 |
The Ulysses S. Grant Association | |
|
The Ulysses S. Grant Association | |
By Foster Coates
It was an eventful day in the life of Julia Dent, a young Missouri girl, when, in 1844, her brother, a cadet at West Point, brought his friend, Lieutenant U. S. Grant, to her father's house on a visit. And there is a charming bit of naiveté in Mrs. Grant's description of that visit, how the dashing, young lieutenant lost his heart, how she found it, and how he asked the question which linked her name with his eventful life and career.
I may say that Mrs. Grant recently told the subjoined facts to me specially for the readers of THE LADIES HOME JOURNAL, and it is the first time she has ever narrated them for publication.
"One summer day we were going to a morning wedding, and Lieutenant Grant was also invited," says Mrs. Grant. "He came for us on horseback, and asked my brother's permission to drive me, in exchange for his saddle, to which he gladly consented. The day was beautiful, the roads were a little heavy from previous rain, but the sun shone in splendor. We had to cross a little bridge that spanned a ravine, and, when we reached it, I was surprised and a little concerned to find the gulch swollen, a most unusual thing, the water reaching to the bridge. I noticed, too, that Lieutenant Grant was very quiet, and that and the high water bothered me. I asked several times if he thought the water dangerous to breast, and told him I would go back rather than take any risk. He assured me, in his brief way, that it was perfectly safe, and in my heart I relied upon him. Just as we reached the old bridge I said, 'Now, if anything happens, remember I shall cling to you, no matter what you say to the contrary.' He simply said, 'All right,' and we were over the planks in less than a minute. Then his mood changed, he became more social, and in asking me to be his wife, used my threat as a theme. After dinner that afternoon, Lieutenant Grant asked me to set the day. I wanted to be engaged, and told him it would be much nicer than getting married--a sentiment he did not approve. We were very quiet at the house that evening and neither said a word of the secret. After supper he went back to the regiment, and a few days later General Taylor sent him to Camp Salubrity, in Louisiana. He was too shy to ask father, so he waited till he was stationed and wrote to him. Father never answered the letter. I was his favorite daughter, and he thought army life would not suit me.
"'Besides,' said father, 'you are too young and the boy is too poor. He hasn't anything to give you.'
"I rose in my wrath and I said I was poor, too, and hadn't anything to give him.
"The next year he came back on a leave of absence, and I can remember just how he looked as he rode up in his new uniform. Father was going to Washington on business, and we were all on the front porch kissing him good-by and stuffing his pockets with notes of things he was to buy. Lieutenant Grant asked for my hand, and he, in a hurry to get off, consented.
"My soldier lover was in and about Mexico for four years, including the war. Every mail brought me a letter. Every one of them full of sweet nothings, love and war, and now and then some pressed leaves and flowers. Some were written on drum-heads captured from the Mexicans and others on sheets of foolscap, folded and sealed with red wafers. I read each one every day until the next one came. I have them all."
At the close of the Mexican war they were married, and a loved and loving couple they were all through life. During the Rebellion Mrs. Grant was as near the General as it was safe for her to be. She was his partner in trial as well as joy. It isn't given to every woman to have a great hero for a husband, to spend eight years in the White House, and to make a tour of the world, the guest of kings, queens and princes and have everybody trying to make life pleasant for them, nor is it given to everyone to know how poignant grief is.
"I do not complain," Mrs. Grant says. "Mine has been a happy, happy life. I have drank deep from the cup of joy and from the cup of woe. The Lord knows best." And then, as she sits alone in her big house in the twilight, thinking of the old days, it would be strange--and she would not be human--if the tears did not start unbidden to her eyes, as she turns back the pages of her life.
This article was published in the Ladies Home Journal in October, 1890.