I’ll just lay it out upfront: this is one of the finest biographies I’ve ever read. Ron Chernow’s outstanding research and captivating writing really draw you in and compel you to keep reading. While the narrative runs an imposing 959 pages, it’s such a delightful read you’ll soon get over its length.
Here at the School of Advanced Military Studies (SAMS), one of the signature experiences students have while attending the school is a staff ride to Vicksburg, where Grant turned the tide against the Confederacy in the western theater. Having yet to go but anticipating a window of opportunity in the next class, I decided to hone my Grant knowledge. I seriously considered tackling Grant’s autobiographical tome titled Personal Memoirs of U.S. Grant, finished just days before his death and considered by many scholars to be one of the best military memoirs in existence, but realized it focuses heavily on his military campaigns and leadership, with little coverage of his presidency and other aspects of his life. I wanted to know all about the man, from his birth to his death and everything in between. What shaped his outlook? What made him such an effective military leader? How much did alcohol influence his ways? Why do so many people refer to him as a butcher, based on his battle history? How can one explain the seeming disconnect between his lauded wartime service and his maligned presidency? Why did he fall prey to charlatans so often? So, with all these questions, I wanted a more holistic treatment and tracked down Chernow’s biography and was well-rewarded.
In the first few pages, Chernow admits one of his goals in writing the book was to dispel long-standing misconceptions about Grant. Those misperceptions were fostered mostly during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century by post-Civil War politics and the emergence of the “Lost Cause” narrative actively peddled by revisionist Southerners intent on rewriting the historical record to sanitize and beautify a brutal, ugly past. In Chernow’s depiction, Grant is principled, a military genius (particularly his ability to see the strategic connections to his operational and tactical level actions), and a vibrant supporter of civil rights for the newly freed former slaves.
Grant’s life begins unremarkably, and, for the first thirty-nine years, oscillates between marginal success and near insolvency as he repeatedly struggled to make a living as a farmer, land speculator, businessman, and soldier. And no small part of that struggle to make it financially—a persistent concern throughout his life—was due to a character flaw, of sorts. He had an abiding, albeit troubling, trust in other people, believing they lived by a code like his own that placed a premium on honor; when they didn’t, Grant and his family suffered.
In so many ways, Grant’s life reads like a Greek tragedy: an arc of rise, fall, redemption, and tragedy. Through it all, and the indignities he suffered, he managed to maintain his self-esteem, his kindness toward others, and an outsized compassion for humanity in general. Knocking on the door of forty years old in 1861, and with dim prospects, he was, to put it mildly, disillusioned, thinking this was as good as things were likely to get in this life. However, with the winds of war howling steadily, and his military experience sorely needed for the titanic struggle to come, he decided to rejoin the military he had grudgingly left behind in 1854 under a cloud of disdain for his alleged excessive drinking lapses. Indeed, the seven years between his resignation from the army and then rejoining it on the heels of the war’s outbreak, were among the darkest days of Grant’s life. No one could have predicted—least of all Grant himself—that his life would be forever transformed by the outbreak of war at Fort Sumter.
In the mayhem that followed, governors of the Union states struggled to recruit the forces they had been charged with forming. Many a former officer raced to acquire a commission for what looked to be some good fun. They were quick to burnish their advertised talents. Grant, by contrast, hoped his reputation and record, particularly during the Mexican War, would stand on its own merits. He hoped for nothing more than a colonelcy in the reserves. And yet, despite the Union’s pressing need for manpower, it seemed Grant’s wish might go unrealized. And then fate or good fortune stepped in. An old acquaintance interceded on his behalf, vouching for his good character and that was that. From there, his meteoric rise began, and his life would never be the same again.
With a methodical artistry and demure demeanor, he began racking up victory after victory, for the most part. Occasionally, when he did suffer a setback, he rarely dwelled on it for long, intent on gaining and maintaining the initiative. While the lion’s share of the country’s attention was focused on the happenings in the East, Grant trudged onward in the Western Theater with little fanfare. But soon, his accomplishments caught the eye of someone long frustrated by a bevy of generals seemingly adverse to locking horns with the Confederacy in a sustained way. But it was his exploits at Vicksburg that cemented his reputation. His strategic masterpiece combined maneuver warfare, deception, and innovation. On 4 July 1863, after a forty-seven-day siege, Grant took Pemberton’s surrender of the now battered fort. In strategic terms, the victory was a massive blow for the South. Now, the Union had complete control of the Mississippi River, a heretofore vital line of communication and transport for the Confederacy. It was a stunning defeat for Jeff Davis to swallow, coming only one day after the Robert E. Lee’s loss at Gettysburg.
Now, at a breathtaking pace, Grant would rise to command the Union Army and win the Civil War in alliance with Abraham Lincoln, who, early on, recognized his qualities (aggressiveness; persistence) and chose to overlook the oftentimes petty criticisms, routinely centered around alcohol consumption, of other generals jealous of his ascendancy. As a rebuttal, of sorts, Lincoln is often credited, apocryphally, with having uttered to one of Grant’s detractors, “Because, if I can only find out, I will send a barrel of this wonderful whiskey to every general in the army.”1
Lincoln trusted Grant to coordinate strategy across multiple theaters. And Grant aimed to present the Confederacy with simultaneous offensives to stretch their resources. In this endeavor, he developed a particularly fruitful partnership with Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman where they would essentially tag team the Confederacy, hastening its demise.
The war would end in April 1865 when Lee surrendered at Appomattox. Grant was a gracious and graceful victor who offered very lenient terms and allowed soldiers to return home with their horses, symbolizing his commitment to reconciliation. It was a very promising start to a very arduous task. One that would not be reciprocated, unfortunately, making for a very challenging Reconstruction period. But Lincoln was certainly up to the task … until a disgruntled actor derailed everything.
Lincoln’s vice president, Andrew Johnson, could not have been more ill-suited to the Reconstruction enterprise. Although a Southern Democrat from Tennessee who remained loyal to the Union, he clashed repeatedly with a Republican Congress over Reconstruction policies. His combative nature culminated in him becoming the first American president to be impeached.2 After one tumultuous term, he was shown the door and Grant assumed the office after resigning his commission. Grant saw it as his duty to complete Lincoln’s ambitious reconciliation with a battered South.
With Grant’s ascension to the highest office (1869–1877), there was tremendous hope that the hard work of Reconstruction could now be embraced wholeheartedly. Grant was the most respected American alive. If anyone could do what needed to be done, it was “Unconditional Surrender” Grant.
But that promising start quickly became mired by a revisionist South, increasingly intent on rolling back many, if not all, the advances made by Black Americans in the wake of Union victory. The most pernicious of these foes was the Ku Klux Klan (KKK), a group so violent and reprehensible that the KKK became synonymous with savage brutality on a scale heretofore unimaginable in America, except maybe for the cruelest excesses of the institution of slavery prior to the war. But Grant was adamant—unshakably committed to the notion—all citizens (to include the Native Americans) must be treated fairly and humanely. Grant performed admirably in his role as protector, but Washington (and much of the South) could be cancerous places, and his efforts were often undermined by self-serving racists and thoroughly corrupt parties.
Adding to Grant’s headaches, he would soon find his reputation seriously tarnished by the deceitful behavior of so many he surrounded himself with during his White House tenure. The problem boiled down to this: He had a difficult time acclimating to the different demands of a politician versus a general. He believed the leadership acumen he had demonstrated during the war would also serve him well as the chief executive. But generals can rely on rank and contingency to affect their will. Politicians, by contrast, must engage in far more nuanced give-and-take that often strikes a principled man such as Grant as despicable, inefficient, immoral, and tawdry. He also did a poor job, at times, evaluating the character of individuals he had served with during his time as a soldier, not to mention their qualifications for the postings to which they were assigned. Even when confronted with their treachery, he often refused to believe it, to his own detriment. They often did a great disservice to him in the positions of trust he bestowed upon them, sullying his cherished reputation and honor.
When his eight years in the office were up, he expressed understandable joy at leaving the demanding responsibilities behind. It was time to rest. And he had earned a break after fifteen years of unending service to the Nation.
Following a two-and-a-half year, world wind global tour, where he was feted nonstop by royalty, politicians, titans of business, scientists, and diplomats, and accompanied by his wife Julia, a child or two popping in and out, and a small entourage, to include a journalist, one could be forgiven for thinking all he wanted to do was slow down. But surprisingly, while still on the road, he became interested in running for a third term in 1880, probably to resuscitate his damaged image in the eyes of many Americans who saw in his administration so many of the rampant injustices of the Gilded Age. But Grant would play down any such interest. Like his previous runs, he preferred for the party to come to him, rather than he go to the party.3 Some in his own party felt new blood was needed, not to mention government reform, to root out the corruption so endemic to it at the time. Others felt he was lukewarm about the prospect. And, of course, the Democrats wanted to overturn the remaining vestiges of Reconstruction.
Ultimately, a third term was not in the cards. There were lots of party intrigues, for sure, and Grant was angry about the fact he was led to believe by many his nomination was in the bag. Regrettably, he ended up looking like a stooge. But there was also the Washington precedent, established by the first man to occupy the office—no more than two terms. Together, these forces combined to thrust a non-candidate, James Garfield, into the race, and he was subsequently elected, to the shock of many, no doubt.
With that intrigue behind him, Grant settled into retirement. Always insecure about his finances, Grant took great comfort in his supposed good fortune crossing paths with Wall Street financier Ferdinand Ward. In 1884, Grant went into partnership with Ward, leaving the business end of things—and control over all accounts—to Ward while confining himself to banal activities like showing his face (presumably to attract other investors). His future income was assured by the spectacular returns his young, energetic business partner was racking up … or so he thought.4 The year-over-year gushing profits were so exhilarating and intoxicating that Grant’s whole family, and many friends and associates, piled into the “sure thing” investment fraud. Shockingly, Grant never delved into the workings of the business, blindly trusting Ward. It was the same kind of trust that had burned him many times before in his life, though never on such a large scale. In a flash, his amassed wealth was snatched away in what turned out to be a forerunner of the infamous Ponzi scheme that has befallen countless folks for longer than we care to admit. Grant was dumbstruck. What would become of his family? He was down, for certain, but not out. Thankfully, this was not to be the last chapter of his life, but the end was approaching, though no one knew it yet.
Amidst these latest misfortunes, Grant took a respite to get away from all the noise. His preferred escape was on the coast. There, among the rustle of the leaves and ocean air, he tried his best to relax, if only for Julia’s benefit. But one day, he encountered excruciating pain when he swallowed. In short order, it was determined he had terminal throat cancer. He was only sixty-two. He accepted the diagnosis with the same stoicism he had always exhibited in times of crisis. But the fate of his family dominated his concerns, consuming his thoughts, and, no doubt, raising his anxiety and stress.
Grant had been repeatedly approached about publishing his memoir but had declined as it did not align with his humble nature, despite the wealth to be gotten from such a venture. However, now, faced with poverty and to escape the shame, embarrassment, and destitution of losing his entire nest egg to a schemer, he entertained a thought he had previously sworn off. He accepted an offer but had not officially committed to the project when an old acquaintance, Mark Twain, learned of his impending deal. He pleaded with Grant to reconsider publishing the memoir under Twain’s own printing label. As Twain would pay him much more for the work, Grant grudgingly made the switch but made sure to thank the other interested party and notify them of the rationale for the change, in keeping with his personal code of integrity.
Grant worked tirelessly on the memoir, probably realizing he had little time left and a finished product is all that would ensure Julia’s wellbeing after he was gone. As it turned out, he was an excellent writer. Twain remarked that he almost did no editing of it. The two-volume set would eventually sell hundreds of thousands of copies and generate significant income for Julia. Like a dedicated soldier, Grant put in tremendous hours every day on the project while suffering excruciating pain every time he swallowed. Huddled under a thick blanket on the front porch, he would sometimes produce as many as ten thousand words a day! His dedication was astounding, made more so by his rapidly deteriorating health. In the end, he would pass away just days after putting down his pen.
Chernow’s masterpiece is, at once, both a thorough examination of the man, and an insightful reevaluation of his record, correcting what he sees as some woefully lopsided and decidedly partisan treatments of one of America’s most impactful actors since its founding. His phoenix-like rise from obscurity to greatness is emblematic of the glorified American dream. Ultimately, the author delivers a portrayal of a man who is an enigma, of sorts. While his exploits on the battlegrounds are well-chronicled, his critical role as protector of newly emancipated (and conquered, in the case of the Native Americans) peoples often has remained in the shadows. So, Chernow’s herculean effort is a long overdue tonic for that persistent deficiency, and I give it my highest recommendation.
Notes
- “The President’s Habeas Corpus Proclamation and the Act of Congress on the Subject,” New York Herald, 18 September 1863, 6, https://www.loc.gov/resource/sn83030313/1863-09-18/ed-1/?sp=6.
- Though he was ultimately acquitted by the Senate.
- Back then, it was considered unseemly for candidates for national office to campaign, which suited Grant just fine, as he had no interest in it.
- At that time, presidents did not receive a lifetime pension after leaving office.