Grant in Peace: from Appomattox to Mount McGregor, a Personal Memoir E-Book

Adam Badeau

• Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 929

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Adam Badeau served in the Union Army and assisted Grant in the preparation of Grant's memoirs. Grant in Peace is Badeau's biography of Ulysses S. Grant.

Leseprobe

Chapter 1: Introductory-relations of the writer with General Grant.

General Grant did his country quite as indispensable and efficient service during the years immediately after the Civil War as in the field; a service often unknown to the world, or to more than a very few of the actors, or nearest observers of the time. I propose to tell the story of the part of which I was a personal witness, or in regard to which I can bear peculiar testimony. I shall treat his relations with the most prominent persons of the epoch, setting forth his opinions of them and his feelings toward them, and lift the veil from events of importance to history, or to the understanding of Grant’s character and influence. I propose also to make known some of the circumstances of his Presidency and later career which have not hitherto been disclosed.

General Grant always knew that I contemplated writing his political history, and approved the intention. He promised me all the assistance he could give in its preparation, and refused his sanction to others who proposed a similar task. During his last illness, when it became certain that his military memoir would be widely read, I urged him to attempt himself a political volume, and he consented to do so if I would aid him. The chapters I now offer will include material that would have formed part of such a memoir, whether it had been written by himself or had remained my work, supervised and corrected by General Grant. To this  I shall add personal details too delicate to have been submitted to their subject, or to have been given to the world during his lifetime.

My relations with General Grant began in May, 1863. On the 5th of that month, immediately after crossing the Mississippi River in the Vicksburg campaign, he requested my appointment to duty on his staff. He had never seen me at the time, and made the application on the recommendation of General James H. Wilson, his inspector-general. I was then a captain serving on the staff of General T. W. Sherman, in Banks’s campaign against Port Hudson. My orders did not reach me till the 27th of May, just as the assault on Port Hudson was beginning. I was wounded in that assault, and unable to report to General Grant in person until the following February. I thus first saw him at Nashville, where he had established his headquarters, after the battle of Chattanooga.

Our relations at once became more than cordial. I was still on crutches, and he gave me a desk in his own room at headquarters, threw open his entire official correspondence to me, and delighted from the first to tell me all the details of his battles and campaigns. The bill creating the grade of lieutenant-general was then before Congress, and I had carried messages to him presaging its success. He discussed the subject freely, told me he felt no anxiety for the promotion, and would take no step to secure it; but, if it came, he would do his best to fulfill the higher duties it imposed. If otherwise, he would neither be disappointed nor in any way less devoted to the cause he served.

On the 3d of March he was ordered to Washington, and on the 11th assumed command of the armies of the United States. He at once assigned me to duty as military secretary, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel on his staff. I remained with him in this capacity till the end of the war; went through the Wilderness campaign and the siege of Richmond by his side, and was present at the fall of Petersburg and the surrender of Lee. During the next four years, those of the administration of Andrew Johnson, I was his confidential secretary and aide-de-camp. I opened all his letters, answered many that were seen by no other man, and necessarily knew his opinions on most subjects closely and intimately. Wherever he went at this time I accompanied him. In his tour through the South after the close of the war, in his visit to Canada, his journey over the entire North, which was one long triumphal procession; his stay at his little Galena home; during the stormy days of Reconstruction and the struggle between Congress and the President; at the time of the removal of Stanton; the impeachment of Johnson; the attempt to send General Grant out of the country; in the Presidential campaign of 1868; down to the preparations for his first administration, I was constantly in his society and confidence.

Enjoying these opportunities for knowing the man, and engaged at the time in writing his military history, I naturally took to studying his peculiar characteristics. For a long while he was just as much of an enigma to me as to the rest of the world. The apparent absence of vanity, of ambition, of pride in his success, of selfishness, was so complete and so unusual in a man who had achieved such success, that I could not at first comprehend him. I soon, however, grew into a profound affection for him, which, enhanced by my admiration for his achievements, became the paramount feeling of my life. All my object and ambition were to help build up or illustrate his fame.

He appreciated this regard and, I thought, returned it with a warmth that he did not often display. He allowed me to say things to him that few men say to each other, and at last he permitted me to see beneath the veil that concealed the mystery from mankind. I found him a man like other men, with feelings as profound as those of the most  passionate, but with a power of concealing them almost without example. His reserve, however, was natural in part, as well as in part the result of intention. At times there was a positive inability to reveal emotion, a sort of inarticulate undemonstrativeness as far as possible from stolidity.

He had few affections, but these were intense; he did not hate many, but he could be implacable. He was not what is usually called ambitious, but after he had been long in power he was not insensible to the sweets of possession, and was decidedly averse to relinquishing what he had enjoyed. He was not vain, but he knew his own qualities, and, though he had the faculty of receiving adulation with a greater appearance of equanimity than any other human being I have known, he was not indifferent to the recognition of the world or the praises of his friends. He who never betrayed on that imperturbable countenance that he relished the plaudits of the multitude has told me often with delicious frankness afterward of the compliments he had received; he who seemed so careless of censure or criticism —after some little attempt at a speech of four or five lines, has looked around shyly as he sat down, and whispered: ‘Was that all right?’ The disclosure is no betrayal of his confidence, now that his modesty can no longer be pained. It cannot but make his calm and stalwart nature still more interesting to know that it covered the ordinary softnesses of humanity. The living, breathing man is nearer to us than the statue of stone or unreal demi-god. The Grant that I knew was full of human nature. He had his weaknesses, but they made him more lovable sometimes to those who found them out; he had his faults, but to deny this would be to deny that he was mortal.

I took a great delight in studying, not only his moral, but his intellectual qualities. He was not in the least a critic by nature; especially he was not introspective. But he was so sure of me that he was willing for me to explore his nature, confident that I could find little to depreciate and nothing to dishonor him. I used to ask him how he came to do certain notable things, how the idea of some battle or campaign had been inspired or evolved in his mind, how he felt in a famous emergency; and he always tried to answer me. He. was curious himself when I suggested the inquiry. It had never occurred to him to examine himself in this way, and he was not an expert; but he would tell me all that he could remember or understand. And I always found the same simple, unaffected nature underlying all.

If he was unfair, and he was at times, he did not know it; he did not intend to be so. If his likes or dislikes affected his judgment, and they did, undoubtedly, it was unconsciously to himself; and he always wanted to atone for a wrong when he was convinced that he had inflicted one. But it was difficult to convince him.

It is, however, the intellectual side of him that is less understood. I never saw anything more curious than his intellectual growth. His faculties had never been exercised upon any large matters, or on any large scale until the war; then they expanded in the eminently practical career of a soldier. All his military greatness came of the plainest possible qualities, developed to an astounding degree. The clearness of his judgment, the control of his emotions, his quick insight into a subject, his large grasp, his determined will—these are faculties that any one might possess in an ordinary measure without exciting wonder, but these he carried into the most extraordinary circumstances, and applied on the grandest possible theatre. Notwithstanding all this, until the close of the war he had met few great men except soldiers, he had studied few great events except military ones, he knew few great subjects or situations, except battles and marches and sieges and campaigns.

When he went to Washington and was thrown into contact with men trained in the political and social arena, at first he was very shy. He did not like the atmosphere; he was not at home in it. He avoided the world, so far as he, at the core and the top of the world, could avoid it. He disliked politics and society, but soon perceived that his duty and his position threw him into both politics and society, and though he never seemed to be observing, he watched closely. He very soon conformed to etiquettes which at first had been, not only unfamiliar, but distasteful. He learned to understand the ways of men—and women—long used to arts and artifices. He never himself became a skillful simulator, but he could dissimulate as well as any man that ever lived; that is, he could prevent all but those who were absolutely closest to him, and sometimes these, from penetrating further than he wished into his thoughts or purposes or desires.

I had not seen him for several years when he visited Europe, and I was very much struck, at that time, with the growth and breadth of his intellect. I was with him at the tables of kings; I saw him in the company of the greatest European statesmen; at more than one brilliant court; and he rose to an equality that the foremost recognized. On his return to America, I was again very much with him, almost, if possible, in a closer intimacy than ever before, and I was convinced that he had learned profoundly by his experience of the Presidency and his wonderful journey around the world.

I saw him almost to the last, in his grim struggle with the greatest of all foes, and then too I recognized that the massive qualities of the man, though on so grand a scale, were after all, very human—the simple, natural traits that he shared with us all. He was a typical man, with his faults and virtues, only surpassing the rest by his achievements and his developed powers.

It is my intention to narrate the incidents and describe the conduct which produced in me this idea of General Grant.

The following letter refers to my plan of writing General Grant’s political history:

   General Grant to General Badeau.

   Naples, Dec. 18, 1877.

   my dear General,—Your letter and enclosed chapter of history were received here on our arrival yesterday. I have read the chapter and find no comments to make. It is, no doubt, as correct as history can be written, ‘except when you speak about me.’ I am glad to see you are progressing so well. Hope Vol. II. will soon be complete, and that the book will find large sale.

   No doubt but Governor Fish will take great pleasure in aiding you in your next book. He has all the data, so far as his own department was concerned. It was this habit to sum up the proceedings of each day before leaving his office, and to keep that information for his private perusal.

   To-day we ascend Mt. Vesuvius, to-morrow visit Pompeii and Herculaneum. About Saturday, the 22d, start for Palermo, thence to Malta, where we will probably spend the 25th. From there we go to Alexandria and up the Nile. That is about as far as I have definitely planned, but think on our return from the Nile we will go to Joppa, and visit Jerusalem from there; possibly Damascus and other points of interest also, and take the ship again at Beyrout. The next point will be Smyrna, then Constantinople. I am beginning to enjoy traveling, and if the money holds out, or if Consolidated Virginia mining stock does, I will not be back to the Eastern States for two years yet. Should they—the stocks—run down on my hands, and stop dividends, I should be compelled to get home the nearest way.

   Jesse is entirely well and himself again, and enjoys his travels under these changed conditions very much. I wrote a letter to Porter a good while ago, but have received no answer yet.

   Very truly yours,

   U. S. Grant.

Chapter 2: The terms at Appomattox.

The terms at Appomattox were neither dictated by the Government, nor suggested by Mr. Lincoln, nor inspired by any subordinate. Early in March, 1864, the Administration had positively prohibited General Grant from attempting to settle or even discuss the conditions of peace; and at the interview between Mr. Lincoln and the commissioners sent out from Richmond in February Grant was not permitted to be present. There was a determination on the part of Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Stanton to exclude the military authorities altogether from the final settlement, after submission should be secured. During Mr. Lincoln’s stay at City Point, prior to the final movements of the war, he had many conversations with Grant, but said nothing to indicate definitely what steps he intended to take at the close. Those steps were probably uncertain in his own mind, for, like all sagacious statesmen, he left much to be determined by circumstances as they might arise. Even after the fall of Petersburg, when the end of the war was evidently at hand, when Mr. Lincoln came up and conferred for an hour or two with Grant in the captured town, there was no definite line laid down for the head of the army. Grant only knew the general magnanimity of the President’s views and his disposition toward clemency. I make this statement from his own positive declarations.

So, also, it is within my knowledge that no subordinate, however great or however near, either knew or suggested  in advance the terms that Grant would impose on Lee. This fact he has repeatedly stated to me. Matters of such consequence he never decided until the moment for decision came, and he never in his life arranged the details of any matter until it was presented to him for actual determination. Thus, until he knew that he had the remains of the army of Lee within his grasp, he did not reduce to form, even in his own mind, the exact conditions upon which he would allow it to surrender. He had indeed long felt that when the war was ended there should be no vindictive policy toward the vanquished, and he informed Lee at once when they met that he meant to accept paroles; but the important final provision, that which gives all its peculiar character to the capitulation, was unstudied, and its language spontaneous. Yet the language is as precise as words can make it, and enunciates a policy which has done as much as victory itself to secure the results of the war. ‘Each officer and man will be allowed to return to his home, not to be disturbed by United States authority so long as they observe their paroles and the laws in force where they reside.’

The terms, however, were not in the least the result of chance, or carelessness, or indifference. They were the legitimate outgrowth of Grant’s judgment and feeling; the consequence of all that had gone before; embodied then for the first time, because then for the first time the necessity for the embodiment had arrived. In this way Grant always did his greatest things. It may be strange or inexplicable, but he could not often explain his methods, nor, indeed, always his reasons.

He had at this moment no defined large views about separating the military from the civil power, far less any intent of encroaching on the domain or prerogative of politics. He did not even, like Sherman, take into consideration the fate or condition of other forces of the enemy, although he was General-in-Chief; he confined himself strictly to the business before him—the disbanding and dispersion of Lee’s army. He wanted to secure that neither that army nor any of its members could ever again resist or confront the national authority; and when this was determined he was unwilling to inflict on one of those members a single unnecessary humiliation or suffering. He was, I am sure, unconscious of any special magnanimity in this course. He thought nothing of himself, and little as yet of the farreach-ing effect of his terms on the population of the South. What his hand found to do, it did, and no more; in peace as well as in war.

The corroboration of all this is the fact that the idea of allowing the officers to retain their sidearms and personal effects was suggested to him as he wrote. He wore no sword, having been summoned hastily from his own headquarters two days before to a distant portion of the field, with no opportunity of returning afterward. Lee, however, had dressed himself with care for the ceremony. His headquarters’ train had been burned by Sheridan in the pursuit, and Lee and his officers, able to save only a single suit of clothes, had secured the finest. In this way Lee was handsomely clad; he wore embroidered gauntlets and the sword presented to him by the ladies of Virginia. The conqueror, battle-stained, in a common soldier’s coat, looked up at his foe, elaborately arrayed, and the glitter of the rebel weapon suggested to him to spare the conquered the humiliation of surrendering it. Then he wrote the line permitting officers to retain their side-arms, horses, and personal effects. This statement has been questioned, but I give it on General Grant’s authority. He examined and corrected the account of the interview in my history of his campaigns.

I stood near him as Lee left the room, and thus happened to be the first to congratulate him upon the result. I said something about the event being one that would live forever in history. I am sure the idea had not occurred to him until I uttered it The effect upon his fame, upon history, was not what he was considering. He was thinking of the captured soldiery returning home without their weapons, to work their little farms; of a destitute country, ravaged by law, but now to be restored.

I talked with him that night when the others, tired with the marches and battles of the week, had gone to such beds as the camp provided. I had been used to sit up with him late into the night, to write his letters or to keep him company, for he could not sleep early. Then he always talked with greater freedom than at any other time. This night we spoke of the terms he had granted Lee. There were some of his officers who disliked the idea of the paroles, and thought at least the highest of the rebels should have been differently dealt with—held for trial. This was not my feeling, and I spoke of the effect his magnanimity was sure to have upon the country and the world. He was not averse to listen, and declared that he meant to maintain the compact no matter who opposed. But Lincoln, he said, was certain to be on his side.

The next day he met Lee again at the picket lines between the armies, and the two generals sat on their horses and discussed the condition of the South for hours, in sight of their soldiers. Lee assured Grant of the profound impression the stipulations of the surrender had made upon his army, and declared that the entire South would respond to the clemency he had displayed. Scores of the captured officers had already visited Grant, many of them his comrades at West Point, in the Mexican war, or on the Indian frontier, and thanked him for their swords, their liberty, and the immunity from civil prosecution which he had secured them.

Later on the same day he set out for Washington. General Ord accompanied him as far as City Point, and then was directed to take command in the captured capital. Ord shared the feeling I had expressed in regard to the treatment of the fallen enemy, and learning my views he asked that I might be ordered to accompany him to represent the General-in-Chief directly in Richmond, and to report familiarly and confidentially what could hardly be the subject of official letters. Grant was accustomed to employ his staff officers on such errands and he complied at once with Ord’s request. He informed me in a private conversation of the purpose of my orders. Ord’s task, he said, was to foster a submissive spirit among the conquered population and soldiers, and to carry out the lenient policy which the terms at Appomattox had foreshadowed, and I was to assist him in every way. I was to be given duties that would lead me into contact with Southerners of importance, and among other tasks that of distributing food to the destitute was committed to me. In Richmond, at that time, every one was destitute, and when General Lee arrived from Appomattox I had learned the condition of the city, and sent at once to inquire if I could furnish him and his staff with supplies. He replied by an aide-de-camp that he was greatly obliged, and did not know what he should have done had the offer not been made. He wanted, indeed, to sell his horses, both to obtain money and because he had no forage. There was only one way in which the food could be supplied. Congress had provided for such emergencies: printed tickets were prescribed, on the presentation of which what was called the ‘destitute ration’ was furnished. A ticket for a destitute ration was accordingly made out for General Robert E. Lee and staff.

When I was returning to Washington Lee requested me to ask of Grant whether the soldiers captured at Sailor’s Creek, four days before the final battle, might not be released on the terms granted to their fellows at Appomattox. There were 7,000 of these, among them General Custis Lee, a son of the Southern commander. But Grant considered that men taken in battle with arms in their hands were not as yet entitled to the same treatment with those who had surrendered  in the open field; for, it must be remembered, he held that he had been fighting rebels. Accordingly the men were not paroled at that time.

Nevertheless, the terms which he refused to extend in one instance he was prompt to temper to changed conditions in another. In the summer of 1866, a daughter of General Lee fell dangerously ill in North Carolina. Lee was then living at Lexington, in Virginia, and supposed that his parole did not allow him to leave his home, even to visit a dying child. I learned the fact and reported it to Grant, who at once directed me to enclose a formal extension of his parole to Lee, but to state that at this late day he did not consider the extension necessary. General Lee acknowledged the obligation in the following letter:

   Lexington, Va., August 3, 1866.

   Colonel,—I have had the honor to receive your letter of the 26th ult., enclosing an extension of the limits of my parole. I am very much obliged to the General Commanding the armies of the United States for his kind consideration. I am unable to visit North Carolina, and therefore did not think proper to apply for the favor granted.

   Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

   R. E. Lee. Colonel Adam Badeau, Military Secretary.

This was the last communication between the two great adversaries growing out of the war.

Chapter 3: Grant and the South after the War.

The policy initiated at Appomattox was steadily maintained by Grant. He became no more vindictive after the murder of Lincoln, nor did he shrink from the application of his own principles because they were carried further by Sherman than he thought advisable. The new President was anxious to treat ‘traitors’ harshly; he disliked the paroles that Grant had accorded to Lee and his soldiers, and steps were soon taken with his approval to procure the indictment of Lee for treason. General Lee at once appealed to General Grant. His first communication was verbal, and was made through Mr. Reverdy Johnson, who acted as the legal adviser of Lee; he came to see me to learn Grant’s feeling. I ascertained that Grant was firm in his determination to stand by his own terms, and so informed Mr. Johnson. Grant, however, thought that Lee should go through the form of applying for pardon, in order to indicate his complete submission. Lee, though entirely willing to make the application, was anxious to be assured in advance that Grant would formally approve it. General Ord, then in command in Richmond, made known this feeling of Lee to Grant, through General Ingalls, and Grant directed me to assure Mr. Reverdy Johnson of his readiness to indorse Lee’s application favorably. Accordingly Lee forwarded two papers of the same date, one an application for pardon in the prescribed form, and the other a statement of the proposed indictment and of his own belief that he was protected  against such action by his parole. Grant indorsed both of these documents, the first with an earnest recommendation that the pardon should be granted, the second with a distinct declaration that the officers and men paroled at Appomattox could not be tried for treason so long as they observed the terms of their paroles.

He went in person to discuss these papers with the President. But Andrew Johnson was not satisfied; he wanted, he said, ‘to make treason odious.’

‘When can these men be tried?’ he asked.

‘Never,’ said Grant, ‘unless they violate their paroles.’

The President still insisted, and his Attorney-General wrote an official letter opposing Grant’s contention. Finally Grant declared that he would resign his commission in the army unless the terms he had granted were confirmed. I remember well the day when this occurred. He returned from the Cabinet chamber to his own headquarters and described the interview. When he recited his language he added:

‘And I will keep my word. I will not stay in the army if they break the pledges that I made.’

Then the resolution of the President gave way, for he found a will more stubborn, or at least more potent with the people, than his own, and orders were issued to discontinue the proceedings against Lee.

The great antagonists met only once after the scenes at Appomattox Court House. It was in May, 1869, soon after the first inauguration of Grant. Lee was in Washington about some business connected with railroads, and thought it his duty to call on the President. He was received in the Cabinet chamber when no one was present but Mr. Motley, who had been recently appointed Minister to England. General Grant and Motley both described the interview to me. Motley said both men were simple and dignified, but he thought there was a shade of constraint in the manner of Lee, who was indeed always inclined to be more formal than the Northern general. The former enemies shook hands; Grant asked Lee to be seated, and presented Motley. The interview was short, and all that Grant could remember afterward was that they spoke of building railroads, and he said playfully to Lee:

‘You and I, General, have had more to do with destroying railroads than building them.’

But Lee refused to smile, or to recognize the raillery. He went on gravely with the conversation, and no other reference was made to the past. Lee soon arose, and the soldiers parted, not to meet again until their mighty shades saluted each other in that region where conquerors and conquered alike lay down their arms.

Scores of Southern officers besides Lee applied to Grant for protection, and literally hundreds of civilians who wished to avail themselves of the amnesty requested his favorable indorsement. It was my duty to examine these applications and lay them before him; and seldom indeed was one refused. General J. Kirby Smith, in command west of the Mississippi, did not surrender with the other armies in rebellion, and even when his forces yielded he fled to Mexico. But in a month or two he wrote to Grant, applying to be placed on the same footing with those who had surrendered earlier. Grant thereupon obtained the assurance of the President that if Smith would return and take the prescribed oath, he should be treated exactly as if he had surrendered and been paroled.

In September, 1865, Alexander Stephens, the VicePres-ident of the Southern Confederacy, appealed to General Grant in the following letter from Fort Warren in Boston Harbor, where he was imprisoned, asking for his release on parole or bail. This was soon afterward granted.

   Fort Warren, Boston Harbor, mass., 16th Sept., 1865.

   Lieutenant-General U. S. Grant, Washington, D. C,.

   dear Sir,—The apology for this letter, as well as its explanation, is to be found in the facts herein briefly presented. I am now in confinement in this place and have been since the 25th of May last. Efforts are being made by friends to have me released on parole as others, arrested as I was, have been. You will excuse me for saying that I think I am as justly entitled to discharge on parole as many of those to whom I allude. No man I think in the Southern States exerted his powers to a greater extent than I did to avert the late lamentable troubles of our country—no man strove harder or more earnestly to mitigate the evils and sufferings of war while it lasted, and to bring about a peaceful solution of the difficulties than I did—no man is less responsible for the beginning or continuance of the strife, with all its horrors, than I am—and no man living can more earnestly desire a speedy restoration of peace, harmony, and prosperity, throughout the country than I do. All these things I think I can assert of myself. But of my views and feelings under a very different aspect of affairs from what now exists you are not altogether uninformed. You had them very fully expressed at City Point last February. You reported them very correctly in your telegram from that place to the Secretary of War—upon that telegram the conference at Hampton Roads was granted. When I parted with you on my return from that conference, I assured you, as you may recollect, that while nothing definite had been accomplished, yet I was in hopes that good would come of it. Such was my hope and earnest desire. No one could have been more disappointed, mortified, and chagrined, at the result of his labors, in any undertaking than I was at the result of mine in that instance. I refer to this interview between us not only because of its pleasant reminiscences of a personal character, but as proof within your own knowledge of some things stated above in regard to my views and feelings at that time. The object of this letter, therefore, is simply to ask you, if entirely compatible with your own inclination, to lend the great weight of your name and influence with the President, the  Secretary of War, and the Secretary of State, for my release on parole. I have applied to the President for pardon and amnesty, but if he for any reason feels disposed to postpone the decision of that matter I am perfectly content. What I desire mainly is a release from imprisonment on parole as others, or on bail if it should be required. In no event would I attempt to avoid a prosecution or trial if it should be thought proper for any considerations to adopt such a course toward me. I wish a release from imprisonment on account both of my health and private affairs. I might add that I think I could render some service in restoring harmony to the country; that, however, I leave for others to consider. My case and request are briefly submitted to you. Act in the premises as your sense of duty may direct.

   Yours most respectfully,

   Alexander H. Stephens.

In December of the same year Mrs. Jefferson Davis applied to Grant by letter, and in May, 1866, she went in person to Washington to ask his influence in procuring a remission of some of the penalties imposed upon her husband, and Grant did use his influence, not indeed to obtain the release of the prisoner, but to mitigate the hardships of his confinement. Mrs. Davis’s letter and messages were conveyed through me; the letter was full of respect for the conqueror, acknowledgments of his clemency, and touching appeals for further mercy.

‘All know you ever,’ she said, ‘as good as well as great, merciful as well as brave.’ ‘Make me,’ she concluded, ‘your respectful friend.’

The vindictive feeling of President Johnson continued for months, and only Grant’s interposition preserved the good faith of the Government, or rescued many, civilians as well as soldiers, from imprisonment and pecuniary ruin; for he urged the restoration of their property as well as the remission of personal penalties. In consequence there grew up toward Grant a remarkable feeling at the South. I accompanied him in November, 1865, when he made a tour through Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee, to investigate and report upon the condition and feeling of the population. Everywhere he was received with the greatest respect by those who had regarded him the year before as the chief of their adversaries. The Governors of States and Mayors of cities instantly called on him; the most prominent soldiers and private citizens paid their respects. State Legislatures invited him to their chambers, suspended their sessions, and rose to greet him formally as he entered. The man who had done most to subdue the South was universally recognized as its protector and savior from further suffering.

This feeling was not purely personal. It contributed to create a loyal and submissive disposition. On the 18th of December, at the conclusion of his tour, Grant reported to the President that ‘the mass of thinking men of the South accepted the situation in good faith’; and while he recommended that a strong military force should still be retained in the Southern States, he declared his belief that ‘the citizens of that region are anxious to return to self-government within the Union as soon as possible.’ This document Charles Sumner denounced in the Senate as a ‘whitewashing’ report. The statesman did not concur with the conqueror in believing the South subdued. Before long Sumner was in favor of remitting restrictions which Grant wished to retain. For General Grant believed that the feeling of the South after this epoch underwent a change; and in consequence his judgment changed as to the treatment the South should receive. But his sentiment at the close of the war is better expressed in a letter he wrote to Mrs. Grant than in any formal document.

On the 24th of April, 1865, General Grant arrived at Sherman’s headquarters in North Carolina, having been sent from Washington by the government to annul the convention between Sherman and Johnston. He at once directed Sherman to discontinue all civil negotiations and demand the surrender of Johnston on the same terms that had been allowed to Lee. While he waited for Johnston’s reply, Grant wrote the following letter to his wife, which Mrs. Grant gave me as a relic twenty years ago:

   headquarters military division of the Mississippi. In the field, Raleigh, April 25, 1865.

   dear Julia,—We arrived here yesterday, and as I expected to return to-day, did not intend to write until I returned. Now, however, matters have taken such a turn that I suppose Sherman will finish up matters by to-morrow night and I shall wait to see the result.

   Raleigh is a very beautiful place. The grounds are large and filled with the most beautiful spreading oaks I ever saw. Nothing has been destroyed, and the people are anxious to see peace restored, so that further devastation need not take place in the country. The suffering that must exist in the South the next year, even with the war ending now, will be beyond conception. People who talk of further retaliation and punishment, except of the political leaders, either do not conceive of the suffering endured already or they are heartless and unfeeling and wish to stay at home out of danger while the punishment is being inflicted.

   Love and kisses for you and the children.

   Ulys.

This letter was written eleven days after the assassination of Lincoln. Grant disapproved of Sherman’s terms as absolutely as Stanton or the President; he had just revoked all negotiations for civil conditions, and insisted on the absolute military submission of the enemy; but he was full of pity for the people of the South, and had only harsh rebuke for the rancor that would inflict further suffering. He turned from war and its horrors to the spreading oaks of Raleigh for relief, and while waiting the answer to his inexorable summons sent love and kisses to his wife and ‘the children.’

Chapter 4: Grant and Andrew Johnson-their original concord and the growth of a different feeling.

For a while after the death of Lincoln the relations between the new President and Grant were of the most cordial character. The only point of difference was in regard to the treatment of the South. At first the victorious General was far more inclined to leniency than Johnson. But by degrees the President’s feeling became mitigated, and by the winter of 1865 he was already more disposed to be the political partisan of the Southerners than the ally of those who had elected him. He had conceived the idea that without the aid of Congress he could reconstruct the Union; and doubtless believed that by making extraordinary advances and offering extraordinary immunities to the South, he could build up a national party at both the North and the South of which he would necessarily be the head. The great popularity of Grant at this period made it important to win him over to the support of the enterprise.

Grant was unused to the arts of placemen and politicians, and indeed unversed in any manoeuvres except those of the field. He still retained his magnanimous sentiment toward the conquered, and was at first in no way averse to what he supposed were the President’s views. He protested against the harsh measures advised by many Northerners, and was far more in accord with Johnson than with Stanton. The Democrats claimed him; the Republicans distrusted him. General Richard Taylor came to me about this time and proposed that Grant should become the candidate of the Democratic party in the next Presidential election, promising the support of the South in a mass if it was allowed to vote. James Brooks, then the leader of the Democrats in the House of Representatives, made similar overtures, also through me. Brooks was my intimate personal friend; he always predicted that Grant would be the next President, and he was avowedly anxious to secure him for the Democrats. I invariably told my chief whatever I learned that could affect or interest him, no matter what the source, and I conveyed these messages to Grant. He sent no reply, nor did he indicate either satisfaction or displeasure at the suggestion. At that time he had no strong political bias, and, I believe, no political ambition. Both were slow of development, though both came at last.

When Mr. Johnson proposed in November that Grant should make a tour of the South and report the condition and feeling of the people, the General-in-Chief was entirely willing. He performed the journey and reported in accordance with the expectations of the President, but very much to the disgust of ardent and bitter Republicans, who were destined afterward to claim him as their representative and chief.

When Congress met in December the policy of the President had been fully developed, and up to that time had not been opposed by Grant. Johnson, without any authority of law, had appointed Governors in the seceded States and allowed their Legislatures to assemble; he had even exacted changes in their constitutions—all without the sanction or advice of Congress. He had refused to call Congress together, and as that body was without the power to summon itself before the ordinary time, this left him from April to December at liberty to prosecute his plans. Grant thought it would have been wiser had the President convoked Congress and taken its advice; but he held himself to be merely a military officer, and was unwilling to intrude into civil affairs. He had not been consulted in regard to the policy of the President, and as Congress was not summoned, and some system of reconstruction was indispensable, he acquiesced in the action of his superior. But he always maintained that the action was provisional; that Congress, as the representative of the people, must eventually decide what should be done, and to that decision all must bow. I frequently heard him express this view.

During the winter, however, the President and Congress came to an open rupture. Grant had striven to prevent this. He felt the necessity of harmony between the two branches of the Government at so critical a juncture, and he used all the weight and influence which his achievements gave to bring about this harmony. But the President was obstinate, and Congress entirely disapproved his plan and reversed his proceedings. Mr. Johnson maintained that as soon as any State had formally acquiesced in the abolition of slavery its representatives should be readmitted to Congress with all the power they held before seceding. But grave objections were offered to such a course. The Constitution had originally provided that the number of representatives should be apportioned to the population, adding in each State to the number of the free three-fifths of those not free. By this arrangement, though the slaves did not vote, the masters had the benefit of their numbers. The anomaly had been one of the original compromises of the Constitution. But the entire Southern population was now free, and would therefore be included in the basis for representation, though still the freedmen had no vote; so that emancipation actually increased very largely the number of representatives to which the South under the Constitution was entitled. To this Congress would not agree; but Mr. Johnson insisted  that the States which had revolted should be received back into the Union with their political power increased as the result of the war. Besides this, he wished to exact no guarantees for the payment of the war debt of the nation or the repudiation of that of the South. He claimed the right to pardon every man engaged in the Rebellion at his own individual will, and he took no care to protect the emancipated millions. On all these points Congress was at issue with him.

Their differences extended to the entire nation. The encouragement given by the Executive not unnaturally awoke in the South a desire to recover its old ascendency. The leaders perceived and accepted their opportunity. They of course became the partisans of Johnson and assumed a very different tone from that they had maintained immediately after the war, while the Northern people were provoked, fearing to lose what had been won at so much cost.

Grant tried for a while to hold the balance between the two parties. He strove to preserve his original magnanimity of feeling, and never swerved from the doctrine that the officers of the Southern army were exempt from punishment for military acts committed during the war. He angered many Northern friends by his insistence on this point. But he rebuked what he deemed the offensive tone of the Southern press, and suspended newspapers that made themselves especially obnoxious. He refused to permit the reorganization of the State militia at the South. He never forgot that a mighty war had just closed, and that he was dealing with those who had been the nation’s enemies.

Up to this time his position had been exclusively military; but the situation developed in him a political vision and compelled political action. Both parties to the contest wanted to use the prestige of his name; both laid their arguments before him and sought to secure his support. The President was full of devices and schemes not always  creditable. He began by trying to wheedle Grant. He sent him constant personal and familiar notes and cards—an unusual courtesy, almost a condescension, from a President. With these messages he often enclosed slips from the Southern newspapers, complimenting Grant on his magnanimity, and predicting that he was sure to support the President in upholding the ‘rights of the South.’ Two of these notes I preserved. They show the intimate footing that Johnson desired to maintain.

   From the President.

   General U. S. Grant—Present.

   Will General Grant be kind enough to call as he passes on his way home, or such other time as may be most convenient.

   Sincerely,

   Andrew Johnson.

   I would be pleased to see General Grant this morning if he can conveniently call.

   Andrew Johnson.

Both of these are in pencil; the former is without date, and the address on each is in the President’s hand.

Once when the difference between Congress and the President was at its height Grant chanced to give an evening party, and the President came uninvited with his family and remained an hour or two, an honor almost unexampled at that day, when a President neither visited nor attended evening parties. He stood by the side of Grant and received the guests, and the circumstance was heralded all over the country as an indication of the cordial political understanding between them.

In 1866 a convention was held at Philadelphia of those who supported Mr. Johnson’s views. It was attended by many Southerners and by Northerners who had opposed the war, as well as by some who had fought for the Union but who now advocated measures less stringent than Congress advised. A delegation was appointed by this convention to proceed to Washington and present resolutions of sympathy to the President. Late on the morning of their arrival Johnson sent the following note to Grant:

   Executive Mansion, Washington, D. C., August 18, 1866.

   General U. S. Grant, Commanding, etc.:

   General,—The President presents his compliments to you and requests the pleasure of your presence at the reception at the Executive Mansion of the committee from the recent convention at Philadelphia, which will take place to-day at one (I) o’clock P. M.

   With great respect,

   R. Morrow, Brevet Colonel and Adjutant-General.

Grant was still unwilling to take any definite political position, such as his presence at this reception would indicate; but he felt himself obliged to obey the summons of the President. He went to the White House with the intention of excusing himself, but the President had already taken his place in the East Room, and sent for the General-in-Chief to join him there. Again Grant thought that without positive rudeness he could not refuse. So he stood by Johnson’s side during the entire demonstration, greatly to his own disgust and chagrin, and returned to his headquarters afterward full of indignation at the device by which he had been entrapped, and beginning to detest the policy of the President, if for nothing else, because of his petty manoeuvring.

These wiles continued. In August, the President determined to make a tour to Chicago by way of New York and Buffalo and other cities, and invited Grant to accompany him. A subordinate can hardly decline such an invitation from the Chief of the State, but Grant, who perceived the object, offered repeated excuses. Mr. Johnson, however, continued to urge the matter, and finally put the request as a personal solicitation. Grant felt that it would be indecorous any longer to object, and accordingly accompanied the President. As he had anticipated, the tour was converted into a political pilgrimage. At every point Mr. Johnson made speeches and received demonstrations in favor of his policy, while Grant was dragged about an unwilling witness of manifestations which he disapproved. He kept himself, as much as possible, in the background, and refused absolutely to make any speeches; but his presence was nevertheless proclaimed as positive evidence of his adherence to the President’s policy. Finally, his disgust was so great that he became half unwell, and pleading illness left the party and returned to Washington in advance of the President.

He was not free from the peculiarities of ordinary humanity; and this entire incident intensified his growing dislike to the plans and proceedings of Andrew Johnson. Grant indeed had at this time a peculiar aversion to crooked ways and diplomatic arts, an aversion perhaps more manifest in the earlier part of his career than afterward. For although he himself always remained direct—after mingling much with the world he found artifice and craft so common that the shock of the discovery wore off. But when he was new to them they affected him most unfavorably, and the chicanery of Johnson disposed him in advance to dislike the principles it was intended to aid. Thus the President, by his manoeuvres, instead of attracting, actually repelled the straightforward and obstinate soldier. It was, however, not so much Grant’s real concurrence as the appearance of it before the world that Johnson probably sought, and something of this he secured. Grant was conscious of the unfair success, and this very consciousness made him more ready to take an opposite stand.

Congress finally announced its plan of reconstruction, which was simply to undo what the President had attempted and to refuse admission to the Southern States until a new basis of representation was established. The Legislature did not insist on the enfranchisement of the blacks, but declared that whenever the right to vote was withheld the representation should be reduced by the proportion which the nonvoting population bore to the whole; the South should not have its representation increased because of a war in which it had failed. Congress also excluded those who had once been civil or military officers of the United States and had afterward engaged in insurrection, from holding office again under the Government they had striven to overthrow; it stipulated for the sacredness of the National debt and the forfeiture of that of the Confederacy. These provisions were embodied in an amendment to the Constitution to be submitted to all the States, both North and South. In the autumn of 1866, in spite of the violent opposition of the Administration, the amendment was ratified by every Northern State. The President’s plan was thus rejected by those who had been successful in the field. At this epoch Grant became a politician. He threw in his lot with the people with whom he had fought.

The following letter illustrates the original aversion of Grant to entering politics:

   General Grant to General Sherman.

   （Private.)

   headquarters armies of the United States, Washington, D. C., Oct. 18, 1866.

   dear General,—Yesterday the President sent for me and in the course of conversation asked if there was any objection to you coming to this city for a few days. I replied, of course, that there was not. I wish, therefore, that you would make your arrangements to come on with me from Cincinnati after the meeting of the ‘Society of the Army of the Tennessee.’ The President showed me a letter which you wrote to him about the 1st of February, the contents of which you will remember, and stated that some people had advised its publication and asked my advice. I told him very frankly that military men had no objection to the publication of their views as expressed upon official matters properly brought before them, but that they did not like expressions of theirs which are calculated to array them on one or other side of antagonistic political parties to be brought before the public. That such a course would make or was calculated to make a whole party array itself in opposition .to the officer and would weaken his influence for good.

   I cannot repeat the language used by me, but I gave him to understand that I should not like such a use of a letter from me, nor did not think you would. Taking the whole conversation together, and what now appears in the papers, I am rather of the opinion that it is the desire to have you in Washington either as Acting Secretary of War, or in some other way. I will not venture in a letter to say all I think about the matter, or that I would say to you in person.

   When you come to Washington I want you to stay with me, and if you bring Mrs. Sherman and some of the children, we will have room for all of you.

   Yours truly,

   U. S. Grant. To Major-General W. T. Sherman, St. Louis, Mo.

Chapter 5: Grant's first step in politics.

Grant’s first political step was taken when Johnson’s plan of reconstruction was rejected by the North. The rejection had been complete. Not only was the constitutional amendment which Johnson opposed accepted by every Northern State, but a Congress antagonistic to the President’s views was returned by overwhelming majorities. Now Grant was in some respects as absolute a democrat as ever lived. He believed implicitly in the rule of the people: when they pronounced, he submitted. He had taken no decided stand up to this time, but when the will of those who had won in the war was definitely known, he declared that their decision should be accepted.

Johnson, however, had no idea of submitting. At the beginning he may have undertaken his enterprise with patriotic motives, but he persisted after it was plain, not only that he was opposing those who had been his political allies, and had placed him in the Executive chair, but that he was offending the sentiment of the faithful North. Very few supported him after the elections except those who had been hostile to the Union in the moment of its peril. Grant had, therefore, a double reason for disapproving Johnson’s course; not only the deliberate decision of the people was against the President, but the voice of the vast majority of Union men had reached their leader.

Johnson, nevertheless, remained as determined as ever. He had appealed to the people, but he refused to abide by  the result of the appeal. The amendment was still to be submitted to the Southern States, and every effort was made by the Administration to induce them to reject it. They were assured that the North would recede from its position if they held out; that the present feeling was temporary, and the President’s policy in the end must prevail. Grant, on the other hand, now took a decided stand in recommending submission. He felt that he stood in such a position before the country, almost representing the Union sentiment, that it became his duty to address the Southerners.

He had done nothing to induce the Northern people to come to their decision, but after the decision was made he used all his influence to prevail on the South to accept it. That influence with the South was very great. The clemency he had shown them was not forgotten. His present power was not ignored. No Southerner of importance at this time went to Washington without presenting himself at Grant’s headquarters, while many visited his house, and to all he proffered the same advice. Formal delegations came from the South to consult with public men upon the course they should pursue. These all came in contact with Grant, who was never unwilling to meet them.

Among others was a very important deputation from Arkansas, and Mr. Seward, the Secretary of State, although he was opposed to the amendment, arranged an interview for the party at his own house with Grant. The General-in-Chief spoke very plainly; he declared to the delegates that he was their friend, and as their friend he warned them that the temper of the North was aroused, and if these terms were rejected harsher ones would be imposed. He argued and pleaded with them, and with every Southerner he met, for the sake of the South, for the sake of the entire country, for their own individual sakes, to conform to the situation. He assured them that submission to the inevitable would secure a lightening of all that was really onerous in the conditions now proposed.

This conduct was in complete harmony with Grant’s character. It was the practical man who spoke, and who saw that worse remained behind if the South failed to submit now. But besides this sagacious foresight Grant showed a warmth of feeling at this time that was more conspicuous because of his inexcitability during the war. He seemed to have a keener personal interest, an unwillingness to lose what had been secured at so much cost. Perhaps he did not want to see his own work undone, his clemency made subject for arraignment. Of course no such word was uttered to or by him, but he certainly never in his career appeared more anxious or ardent in any task than in his efforts now to induce the South to accept the terms which he believed the easiest the North would ever offer.

The following letter to General Richard Taylor, the brother-in-law of Jefferson Davis, and one of the most influential of the Southern leaders, shows that this view is no imaginative speculation or far-fetched criticism:

   headquarters armies of the United States, Washington, D. C., Nov. 25, 1866.

   dear General,—Your letter of the 20th is just received. My letter to Pride, with which this is enclosed, answers a part of yours.