SOLEY, James Russell. Historical Sketch of the United States Naval Academy.
...Prepared by Direction of Rear-Admiral C.R.O. Rodgers, U.S.N., Superintendent U.S. Naval Academy, for the Department of Education at the International Exhibition, 1876.
Washington: Government Printing Office, 1876.
8vo.; half brown morocco with marbled boards stamped in gilt and blind; six spine compartments; five raised bands; marbled endpapers and edges gilt.
First edition. Tipped in printed card: “With the compliments of Rear Admiral C.R.P. Rodgers, Superintendent of Naval Academy”; with Jesse R. Grant’s library stamp on the front free endpaper. Extensive annotations in Grant’s hand throughout.
No dreams of military glory led Grant to West Point. Grant’s domineering father Jesse pushed the idea. The school’s free tuition and engineering program solved the problem of what to do with a son who hated the family tanning business and had no other vocational prospects. “My appointment was an accident,” Grant wrote, “and my father had to use his authority to make me go.” Jesse Grant’s authority nearly always prevailed, so off he went in the spring of 1839, traveling by way of Pittsburgh, Philadelphia and New York—his first visits to big cities. The relatives who greeted him in Philadelphia saw “a rather awkward country lad, wearing plain clothes and large, coarse shoes as broad at the toes as at the widest part of the soles.” In New York he met his future brother-in-law, Fred Dent from Missouri. The two men traveled up the Hudson together, arriving in Kingston on May 29.
Grant’s new name did not protect him from the jibes of his fellows: “HUG” was dead but “United States” Grant and “Uncle Sam” Grant were alive and well. “Sam” soon became the nickname of choice among his compatriots (Grant was not the only cadet rechristened by his classmates: William Tecumseh Sherman was “Cump;” James Longstreet answered to “Pete”), and the new plebe soon found many things besides teasing upperclassmen to dislike. He hated the drilling, the tight uniform, the absence of women, and, above all, the harassment and badgering of the demerit system. There were some compensations: He loved the beautiful Hudson River scenery and relished the thrill of seeing the various “big bugs” that passed through the campus, such as General Winfield Scott, Washington Irving, and President Martin Van Buren. “On the whole I like the place very much,” he told his cousin during the first half of freshman year, “so much that I would not go away on any account.” Yet by the end of the year he was bored again, and eagerly reading newspaper accounts about a proposed bill in the Congress to abolish the Academy.
His feelings for the school waxed and waned over the ensuing three years. His French classes tormented him, but a course in horsemanship during sophomore year was a delight and he became an expert breaker and rider. He found many of his courses tedious, recalling in his Memoirs that “I did not take hold of my studies with avidity, in fact I rarely ever read over a lesson the second time during my cadetship.” There was “a fine library connected with the Academy,” and he became one of its best patrons, taking books back to his room to while away the hours. “I devoted more time to these,” he confessed, “than to books relating to the course of my studies. Much of the time, I am sorry to say, was devoted to novels, but not those of a trashy sort.” Cooper, Irving, and Sir Walter Scott were among his favorites. He grew more sociable as an upper classman and developed new friendships. Senior year was especially congenial since Fred Dent was his roommate, and because it was clear that Grant was going to survive the school’s difficult regimen after all. For the first time in his life he was a success. The entering class of 77 had been ground down to a hearty band of 39, in which Grant ranked a respectable 21st. Time did not soften his memories or his feelings about the Academy. “I hear army men say their happiest days were at West Point,” he wrote. “I never had that experience. The most trying days in my life were those I spent there, and I never recall them with pleasure.” Boynton’s history must have been a grumpy stroll down memory lane for Grant, but he read it, and Soley’s history of the Naval Academy, very carefully, as the extensive marginalia in both books reveal.