but he told his story as he had lived his 
 life, simply, quietly, without protestation or fear. 
 He did not think that he had the pen of a ready 
 writer, and he made no pretense to style, yet the 
 clearness that marked his orders on the field of 
 battle, and the tale he had to tell gave this work 
 of his dying hand a distinction that makes it one 
 of the notable books of his generation. 
 
 When it was learned that he was desperately 
 ill a great wave of sympathy went out to him. All 
 the enmities of his political life and all the slurs 
 and veiled accusations of the last miserable 
 months were lost in the memory of what he had 
 done for his country, and in admiration of the un- 
 flinching way in which he was meeting his last 
 foe. And the sick man, sensitive to the currents 
 of public opinion, for all his apparent indifference, 
 knew, and was comforted. Congress passed a bill 
 restoring him to his rank in the army. It was 
 signed on the 4th of March, 1885. It came not a 
 day too soon. When he was told. Grant neither 
 smiled nor spoke. He seemed past the point of 
 caring, but afterward his mind dwelt on it, and 
 it was seen how much he valued this tribute of his 
 country's love. 
 
 A fortnight after that the lawyers came into his 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 375 
 
 room. They needed his testimony a^ain in the 
 trial of Fish, the president of the Marine liink, 
 and thoit2;-h speaking- was almost impossihlc, he 
 summoned all his strength and gave it clearly, 
 fully, the accusation of a dying man, that carried 
 conviction in every syllahle. The ordeal was quickly 
 over, but it left him exhausted, and soon word 
 was flashed over the wires of the country that his 
 life was a question of days or even hours. The 
 street about his house filled with people, silent like 
 the crowds in the Orient that had watched him 
 pass by, but sorrowful, as only his countrymen 
 could be. On the night of March 31st the family 
 and doctors feared the final hour had come, but 
 after that there was a great and marked change 
 for the better. It was as though his unfinished 
 work had drawn him from the very brink of the 
 grave. "I want to live and finish my book," were 
 the words he breathed as soon as speech returned. 
 His gain was marvelous and rapid. Two days 
 after he was thought to be dying he walked to the 
 window and looked out on the people gathered 
 below, and on Easter Sunday he sent them a mes- 
 sage: "I am very much touched— and grateful— 
 for the sympathy and interest manifested in me by 
 my friends — and by — those who have not hitherto 
 been regarded as friends." His improvement 
 could be seen almost from day to day. He even 
 
2,7^ THE BOYS' LIFE OF 
 
 went out driving once more, tottering to his car- 
 riage and back again with feeble though deter- 
 mined steps. Physically he was the shadow of his 
 former self. His will alone remained— his will, 
 and a great gentleness for his family and the 
 people who did what they could to make his agony 
 easier. It was an agony. Although he seemed so 
 much better the disease was eating its way relent- 
 lessly on. He had come back from the grave to 
 finish his task, but he knew that the time was 
 short. He worked whenever strength was given 
 him, dictating to a stenographer until his voice 
 failed him, then seizing the pen and forcing his 
 weary hand to write what he could no longer say. 
 
 He grew weaker as the spring advanced, and 
 his work was more fitful. There were days when 
 he could only sit and wait for strength to go on. It 
 was a long and terrible struggle, and the people 
 who watched him marveled at his courage and 
 unvarying fortitude. He triumphed. The book 
 was finished. His mighty will prevailed, and 
 forced Death to stand aside until his work was 
 done. After that there was no more striving. 
 
 On the i6th of June they took him to Mt. Mc- 
 Gregor near Saratoga, that he might enjoy the 
 country freshness and the grass and trees that he 
 had longed to see during the winter. His eyes 
 dwelt upon West Point as the train passed by, and 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 377 
 
 he turned to his wife with a wistful smile, but he 
 could no longer speak. He lingered for several 
 weeks at Mt. IMcGregor, surrounded by his family 
 for whom he had made the supreme effort ; his 
 wife who had been to him all that a wife could be ; 
 the children that he had loved with a deep if silent 
 tenderness; and the three grandchildren whose 
 prattle had broken in upon his labors, and now 
 lightened the weary hours of his waiting. Outside 
 the grounds throngs of people passed slowly by. 
 He did not mind. He knew that they were drawn 
 by sympathy. "I should like," he wrote, "to talk 
 with them if I could." When they bowed he re- 
 turned their salutations. Sometimes friends cafne 
 to sit with him. One was Romero. Another, al- 
 most the last, was his classmate Simon Buckner, 
 who had been kind to him in New York long years 
 ago, and whose kindness Grant had repaid at 
 Donelson. "I wanted you to know," he said as he 
 sat beside his friend, "that many Confederate offi- 
 cers sympathize with you in your sickness and 
 trouble." Words like these were very sweet in 
 Grant's dying ears. 
 
 On the 22d of July he took to his bed. On the 
 23d, a morning of beautiful summer sunshine, at 
 a few minutes past eight o'clock, he breathed his 
 last. His martyrdom was ended ; the continuing 
 glory of his fame was just begun. 
 
378 ULYSSES S. GRANT 
 
 "In my case I have not found that republics are 
 ungrateful, nor are the people," he had written 
 with feeble pencil but steadfast faith to Mr. Wood 
 two weeks before the end. This was the answer 
 brought by clear-sighted Death to his perturbed 
 human cry of a year before — "I don't see how I 
 can ever trust any human being again !" 
 
 He had given up everything to pay his debts. 
 Of all his trophies there was not even a sword left 
 to lay upon his coffin. He was right. The Repub- 
 lic was not ungrateful. The pageant of his burial 
 was all that his rank and services and the respect 
 of a sorrowing country could make it. But the 
 real tribute lay not in funeral dirges or minute 
 guns, or the slow-moving military pomp for which 
 the man lying dead had cared so little. It lay in 
 the bond that united the silent column of mourn- 
 ers that followed him to his last resting-place — 
 Philip Sheridan and Simon Buckner, Wm. T. 
 Sherman and Joseph Johnston — the men who had 
 fought with him and those who had fought 
 against him, moving together toward a goal over 
 which was inscribed the great and passionate 
 desire of his warrior life : "Let us have Peace." 
 

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