THE SILENT GENERAL

_Sept. 28, '79_.--So General Grant, after circumambiating the world,

has arrived home again, landed in San Francisco yesterday, from the

ship City of Tokio from Japan. What a man he is! what a history! what an

illustration--his life--of the capacities of that American individuality

common to us all. Cynical critics are wondering "what the people can

see in Grant" to make such a hubbub about. They aver (and it is no

doubt true) that he has hardly the average of our day's literary and

scholastic culture, and absolutely no pronounc'd genius or conventional

eminence of any sort. Correct: but he proves how an average western

farmer, mechanic, boatman, carried by tides of circumstances,

perhaps caprices, into a position of incredible military or civic

responsibilities, (history has presented none more trying, no born

monarch's, no mark more shining for attack or envy,) may steer his way

fitly and steadily through them all, carrying the country and himself

with credit year after year--command over a million armed men--fight

more than fifty pitch'd battles--rule for eight years a land larger than

all the kingdoms of Europe combined--and then, retiring, quietly (with

a cigar in his mouth) make the promenade of the whole world, through its

courts and coteries, and kings and czars and mikados, and splendidest

glitters and etiquettes, as phlegmatically as he ever walk'd the

portico of a Missouri hotel after dinner. I say all this is what people

like--and I am sure I like it. Seems to me it transcends Plutarch. How

those old Greeks, indeed, would have seized on him! A mere plain man--no

art, no poetry--only practical sense, ability to do, or try his best to

do, what devolv'd upon him. A common trader, money-maker, tanner, farmer

of Illinois--general for the republic, in its terrific struggle with

itself, in the war of attempted secession--President following, (a task

of peace, more difficult than the war itself)--nothing heroic, as the

authorities put it--and yet the greatest hero. The gods, the destinies,

seem to have concentrated upon him.

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