Our Standard-Bearer; Or, The Life of General Uysses S. Grant

by Oliver Optic

I do not account it a great misfortune to the country, certainly not to Grant himself, that canal and side routes had failed; for success by any of them could hardly have been achieved any sooner than by the brilliant scheme finally adopted. But the people complained, the great generals complained, the president complained. There was a general murmur against Grant, and influence enough was brought to bear against him to have overwhelmed any common man. I pause in astonishment and wonder when I think that he did not turn in disgust from the grand enterprise. The people, the generals, the politicians were maligning him; even the good and patient president was dissatisfied, and put him on probation, rather than strengthened public confidence in him. Halleck, as generous now as he had been cynical before, mildly expressed his confidence that Grant would do all that was possible to open the Mississippi. Even the rebels, satisfied with the strength of their Gibraltar, contemptuously dared their persistent foe, and derided him for his failures. They jeeringly hoped he would not attempt to disturb the natural features of the globe.

But Grant said never a word in his own defence; he only kept his eye on the prize, and declared that he would yet take Vicksburg. He smoked his cigar, studied his maps, listened to the reports of spies and others who brought him information; but he deigned not a word of reply to the slanders in the newspaper, or to those which were carried to the ears of men in power. He neither authorized nor permitted any of his friends to speak for him. He knew that truth was mighty, and must prevail; and confident of the rectitude of his own motives, of the purity of his own life, he could afford to let results, rather than windy harangues, approve him and his conduct before the country. I marvel that he was not overwhelmed, when I consider the weight of influence brought to bear against him; that he had the moral courage to stand up before that storm of obloquy and complaint. I cannot help adducing a few of the evil traditions of the day, to show how cruelly he was abused.

A lady in Memphis lamented the drunken habits of General Grant, declaring that she had seen him carousing with two boon companions, so tipsy that he was obliged to steady himself by holding on to a chair; that when he spoke to her, in answer to her petition, his speech was thick and incoherent! She added that the general was ashamed to see her the next day, and sent his surgeon to attend to her business. A gentleman who listened to her statements immediately informed her that, as one of the "boon companions" to whom she alluded, he had dined with the general that day, had spent three hours in his presence, and was with him when she entered. He was confident that Grant had drank nothing stronger than Mississippi water, and that he was perfectly sober and clear-headed during the interview.

A letter from a respectable and reliable Union man in the West was sent to a newspaper office for publication, alleging that, on a certain occasion, General Grant and his staff went from Cairo to Springfield in the special car of the president of the Illinois Central Railroad, that on the way all the party got drunk, and Grant was the drunkest of all. It so happened that the president alluded to was present in the office when the letter was received. He promptly pronounced it a malignant falsehood. He had taken charge of the party himself, and provided the special car, because it contained conveniences for eating, sleeping, and working. Dinner was provided, and wine was served for such as used it, but Grant drank tea only; to his certain knowledge, he tasted no wine or liquor, and nobody was drunk on the car.

Grant, in the winter following the Corinth campaign, worn out with watching, anxiety, and continued activity, lay sick at a hotel in Memphis. His wife was with him, and was much concerned about the state of his health. One morning she joined the ladies in the parlor, seeming very much depressed. She said the surgeon had just been to see Mr. Grant, as she called him, and declared that he would not be able to go much farther if the patient did not stimulate. "And I cannot persuade him to do so," she added. "He says he shall not die, and will not taste a drop of liquor on any consideration." In less than a week he was on his way to Vicksburg.

On board of the headquarters boat at Milliken's Bend, Grant was studying his maps and plans in the ladies' cabin, wholly absorbed in the mighty thought of planning a campaign. He heeded nothing that transpired around him, and no one ventured to interrupt him. For hours he sat in this thoughtful mood, and his friends feared that his mental labors would overwhelm his physical frame. McPherson at last had the temerity to speak to him, and presenting a glass of whiskey, invited him to join the party in a few toasts, to shake off the burden upon his mind.

"Mac, you know that your whiskey will not help me to think," he replied, looking up with a smile. "Give me half a dozen of the best cigars you can find, and if the ladies will excuse me for smoking, I think by the time I have finished them, I shall have this job pretty nearly planned."

He continued his labor; the lines on his face deepened again; the company left him smoking and brooding over his maps and plans; but not a drop of liquor passed his lips.

"I have some fine brandy on the boat," said a gentleman to him during the operations at Vicksburg, when Grant seemed to be exhausted by his cares and his labors; "I will send you a case or two of it."

"I am greatly obliged to you," replied the general; "but I do not use the article. I have a big job on hand, and though I know I shall win, I know I must do it with a cool head. Send the liquor you intend for me to my hospital in the rear. I don't think a little will hurt the poor fellows down there."