Showing posts with label Civil War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Civil War. Show all posts

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Number 18: Ulysses S. Grant

Years in office: 1869-1877
Pre-service occupations: officer (1842-1854), farmer, clerk, salesman, general (1861-1865), general in chief (1864-1869)
Key events during his administration: Reconstruction (ended 1877), “Black Friday” (1869), Treaty of Washington (1871), battle of Little Big Horn (1876), formation of the Justice Department (1870), 15th Amendment added to the Constitution (1870), veto of the inflation bill (1874) and signing of the Specie Resumption act (1875), Colorado added to the Union (1876), Centennial Exposition (1876), Office of Surgeon General created (1871), establishment of first national park at Yellowstone (1872)

Presidential rating: Somewhat successful and popular

ESSAY

Amuse yourself with a little quiz: ask family, friends or even random people what they think of when they hear the name President Ulysses S. Grant. Most likely—if they give you an opinion—you’ll hear some variation of “incompetent, drunk and corrupt.”

Such is the power of the historian and the political enemy to rewrite history.

President Ulysses S. Grant was not incompetent, was not drunk in office, and his administration was not corrupt. My proof? The actual historical record. During his time he was revered in the same breath as Washington and Lincoln, but historians, scholars and political enemies succeeded in trashing what was truly one of the better presidencies. His political enemies, including the hypocritical “reformers,” the self-anointed intellectual elite (like Henry Adams), racist Reconstruction historians (such as the Dunning school) and highly judgmental and arrogant modernist historians (such as William McFeely) together succeeded in creating a portrait of President Grant that is a flat-out fabrication.

Some of these historians and intellectuals were biased against Grant because they opposed him personally. Some neglected to use Grant’s actual papers! Some built upon the previous erroneous works of others and compounded the errors. Some were actually bored with their subject! But mainly they trashed him because of Grant’s enforcement of Reconstruction and a real failure to understand Reconstruction both in the context of the Gilded Age and Grant’s strong belief in Reconstruction. For example, the Dunning school of thought from the 1910s and 1920s tore Grant’s presidency to shreds in part because they—like the so-called “reformers” and of course the Democrats before them—despised Reconstruction and blacks and therefore Grant. But latter-day historians, like William Gillette in his Retreat from Reconstruction, 1868-1879, (1982) attempt to paint Grant as an obstacle to Reconstruction, and it is his inattentiveness and lack of a coherent policy that caused Reconstruction to fail! It’s an odd thesis, particularly because Grant was that rarest of presidents: a politically courageous man who did the right thing even in the face of mounting hostility from all sides, especially the racist Democrats, as well as many in his own party who were more concerned about the dawning new age than the detritus of the Civil War.

The violence done to the history, character and presidency of Ulysses S. Grant is stunning and amazing. It’s as if they have a standard for excellence in some areas and a “Grant standard” for the 18th president. Many liberal scholars trash Grant because they want to trash anyone in power connected with the Gilded Age—which, of course, leaves them writing incoherently about one of the greatest champions of human rights in that era.

I want to be clear: Grant would never be ranked as a great or near-great president. But he definitely deserves a place among the above-average presidents, perhaps even at the upper end. Even the late Stephen Ambrose and dean of Civil War historians James McPherson say that Grant’s presidency deserves a much more positive evaluation. So does Lincoln’s most celebrated modern biographer, David Herbert Donald. (Ambrose’s comments are found in his final book, To America.)

Grant definitely had faults, chief among them being his nativity with people and his military style, which often ill-served him as president.

But he succeeded in ways that have not been truly appreciated until the last decade or so. These areas are: Reconstruction and the pursuit of black rights; international relations, including arbitration with England through his superb secretary of state, and avoiding war with Spain over Cuba; preventing the genocide of the Plains Indians; amazing fiscal responsibility; and maintaining the peace in 1876.

I won’t forget the scandals, but they just aren’t what they appeared to be. If you think Grant’s administration was nothing more than eight long years of incompetence and corruption, you are in for one heck of a surprise.

I am a partisan for Ulysses S. Grant, and it will probably show in this report. I make no apologies for my defense of Grant, because the way professional men of letters and self-anointed elite have treated this man just plain stinks. They should hang their heads in shame.

Important note: A little drink
The charge persists to this day that Grant was a drunk—a persistent slosh. He wasn’t! He was an alcoholic who 1) knew he had a problem and 2) got it under control. Drinking cost him his first Army career in 1854. When he rejoined the Army in 1861, he brought with him a friend from Galena, Ill., named John Rawlins, whose primary job was to keep him “on the wagon” (e.g., sober). There were a couple of times he fell off the wagon, but it was never during a battle. (He was NOT drunk at Shiloh.) Almost every single report about him being drunk during the war, or after, is false and usually malicious in nature, spread by jealous rivals for command or political enemies. Any contemporary or modern caricature you see of Grant as a drunkard is a vicious slander and ignorant lie.


Even innocent modern characterizations of Grant as a drunk are just wrong, coming as they do from badly sourced biographies. For example, Shelby Foote, whose writings I greatly admire and whose Southern drawl greatly elevated Ken Burns' The Civil War documentary, said during that documentary that Grant "went on a true bender during the Vicksburg campaign." However, the veracity of that claim and similar wartime drunkenness is highly dubious (see Smith for more).

In Hans L. Trefousse's 1989 biography on Andrew Johnson he claims Grant had to be sobered up during Johnson's "swing around the circle," repeating claims of Grant's enemies, but modern Grant biographers dispute this and similar claims.

A failure?
Grant’s civilian life is usually portrayed as failure with a big capital “F.” Even many admirers say that Grant failed at everything except the army. Hogwash!

Grant always kept food on the table, a roof over his family’s heads and clothes on their backs. Does that sound like a failure? Sure, he went from farming to collecting debts to working in his father’s tannery and even sold firewood on the streets, but the point is he didn’t give up. He always made sure his family was provided for. Even at the end of his life, after a swindler of a business partner snookered him out of a ton of money, Grant refused to settle for charity and instead wrote his incredible Memoirs, the profits of which kept his family comfortable long after his death.

The man never gave up and always found a way to provide. That’s not a failure in my book.

First Army career
Grant’s first Army career began at West Point. Suffice it to say Grant wasn’t all that thrilled about some aspects of the academy, but he proved superior at horsemanship—better than any of his classmates, in fact. Although Grant would never serve in a cavalry unit, his prowess w
ith and knowledge of horses would follow him the rest of his life. Normally a shy man around strangers (which lead some people to foolishly think Grant was dull-minded), Grant could talk your ears off concerning the subject of horses.

He graduated in the middle of his class and at his first posting met the woman he would eventually marry: Julia Dent, daughter of a Missouri slave owner. Grant was assigned to Zachary Taylor’s Army of Observation in Texas. As he wrote years later, he thought the Mexican War wrong, but went anyway because it was his duty to do so.

Grant liked Taylor immensely and copied his leadership style: loose and informal, but pointed. Grant would even copy Taylor’s style of dress during the Civil War: like Taylor, Grant eschewed pompous uniforms and wore simple trousers and a private’s blouse. There’s another reason why Grant gladly abandoned formal Army wear: as a freshly minted first lieutenant, young boys apparently made fun of him with the familiar childhood ditty, “Solder, soldier, will you work? No, indeed, I’ll sell my shirt!”

Lieutenant Grant earned citations for bravery under fire during the Mexican War, especially for bring supplies to his men. He ended the war as a brevet Captain (a field promotion) and settled into peacetime army routines. It was not easy for him. The long, boring postings away from his wife, especially to the Pacific coast, led him to drink, which finally ruined his career in 1854.

Rather than be court-martialed, Grant resigned. He tried his hand at the afore-mentioned professions, living for a time at a farm he called “Hardscrabble” (you can see his home
on the Grant’s Farm park owned by Anheuser-Busch, near another home where he and Julia lived for a while, called White Haven).

At times he was penniless, and he couldn’t make a go at anything—but he always kept his family fed. When the war began, he was working in his father’s tannery in Galena, Ill.

Call to arms
Grant’s generalship has received far more attention than his presidency, of course, and his reputation has found favors and disfavor over the last 150 years. Currently, he is enjoying a favorable re-evaluation. I’m not qualified to judge whether he was the best of the war, or if Sherman, Lee, Jackson or some other general was, beyond making general observations. I’ll leave that for the military historians. See the Resources section below for in-depth examinations.

He got a second start in the army in 1861 when the Illinois governor placed him in charge of a regiment. As a West Point graduate, he soon gathered a few other regiments under his command, was promoted to brigadier and never looked back. After fighting a sharp battle at Belmont, Missouri, in November of ‘61, he won the critical battles of Forts Henry and Donnellson in Tennessee the following February, which triggered the collapse of the entire Confederate defenses in the West (and opened the northeastern reaches of that state to the Union for the rest of the war).

In April, Grant fought and won the terrible bloody battle at Shiloh. The butcher’s bill and (false) charges of drunkenness derailed his career for a while, but the battle changed his outlook. Before the fight, he thought the war would end with a few more good pushes; after Shiloh Grant became convinced the war could only be won by conquest of the South. During and after the Shiloh campaign, Grant forged his lifelong friendship with William T. Sherman, who explained their friendship in two different ways: “Grant stood by me when I was crazy, and I stood by him when he was drunk.” (Both charges against the men were false.) And: “I’m a damn sight far smarter than Grant. I know a great deal more about war, military histories, strategy and grand tactics than he does; I know more about organization, supply, and administration and about everything else than he does; but I'll tell you where he beats me and where he beats the world. He don't care a damn for what the enemy does out of his sight, but it scares me like hell."

Grant explained that last statement in a roundabout way in his Memoirs. Early in the war, Grant was tasked with capturing a rebel camp in Missouri. Though greatly afraid, he marched on the camp only to find it deserted. He determined that the rebel leader had been just as afraid of Grant as Grant was of him. He never forgot that lesson.

Armchair general that I am, I think Sherman is wrong, though. Sherman was the better tactician, but Grant was the better strategist. Anyway, Grant got back on track later in the year when he made plans to destroy the army defending Vicksburg, Miss. It was a long and tortuous road that had many setbacks—and some legitimate criticism. But in one of the masterpieces of modern warfare, Grant out-maneuvered the Vicksburg defenses and captured the defending army after a siege, on July 4, 1863. He then defeated the major Confederate western army (The Army of Tennessee) at Chattanooga that November. By then, President Lincoln knew Grant was the man he needed to win the war.

Lincoln brought Grant east to command all Union armies in early 1864. Grant reassured Lincoln like no other general had, largely because Grant told Lincoln that regardless of what happened from then on, it wouldn’t be from lack of support from the government. In other words, Grant was literally the first Union general to actually assume responsibility for what he was about to do, and told Lincoln ahead of time that he had no intention of blaming the president for anything. Lincoln must have loved hearing that.

Grant has long been attacked (starting during the war itself) as a butcher
who sacrificed lives needlessly, and as an untalented general who used blunt force to have his way. Such criticism seems overwrought and done to elevate Lee while denigrating Grant. And certain facts cannot ever be denied. Grant won decisively because he had a plan and stuck to it, found and promoted competent and loyal lieutenants such as Sherman and Sheridan, and had a willingness to abandon failed approaches, such as he did when he quit the direct, bloody confrontation with Lee. Grant knew how to whip Lee and the Confederacy and did it. It is argued that Lee was the better general because of his string of brilliant victories, whereas Grant faced poorly led and ill-equipped western armies. Yet practically nothing Lee did advanced his cause decisively. And Lee also faced an often poorly led army, whose weaknesses he took advantage of to deadly effect. Grant’s efforts, however, continually brought the Union closer to victory, at Forts Henry and Donnellson, Shiloh, Vicksburg and Chattanooga. Grant never retraced his steps, and wherever he was in charge, the Union cause didn’t either. Grant’s casualties were also proportionately less than Lee’s. Lee himself refused to hear any criticism of Grant, for when his lieutenants complained that Grant foolishly wasted lives, Lee silenced them by saying he believed Grant had admirably conducted his affairs. (This is not to say Lee wasn’t a great general; he was – but he did, in fact, lose, whereas Grant won.) Lee always sought the decisive battle, but Grant came to understand that the way to beat the South was through a war of exhaustion. (Meaning, he could win the war regardless of whether he won the set battles.)

Grant was also the only the only general to eliminate three entire armies from the field: at Donnellson, Vicksburg and Appomattox.

Finally, one more thing about Grant as general: The keys to Grant’s amazing successes are many. His enemies—and they were legion—credited his successes to mere chance and luck: a foolish drunkard who happened to be at the right places at the right times. But it was Grant’s character, his fortitude, his rejection of any possibility of defeat and his ability to see the “big picture” that gave him success. Grant, of course, had some vanity—what general doesn’t – but his vanity honestly took second place to winning the war. Chief among Grant’s qualities was his ability to generate loyalty in chief lieutenants and his men—and he did this through smart delegation of duties, a decided lack of military pomp and the always-constant drive to press on. And Grant was always in the thick of things, whether placing demoralized or reinforcements into line at Shiloh, or personally moving men and material through the swamps to begin his great flank march on Vicksburg, or disengaging from the Wilderness and putting his men back on the road south. Robert E. Lee’s post-war supporters may have heaped all of the glory from the war on his shoulders, but it was Grant who won it. Not by flash and expensive offensives, but by following this maxim, which he told to his wife Julia shortly after Donnellson: “The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on.”

The peacemakers
There was, of course, so much left out of that summary of Grant’s military career, but you have a general idea, and the story of the Civil War is familiar enough. (See Resources below for more.)

But just before it ended—and just before Lincoln’s life ended—Lincoln met with Grant, Sherman and Rear Adm. David Porter on a steamer at City Point, Va., Grant’s headquarters. This March 1865 meeting is so critical to understanding Grant’s presidency that is it amazing that historians have overlooked it for so long.

During this meeting, Lincoln talked about what he expected to happen next, after
Confederate armies finally surrendered and their men paroled. Lincoln had a desire to “let ‘em up easy” and get the Confederate states back into the Union quickly, but fairly. He wanted the newly freed slaves to play an important role as well.

The meeting left a profound impression on Grant and Sherman, as played out in the quite generous terms each dictated to his foe at the Appomattox and Durham Station surrenders, respectively. But Lincoln’s desire for a reunited nation left an even deeper impression on Grant, in that he would spend his entire time in office enacting, in effect, what Lincoln’s second term would have been. Of course, there may be some serious disagreement here, as some Lincoln scholars would argue that we don’t quite know what Lincoln’s second term would have entailed for the South because Lincoln himself wasn’t so sure. However, Ulysses S. Grant was sure, and his understanding of what Lincoln wanted for the South was that the “verdict” of Appomattox must never be overturned.

To Grant, according to his understanding of Lincoln’s wishes, the peace was immutable: the Confederate states would come back to the Union fold, slavery was dead and the newly freed slaves would become citizens. As president, Grant would work to secure that vision—to his eventual despair.

It is a huge mistake, though, to separate the story of Ulysses S. Grant into everything leading up to Appomattox and everything after, because to do so fails to take into account Grant’s increasingly strong desire—his mission, if you will—to preserve the fruits of that victory. He fought hard for that victory and he was not about to see it thrown away. But during the Johnson years, Grant came to believe that those fruits were in danger of being lost.

Playing politics
For the next four years, Grant continued serving as general in chief. He was undoubtedly the most celebrated and honored man in the country. He was still primarily a military man, but events would force him to become politically involved. Before the war, he had been a Democrat, but he identified now with the Republican Party primarily because of Lincoln and the war.

Grant never got along with President Johnson. Early in his term, Johnson (and the Radicals) wanted to punish high-level Confederates, including Robert E. Lee, both by refusing them clemency and putting them on trial. Trying Lee for treason (something Lee was not afraid of) offended Grant because of the terms he had given at Appomattox. Grant was mad—and he had a reputation for never losing his cool. He all but shouted at Johnson “If I had told him and his army that their liberty would be invaded, that they would be open to arrest, trial and execution for treason, Lee would have never surrendered, and we would have lost many lives in destroying him.” As long as Lee and his officers never violated their parole as laid out at the surrender, Grant would never consent to their arrest. He would resign his command first. (Smith, p.418)

Grant had Johnson, and the president knew it. Grant was far too popular for Johnson to have him as an enemy. But probably from that moment on, Johnson knew he needed to either control Grant or neutralize him. He tried, but his own mistakes couldn’t override Grant’s character and popularity.

Relations between commander in chief and general in chief got worse. Grant abandoned the president’s entourage during Johnson’s disastrous 1866 “swing around the circle” when it became clear Johnson was just using Grant to make it appear he supported Johnson’s policies. And Grant was angered by Johnson’s vindictive words against the Radicals.

Strangely, though, things were getting so bad between Johnson and Congress during the fall of 1866 that Grant actually began to fear that Johnson would initiate a coup. It seems fantastic now—almost feverish—but it seemed logical to Grant. After all, Johnson was talking about a Congress that was operating “illegally” and “unconstitutionally.” His suspicions were fueled by Johnson’s desire to send Grant to lead a diplomatic mission to the newly restored Mexican government (a show of force by 50,000 of Grant’s troops just after the war had convinced France’s puppet government under Maximillian to quit Mexico). Grant adamantly refused to go, because it was a job for diplomats, not soldiers, and the president could not order him to do it. (He was right.) The coup of course never materialized.

Johnson and Grant fought even further when Congress initiated Military, or Radical
, Reconstruction by dividing the ex-Confederacy into five military districts. Johnson, reluctantly, appointed five generals named by Grant to lead these districts (see the report on Johnson for the battle between the president and Congress over Military Reconstruction). Grant named his protégé, Phillip H. Sheridan, to command the district based in New Orleans, but Sheridan’s blunt style led to outcries that bent the ear of the president. He (probably gleefully) removed Sheridan over Grant’s protest.

The final showdown between Grant and Johnson came when Johnson tried to use the general in the events that led to impeachment. By now (1868) Grant was the assumed Republican candidate, and Johnson, still holding on to the dreams of party building, sought to damage Grant. Grant actually handled matters badly; among other missteps, he didn’t meet with Johnson when he said he would—and Johnson immediately pounced on Grant to “expose” him as a liar. Nobody really believed him, though.

Republicans had begun to look at Grant as their possible candidate for the White House because Grant was tremendously popular. In today’s language, Grant was a superstar. And the Radical Republicans thought Grant would be just want they needed: an easily pliable, very popular war hero in the White House who would let them enact their program of vengeance against the South. Republicans were again doing with Grant what the Whigs—some of them even the same men—had done with Zachary Taylor 18 years earlier.

Reluctantly, and against the advice of Sherman, who abhorred politics (despite his brother John, the senator) Grant accepted the nomination. He quelled party infighting with “Let us have peace,” a statement which became his campaign slogan. He easily won the election, squashing the Democrats’ Horatio Seymour in a commanding victory. However, it was closer than the Republicans thought it would be, given Grant’s popularity, but the Republicans had suffered because of impeachment (sound familiar?) and other issues.

Why did Grant run for president? It’s simple, really. Grant didn’t want the job, but leaving the nation and the war’s legacy in the hands of the likes of Johnson, hard-core and racist ex-rebels and others threatened to wreck what had already been gained. During the second half of the Johnson years, though, Grant moved from a man of pure military thinking to one of political thinking, as well. This movement is illustrated by his involvement in the Military Reconstruction bill:

“When the Reconstruction bill went into conference committee to reconcile the House and Senate versions, Grant worked closely with Sherman’s brother, sponsor of the bill in the Senate, to fashion a measure that would provide for black suffrage and at the same time indicate to the Southern states how military occupation could be ended [Big Mo note: adoption of the 14th Amendment]. Grant’s role was widely reported…

… What was most surprising was Grant’s endorsement of black suffrage. Throughout 1865 and 1866 he had been skeptical of enfranchising the freedmen, at least immediately. But continued resistance on the part of white Southerners to granting legal equality to African-Americans, combined with the increasing violence in the South, convinced him that black suffrage was essential. Only by weaving the freedmen into the political fabric of the nation could past injustices be corrected and the current wave of violence be brought under control.” (Smith, p.433)
So, as both Grant and the Radicals were about to find out, things wouldn’t go as planned. Grant, for all his personal and supposed political nativity, proved to be a much different president than they expected. And the Radicals would not get to mercilessly crush the South like they wanted to.

Political naïves
If Grant had one personality flaw that hurt him in his presidency—and throughout his life—it was his naivety with people. Quite often, Grant would trust someone unquestionably unless and until that person proved himself to be a snake. On such occasion, that person was never trusted again, with rare exception. In the Army, Grant’s instincts and judge of character served him quite well. But in the world of politics, where chameleons ruled and Grant’s instincts on character were less sharp, Grant was initially like a babe in the woods and got caught by some skunks.

Immediately the Republicans sought to control him, mainly through his cabinet appointments and the usual flurry of offices; but like his hero, Zachary Taylor, Grant would prove to be his own man and appointed whom he would. And like Taylor’s, not all of his appointments were good. For example, he made his old Galena friend, John Rawlins, the secretary of war, which naturally angered party members who expected the office to go to someone else. But Rawlins was deathly ill and died later in 1869.

His longtime political patron, Elihu B. Washburne, served as his secretary of state for a mere 12 days before heading to France as ambassador for the next eight years. It was supposed to be temporary to let Washburne have the title added to his portfolio, but it did not—nor should it—reflect well on Grant.

These early appointments cause Grant political embarrassment and exposed a level of political incompetence in certain people’s minds that Grant was never able to shake. It wasn’t an auspicious beginning.

But most appointments were quite good. Grant’s most spectacular cabinet officer was former New York governor and senator Hamilton Fish as secretary of state (replacing the short-lived term of Washburne). Grant consulted absolutely nobody over the appointment—not even Fish himself! Fish received notice in the mail, and he accepted; reluctant at first, he soon warmed to the job. It’s a good thing, too, because Fish became one of the most celebrated secretaries of state in the nation’s history, on even par with George Marshall. He served throughout the administration. More on him later.

His selections for treasury and attorney general were also excellent. It was a mixed cabinet at first, but historians who seem to dismiss the Grant cabinet as nothing more than a pack of corrupt toadies (with the exception of Fish) don’t know what they’re talking about.

Party leaders were certainly upset over the lack of consultation over cabinet choices, but in Grant’s defense, they should have thought of that before making a general their standard-bearer. A man who is used to giving orders and delegating responsibilities isn’t going to suddenly overnight develop a gift for politics, or see the need for stroking delicate egos in Congress. He’s going to simply get the job done.


But the appointments flap was just the beginning of Grant’s troubles with strong personalities in Congress, particularly the old abolitionist stalwart, Charles Sumner. Grant and Sumner should have been allies, and Grant thought that they would be. But Sumner “betrayed” Grant in a way that (I think) justified Grant’s subsequent treatment of the Massachusetts senator. Sumner believed that he would run foreign policy through his proxies in State and took it as a personal affront that Grant assumed that he and his secretary of state would do so. Worse, the night before the Senate was to vote on Grant’s plan to annex Santo Domingo, Grant had invited Sumner over to talk, and Sumner had assured Grant on his support—in typical politician-speak. In other words, he promised to the politically-naïve without really promising that he would support the treaty. The next day, when Sumner spoke against the treaty, Grant was aghast, and accused (correctly) Sumner of duplicity. Thanks in large part to Sumner’s opposition, the treaty failed—and Grant never forgave Sumner.

Grant was also not a strong speaker. With the written word, he was brilliant. It was said of Grant that his orders in battle were always clear and precise. No one failed to understand what he wanted. His messages to Congress were equally clear and brilliantly written. (If you read his Memoirs, you’ll understand why the great Mark Twain was so enthusiastic about them, and Twain knew a thing or two about the written word.) But when he was speaking, he wasn’t great or too memorable. Fortunately, he came to know his limitation, and kept it to a minimum.

What follows are the major things that happened in Grant’s presidency. Rather than list events chronologically, I’ve described them thematically for easier understanding of just why there is more to Grant’s presidency than you know.

Reconstruction
The period in the South of 1863-1877 generally falls under the term o
f Reconstruction. It was not a happy period, but it saw, for a time, the elevation of black Americans to equal footing with whites. For the first time, black Americans were elected to local, state and federal governments. But the bitter fighting between Johnson and Congress soured the nation and the South on Reconstruction, so by the time President Grant took command of the situation, he had three primary goals in mind: with Congress in control of Reconstruction (with Grant’s assistance back when the law was passed), Grant was to enforce the law while protecting freedmen and Unionists from predatory violence of white supremacists, being fair to ex-rebels who sought re-union, and reuniting the Southern states to the Union. The formal condition of reunion was supposedly presaged on acceptance of the 14th amendment. Technically, Reconstruction could be said to have ended in 1871, when the last of the Southern delegates was finally seated in Congress. But President Grant still needed to enforce the law in the South.

In short, here’s how Grant handled Reconstruction:

Ulysses S. Grant was the original civil rights president. Not Lincoln, you say? The great Emancipator destroyed slavery and restored the Union to his great credit and the undying thanks of the nation. Grant, however, carried Lincoln’s vision even further, and was the greatest champion of black civil rights until Lyndon Johnson.

During Grant’s administration, he pressed for civil rights long after the country as a whole had tired of “waving the bloody shirt” in support of the freedmen. The general-turned-president spent his eight years in office making sure the “verdict” of Appomattox was not overturned. Grant and his cabinet formed the Justice Department specifically to enforce federal authority in the South and preserve the rights of the freedmen. Two of Grant’s attorneys general, Amos T. Ackerman and then George H. Williams, oversaw Grant’s presidential Reconstruction policies through the five Enforcement Acts and the Ku-Klux Klan Act. Through their actions—driven by Grant—they smashed the Klan and thereby rendered it impotent for 50 years. Thanks to Grant’s forceful actions, violence in the South against freedmen dropped, and it was only when the threat of reprisal was removed following Grant’s presidency that violence escalated again. The 14th and 15th amendments became law based on his full and unswerving support. He suspended habeas corpus and sent federal troops into Southern states to enforce suffrage for blacks, believing that the freedmen should enjoy the same political rights as anyone else. The 1872 elections, which Grant won in a landslide, were the fairest in the South until the 1960s.

He tried to annex Santo Domingo (modern-day Dominican Republic) not, as has been long thought, in a bungled attempt to add territory to the US. Rather, Grant sought to make the black-dominated island into three or four US states on the theory that if they were successful, then they would serve as models for successful, peaceful state governments dominated by blacks. The annexation effort of course failed, and whether it was noble or wrongheaded is beside the point: it was an example of novel thinking from someone often dismissed a
s a dullard.

Grant was the first president to fight for equal rights for blacks based on the simple belief that they deserved it no less than anyone else. He used the full weight of the federal government as much as he could during peacetime—and more than any other president in peacetime, ever (even Jefferson and the disastrous embargo of 1807-08)—to protect America’s most vulnerable people. But his fight was a doomed fight. (The best analogy I can think of is Atticus Finch defending the prejudged Tom Robinson in To Kill a Mockingbird.) Because racism was so ingrained in America at that time, what Grant sought to do was simply not possible—at least, not then. There are some historians like Gillette who believe that had Grant been a really slick politician, Reconstruction would have worked. But that, too, is hogwash, because even slick politicians can’t change deep-rooted attitudes and beliefs with mere political skills.

As the Republican-led Reconstruction governments fell and states were “redeemed” by Democrat (white supremacist) governments, the public eventually soured on reconstructing the South. The best analogy is to the war in Iraq: when Americans hear nothing but bad news, and are unclear of when the thing is finally over, they lose patience. Historian Josiah Bunting III, writing in 2004, explains:


“It is often a liability of democracy that its citizens cannot for a long time sustain support for policies and actions that, however noble their goals, do not demonstrate measurable progress. Moral stamina, as historians call it, is a perishable commodity in the American polity. Abraham Lincoln might urge that the nation take increased devotion to the cause for which the Union dead had given the last full measure of devotion, but citizens of neither 1863 nor 1875 could agree among themselves as to the real nature of that cause, and what labors were necessary, and right, to secure its final achievement. As the years wore on and the war edged further into the past, many northern citizens had had enough and were ready to move on. For them, this was the meaning of Grant’s famous injunction “Let us have peace.” (Bunting, p.109)

But despite Grant’s valiant losing battle, some people did notice and were grateful—and looked forward to a better day when there were more Grants in the country than white supremacists and Klansmen and Redeemers:

“To [Grant] more than any other man the negro owes his enfranchisement and the Indian a humane policy. In the matter of the protection of the freedman from violence his moral courage surpassed that of his party; hence his place as its head was given to timid men, and the country was allowed to drift, instead of stemming the current with stalwart arms.”

So wrote the great Frederick Douglass, who was absolutely right in his assessment of Grant and of the nation. Because when lesser men succeeded Grant as president, and Reconstruction was abandoned, black Americans essentially had to start over. Yet most historians have dismissed Grant’s efforts, and labeled him as a racist, a butcher and a dullard too stupid to be president.

Superb international relations
With Grant’s full support, Secretary of State Fish enacted methods of international arbitration that are still used and served as the foundational basis for the League of Nations and later the United Nations.

Have you ever heard of that?

During the war, England had manufactured several ships for the Confederacy that were easily converted to commerce raiders. The CSS Alabama (sunk by the USS Kersage of Le Harve in 1864) became the focal point of the dispute between America and England. The Senate had rejected a Johnson administration agreement with England. Fish, on the other hand, and with Grant’s full approval, brilliantly made peace with England over the Civil War claims, and also ended all outstanding border disputes and fishing rights disputes between American and England/Canada, thereby strengthening and deepening the ties between our two nations.

The Washington Treaty of 1871 remains a masterpiece of diplomacy, and was hailed in Washington. Alas, Grant gets no credit, but Fish would not have acted without his chief’s approval. However, it would be fair (well, almost) to say that our true friendship with England began during Grant’s presidency, because after these claims, we really had no more arguments with England. Grant also avoided war with Spain over Cuba—twice—despite enormous public and congressional pressure. He knew that the desire to add Havana to the Union was motivated by nothing more than greed. He offered to purchase Cuba, but did nothing more. Congress and certain segments of the public wanted America to intervene on the side of rebels in Cuba against Spanish rule, but Grant saw absolutely no reason for it. He offered America’s services as arbitrator, but no more.

Thirty years later the United States would fight the highly dubious Spanish-American War—and Grant probably would have disapproved, just as he disapproved of the Mexican War.

Preventing genocide
Elsewhere on the domestic front, Grant made a true effort to make peace with the Plains Indian tribes, thereby in all likelihood saving them from extermination. That’s a bold statement, I know.

And President Andrew Johnson had, to his credit, initiated a peace policy of his o
wn. But Grant’s was much more substantive and carried some actual weight behind it—and Johnson’s fighting with Congress made his a non-starter, despite the truth behind his commission’s reports.

Western states supported Grant in 1868 on the mistaken belief that he—the man who destroyed the Confederacy—would eradicate the “Indian problem” once and for all. They were wrong. In the army in the 1850s Grant wrote to his wife Julia that he knew the Indians were getting shafted left and right, and when he became president, Grant reversed U.S. policy and promoted comprehensive reform designed to bring peace.

Of course, “Custer’s Last Stand” occurred during the final year of his administration, mainly because of the vainglorious Custer but also Sheridan’s aggression and Grant’s mistaken trust in Sheridan. I don’t discount the culpability of the Sioux and etc. who were on the warpath, but this was an avoidable disaster, and Grant took his eye off the ball.

But Grant’s policy usually was to punish those who did wrong while making fair and just peace with those who wanted peace. In fact, it’s very similar to Taylor’s approach to Indians and Mexicans, and George W. Bush’s approach to Islamic terror. What made the difference in Grant’s approach was that Grant believed in treating Indians as individuals instead of just tribes. In other words, seeing them as people, not problems. When the famed Red Cloud and other Plains chiefs visited Washington in 1870, Grant treated them just shy of visiting heads of state. Not for nothing did the Plains Indians refer specifically to Grant as “great white father.” He pressed for citizenship for Indians—a remarkably progressive stance for the 1870s and something no president had ever before done—and sought to treat them fairly by replacing corrupt Indian agents with (presumably) un-corruptible Quakers. The corrupt agents were one of the biggest causes of troubles on the Plains. He also created a blue-ribbon panel for Indian affairs to bypass the congressional logjam on Indian appropriations, and placed his longtime friend Ely Parker—himself a Seneca chief—in charge of Indian affairs. Alas, the panel folded before he left office.

Finally, Grant utterly refused to abandon his peace policy just to win votes in the west. Grant swept the west in 1872 except for Texas, which had to do more with Reconstruction than the peace policy.

Although Grant wasn’t entirely successful on this front, he sincerely believed that Indians deserved justice no less than anyone else.

Managing the nation’s money better than his own
Grant was bad with money—his own, that is. And it often got him into trouble. One of the primary reasons why he wrote his amazing Memoirs was because he hoped to provide for his family after he died (which he did).

But with the nation’s money, Grant and his chosen treasury secretaries proved up to the task. Grant prevented the greedy cornering of the gold market in 1869 by Jay Gould and Jim Fisk in a brilliant counter-stroke that flooded the market with government gold (instead of the small amount regularly scheduled to be sold).

At first, Grant was taken in by Jay Gould and Jim Fisk—his trusting nature got the better of him. But contrary to what history says, the actual paper record proves that Grant ultimately was not fooled by what Gould and Fisk planned and warned his treasury secretary a full two weeks in advance of what they were scheming and to prepare accordingly. Thus, Grant prevented a bad situation from becoming a serious crisis. While the episode does not reflect well on Grant—“laggard and uncertain” is how Josiah Bunting describes Grant’s handling—it is true that once he got wind of the scheme, he acted.

During his second term, the Panic of 1873 slammed the nation. The collapse of the Jay Cooke banking firm in Philadelp
hia precipitated the Panic, which was exacerbated by the collapse of many railroads. Unemployment ran as high as 14 percent by 1876. The president is criticized in modern times for not doing more to alleviate the crisis, but Grant did what he could with the tools he had. (Remember, this is still the time before the activist presidency, and before the time when the executive branch was looked to as the cure-all of the nation).

So what did Grant do? Contrary to “history,” Grant did not “do nothing,” nor was he confused and directionless. Grant single-handedly prevented the amazingly harmful inflation bill of 1874 from becoming law. Designed by a Congress and Wall Street desperate to do something to combat the Panic, the bill would have creamed the already-struggling economy while benefiting only a few through the release of millions of government “greenbacks” (paper currency). Immediately following that victory, Grant supported the Resumption of specie payment Act of 1875, thereby restoring US credit and avoided turning a financial crisis into a financial disaster. The Panic literally ended abruptly when the act became effective in 1879.

Years later, Grant explained that he took his time witing out the reasons to approve the bill. Republican party leaders were warning that a veto would destroy the party, especially in the west; so was his cabinet, except Fish, so the pressure on Grant was great. He wrote out elegant reasons for approving the bill, arguing that it it wouldn't mean inflation, that it wouldn't affect the country's credit, that it would help, not hurt:

"When I finished my wonderful message, I read it over and said to myself, 'What is the good of all of this? You do not believe it. You know it is not true.' Throwing it aside I resolved to do what I believed to be right, veto the bill! I could not stand my own arguments." (Smith, p. 581)
The importance of that victory cannot be understated. Smith calls the veto "a seminal event in American history" (p. 581) because the nation moved away from Civil War soft money and a massive and necessary step toward the reurn of specie payments (money backed by gold). A triumphant Grant told Congress in December 1874 that unbacked paper currency had served its purpose in the war, but in order to restore economic stability, hard currency was needed, not hundreds of millions of more greenbacks that would lead to a more inflated dollar unable to compete with foreign currencies.

Sure, Congress' and Wall Street's inflation bill would have provided temporary relief across the country -- and Grant was fully aware of this. He knew full well what it was like to be poor and living from one meal to the next. But as the chief executive, he had to look at the bigger picture.

And he was right. It was a major victory and was actually hailed in the financial community , many newspapers and even by Republicans starting to take a dim view of the General in the White House, such as future president James Garfield.

To summarize Grant's economic policy, Frank Scaturro writes:

"Grant pursued an economic policy that was singularly successful in the aftermath of the most serious fiscal problems the nation had ever faced. Under his administration, policies were pursued that reduced inflation, bolstered economic recovery from the mild depression of 1867-69, promoted economy in federal expenditures, and substantially raised the nation’s credit. Both taxes and the national debt were reduced during Grant’s presidency by approximately $300 million and $435 million, respectively; one-fifth of the national debt had been eliminated, and during Grant’s first year in office, [Treasury Secretary] Boutwell had successfully established a policy that (if it had been desirable to continue rather than reducing taxation) would have paid off the entire national debt in less than a quarter century. Annual interest rates were reduced by approximately $30 million under Grant’s policies, and the balance of trade was changed from over $130 million against the United States to over $120 million in the nation’s favor.” (Scaturro, p.49-50)
In sum, Grant successfully pursued what today would be considered fiscally conservative policies.

Other events
Three other incidences that occurred during the Grant era merit mention. In addition to establishing the Department of Justice in 1871 under the attorney general, Grant added the office of the solicitor general. (The office of the surgeon general also began during Grant’s term, though it came about through an act of Congress.)

Grant also signed into law in 1870 the creation of the Weather Bureau, which would later become the National Weather Service.

Finally, Grant and Congress authorized the creation of the first national park in America. Based on reports from (and tireless efforts of) F.V. Hayden, more than 2,200,000 acres became Yellowstone National Park (Wyoming) in March 1872.

The “scandals” and corruption
Yes, there were scandals. And undoubtedly, “scandal” is the word most people continue to associate with Grant. But unlike some of Grant’s successors (including a certain turkey from Arkansas), Grant was not the epicenter of scandal. And many of the “scandals” actually occurred during Johnson’s unfortunate term and only came to light during Grant’s terms (as has happened to George W. Bush: the crimes of Enron actually took place during Clinton’s administration, but since they were exposed during Bush’s time, Bush gets blamed). Other scandals merely occurred during Grant’s terms but had nothing to do with him or his administration, such as Boss Tweed and Tammany Hall.

As for the worst of the “scandals”, it was Grant’s administration that helped expose them! Those were the Credit Mobilier scandal, which occurred before Grant became president, and the Whiskey scandal, which included some low-ranking members of his administration and would eventually bring accusations—proven unfounded—against his primary secretary, Babcock. Grant made sure that no one guilty would go unpunished—even longtime friends.

But when it became clear to Grant that his attorney general, Bristow, was aiming to destroy Grant’s aide and friend Babcock in a bald attempt to win the graces of the reformers and get elected president, Grant sheltered Babcock. Grant’s defense of Babcock, done in an unprecedented five-hour closed session, ended the matter and satisfied (at the time) many of his harshest critics. But these days his defense of Babcock has been taken as evidence of corruption by protecting a crony—but really it was shielding someone from an unjust witch-hunt. At the same time, the nature of some of the “scandals” are willfully misunderstood, as they involved the spoils system, which all presidents to that point had used without protest. Grant was the first president to press for the creation of a civil service to eliminate the spoils system. The so-called reformers, who supposedly longed for civil service reform, accused Grant of corruption primarily because Grant did not appoint them to posts! Grant abandoned the attempt late in his second term in the face of an unwilling Congress; it took the murder of President Garfield—himself a “reformer”—for civil service to be truly reformed under President Chester A. Arthur.

Alas, some of the corruption of Grant's people was real, but -- and this is really no excuse -- it was no different than existed throughout the era. Grant's second-term appointees were much weaker than his first. His men at Treasury, War, Justice and Interior at the beginning of the second term were all bad choices, and it is here that the charge of corruption has the most force. Their actions were either illegal, later declared illegal or merely grossly indiscreet. Fortunately most did not survive the term, but their damage was done.

Grant's loyalty to such men "went beyond prudence," Smith writes (p.554), and Grant hurt himself badly by holding on to men who were no good, both in their offices and in their abuses of thier offices. So, could Grant have handled the “scandals” better? Absolutely.

Worse for his reputation, Grant did not loudly and repeatedly condemn corruption and scandal when it was discovered. However, that wasn’t how he operated. When someone betrayed his trust or royally screwed up, President Grant privately offered that man a chance to make things right by resigning. In other words, he didn’t go for the political theater. Contemporary and modern critics use this as evidence of corruption by way of protecting cronies. To Grant, it was merely a way of one man offering another man a way to save face.

So, yes, he could have handled matters differently (i.e., better). But then he would not have been Ulysses S. Grant.

In the end, equating Grant with “scandal” and "corruption" almost to the singular exclusion of all else is, quite plainly, idiotic. There were far worse scandals in other administrations, but no one attaches that word to them as easily as they do to Grant. Not even Warren G. Harding. I’m not trying to set up an “everyone does it” excuse,” but rather argue that Grant does not and never has deserved to have this label attached to him. The scandal and corruption label has been way overblown and falsely—even maliciously—applied.

Maintaining the peace: the disputed election of 1876
By 1876, Grant had lost much of the support of the Republican Party, as the north was looking to move beyond Reconstruction. He was still popular personally, but a third term did not seem likely. Republicans decided on former general and rising star Ohio Governor Rutherford Hayes as their standard-bearer.

For eight years Grant had shepherded the nation through an intensely complex era that immediately followed on the heels of a decade of tremendous upheaval. His era would end with his calm and non-partisan handling of the election crisis of 1876, where Democrat Tilden won the popular vote but the electoral college vote was in dispute. Grant’s handling of the crisis was different than Bill Clinton’s in 2000. Clinton was a non-entity during his crisis, which is understandable considering his chosen successor was one of the candidates, and Clinton inserting himself into the Florida recount probably would have made that explosive situation worse. In 1876, Grant made sure order prevailed and the transition was peaceful, and inserted himself into the crisis in order to solve it because, to use a modern term, he didn’t have a dog in the fight.

Grant already knew that, one way or another, Reconstruction was finished. He naturally preferred a Republican victory, but he wanted a fair outcome. Grant recommended a commission to Congress to settle the election, which Congress did, certifying the results shortly before Hayes was inaugurated. He even quietly ordered troops assembled in Washington in case there was trouble. True, it’s easy to overplay Grant’s role in this dispute, but to his credit, he made sure there was a peaceful transition.

Around the world—and a third try
When he left office, Grant was still as much of a hero as he was in 1865. The politi
cal class didn’t think so, nor did the self-anointed intellectuals and “reformers.” But Grant didn’t care. Grant and Julia packed and left on a celebrated, two-year, worldwide tour. They visited England, Prussia, Italy, Egypt, Russia, Burma and Japan. Everywhere he went, he was regarded as a conquering hero, and addressed as “general.”

In Berlin, he stunned Chancellor Bismarck by simply walking to the imperial palace on his own, rather than arriving with a full—and pompous—entourage. In the Holy Land, he talked for hours about his favorite subject, horses, with a powerful sultan. In Japan, he was actually asked to settle a border dispute between Japan and China, and did so, “ruling” in favor of Japan. In Venice, Italy, he cracked that the city would be nice except for all the flooded streets. Unkind bashers have used this remark as evidence of his supposed dullness.

A reporter accompanied the Grants and later published his writings. The book is particularly valuable because Grant gave many impressions to the reporter that he didn't relate in his Memoirs, especially of his presidency and various Confederate generals. For example, Grant didn’t fear Robert E. Lee, but was always wary of Joseph E. Johnston, whom he thought was the better general. And he expounded on various political leaders and defended the actions he took as president, such as the critical veto of the inflation bill.

The Grants returned home to a hero’s welcome in 1879, when Grant was talked into making another try at the presidency. Unfortunately, Grant was interested and actively pursued getting his old job back. He came within a stone’s throw at the 1880 convention, but enough of the party decided that two terms of Grant was enough, and nominated James Garfield instead on the 36th ballot.

Ruin, cancer and final victory
Grant went into business one final time in New York City as a broker, but his partner proved to be a skunk and bankrupted the company—leaving Grant broke once more. Worse, all of the cigars Grant had smoked since the fall of Fort Donnellson in 1862 had given him inoperable throat cancer. (Grant had not smoked cigars before then, but after the spectacular victory, he received so many cigars as presents he decided to just start smoking them.)

Grant, now virtually penniless again, needed a way to support his family. Century magazine had approached him about writing an article about the Battle of Shiloh as part of the magazine’s new series, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War. (This is a great series written entirely by the participants. Any public library worth its salt should have a copy of the four-volume series.) Grant wrote a dry account, which was not at all what the editors wanted. They asked him to try again. So, he did, and he soon found himself writing not just about Shiloh, but his whole life.

By then Grant had made friends with the humorist Mark Twain, and Twain, hearing of Grant’s problems, worked out a deal where Grant would write his life’s story and Twain would see it published. Grant and his family would get 75% of the profits and Twain would get the rest.

Moving to Mount MacGregor in upstate New York in 1885, Grant worked diligently on the Memoirs while the cancer sapped his life. He finally finished five days before he died on July 23.

The Memoirs sold incredibly well and brought in $450,000 for Julia, which more than made her comfortable. Twain declared them the best military memoirs since Caesar’s, and at least on this one point, most Grant critics agree.

Final Assessment

Few other presidents faced as deep and profoundly diverse crises upon entering office as Grant. (The others were Lincoln, Andrew Johnson and Franklin D. Roosevelt.) That fact needs to be appreciated, as Scaturro writes:

“More important than the observation that certain [new and unprecedented] issues began to face the country when Grant was president was how he handled them: whether the issue was economic policy, foreign affairs, or civil rights, Grant established a record on the questions he encountered with a decisiveness that towers above the record of other presidents. His stand on monetary policy effected a party realignment and set the stage for future debate, and his successors through the nineteenth century never achieved their own economic goals as clearly as Grant did through the Resumption Act. …Grant’s own record on civil rights stands alone in his era, a fact that is largely intertwined with Reconstruction’s repudiation, and even the repudiation could not endue after the government passed measures nine decades later to recover the legal framework of civil rights that had been either created or otherwise realized under Grant.

…The notion that Grant was a president without policies stands in stark contrast to a record that indicates strong leadership (even if that leadership was sometimes manifested in “hidden hands”-style interaction with congressmen). Grant’s period, which occurred during a period of unprecedented growth, which began in the face of so many unanswered political questions, and which ended having answered virtually every question facing it, established the foundations of modern America largely in the same way Washington’s presidency shaped the earlier establishment.” (Scaturro, P.117-118)
Grant was the only president between Lincoln and McKinley to win re-election to back-to-back terms. He won re-election in a landslide, counting among his supporters the western states, most every single black man and progressives. He crushed the liberal-Republican/Democrat alliance arrayed to defeat him—as effectively as he crushed Rebel armies in Tennessee and Virginia. (Biographer Jean Edward Smith plays up this theme often.)

So why does President Grant have such a lousy reputation? It’s because the history of his presidency was written by and large by his political and personal enemies. Grant became a victim of “the Lost Cause,” wherein the Confederates were the natural inheritors of the Revolutionary mantle and were overwhelmed by Lincoln’s “illegal war.” Grant’s contemporary enemies proved far more prolific with their condemnations than his supporters were with their praises. Grant’s 1872 victory, vigorous enforcement of Reconstruction and lack of appointments to hypocritical “reformers” soured Grant before the intellectual class—including historians. White supremacists, redeemers and Lost Cause-sympathizing historians naturally trashed Grant’s presidency. William Dunning and his students became the leading authorities on Reconstruction and the Gilded Age from the early 1900s through the 1940s. They elevated Andrew Johnson and viciously attacked the Radicals, Grant and Reconstruction, and by extension, blacks. They viewed Reconstruction with utter contempt, and therefore Grant himself. This view is the predominant view that continues to this day. (To see this in action, read The Tragic Era by Dunning student Claude Bowers. Then read W.E.B. DuBois’ Black Reconstruction in America, written as a response to the Dunning school. Then read Eric Foner’s definitive 1987 Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution, although Foner does not give Grant his due.)

Later New Deal Democrats and liberals, who despised anyone in power during the Gilded Age, took an equally dim view of Grant and played up the so-called “scandals.” And latter-day bored, unthinking, uncritical or Lost Cause-sympathizing historians have accepted their biased verdict without question. (McFeely admitted he was bored with the monetary aspects of Grant’s presidency.)

You still see this gross bias and character assassination at work today, in biographies of other presidents (the most recent Rutherford Hayes biography repeats the tired “corruption” theme) and even on the White House’s official history page. The Wikipedia entry on Grant is terrible and full of Grant bashing. I don’t blame Wikipedia—I blame what the author of that post used as source material, including Hesseltine and McFeely. You can even see it in works on other presidents of that era, who cite how much the public was “tired” of the “scandals” of the Grant era.

However, the last decade’s worth of research on Ulysses S. Grant’s presidency has revealed that Grant’s good sense displayed on battlefield after battlefield did not desert him in the White House. As a president, Grant has long since deserved much better treatment than he’s gotten from historians and elites.

In sum: Grant saved the Union three times. First by winning the war, second by winning the peace at Appomattox, and third by preserving the peace as president. He is under-appreciated, underestimated, misunderstood and undeserving of his presidency’s lousy reputation. If there were such a creature as historical justice, Grant would be immortalized on Mount Rushmore.

Presidential rating: somewhat successful and popular. Had Reconstruction actually succeeded, then it would be possible to call Grant our greatest president behind Washington and Lincoln.

Resources
Grant’s reputation has enjoyed a renaissance during the past decade. The best recent resources are:

Josiah Bunting III, Ulysses S. Grant (2004), is one of the absolute best of the short biographies in the late Arthur Schlesinger Jr’s The American Presidents Series. Jean Edward Smith’s Grant (2002) is the best one-volume synthesis of Grant’s entire life ever written. He doesn’t introduce anything new on Grant’s war career, but his exposition on Grant’s presidency is f
resh and refreshing. Frank Scaturro’s President Grant Reconsidered (1998) is a necessary book for anyone interested in understanding the violence done to Grant’s character and presidency over the past century.

Geoffrey Perret’s Ulysses S. Grant: Soldier and Patriot (1998) is not a biography I recommend, because the presentation is much weaker than the later works (and I am just not a fan of Perret’s work). He’s too much of a cheerleader and too easily explains away Grant’s flaws and mistakes.

And lest you think I’m too much of a cheerleader for Grant, read a current negative assessment, Michael Korda’s Ulysses S. Grant: The Unlikely Hero (2004). Korda agrees with Bunting on Grant’s military career but does not buy the new thinking on Grant’s presidency.

William McFeely’s Grant: A Biography (1982) is definitely not my favorite Grant biographjy, despite its Pulitzer Prize. While well written, McFeely's work boottle up Grant as a racist and a butcher and a failed incompetent president, a judgemnent I obviously and strongly disagree with.

For Grant’s military career, you can still find no better treatment than the trilogy begun by Lloyd Lewis in Captain Sam Grant and completed by Bruce Catton in his superb Grant Moves South and Grant Takes Command. However, Brooks Simpson’s Ulysses S. Grant: Tragedy and Triumph, 1822-1865 is also an excellent and recent one-volume (of a planned two-volume study) treatment. His earlier study, Ulysses S Grant and the Politics of Reconstruction, which takes Grant up to 1868, is also valuable and portends good things for the second volume of his biography.

(While Grant’s military prowess has enjoyed a renaissance of late, Lee’s has taken a severe hit. Edward H. Bonekemper III wrote A Victor, Not a Butcher: Ulysses S. Grant’s Overlooked Military Genius (2004), a companion to his earlier book, How Robert E. Lee Lost the Civil War. Both are highly charged and debatable, but seem to be typical of the emerging thought on both generals. Lee’s stock as a general has been slowly falling since the publication in the early 1990s of Alan T. Nolan’s highly critical Robert E. Lee Considered, written from the premise that Lee had never before been considered—at least honestly. However, such arguments over who was the better general never seemed to matter to the actual generals in question.)

And of course, you should read Grant’s own Memoirs of U.S. Grant. (Note: one of the many scurrilous attacks against Grant is that Twain actually wrote them, but Twain never claimed this and I doubt he ever would. Besides, all you have to do is compare the clarity of Grant’s wartime orders with the clarity of the Memoirs AND his written presidential messages, and you can easily dismiss this ridiculous charge.)

It is a crying shame that military history is considered such a revolting subject on today’s wimpified university campuses; few military historians find tenure anymore. However, military history is the most popular historical subject among lay people—who seem to know better than the sneering self-anointed intellectuals who look down on men like Grant.

Illustrations

All illustrations are in the public domain and taken from the Library of Congress Photographs and Prints Division unless otherwise noted.

1. This is my favorite photograph of Grant as president. It shows his strength—and a little weight gain now that he was no longer living off of Army rations.

2. Lt. Sam Grant as he appeared before the Mexican War. This drawing appears as the frontpiece for the 1885 illustrated edition of Grant’s Memoirs.

3. A chromolithograph of Ulysses S. Grant surrounded by nine (sometimes fanciful) scenes of his entire military service. Clockwise from bottom left: West Point graduation in 1843, artillery crew in the Tower of Chapultepec outside Mexico City in 1847; drilling volunteers in 1861; Fort Donelson in February 1862; battle of Shiloh, April 1862; Siege of Vicksburg 1863; battle of Chattanooga, November 1863; appointment by Lincoln as commander in Chief, 1864, and Lee’s surrender, April 1865. Apparently this was published by L. Prang & Co. of Boston in 1885 on the occasion of Grant’s death. (This image replaces the detail from The Glorious Fourth, a painting by Mort Kunstler, which showed Grant entering Vicksburg, Miss., on July 4, 1863. Kunstler is one of my favorite artists, but I realized I could have been violating copyrights by reproducing even a detail of the image on my site.
See it here.)

4. Edwin Forbes sketched Grant (on horse, center) as he orders the Army of the Potomac to disengage from the bloody battle of the Wilderness and continue marching south. It was the first time after a defeat that that army had pressed forward, and it marked a momentous shift in the war. Combat artists were an integral component of reporting the Civil War, and Forbes, Alfred Waud and Winslow Homer were the best.

5. Grant at Cold Harbor. This is a haunting photograph, because it was taken after 40 days of continuous fighting between the Army of the Potomac and Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. Grant lost 50,000 men while Lee lost around 30,000. You can see the strain on Grant’s face. (The Ulysses S. Grant Information Center).

6. Alexander Gardner photographed Grant c.1865.

7. Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant was photographed by F. Gutekunst of Philadelphia.

8. General Ulysses S. Grant, Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles and President Andrew Johnson pose together on Aug. 31, 1866, in Auburn, New York, at the home of former Governor Enos Throop during Johnson’s disastrous “swing around the circle.” This photograph was donated to the Ulysses S. Grant Association by Doris C. Baker, great-great-great-niece of Governor Throop, and is believed to have never been previously published anywhere before appearing on that organization's web site. (Ulysses S. Grant Association)

9. Grant’s secretary of state, Hamilton Fish, was surprised when the president offered him the job. Yet he served faithfully and brilliantly throughout the entire administration. He’s rated one of the best ever.

10. Alfred Waud drew this scene of a three different black men—an artisan, a businessman and a soldier—casting votes for the first time. Published in Harper's Weekly on Nov. 16, 1867. Grant would spend his entire presidency fighting to keep such scenes from disappearing in the South.

11. President Grant signs the Ku-Klux Force Bill with Secretary Robeson and Gen. Porter at the Capitol on April 20, 1971, as shown in Frank Leslie’s Illustrated, May 13, 1871.

12. The Fifteenth Amendment. Celebrated May 19th, 1870, from an original design by James C. Beard. This was one of several large commemorative prints marking the enactment of the Fifteenth Amendment guaranteeing the right to vote regardless of race and showing the grand May 19 celebratory parade in Baltimore. Noteworthy in this print are some of the vignettes around the edges: President Ulysses S. Grant and Vice President Schuyler S. Colfax occupy the upper corners. In the top center are Martin Robinson Delany, author, pre-war agitator and the first black major in the U.S. Army; famed abolitionist Frederick Douglass; and Mississippi senator Hiram Rhoades Revels. At the sides are (left, top to bottom) a young black man reading the Emancipation Proclamation, three black men with Masonic sashes and banners (“We Unite in the Bonds of Fellowship with the Whole Human Race”), an open Bible (“Our Charter of Rights”), and a bust portrait of Lincoln. In the lower left corner is a classroom scene in a black school, labeled “Education Will Prove the Equality of the Races.” In the lower right corner a black pastor preaches to his congregation, with the motto “The Holy Ordinances of Religion Are Free” below. To the right of the central scene are (top to bottom): two free blacks who “till our own fields;” a black officer commanding his troops (“We Will Protect Our Country as It Defends Our Rights”); a bust portrait of John Brown; and a black man reading to his family (“Freedom Unites the Family Circle”). The bottom row shows three more scenes (left to right): a black wedding ceremony (“Liberty Protects the Marriage Alter”); a black man voting (“The Ballot Box Is Open To Us”); and Senator Revels in the House of Representatives (“Our Representative Sits in the National Legislature”).

13. Frederick Douglass was an outspoken supporter of President Grant. (Although he was actually nominated to be Virginia Woodhull’s running mate 1872 on the Equal Rights ticket, Douglass never campaigned or acknowledged the honor.)

14. President Grant greets Red Cloud, Spotted Tail and Swift Bear during a visit of the Indian delegation with Commissioner of Indian Affairs, Ely S. Parker (not the other man in the picture), in 1870, as drawn for the June 18, 1870, Harper’s Weekly by C.S. Reinhart.

15. This medallion, created in the early 1870s, is titled Defender, Martyr, Father - U.S. Grant, A. Lincoln, G. Washington. Despite the negative—and untrue—views of intellectuals and historians, Grant remained close to the hearts of his countrymen for at least a generation.

16. Julia Dent Grant, taken sometime in the 1870s. Grant adored his wife, and she brought much class and dignity to the White House.

17. The penalty of being an American statesman of the first magnitude, a c.1913 cartoon addressed to Theodore Roosevelt, illustrates that at least 35 years after he left office, Grant was often still ranked with the greats. (Certain restrictions may apply to this picture: Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, [reproduction number, e.g., LC-USZ62-90145])

18. Grant’s tomb overlooking the Hudson River in upper New York City is often the butt of the joke “Who’s buried in Grant’s tomb?” Grant and Julia Grant are, of course. The tomb was recently restored. It forever faces south and is emblazoned with Grant’s misunderstood 1868 campaign slogan, “Let us have peace.” (Grant Monument Association.)

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Number 17: Andrew Johnson

Years in office: 1865-1869
Pre-service occupations:
military governor of Tennessee, senator, vice president
Key events during his administration: presidential Reconstruction (1865-1866), military Reconstruction begins (1866), impeachment (1868), purchase of Alaska (1867), 13th Amendment (1865), 14th Amendment ratified by Congress (proposed 1866, ratified 1868), Nebraska admitted to the Union (1867); Hancock’s War (1867); Washita battle/massacre 1867; Fetterman massacre (1866)

Presidential rating:
Near failure and mostly unpopular

ESSAY

To modern Americans, Andrew Johnson was the answer to a trivia question—up until 1998, that is: who was the only president to have been impeached. He was also the first man to succeed an assassinated president, the only Southern Senator who refused to join the Confederacy, and the first president to have a veto overturned.

Andrew Johnson was never meant to become president—at least, not by Abraham Lincoln and the Republicans. He was an “olive branch” candidate, a Democrat joined with Lincoln to form a unified ticket against the McClellan/Copperhead Democrats in 1864.

But Lincoln’s shocking murder propelled Johnson to the presidency, something that neither he expected nor the Radical Republicans thought would happen. What followed were four torturous years between an unpopular president, an over-reaching Congress, and a blasted South ripped between newly freed slaves and ex-rebels.

Before starting this evaluation of Johnson, my primary view of him was that, for all of his faults, he performed one service that every president following him owes a debt of thanks: he fought an imperial Congress trying to impeach him over an unconstitutional law—and won. I wanted to see if that view holds up against the historical record.

The view not only holds up, but Johnson did other things that merit praise from history, which I’ll discuss in detail. However, his record is quite mixed. Understanding him must involve more than reducing the 17th president to a one-dimensional caricature of a backwards, barely literate racist. He deserves better. Much better.

That’s not to say I agree with everything Johnson did while in office—far from it. He was a disagreeable man who sought to create a new postwar party, with himself at the center. His actions were motivated by the desire for power as much as they were by the desires to maintain white supremacy and beat down the new “traitors,” the Radicals.

Andrew Johnson was often wrong in his motives—and his racism is sometimes hard to stomach—but he was often right in his actions.

A man of the people
He had been born in poverty in North Carolina—returning there as president was a special treat—and moved to Tennessee in his youth. It’s safe to say that no other president has experienced as much of a rags-to-riches life as had Andrew Johnson. He was orphaned when he was three. He learned the craft of a tailor and would often be referred as one in his political career. Johnson never attended school; his wife, Eliza, taught him basic reading and writing skills.


Some presidents built their political power based on their party organizational skills (Martin Van Buren, Harry Truman, Lyndon Johnson); some men did so based on good political acumen (Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, Bill Clinton); others have done so as a sheer cult of personality (George Washington, William Henry Harrison, Dwight Eisenhower, Ulysses S. Grant). Others are a combination of one or more of the above (Franklin Roosevelt, Ronald Reagan). Andrew Johnson built his political power based largely on the power of his mouth.

Picturing Andrew Johnson as a “man of the people” may seem odd, but that’s what he was. Johnson came of political age in Tennessee, where stump speaking was far more important than newspapers. Johnson was a master of oratory, which could sway opinion often better than the highly partisan press could, if used in the right places. His powerful speeches made him Tennessee’s golden boy in the 1850s. His style was quite aggressive, and he would directly engage the audience; this served him well in Tennessee, but would help destroy him as president.

Having been born quite poor, Johnson’s frequent targets were men of privilege, especially the planter class. Johnson was no abolitionist—he was about as far from being one as you could get—but he despised the planters.

He rose through Tennessee politics, clawing (possibly the best word) his way from alderman, to state legislator to governor to finally U.S. senator.


Pro-war/pro-Union Democrat
During the secession crisis, Andrew Johnson declared he would remain loyal to the Union. He powerfully denounced the “traitors” of the South and toured Tennessee urging against secession. When Tennessee went with the Confederacy, Johnson became the only Southern senator to remain with the North, earning him much hatred in the South and much praise in the North.

In 1862, he left the Senate to become military governor of Tennessee, where he proved quite effective in helping quash the rebellion. Eastern Tennessee was of course pro-Union; the western half of the state was Confederate country. By early 1864, the state was permanently in Union hands except for Hood’s expedition late in the year.

Johnson apparently freed his own slaves in 1863. No friend of blacks—he favored shipping all of them back to Africa or at least an America without them at all—Johnson nevertheless embraced the Lincoln administration’s emancipation policy in 1863. He argued that slavery had brought on the war and it needed to be destroyed.

This move at once set him apart from Northern Democrats and furthered his alliance with the Republicans. Embracing emancipation made re-establishing civil government in Tennessee more difficult for Johnson, who had enough troubles through using often high-handed measures. Although he kept Nashville in Union hands after its fall in 1862, he was unable to fully reorganize the state. In 1864, he attempted to require a loyalty oath from both pro-Union and pro-rebel citizens, which naturally outraged Unionists, and called a state convention. But his efforts failed. Biographer Hans L. Trefousse explains that:

(Johnson’s) ambition for higher office made him careless. He achieved his personal goal [becoming vice president], but his administration of the state suffered. For a time, however, his great popularity in the North caused admirers to overlook his shortcomings. These would not become evident until later. (Trefousse, p.175)

Because of Johnson’s status as a committed pro-Union Democrat who supported the administration’s goals and the uncertainty of the 1864 election, Lincoln tapped Johnson to be his vice president under the banner of the National Union Party (the temporary name of the Republican Party). He seemed the ideal choice.

At the inaugural, though, it seemed like a terrible mistake had been made. Johnson had been sick with typhoid and to brace himself for his speech, he took a couple of shots of whiskey. He speech was a rambling and slurred affair, embarrassed Lincoln (and Johnson, of course) and immediately tagged Johnson as “the drunken tailor.” Even though Johnson’s explanation is acceptable, he never lived it down.

The “Avenger” and securing the war’s end
Vice President Johnson escaped the Booth conspiracy that assassinated Lincoln and wounded Secretary of State William Seward when his own would-be assassin chickened out. A stunned Johnson became president on April 15.

He assumed the presidency while the war was still underway—Lee had surrendered, but several Confederate armies remained in the field, most notably Joe Johnston’s in North Carolina, facing William T. Sherman. Cries arose from the North for vengeance against the South for Lincoln’s murder, but throughout the rest of April and into May 1865, Andrew Johnson acted in a way that deserves much praise.

He saw to it that vengeance did not rule the day, but that the war ended on the right terms.

The most alarming development came when the president received the surrender terms that Sherman had given to Johnston in North Carolina. In effect, Sherman’s terms were so generous that the Confederate state governments would remain in power and the results of the war would be all but negated! In his defense, Sherman knew they would probably be rejected—and unlike Lee’s army at Appomattox, Johnston’s army was not surrounded and was still free to maneuver and fight—and he was right. Johnson ordered hostilities resumed until terms similar to the ones Grant gave Lee were worked out. (Secretary of War Stanton added a personal insult to the orders, which created permanent hostility between the men.) This was done, and Johnston surrendered.

By the end of May, all Confederate armies were surrendered and Jefferson Davis had been captured. Johnson ordered him placed in irons in Fortress Monroe, which outraged some but pleased the Radicals, who recalled Johnson saying early in the year that Davis should be hanged.

By maintaining a cool head in the wake of Lincoln’s murder, Sherman’s outrageous terms to Johnston and the final details of the war—and in keeping with Lincoln’s desire to end the war on the “let ‘em up easy” terms that Grant gave Lee—President Johnson brought the war to an end. It’s no easy feat, when you consider that some rebel leaders were countenancing continuing the fight through guerrilla warfare and some Northerners wanted to renew all-out war because of Lincoln’s death.

Johnson’s zenith
When Andrew Johnson became president, most people didn’t know exactly what to expect: the “drunken tailor”? Davis’ hangman? A new Lincoln? A new “Moses” for the newly freed slaves? None was right. Johnson knew that the first thing he was expected to do following the c
onclusion of the war would be to continue and expand the reconstruction of the South.

He retained Lincoln’s cabinet, of whom the most important members were Stanton at War, Seward at State, Gideon Welles at Navy and Hugh McCullough at Treasury. All four men were highly capable. Welles and Seward were the most loyal to Johnson, and consequently for Seward, it meant the end of his political career. Johnson sometimes questioned McCullough’s loyalty but never his ability. But Stanton and Johnson were enemies, and Johnson’s failure to remove him early on when he had the chance would help trigger his impeachment.

But that was in the future, and in 1865, Johnson enjoyed the greatest popularity of his life. Praise for him was near universal, especially following the introduction of his reconstruction program, leaving one historian to remark that if he had died in early 1866, he would be remembered as one of the greats.

Here was the situation, then, in the summer of 1865: 10 states were to be “reconstructed” for their formal re-admittance to the Union: Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas and Texas. (Louisiana had already been readmitted under Lincoln’s 10% plan.)

During the summer of 1865, Johnson introduced his reconstruction program. Latter-day historians have fount fault with this, but historian Albert Castle correctly points out that 1) the people expected Johnson to act, having gotten used to strong executive action under Lincoln; and 2), not acting would make him appear weak and indecisive—of which he was neither. His plan, though, differed in a way from Lincoln’s 10% plan, where loyal Unionists could return a state to the Union with full representation as long as the state government was reorganized by 10 percent of those who had been eligible to vote in 1860. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was designed to “let ‘em up easy,” in Lincoln’s words, and return the Southern states quickly to the Union.

Where Johnson’s plan differed was this: At first, he seemed to favor harsh reprisals against all senior civil and military leaders in the South, as well as all planters, and reorganize land and power in the hands of the men who were “mislead” by the secessionists. But Johnson decided that to exact revenge against the hated upper class would leave the Southern states vulnerable to Radical designs on the South, most notably black suffrage. Black suffrage most likely meant loss of white influence and increase of Radical power (Johnson would soon consider all Republicans as “Radicals”). So, to thwart the possibility of black suffrage, Johnson started issuing presidential pardons to practically any ex-Confederate who called for one—except for the highest-ranking ex-rebels, that is.

The idea was to return the states to the Union quickly without the need for black suffrage—and to counter Republican protests, Johnson quite rightly pointed out the hypocrisy of imposing the franchise on the Southern states when it was denied in the “free” North. In short, Andrew Johnson did not believe in Reconstruction per say because he did not see the need for it. As with Lincoln, he never recognized the legal right of secession; so, the Southern states never left the Union. Therefore, the states didn’t need to be “reconstructed,” but needed to be readmitted quickly with legal governments.

Johnson’s pardons let ex-rebels lead the way in re-organizing their states, so that by year’s end, they had elected new members to Congress—many of them ex-rebels, and even a few of them attempting to reclaim their pre-war seats.

It was the first break between Johnson and the Republicans, but in this summer and fall of Johnson’s glory, the cracks were tiny.

Johnson’s pardons and dreams of party
Perhaps nothing better illustrates the seemingly contradictory nature of Andrew Johnson than his presidential pardons. Throughout the secession crisis and war, h had strongly battled and denounced the “traitors” in the South, especially the planters. But during the summer, he started issuing pardons as if they were party favors. Why the switch? The best explanation, writes Castle, is his desire to be a party-builder:

By summer it was clear that the Confederate leadership retained the allegiance of the Southern masses … At the same time, it became evident that in most parts of the South the Unionists were few in number and low in ability. …Thus Johnson must have realized that whether he liked it or not, he would have to work through and with the followers of Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee if he were to bring the South back into the Union and keep himself in the White House.
He would have to pardon many Confederates, let them take offices and restore normal government, thereby fostering a new loyalty to the Union and alliance with their Northern Democratic brethren—with Johnson at the head. Johnson wanted to fashion a new party of Democrats and conservative Republicans: a new coalition that depended on rapid restoration in the South. But the Radicals had other ideas. So, the “traitors” became his hope for staying in power, and his allies, the Republicans, would become the new “traitors,” and their programs to refashion the South to their liking threatened Johnson’s ambition.

Throw into this mix the Republicans’ own ambition, Johnson;’ belief that his course was correct, sincere Radical Republican steps toward racial equality and increasing hostility between the president and Congress, and you have the mix for an explosive situation.

Opposition to presidential Reconstruction
The South was blasted: the economy was ruined; thousands of farms destroyed; railroads wrecked; Richmond, Atlanta, Columbia, SC and Jackson, Miss., were destroyed, as well as numerous other small towns; and the social order had completely broken down.

In his masterpiece Reconstruction, Eric Foner describes how the simple fact of being able to go where one pleased caused probably half of all ex-slaves to be on the road. Quite often, they were looking for family members separated on the auction block. Whites saw this and misinterpreted it as being what they had long feared: lazy blacks unable to account for themselves without directions from their betters. There’s more to it than that, of course, as there was crime both black on white and white on black, but by the end of 1865 came the first of many “Black Codes” in the South.

These odious rules were designed to put blacks “in their place” and were
a slide back toward slavery. Dismayed Republicans, who controlled Congress, refused to seat the delegates from the Southern states while these outrages were committed against blacks. (Federal organizations such as the Freedman’s Bureau, which had been created to help with the transition from slavery to freedom, were largely ineffectual.) The codes did give blacks some rights, but they relegated them to second-class status.

The refusal to seat the Southern members angered President Johnson. Now, to his credit, Johnson was not happy with the actions of Southerners who abused the goodwill of his pardons, and instead of “repenting” and treating the newly freed slaves well, they mistreated blacks and elected “unrepentant” rebels to Congress. He only had himself to blame for that, however, through his quite lenient pardons policy. Johnson also misunderstood why he was popular, overestimated the popularity of his own policy and also underestimated the determination of the Republicans to preserve their power and postwar vision.


Radicals, lead by Thad Stevens in the House and Charles Sumner and Ben Wade in the Senate, had opposed Lincoln’s 10% program, and sought harsher measures against the South. Initially, they supported Johnson’s program, but started to turn against him over the pardons, and realized that Johnson would be a dangerous opponent if his policies continued. Thus they refused to seat the Southern delegates because of the Black Codes and the fact that allowing “unrepentant” ex-rebels to return to the government was tantamount to abrogating the reasons for the war.

Johnson said differently in his first message to Congress that December. His message was well received by all except the Radicals, and marked them, so Johnson hoped, as the party of division and disunion. He confidently believed Northerners would side with him over Radicals who were pushing for black rights.

The winter of 1865-66 marked the height of Johnson’ popularity. But the Radicals were only just getting organized. Letting the defeated South back into the Union with blacks in a condition almost like slavery was unacceptable—almost as if the war hadn’t happened.

So why did Johnson fail?

Battling Congress and blunders
Andrew Johnson believed that once the Southern delegates wee seated, Reconstruction was finished. He thought wrongly. As Castle explains, acceptance of Johnson’s presidential Reconstruction by the North was contingent upon it actually working. If it didn’t—and the treatment of the ex-slaves and the unrepentant attitude of Southerners made it clear that it wasn’t—Northerners expected Johnson to work with Congress to try something different.

Johnson was a stubborn man for which defeat only energized him that much more. He believed correctly that the North no more wanted black equality than did the South, but he misread the Northern desire for black rights, at least in the South—and that Northern belief was based on perceptions of how horrible whites treated blacks there (which was not too different from the North) and the fact that most Northerners correctly believed that they wanted the South to accept the results of the war for which 300,000 Northerners had died. So Johnson was both right and wrong, and he underestimated Northern opinion in the fight to come.

The first showdown came with the re-authorization of the Freedman’ Bureau in early 1866, which Johnson determined to veto as both unnecessary and unconstitutional, as it placed military over civilians in peacetime, extended rights to blacks denied to whites, etc. The public at large hailed his veto message, and his veto was barely sustained. Again, Johnson seemed to be master of the situation and of Congress.

Then Johnson tripped—over his own tongue.

On Washington’s birthday, Johnson spoke to a crowd of well-wishers, despite the advice and warning of cabinet members He said the old traitors had been defeated, but new traitors had appeared in the North. Worse, at the urging of the crowd, he named them by giving names of prominent members of Congress. He also compared his sacrifices for the country as those of Jesus Christ, and his policy henceforth would also be on of forgiveness (unlike the Radicals). The crowd loved it, of course, but the North was not amused:

The vast majority of Northerners felt outraged or shamed [over] Johnson’s speech. In their eyes he had disgraced himself and the presidency. Many of them suspected—or concluded—that he had been drunk again. In particular, they resented his denunciation of Stevens and Sumner; whatever else they might be, the two were not traitors to the Union. Indeed, Johnson’s attack on them enhanced the prestige of both the Radical leaders, with Sumner probably being saved from defeat in his bid from re-election to the Senate. Even Johnson’s friends ex-pressed regret over his performance. … All in all, Johnson had committed an act of great personal and political folly. (Castle, p.70)
Johnson’s aggressive stump speaking that had served him so well in Tennessee before the war was obviously a liability on the national stage. By attempting to prove that he was master of postwar America, the president instead hurt himself. And it was only going to get worse.

When the Republican Congress passed a civil rights bill in early spring, Johnson could have rescued his respect and reputation by signing it, but he vetoed it on the grounds that it favored the colored over the white. His contemporaries and most historians of all eras agree that it was a huge blunder, because it “turned friends into enemies, united Moderates and Radicals, and made the issue between him and Congress not the Negroes’ political rights, on which he probably could have won, but their civil rights, on which he was doomed to lose.” (Castle, p.71, emphasis added)

Johnson didn’t realize it yet, but he also dashed his chances for the presidency. But why did h do it? Most likely because he believed his reconstruction program was sufficient—and no more was needed—coupled with his racism, growing disgust with the Radicals over their hypocrisy (forcing black suffrage on the South when thy wouldn’t do it in the North) and his own political ambitions, which required Southern Democrats.

But Johnson was about to learn that the Radicals were not the same enemy as the “traitors” of the South; and indeed, he was his own worst enemy.

The Radicals fight back; the disastrous “swing around the circle”
In the spring of 1866, Congress and the president engaged in a tragic-comedy of dueling Reconstruction programs. While Congress was overriding Johnson’s civil rights bill veto, Johnson issued a proclamation declaring that the rebellion was at an end and Southern states restored to the Union. He also declared an end to military tribunals in the South.

Congress disagreed, and continued to deny the Southern delegations their seats. In response, Congress created the 14th Amendment to the Constitution: its own peace terms with the South, and the cementing of certain civil rights legislation in the Constitution. This in effect made all blacks U.S. citizens who would enjoy the full protections of the federal government. If the vote were denied to male inhabitants of a state (e.g., blacks), that state’s representation in Congress would be proportionately reduced. (
See the full text here.)


This was actually a Moderate Republican measure, not a Radical one, and people hoped the president would acquiesce. But Johnson and the South treated it as a gross affront. Even though the executive branch has no legal role in amending the Constitution, Johnson fought the 14th Amendment. He claimed that the current Congress had no authority to amend the Constitution while it unconstitutionally prevented duly elected members from assuming their seats. Here was another instance where Johnson was both correct and wrong: correct in that the 14th Amendment—though right in its language—is nevertheless very questionable in how it was passed, and wrong in that the executive has no say in who Congress admits into its halls.

The Radicals promptly seated some Southern members—Republicans, that is, including Johnson son-in-law. Angered, Johnson decided to retake the argument and his prestige thro
ugh an unprecedented move: he would go on tour and argue his case in person.

Using the dedication of a monument to Stephen A. Douglas as a catalyst, President Johnson undertook the first “whistle stop” campaign in American history during the summer of 1866. The president dragged Gen. Grant and cabinet members along with him, but Grant would later abandon Johnson when it became clear that the president was just using the “hero of Appomattox,” making it seem like Grant was in agreement with the president’ Reconstruction policies, when in actuality, he wasn’t. The so-called “swing around the circle” to New York, then west to Chicago, then St. Louis and back to Washington, was intended to be a triumph. Instead, it was a disaster.

It started well enough, but in Cleveland, Johnson again ignored the advice of Seward, Welles and other confidants to hold his tongue. Craving the attention and to make his case, he made an unprepared speech before a crowd outside his hotel. In response to hecklers, he became increasingly aggressive and, to put it kindly, unhinged. The exchange got nasty and culminated with Johnson demanding,

"The twelve apostles had a Christ and he never could have had a Judas unless he had the twelve apostles. If I have played the Judas, who has been the Christ that I have played the Judas with? Was it [abolitionist] Wendell Phillips? Was it Thad Stevens? Was it Charles Sumner?”

At this point, the cry came, “Why not hang Thad Stevens and Wendell Phillips?”

“Yes,” said Johnson, “Why not hang them?” (Castle, p.92)
Stops at St. Louis and elsewhere were little different, and Republican newspapers and even some Democratic ones pounced on Johnson’s incredible demagoguery. He hurt himself badly with the “swing around the circle.”

His reputation was ruined in the North among both Republicans and Democrats, who had rejected him at a “National Union Movement” convention earlier in the summer.

In the fall elections, Republicans increased their power throughout the North, reversing the Democratic gains of 1864—and it was all largely because of Johnson and his mouth. It was also because he believed that the duty of the government was the restoration of the Union, and not the imposition of black rights on the South that Republicans were denying to them in the North.

Military Reconstruction and the veto wars
Andrew Johnson bears the ignominy of being the first president to have a veto overridden (the aforementioned civil rights bill of 1866). It wouldn’t be the last. Congress overrode single veto Johnson made, which speaks to the president’s inability to build effective coalitions in Congress, his unpopularity and the Radicals’ power—and pettiness.

By the end of 1866, all of the Southern states, with governments comprised of ex-Confederates in power thanks to Johnson’s lenient pardons, had rejected the 14th Amendment. Because of that, and outrages committed against blacks and Unionists, the Radicals used their newfound majority strength to create a new Reconstruction program: military Reconstruction, whereby the South was divided into five military districts ruled by a general appointed by the president (and approved by Congress, of course). The general would have total authority in his states, and the present state governments would be abolished and high-ranking ex-rebels would be disenfranchised. Blacks would get the franchise and so would those declaring loyalty. Readmission to the Union would be contingent upon acceptance of the 14th Amendment.

Enough Moderates agreed with the approach to create the First Military Reconstruction Act, which would have several more acts join it. President Johnson decried military Reconstruction as unconstitutional and despotic, and he was largely on solid ground. The Supreme Court had recently ruled in the Mulligan case that civilian trials by military tribunal were unconstitutional.

Johnson failed to convince Congress, of course, and both houses easily overrode his veto—which became a routine dance in Washington. Congress would pass a law, Johnson’s advisers would urge Johnson to sign it or pocket veto it lest the Radicals pass something worse, Johnson would veto it with a combination of solid constitutional arguments and racist appeals, and Congress would ignore him by easily overriding his vetoes.

Johnson was more correct than not in his arguments that the Radical actions in the South were unconstitutional, but his stubbornness, desire for greater power and labeling of the Radicals as the new traitors worked against him. Likewise, the Radicals stopped cooperating with Johnson in any way and put forth legislation both designed to strengthen their power (black votes = more Republicans) and do justice to blacks and Unionists in the South. The Republicans did respond to Johnson’s charge of hypocrisy in the North by placing black suffrage on state ballots, but they were defeated everywhere—and cost Republicans support. Only Johnson’s bad stumbles kept the Republicans from losing too much from those defeats.

The road to impeachment
That’s not to say Congress wasn’t exasperated with Andrew Johnson. Radicals bega
n looking for some way to impeach Johnson as early as 1866. Johnson was a roadblock to Northern desires to form a “more perfect Union.” The president and “unrepentant” white Southerners stood in the way.

Articles of impeachment were introduced, but nothing stuck until finally, a showdown cam over an act of Congress that was blatantly unconstitutional. To thwart Johnson and make sure he wouldn’t mess with Military Reconstruction, Congress passed (over Johnson’s veto, of course) the Tenure of Office Act in March 1867. It stated that the president could not remove anyone from office that he had appointed and that the Senate had confirmed unless the Senate approved the removal. Johnson rightly declared it unconstitutional because the Senate only provides advice and consent on the appointment, not removal, of executive officers, and eventually the Supreme Court agreed—but not until 1926.

Nevertheless, Congress made the law both to prevent Johnson from arbitrarily removing harsh generals from the Southern districts and, specifically, to prevent him from firing Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton. Stanton, an old-line Democrat, had become a strong intimate of Lincoln’s during the war and was now thoroughly on the side of the Radicals. Johnson should have fired him when he had the chance—in fact he had more than enough good cause to fire him—but he had kept him on when he thought h could still use Stanton during his dreams of party-building. Now he was stuck with a man who was openly hostile to him and his policies, and Congress was determined to keep it that way.

Johnson decided he would test the law. He sought General-in-chief Grant’s cooperation in a scheme to suspend Stanton and elevate Grant to interim secretary of war. After an unhappy time, Grant stepped away, letting a triumphant Stanton return. Johnson still attempted to use Grant and also Sherman to get rid of Stanton—and he even succeeded in publicly humiliating Grant, who by this time was emerging as the likely Republican candidate for president in 1868.

Advisors and his few remaining political friends urged Johnson to appoint someone who would at least be acceptable to Congress, but the president didn’t listen. In February 1868, Johnson named Gen. Lorenzo Thomas as interim secretary and ordered Stanton removed. Stanton refused, and on advice of Grant and Sherman, stayed pat. Thomas was arrested, soon let free, and Congress immediately instituted impeachment proceedings against Johnson for violating the Tenure of Office Act, which had recently been enacted.

Gleeful and grim at the same time, Johnson welcomed the coming battle. He retained some of the best legal minds of the age to serve as his counsels and prepared to fight impeachment. He believed—correctly, I think—that the Radicals had finally overplayed their hand. This is what Johnson had been waiting for. Unable to defeat them politically since early 1866, Johnson had had little choice except to push them to more extreme positions until they hoisted themselves on their own petard. And once they failed, Johnson would reap the victory.

So, for the first time in American history—and, we now know, not the last—a
president was tried in Congress for high crimes and misdemeanors. Articles of impeachment were drawn up and passed from the House. In actuality, the 11 charges against Johnson were thin, and ultimately centered on differences in politics, rough political language and attempted (but unsuccessful) violation of an act whose constitutionality was questionable.

After a month and a half of deliberation before presiding judge Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase, a final vote on article 11 was taken on May 16 and the rest on May 26. The votes were razor close—one vote!—but they were enough: not guilty. Enough Moderates in the Senate changed their mind and voted against impeachment.

Aftermath
Johnson had won, yet he had lost; the Radicals had lost—a deflated Stevens would soon die—yet they had in a sense won, too. Even though Johnson escaped removal, he was utterly finished in the North. When he tried to secure the Democratic nomination that summer, the Democrats virtually ignored him.

Had he not championed their causes? Had he not fought the Radicals more than anyone? Johnson cried. It was true, but Democrats had fought impeachment not for Johnson, but against the Republicans. They wanted nothing more to do with him. Instead, they selected the lackluster Horatio Seymour of New York to run against Grant. (Seymour made a respectable showing against the most popular man in the country, which speaks of the weakness of the Republicans in 1868 and of Grant as a candidate.)

Undeterred, though, Johnson continued to fight the Radicals until the very day he left office. One of his final acts was to grant full pardons to all ex-Confederates, including Jefferson Davis—whom he had previously vowed to hang.

Two more things merit mention:

Seward’s “folly”
As mentioned earlier, William Seward’s political career ended because he stuck so close to Johnson. But he scored a couple of significant diplomatic achievements during the unhappy late 60s, most notably buying Alaska from Russia.

Seward wound up purchasing the huge land to the North instead of negotiating fishing and trading agreements, because Russia no longer wanted Alaska. He bought it for a steal: about $7 million.

Radicals held up the treaty out of sheer spite; they didn’t want Johnson to get any credit for anything, but thanks to levelheaded action from Charles Sumner, the treaty as finally approved.

Rails West/Hancock’s War/Washita
With Democratic opposition virtually nil during the war, Lincoln and the Republican Congress authorized federal funds for the construction of a transcontinental railroad. No longer would this be
a political football; it was going to be built starting in Omaha in the East and from California in the West. Though funding of this and other railroads would later cause a scandal, the transcontinental railroad went ahead when the guns fell silent.

Building the railroad was one of the factors that helped turn the nation’s focus westward after “the late unpleasantness;” the other was continued westward migration, which brought with it the inevitable clashes with Indians. In December 1866, a large party of Sioux ambushed and killed and mutilated 81 soldiers near Fort Kearney, Wyoming in the so-called Fetterman massacre.

Reprisals were called for, but Johnson actually called for peace on the plains. Grant wanted the corrupt Bureau of Indian Affairs transferred to the War Department (he would act quite differently when he was president, but had the same goal in mind) but Johnson demurred, instead preferring to investigate why these attacks and counterattacks kept happening. His commission reported that the best way to avoid clashes was—surprise—“do no injustice to them.” (Castle, p.123)

But Westerners wanted the Plains tribes tamed, so Missouri department commander Winfield Scott Hancock launched what became known in the press as Hancock’s War, a yearlong campaign in 1867 that provoked the tribes instead of overawing them. It culminated in the controversial battle/massacre of Washita (in present-day Oklahoma). George Armstrong Custer and his 7th Cavalry attacked the village of the Cheyenne Moketavato (Black Kettle) and killed mostly older men, women and children.

Regardless, Castle gives credit to Johnson for initiating the peace policy in the West, but Eastern reformers didn’t see it that way, and neither did Westerners. I tend to agree, for the real “peace policy” didn’t really begin until after Johnson’s successor took office.

Triumphant return
Andrew Johnson left the White House in March 1869 without accompanying Grant to his inaugural. Johnson had been defeated and rejected, but as always, he treated those as temporary. He would spend the next five years attempting to return to power in Tennessee politics.

Finally, Tennessee voters returned him to Washington as a Senator in 1874. He assumed his seat in 1875 and made one well-received speech on the floor against the Grant administration. Former enemies actually greeted him warmly, and with little wonder. By 1875, the country was tiring of “waving the bloody shirt” in support of black rights against the South, and some were beginning to remember the Johnson years a little fondly.

Johnson had actually recovered some of what he had lost as president, and lived long enough to have a last laugh over the increasingly unpopular Radicals before he died on July 31, 1875.

Final Assessment

I’m not of the mindset to label Andrew Johnson a failed president as Albert Castle does in his presidential analysis, nor do I agree with Eric Foner, the dean of modern Reconstruction historians, who argues that Johnson was a complete failure, because I don’t think he was that bad. Nor do I agree, of course, with the early 20th century Dunning School that claimed Johnson was “near great.”

He did a number of things right. For example, Johnson prevented Lincoln’s assassination from turning the surrenders into a rekindled war of revenge, and he took on the overreaching, imperial Congress over an unconstitutional law. Those two actions alone keep him from being labeled a failure.

However, he was mostly unsuccessful in his real goals: He failed to form a new party around himself; he failed to stop the Radicals’ reconstruction programs, and even pushed the Moderates and Radicals together instead of breaking them apart; he even failed to secure his party’s nomination. (If it would be fair to say that Johnson had a goal of keeping America a white man’s country, well, he was somewhat successful in that, at least for a while.)

My two primary sources conclude:

“…[I]t is clear that although the seventeenth president unquestionably undermined Reconstruction and left a legacy of racism, he was an able politician. Overcoming all opposition in his own Democratic party, he became a dominant force in it, while at the same time frustrating all efforts of the opposition. His courageous stand for Union also paid handsome political dividends, enabling him to reach the highest office in the land. What defeated him during his term in the White House was not so much his lack of formal education, nor even his tactlessness, but his failure to outgrow his Jeffersonian-Jacksonian background. … [H]is attachment to a strict construction of the Constitution that was no longer in vogue, his refusal to adjust racial views to the needs of the Republican party…blinded him to the realities of the post-Civil War United States. … [H]e failed to impress his contemporaries in the country at large, and his administration was a disaster. Johnson was a child of his times, but he failed to grow with it.” (Trefousse, pp.378-379)
True, somewhat. But you can also say that about most of the South, except for Unionists and freed slaves. I agree more with Castle, who describes Johnson as a strong president, and writes:

“…[B]ecause of his blunders and obstinacy, the presidency in an institutional sense plummeted to it lowest point of power and prestige in its history… Finally, Johnson was far from being altogether wrong about Reconstruction, and the Republicans were far from being altogether right. Yet the dominant factor of his presidency is this: His policies were defeated, those of his enemies triumphed.” (Castle, p. 230)
President Johnson was often simultaneously right and wrong: he could brilliantly oppose something on good, arguable constitutional grounds, but would sabotage himself either through his unguarded speech, obtuse myopia, ambition or even racism.

Likewise, history hasn’t made up its mind about Johnson. At first, historians denounced Johnson as an obstacle, then, by the turn of the century, as an incompetent. But by the 1920s, the “Dunning School” had reversed thinking and had elevated Johnson to “bear great” status for his defense of the Union and Constitution against the “evil” Radicals. His status was secure through the 1950s, but in the 1960s, a new generation of historians reversed course and threw Johnson aside as a backwards, hopeless racist. We’ve climbed a few notches up since then, but not much, and Johnson still remains near the bottom of the heap. Again, this does him a disservice. His racism should not be overlooked, but it alone cannot be allowed to define him, either, in this ultra politically correct age.

Resources
My primary resources were The Presidency of Andrew Johnson by Albert Castle (1979), part of the University of Kansas’ American Presidency series, and Andrew Johnson: A Biography, by Hans L. Trefousse (1989). Both authors were well respected in the field of the Civil War and Reconstruction.

Also useful was the new book The Avenger Takes His Place: Andrew Johnson and the 45 Days That Changed the Nation by Howard Means (2006). (The title is pretentious and is typical of an unfortunate trend in history books lately where every event is treated as a "BIG thing" that changed American forever.)

For a useful (or amusing) exercise to see how thinking has changed on Andrew Johnson, read or skim the following: James Ford Rhodes’ History of the United States Since the Compromise of 1850, (volume 6) from 1906, which depicts Johnson as utterly “ill-fitted” for the work of Reconstruction; then read 1928’s The Tragic Era by Claude Bowers, a member of the Dunning school, which elevates Johnson to near-saint status. Then read W.E.B. DuBois’ Black Reconstruction in America, written in the 1930s as a response to the Dunning school. Then read Eric Foner’s definitive 1987 Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution, which advances the line that Johnson was a hopeless racist.

Illustrations

All illustrations are in the public domain and taken from the Library of Congress Photographs and Prints Division unless otherwise noted.

1. Matthew Brady took this portrait between 1855 and 1865.

2. Andrew Johnson had this portrait taken at A. Bogardus & Co. in New York.

3. Andrew Johnson takes the oath of office in the small parlor of the Kirkwood House Hotel on April 15, 1865, as depicted in Frank Leslie’s Illustrated.

4. Official White House portrait (White House Historical Association)

5. Thomas Nast drew And not this man? for Harper’s Weekly in August 1865. It depicts Lady Liberty presenting a crippled black Union Army veteran as someone deserving of the franchise and other rights. President Johnson was quite correct to continually deride the hypocrisy of imposing black political and civil rights on the South when they were denied in the North.

6. This 1866 Pennsylvania broadside presets the opposite view of Thomas Nast’s cartoons. It says:
The Freedman’s Bureau! An agency to keep the Negro in idleness at the expense of the white man. Twice vetoed by the President, and made a lawy by Congress. Support Congress & you support the Negro Sustain the President & you protect the white man.

7. Full-length photo taken by Brady.

8. Frank Leslie’s Illustrated depicted Andrew Johnson as a woodsman taking two children, “civil rights” and the Freedman’s Bureau, into the “veto woods,” on May 12, 1866.

9. Congressman Thaddeus Stevens of Pennsylvania was the chief Radical “traitor” in the House, and the House manager of Johnson’s impeachment.

10 Secretary of War Edwin McMasters Stanton posed for this portrait during the war. Johnson’s attempt to remove him from office to test the unconstitutionality of the Tenure of Office Act in the courts triggered his impeachment.

11. George T. Brown, sergeant-at-arms, serving the summons on President Johnson, sketched by T.R. Davis for the March 28, 1868, issue of Harper’s Weekly. The man to Johnson’s right is his faithful secretary, Col. W.G. Moore.

12. The Senate as a Court of Impeachment for the Trial of Andrew Johnson was published in Harper’s Weekly in April 11, 1868.

13. “This is a white man's government… We regard the Reconstruction Acts (so called) of Congress as usurpations, and unconstitutional, revolutionary, and void" - Democratic Platform. This Thomas Nast cartoon, published in the Sept. 5, 1868, Harper’s Weekly, illustrates the ultimate rejection of Andrew Johnson. It depicts a man with “CSA” (Confederate States of America) on his belt buckle holding a knife “the lost cause,” a stereotyped Irishman holding a club with “a vote,” and another man wearing a button with “5 Avenue” and holding a wallet with “capital for votes.” They stand on a black soldier sprawled on the ground. In the background, a “colored orphan asylum” and a “southern school” for freed slaves are in flames; black children have been lynched near the burning buildings. The cartoon is supposed to represent what the Democratic platform means for the South if the Republicans are defeated and Reconstruction is ended.