“Nothing heroic . . . and yet the greatest hero."

As a historian of modern America, I am naturally certain that Americans do not know nearly enough about key developments that shaped the world in which they live, notably the civil rights movement, the New Deal, and the Cold War among them. As a historian generally, I wish more Americans knew even a little quality history about the Founding period, about race in America, and certainly women’s history. However, if I was forced to choose one period or topic exhibiting the greatest disparity between what we should know and what we actually do (or don't) know, I would have to choose Reconstruction, the period directly after the Civil War ended in 1865 and which lasted, by all accounts, only until 1877. Ignorance about Reconstruction has been poisonous to American civic life. 

There is so little pertinent reflection about Reconstruction in the broader culture. Yet so much of what shapes—-and bedevils—-modern America traces its origins to the Reconstruction period. The great questions of our day-—of ethnic prejudice, of the reach of federal power, of corporate malfeasance, of what constitutes citizenship, of the rule of law, what makes the “public good,” and more—-were confronted during the Reconstruction period, but often left partially or wholly unresolved. We don’t understand modern America without understanding the (many) failures and (few) successes of Reconstruction, and yet surely most Americans lack that understanding. So what to do?  We’re unlikely to persuade people who rarely pick up a book to endure a learned monograph on the framing of the 14th Amendment, or a history of the Freedman’s Bureau. Imperfect a solution as it may be, I do have one suggestion for that sub-lettered uncle in your family this Christmastime: Ron Chernow’s Grant (Penguin, 2018): Grant by Ron Chernow: 9780143110637 | PenguinRandomHouse.com: Books.

Scholars of the 18th president undoubtedly have much to criticize in Chernow’s depiction, but I’m not making the recommendation for them. I found the portrait of Grant on offer compelling and deeply moving. Chernow offers a picture of an ordinary American, without prestige or privilege, who made his way to West Point, distinguished himself in the Mexican War (whatever the ignominy of that war in general), and after the start of the Civil War, rose like a meteor to take command of a failing and faltering Union effort. If we are to commemorate the achievements of our generals, Grant surely deserves more than a little credit, alongside Lincoln, and in the company of millions on the fields and at home who served, for saving the Union. In this sense Grant’s is a classic American, bootstraps story that should enjoy wide appeal. And in his election to president in 1868, he was, after the death of Lincoln, the only major figure that connects, as Chernow has put it in interviews, Act I of the Civil War to Act II of Reconstruction.

As Chernow beautifully shows, again and again Grant was thrown into the vortex of the great questions of America, questions that defined conflict in his day, and ours: the problem of white supremacy, of contested federalism, of citizenship, of race and racism, of the relationship of elites to the masses, and more. Grant was not just obliged to endure in vexing circumstances, he was obliged, by destiny and his position, to lead. And if he did not always get it right, he got it right more often than not, and showed what steely determination wedded to basic decency and common sense could accomplish. Yes, his life is the stuff of schoolboy hero worship. But if that’s what it takes to get your uncle to a newfound appreciation of Reconstruction, I am more than willing to recommend Grant as the gateway drug.

Chernow fleshes out Grant’s early life with attention to his personal struggles: his business failures in the 1850s, his difficulties navigating the strong personalities of his father and father-in-law, and most powerfully, his struggles with alcohol. Grant, Chernow writes insightfully and compassionately, was often depicted in his life and later as a drunk. But Chernow insists that was not so. Grant was not a drunk. He was an alcoholic. That is, Grant understood that he had an addiction (he would not have used the modern language), and that therefore he was obliged every day to take measures to keep himself sober. I was  moved by Chernow’s portrait of Grant’s battle with alcoholism, offering a glimpse into an imperfect man who understood his demons, fell again and again, but nevertheless mustered the spirit and the discipline to confront them. As Whitman concluded of Grant, “Nothing heroic . . . and yet the greatest hero. The gods, the destinies, seem to have concentrated upon him.”

Grant’s battlefield coolness and strategic vision are the stuff of legend and would appeal to anyone interested even vaguely in military history. But Chernow also shows us a leader who understood that he was standing at the juncture of crucial historical developments. If Grant’s record as general-in-chief on the subject of race is less than perfect, it is also true that Grant was certainly much more than a man of his time in this regard. He spent much of his presidential career in a sincere attempt to atone for an earlier and notorious anti-semitic field order enacted during the war. And while no one could call Grant “colorblind,” his attitude towards, and his record on, issues of concern to African Americans, both as general and as president, was path-breaking. Not excepting our modern presidents, probably no president in US history did more to advance the cause of civil rights than Grant. And when your uncle understands that, he may also, at the same time, come to understand how inadequate even Grant’s successes were and how much was left undone when Grant left office.

Schoolchildren in Georgia, c. 1890.

To his credit, Chernow spends a great deal of time exploring Grant’s presidency, as he struggled to salvage a workable Reconstruction policy from the mishandling of the Johnson administration. Grant was obliged to navigate a thicket of incalculable political obstacles: the uncertain legacy of Lincoln, an often abusive Radical Republican faction determined to punish the south (and whose commitment to durable citizenship safeguards for some 4 million African Americans was problematic), a resurgent moderate faction only too willing to compromise Black freedom in the name of national comity, and always, always, a snarling southern malevolence determined to roll back, by any means necessary, even the most modest rights gains for African Americans. Grant also undertook to reset relations with Native Americans, a “Peace Policy” which ultimately failed, but which nevertheless stands in marked contrast to the genocide of much that prevailed before and after Grant.
 
Specialists in the field may take a dimmer view of Grant’s achievements in this regard, but at a minimum Chernow registers the ongoing disgust and betrayal Grant felt at each new report of southern outrages on Black life and liberty. And if he failed, ultimately, to rein in the corruption engulfing America in the age of the robber barons, it was a corruption that nearly swallowed him as well. This is not the last depiction of the failures of Reconstruction I would want someone to read, but for someone who knows nothing about Reconstruction at all, and why it is such an important period to know about, there are worse choices for the first.

And for a good illustration of FractalPast in action—-the way in which we can scale narrative to deepen our understanding—-I recommend two videos, one a brief overview, the other an evocative deep-dive into the tragedies of Reconstruction:

In Reconstruction: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly | 5 Minute Video, Professor Allen C. Guelzo offers a useful five-minute primer on the politics of Reconstruction, highlighting how southerners did not necessarily oppose the enfranchisement of the Freed People, since that increased their representation in Congress. They merely objected, with violence in many cases, to the actual exercise of those rights. This brief video leaves out some key aspects, notably the notorious Black Codes and also elements of Black self-help, but it is a fair and useful political introduction nevertheless.

For a deeper and more evocative examination, see the great Henry Louis Gates’s brilliant: Reconstruction - America After the Civil War, which examines the politics of Reconstruction in greater detail, but sets those politics as a background against the compelling story of Black ambitions and aspirations after emancipation, which is undoubtedly where the focus should always remain anyway.

See also the fascinating and gripping interview with Chernow and General David Petraeus: Ron Chernow on Ulysses S. Grant with General (Ret.) David H. Petraeus.

Further reading:
Eric Foner, Reconstruction: America's Unfinished Revolution, 1863-1877. (Harper, 2014).
Scott Farris, Freedom on Trial: The First Post-Civil War Battle over Civil Rights and Voter Suppression (Lyons Press, 2020).