1878
SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF MINE ABOUT GENERAL GRANT IN THE WAR--
GRANT AT CHAMPION HILLS--SHERMAN’S LETTER ON CONFISCATION BY
TAXATION IN AMERICA--SILVER NO “CURE ALL”--GRANT AT RAGATZ--I
GIVE A BANQUET IN HIS HONOR AT ZURICH.
_January, 1878._--To-day made New Year’s calls on some American
friends; but it is not customary among the Swiss.
Received copies of my “Recollections of Grant and Sherman,” printed in
the Philadelphia _Times_. It so happened that I had seen General Grant
often in the Vicksburg campaign, and he personally directed a charge
made by our brigade at the battle of Champion Hills. The battle had
been going on for some time, when he rode up close behind the line of
my regiment. He dismounted from his bay horse and stood within a few
yards of where I was in the line, leaning on my gun. He was under a
heavy fire of musketry, and we boys all feared for his life. There was
some suspense, before the order to “charge” was given. My company stood
there in line on the green grass, just as it did on the village green
in Newton, the morning we started for the war. Grant leaned against his
horse and smoked, and looked simply as a man would, who had a little
piece of tough business before him to consider. Aides rode up to him
and rode away. He spoke to them in a low voice, that even I, who was
so close to him, could not hear. The awful musketry rattle of terrific
combat was a little to the left and right of us, and there was no great
noise immediately in our front; but well we all knew that ten thousand
rebels were over there in the timber, waiting our advance. There was no
cannonading of our line, as we stood there unresistingly, feeling the
shots from their rifles, and firing not a shot in return. Grant was not
quite ready. I saw him glance, I thought half pityingly, at a few of
our wounded who were carried back past him, and he looked very close
at one man near me who was shot in the leg and who limped past him
to the rear. I think he recognized his face, but he did not speak to
him. He spoke to none of us; there was no posing, no sword waving, or
hat swinging. I have almost forgotten if he even had a sword on. None
but those near by knew that he was within a mile of us. It was just a
little plain business he was then looking after, but I know some of us
wished he would go out of range of the bullets.
Shortly I saw our colonel walk back to him. There were a few nods and
low words, and as the colonel passed me returning, he said to me: “I
want you to act as Sergeant Major.” (I was with Company B). “Run to
the left of the regiment and yell, ‘Fix bayonets.’” I ran as ordered,
crying all the time “Fix bayonets.” Glancing back, I saw Grant mounting
his horse. That instant I heard all the officers yelling, “_Double
quick!_”--“_Charge!_”
We went into the woods and over the rough ground on the run, the
bullets of the enemy all the time coming into us like hail. Suddenly,
there was in front of us and all around us, a terrific roar of cannon.
For nearly two mortal hours, we stood in battle line in that wood, and
emptied our rifles into the rebel line of gray as fast as we could load
them. They did not seem 200 yards away, though the battle smoke soon
partly hid them. We carried muzzle-loading Whitney rifles and forty
cartridges. In my regiment, every man’s cartridge box was emptied, and
some of us took cartridges from the bodies of the dead. A third of my
command were shot.
When it was all over and nearly dark, we were out on the Black river
road, resting. General Grant came riding up to where our flags hung on
the guns, and stopped. We all jumped up out of the dust to cheer; some
one caught up the flag and held it in front of his horse. He simply
smiled, and said to the colonel, “Good for the Fifth Iowa,” and then
rode off into the darkness.
_February, 1878._--Hard times is still the cry everywhere in Europe.
A letter from General Sherman shows that now at last our people are
finding out what the Civil War cost us, in the way of dollars and cents.
“WASHINGTON, D. C., Jan. 17, 1878.
“DEAR BYERS:--I have just received your letter of January 3d,
with your clipping from the London _News_, for which I am much
obliged. I had previously received the letter of December 28th,
which I had taken down to my rooms for the perusal of Mrs.
Sherman, who is a more reliable correspondent than I am. She
and Elly are here from St. Louis for a visit, and will probably
remain all of February, to enjoy the social advantages of the
capital, now at their height. Though everybody is crying at the
hard times, yet extravagance in dress and living has not received
a quietus. I wish it was otherwise, but no single man, or set of
men, can change the habits of a people in a day or a season.
“Those who clamor for a silver coinage think it will cure all
evils, but I am sure no measure that can be concocted by our
legislators can change the state of facts, which is the necessary
result of the war. Wages and prices of all things necessary, rose
to a standard far above the real value. Now all must come down,
and each class struggles to go right along as before, demanding
that others must make the necessary sacrifices. Meantime also
states, counties and municipalities have ‘improved’ by spending
borrowed money, which must now be paid, principal or interest.
The cost of Government, like all other things, has increased.
Local taxation, to meet this cost and interest, is a burden
heavier than property can bear, so that real property now
everywhere, instead of being a source of income, is the very
reverse, and I do not know but that all real property in this
great land is ‘confiscate.’ I know that all my property that used
to pay me some revenue is now unable to pay its own taxes. I do
not see how silver coinage is going to mend this, but such is now
the cry, and in some form or other the experiment will be tried.
Our papers keep us well advised as to the progress of the war in
Turkey, and I have a good map at hand, which enables me to follow
the movements of the several columns pretty well.
“I am glad to learn that Mrs. Byers is in better health, and that
you content yourself with what you have, for want of better. I
hope ere your return to us, things will mend and prosperity once
more return to Iowa and the West.
“As ever your friend,
W. T. SHERMAN.”
_September 21, 1878._--Yesterday, while up on the Rigi, I received this
telegram from General Grant:
“I accept your invitation for Monday.
“GRANT.”
It was in reply to an invitation of mine to a dinner party that I
wished to give in his honor at Zurich. He had been stopping at Ragatz
for some weeks, that beautiful resort on the upper Rhine.
A Swiss paper had this little item the other day: “Among the crowd of
fashionables at the resort of Ragatz, one does not notice a certain
smallish, plain looking, sturdy man, who takes long walks alone, and
who lives the simplest, least conspicuous life of any one there. No
wonder few know who the quiet gentleman is. His name, possibly, is not
even on the hotel register, but he is the first man in the great sister
Republic beyond the sea. It is U. S. Grant.”
_September 25, 1878._--Had another telegram from General Grant on the
22d, saying he would reach Zurich at 12:36 next morning. I took train
and met him at Horgen. Mr. Corning, the Vice Consul, went with me. Mrs.
Grant was with her husband. No one on the train seemed to know of their
presence. We found them sitting alone in a little, first class coupé.
I had flowers for Mrs. Grant, and they both received us very kindly.
We rode together to Zurich and talked only about Ragatz and the pretty
scenes they had just passed. Mrs. Grant was especially enthusiastic
over the picturesque journey.
A great crowd assembled about the station where we entered. General
Grant took my arm and walked to the carriage. Mr. Corning escorted
Mrs. Grant. Just as the General was stepping into the carriage, a
rough-looking fellow suddenly ran up, caught the General’s arm and
cried out, “You are going to speak to me, hain’t you?” There was a
momentary fright, and thought of assassination, among all of us. A
policeman jumped forward, swinging a club, to arrest him. “Don’t you
never mind,” the man cried out in English to the policeman. “I’m one of
Grant’s old soldiers.” The policeman halted, seeing the General smile
and reach his hand to the apparent ruffian. “Yes, General, I was with
you and Johnny Logan at Vicksburg,” the excited man exclaimed, “and
look _here_.” He commenced rolling up his sleeve and showed a wrist
shot half in two. The sight of that soldier’s wound sent a quick thrill
through every one of us. “The past of the nation was speaking there.”
The ceremony of the occasion was all forgotten. Had there been room,
Mrs. Grant would have taken him into the carriage. For myself, I could
have gladly walked, to let this wounded hero ride with his General.
“Come and see me at my hotel,” said General Grant, “and we will talk it
all over.” Again, he shook the stranger soldier’s hand, and the horses
started.
“Three cheers for General Grant,” cried the soldier, swinging his hat
to the crowd, that answered in a loud Swiss huzza.
In the afternoon, Mr. Nicholas Fish, the American Minister, who
had come down from the capital to be at my dinner, went with me to
the hotel, and we took the General driving about the town. Mrs.
Grant preferred to rest. We went up on the terrace in front of the
University, where is spread out to view one of the fairest sights in
the world. The city lay below us, in front the chain of the Albis
hills, to the left the blue lake, and beyond it the snow mountains.
The General was impressed with the view, but he was getting used to
grand scenes in Switzerland; they are everywhere. He looked in silence.
Shortly, he commenced talking about the spires and towers of the city
below us; asked the name of almost every one of them, and spent a
long time studying out the meaning of certain big, red letters on the
roof of an orphan asylum under the terrace. He would not give that
up. He asked the different German names for such things, how they
were spelled, and finally guessed the riddle that neither I nor Mr.
Fish (both knowing German) had been able to explain. This noticing
everything and trying to solve it, is even to a greater extent a trait
of General Sherman’s. May it not be genius’ method of intuitively
making things its own?
He examined carefully the architecture of the University building, and
talked with Mr. Fish about his father, the ex-Secretary of State. There
was also a little reference to his own youth at West Point, not far
away from the Fish’s country home.
We went down the terrace steps. Now I noticed that Grant was growing
old. His elasticity of movement was all gone. He was getting stoop
shouldered, too.
He told me of a stone quarry he had, I think in Jersey. “On the
continued profits of that,” he said, “depends whether I shall stay very
long abroad, or go back home.”
To the dinner that night, I had invited some representative members of
the Swiss army, press, learned professions, etc. Colonel Voegli was
there; Dr. Willi, the friend of Wagner; Gottfried Kinkel, the professor
and poet; Orelli, the banker; Feer, of the Swiss Senate; Vogt, the
journalist; Mr. Fish, the American Minister; Mayor Roemer and others.
It was a gentlemen’s dinner. Mrs. Grant remained in her room, after a
brief glance at the table and the flowers downstairs.
It was an ideal place for a happy party. Inside the room the Swiss
and American colors were blended, and some of the French dishes were
rebaptized with American names for the occasion.
Outside, the almost tropical garden reached out into the lake. There
was no music in the rooms, but almost every one present made a little
speech. General Grant not only answered to the toast in his honor,
but in a second speech proposed Switzerland, and especially Zurich,
which he had heard spoken of as a “Swiss Athens.” At no time did I
ever see him in such good spirits. The table was not so large but
all could plainly hear. Numbers of the guests addressed remarks and
inquiries about our country to General Grant. He answered kindly, and
proposed many questions of his own, until conversation became extremely
lively. In short, his reputation for being no talker was smashed all
to pieces that evening. He talked much, and he talked well, and was
very happy; so were all of us. The two Republics were one around that
table, and we were all democrats. General Grant drank wine with the
rest of us, but with moderation. President Hayes, he related to me,
had a great reputation for drinking absolutely nothing but water. “It
is a mistake,” said the General, and he told me how at a dinner at
the White House, the night before the inauguration, President Hayes
emptied his wine glass very much in the way that all other people did,
who had no reputations for total abstinence. He was amused at some of
the French-American names on the menu at his plate. I interpreted some
of them for him, and, after the dinner, put his menu with its pretty
picture of the lake into my breast pocket, as a little souvenir of the
occasion.
We separated at midnight, and the next morning some of the same guests
and myself escorted him and Mrs. Grant to their train for Paris.