Adam Badeau, Grant in peace: from Appomattox to Mount McGregor, a personal memoir

[305] akin, perhaps, to that of Wagner's heroes, was able only to reach the musician through an interpreter. Yet the meeting at this historic place, under the shadow of the ruined palace with its memories—of the latest master of modern art with the greatest warrior of American history—was an event worth chronicling. If Wagner had written an opera upon the ‘Wilderness’ the grim and terrible fighter might have inspired an utterance equal to any of Tristan or Sigismund. If they have met since it is in that region where bards and heroes perhaps are equal; where the laurel is bestowed alike on deeds and thoughts.

I was with General Grant in Rome, but there is no disguising the fact that he did not appreciate pictures or statuary. He refused to admire the Marcus Aurelius at the Capitol, though I took him to see it especially because it was equestrian: I thought he would like the horse. I went with him to the Vatican, but he passed straight through the wonderful gallery of marble and never wanted to linger; he did not care for the Apollo or the Laocoon. He got tired of the Sistine Chapel, and poked fun at me when I wanted to look once more at the Last Judgment of Michael Angelo. He would not pretend. He was blind always to the beauties of art. I don't think he could ever tell a good picture from a bad one.

In the same way he was utterly deaf to music. He never knew one tune from another; he thought he could distinguish ‘Hail to the Chief,’ it was played so often for him; but if it was changed for Yankee Doodle he did not know the difference. I more than once heard him say at balls, he could dance very well if it wasn't for the music; that always put him out. He took no interest even in Venice, and never wanted to see its famous ‘Stones’ a second time. He had some slight appreciation of architecture, but not a keen one. The grandeur and form of the great cathedrals made an impression on him, but he liked Thebes better than Milan,