CHAPTER XV.

GRANT AS A MAN.

Some Personal Traits-A Glance at the White House-The President's Daily Programme-Grant's Personal Appearance-His Habits-His Conversation-A Little Story-His Mental and Moral Qualities-A Friendly Portrait-How the Painter Came Afterward to be Unfriendly-Grant and Sumner Contrasted.

This chapter will be devoted mainly to the personal traits of President Grant, though some portions of it will necessarily have a close connection with the matter of the two previous chapters, inasmuch as it will be a running sketch, from observation, of how he carries himself in the White House, which is at once his office and his home.

THE WHITE HOUSE.

The reader will suppose himself to be on a visit. to that great cynosure of American eyes, and goal of American ambitions, the White House, and to be armed with such letters, or escort, or personal fame, as shall secure his introduction to the Chief Magistrate. Not much is required in this waymerely enough to keep downright idlers and adventurers from occupying the President's time to the exclusion of those who have some business with him. You seek out the Executive Mansion,

located on Pennsylvania Avenue, just west of the magnificent Treasury Building, and opposite the luxuriantly growing Lafayette Park. A broad, semi-circular walk admits you through the grounds of the Mansion, which is found to be a fine, spacious edifice, with over a hundred feet of front, built of freestone painted white, and adorned with plain, heavy, round columns, enclosing a roomy portico, with driveway and landing for carriages. Inside, the impression is not remarkably pleasant. The halls are vast and reachy, and the main reception room, directly at the left of the front entrance, is usually quite deserted, except by occasional stragglers. Here, however, on certain days of the week, the promiscuous public is received by the President and his lady. This room is richly furnished, and its eight immense pier glass mirrors are interspersed with as many portraits of former hosts of the White House, all of them smartly framed, but not all well painted. At the foot of the broad staircase, you encounter one or more ushers, apparently of the Celtic race, and quite affable, though not otherwise prepossessing. They are utterly devoid of everything which could be construed into "style" or "pomp" no livery, no ceremony, no look, even, of the trained house servant. Indeed, these fellows appear as if they were but recently broken into this duty, and that their latest calling had been farming, or teaming, perhaps..

Upstairs whither any one goes who assumes the right to go-another reception room is reached,

wherein are usually found throughout the forenoon and until two or three o'clock, an average of half a dozen gentlemen, awaiting their turn for an audience with the President. You seat yourself among them and hand your card, or your letters, to General Frederic Dent, one of those shameful brothers-inlaw of whom we hear so much, who acts as chamberlain, or usher-in-chief. Dent is genial and withal a trifle loquacious, so that few visitors fail to be entertained in some way. Your card is taken in to the President, who sits in the Cabinet chamber, and you await the result, as the rest are doing.

"IMPERIALISM" ILLUSTRATED.

The waiting room you discover to be also an office for two or three clerks. To the rear of it is a hall or ante-room, in which are two more servants. These are colored, fat, ungainly and illy-dressed; and the visitor begins to inquire in his own mind where is that imperial pomp-that military parade -which Mr. Sumner's speeches had led him to expect. Not here, certainly. We will wait and get a glimpse of it as we approach the Executive presence itself. If we are a Cabinet Minister, a Senator, a Congressman or a high bureau officer, we go into the Cabinet Chamber without much ceremony-perhaps through the office of Gens. Porter and Babcock, which flanks the Cabinet Chamber and communicates with it. The forenoon hours are ostensibly devoted to the privileged characters named, all of whom have legitimately much business

with the Executive; but Grant manages to sandwich in a considerable number of lay visitors between the official callers.

IN THE CABINET CHAMBER.

Supposing such to be your opportunity. You pass into the chamber, hallowed by hundreds of state meetings of gravest moment, like that when Lincoln presented a draft of his immortal Proclamation for the consideration of his Cabinet; and you feel, most likely, an awe begotten of such associations. Nor is this lessened by the thought that you was now in the presence of the Chief Magistrate of a great nation, and the most succesful of modern generals. That is he, at the further end of the long table. Perhaps his face disappoints you; for it is thicker and a shade older than the prints show him, or than you recollect him, in the hand-shaking days, just after the war, or perhaps it is his stature, which is a trifle below the medium height. His face is ruddy, his beard closecropped, as usual, and his straight brown hair is combed back with scrupulous care, but no grace. He throws a glance at you with his quick, clear, deep eyes-they are blue and liquid, but capable of piercing like a poniard—and seems to be satisfied with your measure at once.

GRANT IN CONVERSATION.

You are asked to sit, and conversation commences at once. Here you make another discovery,

viz: that Grant is not the sphinx which Mr. Sumner and other detractors have painted him. He manifests an intelligent interest in his visitor's affairs, or, if the talk take a public turn, expresses himself freely on the questions of public moment. The writer cannot forbear an illustration of this from his own experience, which also shows that Grant is not destitute of the story-telling faculty which distinguished Abraham Lincoln, even while occupying the same chair.

The conversation had drifted into politics and the question was propounded of Greeley's ability to win over the Democratic party to his support. The President did not answer this categorically; but he was reminded of "a little story," which served the same purpose.

"Shortly after the close of the war," he said (and we quote Grant's language, as nearly as possible, from memory) "and before much had been learned about the way Southern society was going to settle down, I sent these two young men, Generals Porter and Babcock, down through the Gulf States on a tour of observation. In some places, the planters, anxious to produce a good impression, got up meetings of the colored folks and had speeches made, by way of inaugurating an 'era of good feeling,' or showing that one had already commenced. At one of these meetings, the principal planter in the place harangued the boys (with one word for them and two for Porter and Babcock), telling how the war had changed the relations between