CHAPTER VIII.
Wherein Captain Galligasken discourses upon the breaking out of the Rebellion, and describes the noble and modest Behavior of the illustrious Soldier.
Until Treason opened its treacherous batteries on Fort Sumter, Grant had been a Democrat. His sympathies, though he seldom expressed himself on political topics, were with the conservative party. Abolition and abolitionists, as such, had no place in his regard, and the Republican party he viewed with all the disfavor of a sturdy Democrat. His father had been a Democrat before him, and so far as he had any political associations, they were of this faith.
In those months of dire forebodings, of anxious waiting, and of fruitless attempts to patch up a compromise, which intervened between the election of Lincoln in November and the breaking out of hostilities, Grant had been in favor of conceding to the South all its rights, even as they were interpreted by a Democrat who lived and breathed and had his being in compromise. It cannot be said or thought that the illustrious soldier embarked in an anti-slavery war. The terrible conflict was precipitated by the madness of the South in opening its guns upon a national fort.
For months the country had been waiting with breathless interest for the issue of the political complications which grew out of the secession of South Carolina and the states which followed her reckless example. Patriots north and patriots south were not willing to believe that the horrors of civil war were to be enacted in the land they loved. Even the "fire-eaters" of the South, while they looked daggers, used none. There was no spirit of prophecy in the country which foresaw the stupendous conflict that ensued. Men hoped and believed that some happy event would turn aside the impending storm. The South expected that its noisy bluster and its parade of arms would intimidate the North; and the cooler North thought that the hot blood of the South would cool itself in the lapse of time. Both were mistaken.
The fiery Southrons ostentatiously made their preparations for a conflict which they did not believe would take place, and the North, if not unmoved, yet exercised a degree of forbearance which appeared like indifference, in the face of this parade of hostile demonstrations. The government was paralyzed by the unwonted situation; but it did not raise a finger to disturb or check the hostile operations of the rebels. The constitution and the laws were set at nought; forts, arsenals, and dock-yards were seized; the nation's property was plundered, and its honored flag insulted and trailed in the dust; but the sword of justice still rested in its scabbard. Southern fanatics howled, stormed, and blustered; yet the government only waited—waited till the fiery zeal of the South appeared to be in danger of wasting itself before the purposes of its leaders were accomplished.
It was necessary that something should be done to "fire the Southern heart," and rekindle the enthusiasm of the people, which was waxing cold under the forbearance of an insulted government. Fort Sumter was bombarded; lines of batteries encircling the devoted work poured in their rain of shot and shell, and battered down the walls of the fortress, defended by only a handful of men. Skilful officers, educated at the public expense to defend the government against which they were now raising their parricidal hands, conducted the cowardly enterprise, with the flower of Southern chivalry gathered in thousands under their command, to a successful issue. The triumph was theirs, the glory and the endless shame in one foul deed.
The South sang the pæan of victory, achieved with an odds of a hundred to one in its favor, and the Southern heart was fired. By the same deed another heart was fired. The North rose as one man to resent the base outrage, the cowardly assault. The last moment when compromise was possible, passed away with the report of the first gun aimed at Sumter. That gun awoke the slumbering North, and in every peaceful hamlet the drum-beat of preparation sounded, beginning on the St. Croix and ending far west of the Mississippi. The news that the first blow had been struck flashed through the land, silent between hope and fear, and kindled an enthusiasm which had no bound or limit. Traitors north and traitors south were marked men from that thrilling hour. There was no voice but for the nation's honor and the nation's defence, in the onslaught of a treacherous foe.
For years the military spirit in the people had been repressed and discouraged. The soldier was regarded as an obsolete necessity, and the profession of arms had become absolutely disreputable in many parts of the country. Except here and there one who had served in the Mexican war, and a superannuated veteran of 1812, there was not a soldier in the land who had any experience of actual warfare. Half a century had elapsed since the fact of war in their own midst had been realized by the people, and all their traditions were of peace and prosperity.
But in spite of their peaceful antecedents, in spite of the seeming indifference with which they had regarded the gathering storm, they flew to arms. Without any concert of action, without any startling proclamations to rouse their sleeping energies, they rallied beneath the banner of the country, and the spectacle of a united North was held up to the view of the astonished South. The proclamation of the president calling for seventy-five thousand men—an unheard-of army within our peaceful borders—immediately followed the tidings of the shock of actual conflict. The government had come out of its lethargy with the people, and both were in hearty sympathy.
To Galena came the tidings from Fort Sumter, and to Galena came the proclamation of President Lincoln. We were thrilled by the treacherous deed of those who were henceforth to be our foes. We were thrilled by the note of preparation which sounded at the same time. Our hearts beat the quickstep which was reverberating through the entire North, and from the depths of our souls we thanked the patriot president for his prompt and decided action. With an indignation which was characteristic of the man, Captain Grant read the newspaper which contained the story of the nation's dishonor. The lines which delineate on his face the force of his will seemed to deepen as he realized the fact that the first blow had actually been struck. In that cowardly army which had rained shot and shell upon a little worn-out band of regular soldiers for thirty-three hours were some of his classmates and companions in arms on the bloody fields of Mexico. They had been friends, but now they were enemies.
There was no halting or hesitation in the man. The blows which battered down Sumter reached his great heart. His country was in peril, and his patriotic soul responded to the call for her defence. He made no noisy demonstrations, but calmly and resolutely fixed his purpose and declared his intentions. There was no foam or fury in his manner; nothing was said and nothing was done to create a sensation, though the man who had won laurels in the hard-fought battles of Mexico might have been excused, on such an occasion, for a little display or a little pomposity; but that was not Grant. Actuated only by a sense of duty to his country, and not at all by a desire to serve himself or to win the honors of the profession he had first chosen, he was as gentle and modest as the humblest civilian.
The soldier, especially the trained and experienced soldier, was a mighty man in those days. The whole country was rising in arms, and his influence was potent. The nation wanted him, and his profession, maligned and treated with contempt before, suddenly elevated him above the sphere of politicians and statesmen. Grant was a soldier, and the fact that he was a graduate of West Point, and had seen service in the field, made him a man to whom others looked up with respect and admiration in the new dispensation which necessity preached to the people.
I dwell with pride and pleasure upon the deportment of Captain Grant at this exciting period. To me there was something sublime in his absolute self-negation. His antecedents, his military record, entitled him to a high position in the volunteer army which was then gathering. It would not have been immodest for him to write to the governor of Illinois, asking a position as a major general in the mustering host. He did nothing of the kind; he asked for no position. He did not thrust his rank in the regular army, which he had earned by hard fighting, into the faces of civil or military officials. He claimed nothing.
"Uncle Sam has educated me for the army," said he to a friend. "Though I have served him through one war, I do not feel that I have yet repaid the debt. I am still ready to discharge my obligations. I shall therefore buckle on my sword, and see Uncle Sam through this war, too."
The obligation could not be forgotten, for Grant never permitted the remembrance of a favor to be obliterated from his heart; but high above even this sacred duty was that which he owed to his stricken country, then writhing in the gripe of the monster of Treason. The purpose which gave to the United States the greatest commander the world has ever seen was formed; but he did not blow a trumpet before him in the streets of Galena, and say to the people, "Lo, here I am, a soldier trained to arms and fit to be your chief. Behold me—a hero from Monterey and Chapultepec. Make me your leader, and send me to battle at the head of your men, and I will win great victories for you."
Not thus spoke Grant: save in the privacy of his narrow social circle, he spoke not at all; and even when his mighty prowess and his brilliant victories had made him famous, the people came to the shop windows of Grant & Sons to ascertain which of the firm was so effectually tanning rebel hides, so little was he known, and so little had he paraded himself before the citizens of the place.
Though like him I had been to West Point; though like him I had seen the glories of Palo Alto, Resaca, Monterey, and the fourteen battles of Scott from Vera Cruz to Chapultepec; though like him I had retired from the army,—I could not regard myself as of so little consequence as he did. I felt that nothing less than the commission of a brigadier would be a proper appreciation of my record and my profession. I am sorry to be obliged to confess that I placed myself where the gaze of the multitude might rest upon me; but alas! they did not see me. I was not the providential man of the Great Rebellion, and the microscopes of the people failed to bring me into view.
But my own position enables me to see more clearly that of the illustrious soldier of whose deeds I am the admiring chronicler.
Grant exhibited no ambitious spirit—he was at work for the nation, not for himself. He said nothing in public—the people of Galena hardly knew the sound of his voice; but there, in the streets of his town, he raised the standard of the loyal cause, and invited the hardy and patriotic men of the place to rally for its defence. In less than a week after the news from Fort Sumter had arrived, he was drilling a company; but he did not claim even the rank to which he had risen in the regular army, the cause, and not himself, being still uppermost in his thought.
The company proposed to elect him to this highest office within their gift. Doubtless he would have accepted the position, but a gentleman with more ardent aspirations for military glory frankly acknowledged his desire to obtain this place; and Grant declined the honor. He stepped out of the way to accommodate another, but he consented to go with the company to Springfield, the capital of Illinois. He was accompanied on his journey by the Hon. E. B. Washburn, who introduced him to Governor Yates. The chief magistrate did not appear at first to be profoundly impressed by the captain, and did not take much notice of him.
Grant was determined to use a laboring oar in the work before the loyal country, and he wrote to the adjutant general of the army at Washington. He did not apply for a position as brigadier, but simply stated that he had been educated at the public expense at West Point; and as the country was in peril, he considered it his duty to place whatever skill and experience he had acquired at the disposal of the government, offering his services in any capacity in which they might be needed. This modest offer brought no response from the War Department.
While Grant was waiting for the moving of the waters, he visited Cincinnati, where McClellan, who had been appointed a major general of volunteers by the governor of Ohio, was organizing his forces. The "Little Napoleon" of the first years of the rebellion had served with Grant in Mexico, and they had become acquainted there. Both were in Worth's brigade at the siege of Vera Cruz, and both had been honorably mentioned for gallant conduct at Chapultepec and El Molino del Rey.
Grant was seeking a position in which he could make himself useful to the country. He twice called at the headquarters of General McClellan, but failed to see him on either occasion. He thought it possible that his old comrade in arms might offer him a place on his staff, which appears to have been the highest aspiration of the great commander at this time. Failing to see McClellan, he returned to Springfield.
While he was waiting at the capital, Governor Yates sent for him, and wished to inquire whether he knew how many men belonged in a company, how many companies in a regiment, and what officers were required in such an organization—questions which seemed to have been especially perplexing to the earnest and loyal chief magistrate of the state. Grant assured him that he understood all about such matters; that he had been educated at West Point, and had served eleven years in the regular army. This straight-forward reply helped the governor out of his annoying dilemma, and Grant was invited to take a seat at the capital and officiate as adjutant general, in which capacity he served for several weeks during the hurry of sending off the troops, rendering the most valuable assistance from his familiarity with the details of military organizations.
Though the future hero had made no parade of himself or his accomplishments, several regiments desired to elect him as their colonel; but for reasons of his own, which do not appear,—though I suspect that his military prejudice against electing officers was the strongest one,—he declined all these overtures. One who knew him better than others suggested to the governor that he should appoint him to some regiment, without previously consulting him. The suggestion was acted upon, and Captain Grant was appointed colonel of the Twenty-first Regiment of Infantry. The commission was promptly accepted, and Colonel Grant hastened to Mattoon, where the regiment was in camp, and assumed the command.