Not alone in the grandeur of his position as a military genius is Grant great. In his sterling goodness, in his modesty, in his magnanimity, in his perception of character, in his quiet winning way, in his sublime confidence in himself, in his Christian forbearance, in his absolute self-negation, and in his unselfish love of country, he is a great man, even without the laurel of victory upon his brow. When I see him, crippled in body, weakened and physically broken down by long confinement to his bed, hastening on his crutches to the most desperate scene which the annals of this terrible war present; hurrying with the laurel of Vicksburg and Donelson on his brow, without a thought that he was imperilling his splendid reputation in an almost hopeless venture; speeding through tempest and desolation, not at the head of his war-worn and victorious veterans, but alone, to a stricken, half-starved, beleaguered position, from whose overlooking environments the cunning foe was gazing down, while they waited for famine and death to do their certain work; when I see him thus staking his all,—for his all, in a worldly sense, was his brilliant fame,—sacrificing ease, comfort, health, exposing his very life, to save the army, to save Chattanooga, to save the cause,—I cannot but ask, What other man has done so much? What other man could, or would?
One of his biographers has said that Grant went to Chattanooga with the reënforcements for which Rosecrans had vainly pleaded; that he went with two armies to the relief of the town. There was time enough, after Grant arrived, to have fought half a dozen battles before even the moral support of either of these forces was available for the relief of the army of the Cumberland. Sherman was struggling through a hostile country, battling with swollen rivers, broken roads, and the storms and tempests of November, a hundred miles away. Hooker was not in a position to lift a finger till the genius of Grant opened the way for his movement. Bragg might have swooped down from his mountain holds and stormed the intrenchments with an overwhelming force at any hour of the day or the night. We only wondered that he did not do it. But he held Lookout Valley, held the river, held the railroad above and below the town, and nothing but his perfect assurance that neither Hooker nor Sherman could get into Chattanooga before the garrison would be starved out prevented him from doing so. No! Grant fought the rebels alone during those five days—the darkest and most perilous in his career. If he had been beaten in the end, if Chattanooga had fallen before either of the two armies arrived, he would still have been entitled to the credit of his most heroic and self-sacrificing conduct.
I repeat, it is not alone the brilliant lustre of his military deeds which calls forth our admiration: his patriotism, his unselfish devotion to the cause, entitle him to the highest place in the regards of the American people.
Occasionally, in the current newspapers of the day, during the Rebellion, we read the astounding statement that General Fitzfizzle was under fire; that a shell exploded on the side of the river where he was; that his staff besought him not to expose his precious person to the deadly projectiles of the enemy. We are sensationally informed that General Fitzfizzle told his officers to retire to a safe place if they were afraid. General Fitzfizzle had evidently screwed his courage up to the sticking point, and during the long period of three whole minutes he was exposed to the bullets of the enemy—until, indeed, his presence was elsewhere required. We tender to General Fitzfizzle the homage of our grateful admiration. We feel that he was a brave man, for he has exposed his corpus to the bullet of the foe. But what has he done for three minutes more than Private McMullen and Corporal Mullinstock have done during the entire battle? Is it heralded in the newspapers that by an effort he has exhibited the mere brute courage which has distinguished thousands of humble privates whose names will never be printed?
It does not appear from any record that Grant ever uttered a sensational remark on the field. The terrible earnestness of the man admitted of no side talk, no silly affectation, no ridiculous farce which could point a paragraph in the papers. He was always in the battle, and always a part of the battle. He chose the position best suited to his purpose for observing the movements of the contending armies. It mattered not whether it was exposed to the enemy's fire or not; he never considered that question. I am not aware that he ever recklessly exposed himself without need, and certainly he never sought a place of safety during the battle. It does not appear that he considered the question of personal safety at all. He was where his presence was required, without regard to peril.
At Belmont he was with the skirmishers in the front line of battle, the first to go on the field, and the last to leave it. At Shiloh he led charge after charge, and was in the thickest of the fight. Hundreds of men behind him, and all around him, fell. He never required an escort, but rode, with his staff, into the hottest of the fight. So continually exposed was he, that the whole army wondered he was not killed. At Ringgold, in the pursuit of Bragg's fleeing army, he rode for half a mile, at a moderate trot, through a storm of shot and shell. He was not thinking of danger—only of the enemy's positions. He was studying the battle, in that moment which would have tried the souls of common men. There was no consciousness at any time on his face that he was doing "a big thing." He was simply in earnest, completely absorbed in the progress of the battle. Where necessity required him to go, he went; if there was a direct road, by that; if not, over the fields, through the woods, swimming his horse through any stream that lay in his path.
He did everything with all his might, as if in literal obedience to the Scripture injunction; and though not physically a powerful man, he seemed to be superior to fatigue, hunger, cold, and all the ills to which human flesh is subject. He would ride from breakfast time till two o'clock the next morning without tasting food, and continue this severe exertion until his work was finished—till victory had crowned his operations. He could wear out his staff, who were compelled to attend him, but he did not wear out himself. He was an earnest man, and through the might of his earnestness, he conquered all obstacles, and triumphed over every disadvantage. It was not luck, it was not good fortune, that gave him the battle; it was genius, fortified by hard, persistent labor. If he beat down greater obstacles than any other man, it was because he studied deeper, worked harder, and fought longer than any other.
Grant's task was not yet finished. Burnside was still in peril, a hundred miles away. Granger was sent forward to his assistance, but his movements were too laggard to satisfy the impatience of the heroic chief, and Sherman was started on the war path to supersede him. The army of the Ohio had been hemmed in at Knoxville, and its situation was hazardous in the extreme, though Burnside was fully equal to the emergency. He had only twelve days' provisions left, but he manfully stood his ground. Grant had given him the most effectual relief in driving Bragg away from the valley.
At the time of sending Sherman up the Tennessee, Grant forwarded a despatch in duplicate to Kingston, one copy of which was for Burnside, and the other was intended for, and fell into the hands of, the enemy. Longstreet received his copy; but, before it fell into his hands, he learned that Bragg had fallen back. He therefore determined to attack Knoxville without delay. Fort Sanders, the principal defence of the place, was assaulted, and a fierce struggle ensued, but the rebels were defeated.
After the battle, Longstreet received the despatch which Grant had written for his edification. Finding that Sherman was in the vicinity, he had not a moment to lose, and started in full retreat for Virginia. Burnside and Sherman conferred together in regard to the situation. Longstreet was pursued, but the force was insufficient, and the chase was abandoned. Burnside did not fully appreciate the situation, and sent Sherman back to Chattanooga, retaining only Granger's command. Longstreet was a very able general, and took prompt advantage of the mistake of his antagonist. Finding nothing but a small cavalry force behind him, he turned, defeated it, and marched back into East Tennessee, establishing himself at Russellville for the winter, where the country afforded abundant supplies. If Grant's orders to Burnside had been fully apprehended and carried out, this mortifying result could not have transpired. But the winter had set in, and military operations in that mountain region were impracticable.