No More Learning

3
She sigh her fader sorroe and sike,*
And wist nought the cause why.
So cam she to him prively,
And that was wher he made his mone
Within a gardin all him one. "
Upon her knees she gan down falle
With humble herte, and to him calle
'Escape.
• Sigh.
5 Own.
3 Saw.


## p. 6586 (#576) ###########################################

6586
JOHN GOWER
And saidè:-"O good fader dere,
Why make ye thus hevy chere,¹
And I wot nothinge how it is?
And well ye knowè, fader, this,
What adventurè that you felle
Ye might it saufly to me telle;
For I have oftè herd you saide,
That ye such truste have on me laide,
That to my suster ne to my brother
In all this worlde ne to none other
Ye durstè telle a privete
So well, my fader, as to me.
Forthy, my fader, I you praie
Ne casteth nought that hert³ awaie,
For I am she that woldè kepe
Your honour. " And with that to wepe
Her eye may nought be forbore;'
She wisheth for to ben unbore,"
Er that her fader so mistriste
To tellen her of that he wiste.
And ever among mercy she cride,
That he ne shulde his counseil hide
From her, that so wolde him good
And was so nigh flesshe and blood.
So that with weping, atè laste
His chere upon his childe he caste,
And sorroefully to that she praide
He tolde his tale, and thus he saide:-
"The sorroe, doughter, which I make
Is nought all only for my sake,
But for the bothe and for you alle.
For suche a chaunce is me befalle,
That I shall er this thriddè day
Lese all that ever I lesè may,
My life and all my good therto.
Therefore it is I sorroe so. "
"What is the cause, alas," quod she,
"My fader, that ye shulden be
Dede and destruied in suche a wise? "
1 Care.
2 Therefore.
3 Heart.
* Cannot endure it.
5 Unborn.
6 Ere.
In the midst of pity (for him).
In answer to her prayer.


## p. 6587 (#577) ###########################################

JOHN GOWER
6587
And he began the points devise,
Which as the king tolde him by mouthe,
And said her pleinly, that he couthe
Answeren to no point of this.
And she, that hereth howe it is,
Her counseil yaf¹ and saide tho²:-
"My fader, sithen it is so,
That ye can se none other weie,
But that ye must nedès deie,
I wolde pray you of o³ thinge,-
Let me go with you to the kinge,
And ye shall make him understonde,
How ye, my wittès for to fonde,
Have laid your answere upon me,
And telleth him in such degre
Upon my worde ye wol abide
To life or deth, what so betide.
For yet perchaunce I may purchace
With some good word the kingès grace,
Your life and eke your good to save.
For ofte shall a woman have
Thing, whiche a man may nought areche. "
The fader herd his doughters speche,
And thought there was no reson in,
And sigh his ownè life to winne
He couthè done himself no cure. ¹
So better him thought in àventure
To put his life and all his good,
Than in the manner as it stood,
His life incertein for to lese.
And thus thenkend he gan to chese
To do the counseil of this maid,
And toke the purpose which she said.
The day was comen, and forth they gone;
Unto the court they come anone,
Where as the kinge in his jugement
Was set and hath this knight assent.
Arraièd in her beste wise,
This maiden with her wordès wise
Her fader leddè by the honde
Into the place," where he fonde
1 Gave.
2 Thus.
Saw that he could do nothing to save his own life.
5 Palace.
3 One.


## p. 6588 (#578) ###########################################

6588
JOHN GOWER
The king with other which he wolde;
And to the king knelend he tolde
As he enformèd was to-fore,
And praith the king, that he therfore
His doughters wordès wolde take;
And saith, that he woll undertake
Upon her wordès for to stonde.
Tho was ther great merveile on honde,
That he, which was so wise a knight,
His life upon so yonge a wight
Besettè wolde in jeopartie,
And many it helden for folie.
But at the lastè, netheles,
The king commaundeth ben in pees,
And to this maide he cast his chere,¹
And saide he wolde her talè here,
And bad her speke; and she began:-
"My legè lord, so as I can,"
Quod she, "the pointès which I herde,
They shull of reson ben answerde.
The first I understonde is this:
What thinge of all the worlde it is,
Which men most helpe and hath lest nede.
My legè lord, this wolde I rede:
The erthe it is, which evermo
With mannès labour is bego
As well in winter as in maie.
The mannès honde doth what he may
To helpe it forth and make it riche,
And forthy men it delve and diche,
And even it with strength of plough,
Wher it hath of him self inough
So that his nede is atè leste.
For every man, birdè, and beste
Of flour and gras and roote and rinde
And every thing by way of kinde
Shall sterve, and erthe it shall become
As it was out of erthè nome,"
It shall be therthe torne ayein. ³
And thus I may by reson sein
That erthè is the most nedeles
And most men helpe it netheles;
1 Turned his attention.
2 Taken.
3 Shall turn thereto again.


## p. 6589 (#579) ###########################################

JOHN GOWER
6589
¹ Heed.
So that, my lord, touchend of this
I have answerde how that it is.
That other point I understood,
Which most is worth, and most is good,
And costeth lest a man to kepe:
My lorde, if ye woll takè kepe,¹
I say it is humilitè,
Through whichè the high Trinitè
As for desertè of pure love
Unto Mariè from above,
Of that he knewe her humble entente,
His ownè Sone adown he sente
Above all other, and her he chese
For that vertu, which bodeth pees.
So that I may by reson calle
Humilitè most worthe of alle,
And lest it costeth to mainteine
In all the worlde, as it is seine.
For who that hath humblesse on honde,
He bringeth no werres into londe,
For he desireth for the best
To setten every man in reste.
Thus with your highè reverence
Me thenketh that this evidence
As to this point is suffisaunt.
And touchend of the remenaunt,
Which is the thridde of your axinges,
What lest is worth of alle thinges,
And costeth most, I telle it pride,
Which may nought in the heven abide.
For Lucifer with hem that felle
Bar pride with him into helle.
There was pride of to grete cost
Whan he for pride hath heven lost;
And after that in Paradise
Adam for pridè lost his prise
In middel-erth. And eke also
Pride is the cause of allè wo,
That all the world ne may suffice
To staunche of pridè the reprise.
Pride is the heved' of all sinne,
Which wasteth all and may nought winne;
2 Head.


## p. 6590 (#580) ###########################################

6590
JOHN GOWER
Mischief.
2 Core.
3 Thee.
Pride is of every mis' the pricke2;
Pride is the worstè of all wicke,
And costeth most and lest is worth
In place where he hath his forth.
Thus have I said that I woll say
Of min answére, and to you pray,
My legè lorde, of your office,
That ye such grace and suche justice
Ordeignè for my fader here,
That after this, whan men it here,
The world therof may spekè good. "
The king, which reson understood,
And hath all herde how she hath said,
Was inly glad, and so well paid,
That all his wrath is over go.
And he began to lokè tho
Upon this maiden in the face,
In which he found so mochel grace,
That all his prise on her he laide
In audience, and thus he saide:-
"My fairè maidè, well the be
Of thin answére, and eke of the
Me liketh well, and as thou wilte,
Foryivè be thy faders gilte.
And if thou were of such lignage,
That thou to me were of parage,
And that thy fader were a pere,
As he is now a bachelere,
So siker as I have a life,
Thou sholdest thannè be my wife.
But this I saiè netheles,
That I woll shapè thin encrese;
What worldès good that thou wolt crave
Are of my yift, and thou shalt have. »
And she the king with wordès wise,
Knelende, thanketh in this wise:-
"My legè lord, god mot you quite. *
My fader here hath but a lite
Of warison, and that he wende
Had all be lost, but now amende
He may well through you noble grace. "
May God requite you.
5 Has had but little reward.
6 Been.


## p. 6591 (#581) ###########################################

JOHN GOWER
6591
With that the king right in his place
Anon forth in that freshè hete
An erldome, which than of eschete
Was latè falle into his honde,
Unto this knight with rent and londe
Hath yove, and with his chartre sesed,
And thus was all the noise appesed.
This maiden, which sate on her knees
To-fore the kingès charitees,
Commendeth and saith evermore:-
"My legè lord, right now to-fore
Ye saide, and it is of recorde,
That if my fader were a lorde
And pere unto these other grete,
Ye wolden for nought ellès lette,
That I ne sholdè be your wife.
And thus wote every worthy life
A kingès worde mot nede be holde.
Forthy my lord, if that ye wolde
So great a charitè fulfille,
God wotè it were well my wille.
For he which was a bachelere,
My fader, is now made a pere;
So whan as ever that I cam,
An erlès doughter nowe I am. "
This yongè king, which peisèd¹ all
Her beautè and her wit withall,
As he, which was with lovè hente,2
Anone therto gaf his assente.
He might nought the place asterte,
That she nis lady of his herte.
So that he toke her to his wife
To holde, while that he hath life.
And thus the king toward his knight
Accordeth him, as it is right.
And over this good is to wite³
In the cronique as it is write,
This noble kinge, of whom I tolde,
Of Spainè by tho daiès olde
The kingdom had in governaunce,
And as the boke maketh remeinbraunce,
Alphonse was his propre name.
1 Poised - weighed.
2 Seized.
3 Know.


## p. 6592 (#582) ###########################################

6592
JOHN GOWER
1 Destruction.
The knight also, if I shall name,
Danz Petro hight, and as men telle,
His doughter wisè Petronelle
Was clepèd, which was full of grace.
And that was sene in thilkè place,
Where she her fader out of tene¹
Hath brought and made her selfe a quene,
Of that she hath so well desclosed
The points whereof she was opposed.


## p. 6592 (#583) ###########################################



## p. 6592 (#584) ###########################################


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## p. 6592 (#585) ###########################################

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## p. 6592 (#586) ###########################################

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GFANT.


## p. 6593 (#587) ###########################################

6593
ULYSSES S. GRANT
(1822-1885)
BY HAMLIN GARLAND
LYSSES GRANT was born on the 27th of April, 1822, in a small
two-room cabin situated in Point Pleasant, a village in
southern Ohio, about forty miles above Cincinnati. His
father, Jesse R. Grant, was a powerful, alert, and resolute man, ready
of speech and of fair education for the time. His family came from
Connecticut, and was of the earliest settlers in New England. Han-
nah Simpson, his wife, was of strong American stock also. The
Simpsons had been residents, for several generations, of southeastern
Pennsylvania. The Grants and the Simpsons had been redoubtable
warriors in the early wars of the republic. Hannah Simpson was a
calm, equable, self-contained young woman, as reticent and forbear-
ing as her husband was disputatious and impetuous.
Their first child was named Hiram Ulysses Grant. Before the
child was two years of age, Jesse Grant, who was superintending a
tannery in Point Pleasant, removed to Georgetown, Brown County,
Ohio, and set up in business for himself. Georgetown was a village
in the deep woods, and in and about this village Ulysses Grant grew
to be a sturdy, self-reliant boy. He loved horses, and became a re-
markable rider and teamster at a very early age. He was not notable
as a scholar, but it was soon apparent that he had inherited the self-
poise, the reticence, and the modest demeanor of his mother. He
took part in the games and sports of the boys, but displayed no mili-
tary traits whatever. At the age of seventeen he was a fair scholar
for his opportunities, and his ambitious father procured for him an
appointment to the Military Academy at West Point. He reported at
the adjutant's desk in June 1839, where he found his name on the
register "Ulysses S. Grant" through a mistake of his Congressman,
Thomas L. Hamer. Meanwhile, to escape ridicule on the initials of
his name, which spelled "H, U,G," he had transposed his name to
Ulysses H. Grant, and at his request the adjutant changed the S to
an H; but the name on record in Washington was Ulysses S. , and
so he remained "U. S. Grant" to the government and U. H. Grant
to his friends and relatives.
His record at West Point was a good one in mathematics and fair
in most of his studies. He graduated at about the middle of his
XI-413


## p. 6594 (#588) ###########################################

6594
ULYSSES S. GRANT
class, which numbered thirty-nine. He was much beloved and re-
spected as an upright, honorable, and loyal young fellow. At the
time of his graduation he was president of the only literary society
of the academy; W. S. Hancock was its secretary.
He remained markedly unmilitary throughout his course, and was
remembered mainly as a good comrade, a youth of sound judgment,
and the finest horseman in the academy. He asked to be assigned
to cavalry duty, but was brevetted second lieutenant of the 4th
Infantry, and ordered to Jefferson Barracks, near St. Louis. Here
he remained till the spring of 1844, when his regiment was ordered
to a point on the southwestern frontier, near the present town of
Natchitoches, Louisiana. Here he remained till May 1845, when the
Mexican War opened, and for the next three years he served with
his regiment in every battle except Buena Vista. He was twice
promoted for gallant conduct, and demonstrated his great cool-
ness, resource, and bravery in the hottest fire. He was regimental
quartermaster much of the time, and might honorably have kept
out of battle, but he contrived to be in the forefront with his com-
mand.
In the autumn of 1848 he married Miss Julia Dent of St. Louis,
and as first lieutenant and regimental quartermaster, with a brevet
of captain, he served at Sackett's Harbor and Detroit alternately till
June 1852, when he was ordered to the coast. This was a genuine
hardship, for he was unable to take his wife and child with him;
but he concluded to remain in the army, and went with his com-
mand, sailing from New York and passing by the way of the Isth-
mus. On the way across the Isthmus the regiment encountered
cholera, and all Grant's coolness, resource, and bravery were required
to get his charge safely across. "He seemed never to think of him-
self, and appeared to be a man of iron," his companions said.
He was regimental quartermaster at Fort Vancouver, near Port-
land, Oregon, for one year. In 1853 he was promoted to a captaincy
and ordered to Fort Humboldt, near Eureka in California.
In 1854,
becoming disheartened by the never-ending vista of barrack life,
and despairing of being able to have his wife and children with him,
he sent in his resignation, to take effect July 31st, 1854. He had lost
money by unfortunate business ventures, and so returned forlorn and
penniless to New York. Thence he made his way to St. Louis to
his wife and children, and began the world again as a farmer, with-
out a house or tools or horses.
His father-in-law, Mr. Frederick Dent, who lived about ten miles
out of the city, set aside some sixty or eighty acres of land for his
use, and thereon he built with his own hands a log cabin, which he
called "Hardscrabble. " For nearly four years he lived the life of a


## p. 6595 (#589) ###########################################

ULYSSES S. GRANT
6595
farmer. He plowed, hoed, cleared the land, hauled wood and props
to the mines, and endured all the hardships and privations of a small
farmer. In 1858 his health gave way, and he moved to St. Louis in
the attempt to get into some less taxing occupation. He tried for
the position of county engineer, and failed. He went into the real
estate business with a friend, and failed in that. He secured a place
in the customs office, but the collector died and he was thrown out
of employment.
In the spring of 1860, despairing of getting a foothold in St. Louis,
he removed to Galena, Illinois, where his father had established a
leather store, a branch of his tannery in Covington, Kentucky. Here
he came in touch again with his two brothers, Simpson and Orvil
Grant. He became a clerk at a salary of six hundred dollars per
annum. At this time he was a quiet man of middle age, and his
manner and mode of life attracted little attention till in 1861, when
Sumter was fired upon and Lincoln called for volunteers. Galena at
once held a war meeting to raise a company. Captain Grant, because
of his military experience, was made president of the meeting, and
afterward was offered the captaincy of the company, which he re-
fused, saying, "I have been a captain in the regular army.
I am
fitted to command a regiment. "
He wrote at once a patriotic letter to his father-in-law, wherein
he said, "I foresee the doom of slavery. " He accompanied the com-
pany to Springfield, where his military experience was needed.
Governor Richard Yates gave him work in the adjutant's office,
then made him drill-master at Camp Yates; and as his efficiency
became apparent he was appointed governor's aide, with rank of
colonel. He mustered in several regiments, among them the 7th
Congressional regiment at Mattoon. He made such an impression on
this regiment that they named their camp in his honor, and about
the middle of June sent a delegation of officers to ask that he be
made colonel. Governor Yates reluctantly appointed him, and at the
request of General John C. Frémont, the commander of the Depart-
ment of the West, Grant's regiment (known as the 21st Illinois Volun-
teers) was ordered to Missouri. Colonel Grant marched his men
overland, being the first commander of the State to decline railway
transportation. His efficiency soon appeared, and he was given the
command of all the troops in and about Mexico, Missouri. At this
point he received a dispatch from E. B. Washburne, Congressman for
his district, that President Lincoln had made him brigadier-general.
He was put in command at Ironton, Missouri, and was proceeding
against Colonel Hardee, when he was relieved from command by
B. M. Prentiss and ordered to Jefferson City, Missouri. He again
brought order out of chaos, and was ready for a campaign, when he


## p. 6596 (#590) ###########################################

6596
ULYSSES S. GRANT
was again relieved, and by suggestion of President Lincoln placed
in command of a district with headquarters at Cairo, Illinois.
On
This was his first adequate command, and with clear and orderly
activity he organized his command of nearly ten thousand men.
the 6th of September, learning that the Confederates were advancing
on Paducah, he took the city without firing a gun, and issued an
address to the people of Kentucky which led Lincoln to say, "The
man who can write like that is fitted to command in the West. "
Early in November, in obedience to a command from Frémont, he
fought the battle of Belmont, thus preventing General Polk from
reinforcing Price in Missouri. This was neither a victory nor a
defeat, as the purpose was not to hold Belmont.
In February 1862, with an army of twenty thousand men and
accompanied by Commander Foote's flotilla, he took Fort Henry and
marched on Fort Donelson. On the 16th of the same month he had
invested Donelson and had beaten the enemy within their works.
General Simon Buckner, his old classmate and comrade, was in com-
mand. He wrote to Grant, asking for commissioners to agree upon
terms. Grant replied: "No terms except an unconditional and immediate
surrender can be accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your works. "
Buckner surrendered, and Grant's sturdy words flamed over the land,
making him "Unconditional Surrender Grant. " The whole nation
thrilled with the surprise and joy of this capture, and the obscure
brigadier-general became the hero of the day. He was made major-
general, and given the command of the District of Western Tennessee.
On the 6th and 7th of April he fought the terrible battle of
Shiloh, and won it, though with great loss, owing to the failure of
part of his reinforcements to arrive. Immediately after this battle,
General H. W. Halleck, who had relieved General Frémont as com-
mander in the West, took command in person, and by a clever mili-
tary device deprived Grant of all command; and for six weeks the
army timidly advanced on Corinth. Corinth was evacuated by the
enemy before Halleck dared to attack, and Grant had no hand in
any important command until late in the year.
Halleck went to Washington in July, leaving Grant again in com-
mand; but his forces were so depleted that he could do little but
defend his lines and stores. In January 1863 he began to assemble
his troops to attack Vicksburg, but high water kept him inactive till
the following April. His plan, then fully developed, was to run the
battery with gunboats and transports, march his troops across the
peninsula before the city, and flank the enemy from below. This
superbly audacious plan involved cutting loose from his base of sup-
plies and all communications. He was obliged to whip two armies in
detail, Johnston at Jackson, Mississippi, and Pemberton in command


## p. 6597 (#591) ###########################################

ULYSSES S. GRANT
6597
at Vicksburg. This marvelous campaign was executed to the letter,
and on the third day of July, Pemberton surrendered the largest body
of troops ever captured on this continent up to that time, and Grant
became the "man of destiny" of the army. All criticism was silenced.
The world's markets rose and fell with his daily doings. Lincoln
wrote him a letter of congratulation. The question of making "the
prop-hauler of the Gravois" general-in-chief of all the armies of the
United States was raised, and all the nation turned to him as the
savior of the republic.
He was made commander of all the armies of the Mississippi, and
proceeded to Chattanooga to rescue Rosecrans and his beleaguered
army. In a series of swift and dramatic battles he captured Lookout
Mountain and Missionary Ridge. Wherever he went, victory seemed
to follow. His calm demeanor never changed. He was bent on
"whipping out the Rebellion. " He was seen to be a warrior of a
new sort. He was never malignant, or cruel, or ungenerous to his
enemies; but he fought battles to win them, and the country now
clamored for him to lead the armies of the Potomac against Lee, the
great Southern general against whom no Northern general seemed
able to prevail.
Early in March of 1864, Hon. E. B. Washburne introduced into
Congress a bill reviving the grade of Lieutenant-General.
It was
passed by both houses with some discussion, and Lincoln conferred
the title and all it implied upon Grant. He called him to Washing-
ton, and placed the whole conduct of the war in his hands. "I don't
want to know your plans," he said. Grant became absolutely chief
in command, and set forth at once to direct the Army of the Poto-
mac in person, and to encompass Lee as he had captured the armies
of Buckner and Pemberton. His aim was not to whip Lee, but to
destroy his army and end the war. He began an enormous encircling
movement which never for one moment relaxed. The Army of the
Potomac retreated no more. It had a commander who never knew
when he was beaten.
He fought one day in the Wilderness, sustaining enormous losses;
but when the world expected retreat, he ordered an advance. He
fought another day, and on the third day ordered an advance. Lin-
coln said, "At last I have a general. " Grant never rested. After
every battle he advanced, inexorably closing around Lee. It took
him a year, but in the end he won. He captured Lee's army, and
ended the war on the 9th of April, 1865.
His terms with the cap-
tured general of the Southern forces were so chivalrous and generous
that it gained for him the respect and even admiration of the South-
ern people. They could not forget that he was conqueror, but they
acknowledged his greatness of heart. He had no petty revenges.


## p. 6598 (#592) ###########################################

6598
ULYSSES S. GRANT
ness.
Nothing in human history exceeds the contrasts in the life of
Ulysses Grant. When Lee surrendered to him, he controlled a battle
line from the Potomac to the Rio Grande, composed of a million
men. His lightest command had almost inconceivable power; and
yet he was the same man who had hauled wood in St. Louis and sold
awls and shoe-pegs in Galena, - he had been developed by opportu-
nity. Personally he remained simple to the point of inconspicuous-
His rusty blouse, his worn hat, his dusty boots, his low and
modest voice, gave no indication of his exalted position and his enor-
mous power. At the grand review of the armies in Washington in
May, he sat with musing eyes while the victorious legions passed
him, so unobtrusive in the throng that his troops could hardly distin-
guish his form and face; and when he returned to Galena, his old
home, he carried no visible sign of the power and glory to which he
had won his way step by step, by sheer power of doing things so
well that other and greater duties were intrusted to his keeping.
He presented a new type of soldier to the world. He was never
vengeful, never angry in battle. When others swore and uttered
ferocious cries, Grant remained master of himself and every faculty,
uttering no oaths, giving his commands in full, clear, simple, digni-
fied phrases. He hated conflict. He cared nothing for the pomp and
circumstance of war; it was not glorious to him; and when it was
all over he said, "I never want to see a soldier's uniform again. "
He was the chief citizen of the republic at the close of the war,
and when Lincoln was assassinated he was the mainstay of the repub-
lic. Every eye was turned upon him, and his calmness was most
salutary upon the nation. He became inevitably a candidate for
President, and was elected with great enthusiasm in 1868. In 1872
he was re-elected, and during his two terms his one great purpose
was to reconstruct the nation. He did all that he could to heal the
scars of war. He stood between the malignants of the North and the
helpless people of the South, always patient and sympathetic. His
administrations ran in turbulent times, and corruption was abroad in
official circles, but there is no evidence that he was touched by it.
His administration was attacked; he was acquitted.
In 1878, two years after his second term had ended, he went on a
trip around the world, visiting all the great courts and kings of the
leading nations. He received the most extraordinary honors ever
tendered to one human being by his fellows, but he returned to
Galena and to his boyhood home, the same good neighbor, just as
democratic in his intercourse as ever. He never forgot a face, whether
of the man who shod his horses or of the man who nominated him
for President, though he looked upon more people than any other
man in the history of the world.


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In 1880 he mistakenly became a candidate for a third term, and
was defeated. Shortly after this he moved to New York City, and
became a nominal partner in the firm of Grant & Ward. His name
was used in the business; he had little connection with it, for he was
growing old and failing in health.
In May 1884, through the rascality of Ferdinand Ward, the firm.
failed, and General Grant lost every dollar he owned. Just before the
crash, in the attempt to save the firm, he went to a wealthy friend
and borrowed a large sum of money. After the failure the grim old
commander turned over to his creditor every trophy, every present
which had been given him by his foreign friends, even the jeweled
favors of kings and queens and the swords presented to him by his
fellow-citizens and by his soldiers; he reserved nothing. He became
so poor that his pew rent became a burden, and the question of
earning a living came to him with added force, for he was old and
lame, and attacked by cancer of the tongue.
Now came the most heroic year of his life. Suffering almost
ceaseless pain, with the death shadow on him, he sat down to write
his autobiography for the benefit of his wife. He complained not at
all, and allowed nothing to stand in the way of his work. He wrote
on steadily, up to the very day of his death, long after the power of
speech was gone, revising his proofs, correcting his judgments of
commanders as new evidence arose, and in the end producing a book
which was a marvel of simple sincerity and modesty of statement,
and of transparent clarity of style. It took rank at once as one of
the great martial biographies of the world. It redeemed his name
and gave his wife a competency. It was a greater deed than the
taking of Vicksburg.
In this final illness his thoughts dwelt much upon the differences
between the North and the South. From Mt. McGregor, where he
was taken in June 1885 to escape the heat of the city, he sent forth
repeated messages of good-will to the South. In this hour the two
mighty purposes of his life grew clearer in men's minds. He had
put down the Rebellion, and from the moment of Lee's surrender
had set himself the task of reuniting the severed nation. "Let us have
peace," he said; and the saying had all the effect of a benediction.
He died on July 23d, 1885, at the age of sixty-three; and at his
grave the North and the South stood side by side in friendship, and
the great captains of opposing armies walked shoulder to shoulder,
bearing his body to its final rest on the bank of the Hudson River.
The world knew his faults, his mistakes, and his weaknesses; but
they were all forgotten in the memory of his great deeds as a war-
rior, and of his gentleness, modesty, candor, and purity as a man.
Since then it becomes increasingly more evident that he is to take


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ULYSSES S. GRANT
his place as one of three or four figures of the first class in our
He was a man of action, and his deeds were of the
national history.
kind which mark epochs in history.
Hagelin Garland
EARLY LIFE
From Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant. Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant,
and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant
IN
N JUNE 1821 my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah
Simpson. I was born on the 27th of April, 1822, at Point
Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio. In the fall of 1823 we
moved to Georgetown, the county seat of Brown, the adjoining
county east. This place remained my home until at the age of
seventeen, in 1839, I went to West Point.
The schools at the time of which I write were very indiffer-
ent. There were no free schools, and none in which the scholars
were classified. They were all supported by subscription, and a
single teacher-who was often a man or a woman incapable of
teaching much, even if they imparted all they knew would
have thirty or forty scholars, male and female, from the infant.
learning the A B C's up to the young lady of eighteen and the
boy of twenty, studying the highest branches taught -the three
R's, "Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic. " I never saw an alge-
bra or other mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in
Georgetown, until after I was appointed to West Point. I then
bought a work on algebra, in Cincinnati; but having no teacher,
it was Greek to me.
My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five
or six until seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the
village, except during the winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The
former period was spent in Maysville, Kentucky, attending the
school of Richardson and Rand; the latter in Ripley, Ohio, at a
private school. I was not studious in habit, and probably did
not make progress enough to compensate for the outlay for board
and tuition. At all events, both winters were spent in going


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ULYSSES S. GRANT
6601
over the same old arithmetic which I knew every word of before,
and repeating, “A noun is the name of a thing," which I had
also heard my Georgetown teachers repeat until I had come to
believe it but I cast no reflections upon my old teacher Rich-
ardson. He turned out bright scholars from his school, many of
whom have filled conspicuous places in the service of their States.
Two of my contemporaries there- who I believe never attended
any other institution of learning-have held seats in Congress,
and one, if not both, other high offices; these are Wadsworth
and Brewster.
My father was from my earliest recollection in comfortable
circumstances, considering the times, his place of residence, and
the community in which he lived. Mindful of his own lack of
facilities for acquiring an education, his greatest desire in ma-
turer years was for the education of his children. Consequently,
as stated before, I never missed a quarter from school, from the
time I was old enough to attend till the time of leaving home.
This did not exempt me from labor. In my early days every
one labored more or less, in the region where my youth was
spent, and more in proportion to their private means.
It was
only the very poor who were exempt. While my father carried
on the manufacture of leather and worked at the trade himself,
he owned and tilled considerable land. I detested the trade, pre-
ferring almost any other labor; but I was fond of agriculture,
and of all employment in which horses were used.
We had,
among other lands, fifty acres of forest within a mile of the vil-
lage. In the fall of the year, choppers were employed to cut
enough wood to last a twelvemonth. When I was seven or eight
years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in the house
and shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at that
time; but I could drive, and the choppers would load, and some
one at the house unload. When about eleven years old, I was
strong enough to hold a plow. From that age until seventeen
I did all the work done with horses, such as breaking up the
land, furrowing, plowing corn and potatoes, bringing in the crops
when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two or
three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc. ,
while still attending school. For this I was compensated by the
fact that there was never any scolding or punishing by my par-
ents; no objection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going
to the creek a mile away to swim in summer, taking a horse and


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6602
ULYSSES S. GRANT
visiting my grandparents in the adjoining county, fifteen miles
off, skating on the ice in winter, or taking a horse and sleigh
when there was snow on the ground.
While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five
miles away, several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky,-
often, and once Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big
one for a boy of that day. I had also gone once with a two-
horse carriage to Chillicothe, about seventy miles, with a neigh-
bor's family who were removing to Toledo, Ohio, and returned
alone; and had gone once in like manner to Flat Rock, Ken-
tucky, about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion I was
fifteen years of age. While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr.
Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours
in Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle horse which I rather
coveted; and proposed to Mr. Payne, the owner, to trade him
for one of the two I was driving. Payne hesitated to trade with
a boy, but asking his brother about it, the latter told him that it
would be all right; that I was allowed to do as I pleased with
the horses. I was seventy miles from home, with a carriage to
take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know that his horse
had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him hitched to a farm
wagon, and we would soon see whether he would work.
It was
soon evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but
he showed no viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I
could manage him. A trade was at once struck, I receiving ten
dollars difference.
――――
The next day, Mr. Payne of Georgetown and I started on our
return. We got along very well for a few miles, when we en-
countered a ferocious dog that frightened the horses and made
them run. The new animal kicked at every jump he made. I
got the horses stopped, however, before any damage was done,
and without running into anything. After giving them a little
rest, to quiet their fears, we started again. That instant the new
horse kicked, and started to run once more. The road we were
on struck the turnpike within half a mile of the point where
the second runaway commenced, and there was an embankment
twenty or more feet deep on the opposite side of the pike. I got
the horses stopped on the very brink of the precipice. My new
horse was terribly frightened, and trembled like an aspen; but he
was not half so badly frightened as my companion Mr. Payne,
who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on


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ULYSSES S. GRANT
6603
a freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted to start,
my new horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a di-
lemma for a time. Once in Maysville, I could borrow a horse
from an uncle who lived there; but I was more than a day's
travel from that point. Finally I took out my bandanna — the
style of handkerchief in universal use then- and with this blind-
folded my horse. In this way I reached Maysville safely the next
day, no doubt much to the surprise of my friend. Here I bor-
rowed a horse from my uncle, and the following day we pro-
ceeded on our journey.
About half my school days in Georgetown were spent at the
school of John D. White, a North-Carolinian, and the father of
Chilton White, who represented the district in Congress for one
term during the Rebellion. Mr. White was always a Democrat
in politics, and Chilton followed his father. He had two older
brothers, all three being schoolmates of mine at their father's
school,- who did not go the same way. The second brother died
before the Rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a
Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and brave
soldier during the Rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told
of an earlier horse trade of mine.