The Man in Grant’s Tomb
Book Review: American Ulysses: A Life of Ulysses S. Grant
Random House Publishing
826 pages
By: Sean Durns

On the 1950s quiz show, “You Bet Your Life,” the host Groucho Marx used to ask poorly-performing contestants a giveaway question: Who is buried in Grant’s Tomb? In a new well-written and deeply researched biography, American Ulysses: A Life of Ulysses S. Grant, the historian Ronald C. White, Jr. seeks to answer Marx’s query.
Historians’ assessments of the famed Civil War hero and 18th President have been mixed. Grant was well regarded — even beloved — by many of his fellow citizens above the Mason-Dixon line in the years following war’s end. Indeed, Grant was enormously popular — admired worldwide — during his lifetime.
The only President to be elected to two consecutive terms (1868–1876) in the half-century between Abraham Lincoln and Woodrow Wilson, Grant’s most ardent backers even sought to rally support for what would have been a third term in the years shortly before his untimely death of cancer in 1885.
Yet, historians of the Lost Cause, sympathetic to the South, soon won skirmishes on paper that their forefathers had lost on the battlefield.
For much of the 20th century, Grant the warrior was portrayed as an drunken butcher; a man whose willingness to sacrifice the lives of his own troops resulted in an inevitable victory over a heroic and hopelessly outmanned Confederacy — victories achieved in spite of his supposed fondness for drink. As President, Grant was written off as an incompetent crook; a puppet with few political skills that inhabited a scandal-ridden presidency dominated by special interests.
In the last quarter century, however, historians have reassessed Grant’s career, with academics such as Brooks Simpson and Joan Waugh offering more balanced takes. More recently, authors Jean Edward Smith and Josiah Bunting have provided largely positive portrayals of the warrior president.
White, the author of several well-received books on Abraham Lincoln, adds to the body of literature depicting Grant favorably. Unlike other works, which often give short shift to Grant’s marriage to Julia Dent and to his service in the U.S.-Mexico War, White emphasizes both as integral to understanding Grant’s success.
The reticent Grant “seldom discussed his feelings,” White notes. Julia, the favored daughter of a wealthy slave-holding family, provided the son of an Ohio tanner with the confidence and support that he would need through numerous low points.
Grant’s service in the conflict with Mexico shaped his views on both warfare and leadership. Serving under the commands of another future President, Zachary Taylor, and the more ostentatious, but brilliant Winfield Scott, Grant had a world-class education on military leadership. Although he learned from them both, it was Taylor’s less flamboyant style that Grant admired and would later seek to emulate.
The U.S.-Mexico War, as White makes clear, was Grant’s first trial by fire. He learned not only how to command, but as a quartermaster — a post Grant didn’t want — the importance and challenges of supplying an army on the move. In Mexico, Grant’s encounters with the civilian populations living under occupation would come in handy in the future.
But it was the Civil War that made Grant’s rise possible, of course. The West Point graduate was out of the army and down on his luck prior to the opening shots at Fort Sumter. White does a good job of giving readers a feel for the battlefield, while conveying his subjects changing understanding of both the conflict and its causes.
Grant’s talents as a commander are apparent throughout. In a war that, like all wars, was not suffering for a want of egotistical military figures, Grant stood apart for his humility and willingness to work with others. The complexity of the Vicksburg campaign, a signal achievement in U.S. military history that was years ahead of its time, is well told. The military strategist in White’s telling deserves to be ranked near the more vaunted Confederate commanders, such as Robert E. Lee and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson.
Grant’s doggedness and modesty are traits that even the General’s critics acknowledge. However, White rejects the narrative — common even among his defenders — of Grant as a politically tone-deaf and simple individual. Instead, readers are presented with a man who, despite missteps, was more politically savvy then is commonly supposed.
Nor is Grant the “pre-intellectual” buffoon that snobbish historians since Henry Adams have claimed him to be. Rather, Grant — the author of a beautifully written memoir and battlefield orders that Mark Twain thought to be displays of fine writing — is shown to be a voracious reader.
Grant as a commander and politician was far from perfect. White acknowledges his mistakes, from controversial military orders to the trust that he put in financial swindlers and political bosses. But the author does not dwell on them. Grant’s moral compass and his earnestness are shown clearly, even if his imperfections take up less page space then some might desire.
In the end, the man in Grant’s tomb was unique. A seemingly common man confronted with some of the most difficult burdens of the 19th century. But it was Grant’s uncommonness that led to both his successes and his failures, as White details. The man tasked with meeting the moment largely did so, if not always perfectly.
The writer is a Washington D.C.-based foreign and military affairs analyst. His views are his own.
