By Paul Carrier
Americans tend to believe that we know Ulysses S. Grant, at least in broad outline. A dismal failure in civilian life before the Civil War, Grant rose to prominence and achieved tremendous success during that conflict despite bouts of drunkenness, only to undermine his legacy by quietly presiding over a presidential administration mired in corruption.
In his new biography, Pulitzer Prize winner Ron Chernow does not dispute such characterizations. But he explains, with great skill as both researcher and writer, that Grant was far more complex and impressive than we assume. Chernow contends that Grant’s accomplishments as president, particularly in the area of civil rights, have been unfairly overshadowed by the deficiencies of the disreputable people with whom this guileless man surrounded himself while in office.
Chernow’s characterization of Grant is nuanced and insightful. He presents the Ohio-born West Point grad as humble, unassuming and socially awkward, a doting father and devoted husband who was bold and audacious in warfare. Cool in a crisis, whether military or political, he was a dogged, unyielding soldier whose public image as an unfeeling butcher was belied by the distress he keenly felt but did not display when faced with massive battlefield casualties.
Grant was overly trusting in his dealings with others, which caused him no end of trouble during and after his presidency. He befriended or appointed thieves and con men, and was so naive that he sometimes clung to his misplaced faith in such people even after they were exposed as corrupt. Thoughtful but taciturn, Grant was a skilled writer with an opaque personality. An animal lover with a special affinity for horses, he was squeamish regarding food, insisting that his meat be well-done. Any trace of blood would destroy his appetite.
Chernow makes clear that Grant was, as alleged, an alcoholic who's drinking understandably darkened his reputation. He did not drink often, but when he did, he drank to excess. Yet he struggled mightily against this temptation, rarely allowed it to interfere with his duties, supported the temperance movement, and “managed to gain mastery over alcohol in the long haul, a feat as impressive as any of his wartime victories.”
Perhaps Chernow’s greatest accomplishment is his documentation of Grant’s standing as a champion of freed slaves, both during and after the Civil War. Initially no friend of the Radical Republicans, Grant hailed from an abolitionist family, but only gradually came to view the war as more than a struggle to preserve the Union. Over time, he became a man transformed on the issue of civil rights.
As president after the war, Grant did not flinch when white supremacists launched a reign of terror against black Republicans in the South. He condemned what amounted to an insurrection in the strongest possible terms and, for most of his presidency, repeatedly ordered federal troops into the hardest-hit areas, to protect African-Americans from intimidation, assault and worse.
Grant was “the single most important figure behind Reconstruction,” according to Chernow, who complains that earlier biographers failed to provide “a systematic account” of his relations with the slaves “whom he helped to liberate, feed, house, employ, and arm during the war.” As president, Grant “shielded (them) from harm,” in part by waging a concerted and (temporarily) successful campaign to obliterate the Ku Klux Klan.
One of the small joys of Grant is that Chernow, in this exhaustive and meticulous biography, pays careful attention to secondary characters, who are intriguing in their own right despite being overshadowed by the man himself. They include William Tecumseh Sherman and Phil Sheridan, s well as such stellar Cabinet appointees as Secretary of State Hamilton Fish and Attorney General Amos Ackerman.
Julia Dent, Grant’s wife, hailed from a slaveholding family and felt unappreciated by the Grant clan, in part because the Grants viewed her as a spendthrift with an indulgent attitude toward slavery. John Rawlins, Grant’s top aide during the war and secretary of war for a time during Grant’s presidency, struggled mightily to prevent him from drinking and openly reprimanded him when he did.
Elihu Washburne, a congressman from Illinois who hailed from a politically prominent Maine family, had Abraham Lincoln’s ear and used that connection to champion Grant’s advancement during the war. As president, Grant routinely found himself at odds with the imperious, high-handed Charles Sumner, a powerful senator from Massachusetts. Horace Greeley, the famed New York newspaper editor, became something of a laughing stock as Grant’s rather pathetic opponent in the 1872 presidential election.
Chernow’s narrative would be compelling (and considerably shorter) even if Grant had slipped back into obscurity after the war, secure in his standing as a great general. But what followed added so much to the scope of Grant’s life that it transformed his army career into one part of a much larger whole, rather than its sum and substance.
Grant served for a time as acting secretary of war, and did battle with President Andrew Johnson, a crude, boorish racist with little regard for the truth. (In fact, the similarities between the narcissistic Johnson and the current occupant of the White House are striking.)
Elected president in 1868 and again in 1872, Grant was unable to prevent some of his subordinates from engaging in rampant deceit and trickery, despite his own unimpeachable integrity. (“An honest man in a corrupt age,” Chernow says.) Later still, Grant found himself nearly penniless when a Wall Street con artist roped him into a Ponzi scheme.
Stricken with a painful and terminal cancer, Grant busied himself with the task of writing a memoir that he hoped would provide some financial security for his family. It did, and established Grant’s lasting reputation as a wordsmith as well. Chernow hails The Personal Memoirs of U.S. Grant as “a masterpiece” that is “probably the foremost military memoir in the English language.”
Chernow is an accomplished biographer whose previous subjects have included George Washington, John D. Rockefeller and, of course, Alexander Hamilton. It would be an overstatement to suggest that Chernow is an apologist for Grant; he does not downplay Grant’s drinking and naiveté, or the fact that he was fallible on the battlefield. But Chernow would seem to share the assessment Mark Twain offered when he learned of Grant’s death: “He was a very great man and superlatively good.”
In his new biography, Pulitzer Prize winner Ron Chernow does not dispute such characterizations. But he explains, with great skill as both researcher and writer, that Grant was far more complex and impressive than we assume. Chernow contends that Grant’s accomplishments as president, particularly in the area of civil rights, have been unfairly overshadowed by the deficiencies of the disreputable people with whom this guileless man surrounded himself while in office.
Chernow’s characterization of Grant is nuanced and insightful. He presents the Ohio-born West Point grad as humble, unassuming and socially awkward, a doting father and devoted husband who was bold and audacious in warfare. Cool in a crisis, whether military or political, he was a dogged, unyielding soldier whose public image as an unfeeling butcher was belied by the distress he keenly felt but did not display when faced with massive battlefield casualties.
Grant was overly trusting in his dealings with others, which caused him no end of trouble during and after his presidency. He befriended or appointed thieves and con men, and was so naive that he sometimes clung to his misplaced faith in such people even after they were exposed as corrupt. Thoughtful but taciturn, Grant was a skilled writer with an opaque personality. An animal lover with a special affinity for horses, he was squeamish regarding food, insisting that his meat be well-done. Any trace of blood would destroy his appetite.
Chernow makes clear that Grant was, as alleged, an alcoholic who's drinking understandably darkened his reputation. He did not drink often, but when he did, he drank to excess. Yet he struggled mightily against this temptation, rarely allowed it to interfere with his duties, supported the temperance movement, and “managed to gain mastery over alcohol in the long haul, a feat as impressive as any of his wartime victories.”
Perhaps Chernow’s greatest accomplishment is his documentation of Grant’s standing as a champion of freed slaves, both during and after the Civil War. Initially no friend of the Radical Republicans, Grant hailed from an abolitionist family, but only gradually came to view the war as more than a struggle to preserve the Union. Over time, he became a man transformed on the issue of civil rights.
As president after the war, Grant did not flinch when white supremacists launched a reign of terror against black Republicans in the South. He condemned what amounted to an insurrection in the strongest possible terms and, for most of his presidency, repeatedly ordered federal troops into the hardest-hit areas, to protect African-Americans from intimidation, assault and worse.
Grant was “the single most important figure behind Reconstruction,” according to Chernow, who complains that earlier biographers failed to provide “a systematic account” of his relations with the slaves “whom he helped to liberate, feed, house, employ, and arm during the war.” As president, Grant “shielded (them) from harm,” in part by waging a concerted and (temporarily) successful campaign to obliterate the Ku Klux Klan.
One of the small joys of Grant is that Chernow, in this exhaustive and meticulous biography, pays careful attention to secondary characters, who are intriguing in their own right despite being overshadowed by the man himself. They include William Tecumseh Sherman and Phil Sheridan, s well as such stellar Cabinet appointees as Secretary of State Hamilton Fish and Attorney General Amos Ackerman.
Julia Dent, Grant’s wife, hailed from a slaveholding family and felt unappreciated by the Grant clan, in part because the Grants viewed her as a spendthrift with an indulgent attitude toward slavery. John Rawlins, Grant’s top aide during the war and secretary of war for a time during Grant’s presidency, struggled mightily to prevent him from drinking and openly reprimanded him when he did.
Elihu Washburne, a congressman from Illinois who hailed from a politically prominent Maine family, had Abraham Lincoln’s ear and used that connection to champion Grant’s advancement during the war. As president, Grant routinely found himself at odds with the imperious, high-handed Charles Sumner, a powerful senator from Massachusetts. Horace Greeley, the famed New York newspaper editor, became something of a laughing stock as Grant’s rather pathetic opponent in the 1872 presidential election.
Chernow’s narrative would be compelling (and considerably shorter) even if Grant had slipped back into obscurity after the war, secure in his standing as a great general. But what followed added so much to the scope of Grant’s life that it transformed his army career into one part of a much larger whole, rather than its sum and substance.
Grant served for a time as acting secretary of war, and did battle with President Andrew Johnson, a crude, boorish racist with little regard for the truth. (In fact, the similarities between the narcissistic Johnson and the current occupant of the White House are striking.)
Elected president in 1868 and again in 1872, Grant was unable to prevent some of his subordinates from engaging in rampant deceit and trickery, despite his own unimpeachable integrity. (“An honest man in a corrupt age,” Chernow says.) Later still, Grant found himself nearly penniless when a Wall Street con artist roped him into a Ponzi scheme.
Stricken with a painful and terminal cancer, Grant busied himself with the task of writing a memoir that he hoped would provide some financial security for his family. It did, and established Grant’s lasting reputation as a wordsmith as well. Chernow hails The Personal Memoirs of U.S. Grant as “a masterpiece” that is “probably the foremost military memoir in the English language.”
Chernow is an accomplished biographer whose previous subjects have included George Washington, John D. Rockefeller and, of course, Alexander Hamilton. It would be an overstatement to suggest that Chernow is an apologist for Grant; he does not downplay Grant’s drinking and naiveté, or the fact that he was fallible on the battlefield. But Chernow would seem to share the assessment Mark Twain offered when he learned of Grant’s death: “He was a very great man and superlatively good.”
No comments:
Post a Comment