Ulysses S. Grant - Michael Korda [8]
Grant was not outstanding at school, even in the undemanding “subscription” school at Georgetown, and though he was a hard worker on the farm Jesse soon bought, there was nothing unusual about that at a time when young boys were expected to work hard on a farm—indeed, one of the reasons people wanted large families was to provide a good source of obedient young workers. The young Grant was remarkable, though not necessarily admired, for his refusal to kill animals. He not only disliked all forms of hunting, an aversion that he maintained all his life, but also avoided eating meat whenever he could, and would only touch it if it was burned to a crisp—the sight of blood on his plate turned his stomach. Early on he developed a pronounced dislike for swearing and for smutty stories, and in later life would never allow either to take place in his presence, an unusual characteristic in an army officer.
It does not come as a surprise that the only occasion during the entire Civil War when Grant is recorded as having lost his temper was in Virginia, in late May 1864. He came across a teamster on the road, whipping a fractious horse about the head and face. After what was described as “an explosion of anger,” Grant ordered the offender tied to a post for several hours, then rode off down the road to launch the Battle of Cold Harbor, one of the bloodiest frontal battles of the war. Grant was clearly among the most unusual of men—one who could not bear to see bloody meat on his plate or an animal killed or a horse whipped, but who could send men into a battle that lasted almost a week and in which the last assault, by three Union corps, was repulsed with the loss of more than seven thousand men in less than half an hour. The wounded lay where they had fallen, in what was called “a slaughter pen,” for almost a week in the sweltering sun, picked off by Confederate sharpshooters or dying of thirst, before Grant could bring himself to request a truce to remove them. Though he later reflected in his memoirs, “I have always regretted that the last assault at Cold Harbor was made,” and though his conduct of the battle was by no means typical of Grant’s generalship, it is worth noting that it was the plight of a horse that drew his anger at Cold Harbor, not the plight of the men.
As a boy he seems to have led a lonely life. His father, Jesse, was building up his business and beginning to seek a political career, or at least to become a citizen of importance, while his mother, Hannah, closed herself off from him. It is perhaps because of this that Ulysses relished the company of horses, and felt with them something he missed in his home life. Among the other children of his age in Georgetown, his peculiar first name was habitually turned into “Useless” Grant, and the combination of a strange name, a certain shy awkwardness, and a degree of prudery unusual among young boys then (or indeed at any time) must have made him a natural victim of taunts and bullying. He seems also to have been a sensitive and easily wounded boy, though determined to hide the fact as much as he could. Certainly he was never seen to cry as a boy, or later when he was grown up, but all photographs of him show a certain melancholy in his expression, which those who were closest to him in later life—General Sherman, for instance—recognized: Grant looked like somebody who would have cried if he could.
Photographs of Jesse and Hannah, however, make it clear that tears were not an option for them, and therefore probably not for any child who wanted their approval, which Ulysses most certainly did. He learned stoicism early, though at a cost.
At school the one subject he seems to have excelled at was arithmetic, but most of his time was not spent in studies but in working on the farm, particularly with the horses, with which he could perform miracles. Though gratifying to Jesse, it was not enough to satisfy him. His firstborn son, he felt strongly, should follow him into