With Those Same Eyes

By Ben Kemp

Most descriptions of former First Lady Julia Dent Grant mention an eye condition. The condition, known as strabismus, would be something she dealt with her entire life. It affected everything from her self-esteem and relationships to daily tasks. A study of Julia’s story opens an interesting window into the challenges she and others with the condition faced in that era and how those around them responded to it.

Julia’s condition was strabismus (crossed eyes) and possibly also amblyopia (lazy eye), the first of which can be genetic or brought on by trauma or illness. The conditions cause one or both eyes to not remain aligned properly. If strabismus, which affects up to 4% of the United States population, is left untreated it can lead to complications including headaches, eye strain, and difficulty reading.

Julia’s case, mainly affecting her left eye, was due to “an accident in babyhood” according to her younger sister Emma. Emma admitted that her sister was not what would be considered a “beauty” owing to the condition “marring the harmony of her features” but maintained she had a “pleasing countenance” and was otherwise “prettily made.” Julia from an early age had feelings of inadequacy related to her appearance, later stating that “Dame Nature” had not bestowed her with her charms & gifts. Her disappointment with her appearance would even bring her to tears as a child and she would continue to battle her self-consciousness about it into adulthood.

Julia with her sons Frederick and Ulysses in the 1850s

The condition commonly referred to as a squint at the time, would affect the early years of her relationship with Ulysses. Written correspondence was a major component of 19th-century relationships, especially when distance separated the parties. During the Mexican War in the 1840s, Ulysses complained of a lack of correspondence from his beloved fiancee during their long separation. Julia’s difficulty in writing may have been a contributor to this seeming reluctance to respond as often as her doting fiancee would have preferred. In 1848 as the Mexican War was closing, Ulysses expressed in a letter to Julia an interest in seeing the results of an eye-straightening surgery performed on a friend. While a desperately lonely Ulysses was stationed on the West Coast for two years in the 1850s, he complained of a similar lack of letters from his young wife. Despite his despondency at not receiving much mail from her, he still encouraged her when she complained of complications: “I am very sorry to hear that you have been suffering from weak eyes again! Take good care of them.”

Strabismus surgical procedure from *Pancoast’s Treatise*, plate XLIX 1846 - Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

The surgical treatment of strabismus had its early origins in 18th-century Europe but was not practiced widely until after the success of German physicians Louis Stromeyer and Johann Friedrich Dieffenbach in 1839. The procedure involved the cutting of extraocular muscles to achieve the proper alignment of the eyes for the patient. Julia admitted that when she was still young, the prominent St. Louis surgeon Charles A. Pope had encouraged her on more than one occasion to undergo the “simple” procedure to correct her eyes. (Pope would later marry Julia’s relative Caroline “Carrie” O’Fallon) She claimed it was mainly a fear of going under the knife that prevented her from going through with it. Ophthalmology in the United States would see improvements over the next couple of decades, including the invention of the ophthalmoscope or “eye mirror” which allowed more detailed examinations, and the adaptation of the popular stereoscope photographic device for evaluation.

1862 Strabismus advertisement from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle

Her reluctance to seek corrective surgery was finally challenged as her husband’s fame grew during the Civil War. As his wife, she shared in the public attention he received as the hero of Vicksburg. While she enjoyed the attention in general, those old feelings of insecurity and inadequacy came to the surface. Photographs and likenesses, especially mass-produced carte-de-visites, of her were available to the public, which made her much more acutely aware of her appearance and how it may, in her mind, reflect poorly on her husband. In late 1863 Julia was in St. Louis and visited Dr. Pope to ask about surgery, The Doctor, she claimed, informed her it was too late. She had not consulted her husband before the visit, and when she told him of the episode his response would be a shining example of the romance, love, and support that was the foundation of their relationship.

““I told the General and expressed my regret. He replied ‘What in the world would put such a thought in your head, Julia?’ I said: ‘Why, you are getting to be such a great man and I am such a plain little wife. I thought if my eyes were as others are I might not be so very plain, Ulys; who knows?’ He drew me to him and said: ‘Did I not see you and fall in love with you with those same eyes? I like them just as they are, and now, remember, you are not to interfere with them. They are mine, and let me tell you, Mrs. Grant, you had better not make any experiments, as I might not like you half so well with any other eyes.’ And I never did, my knight, my Lancelot!” ”

— The Personal Memoirs of Julia Dent Grant

1865 Stereoview card image of General Grant with wife Julia and son Jesse at City Point Headquarters, Virginia.

At least three other accounts suggest that Julia pursued surgery during her husband’s presidency but neither Julia nor Ulysses ever directly corroborated them. Julia’s sister Emma claimed Julia arranged a secret surgery in the White House, but Ulysses stumbled upon the scene and stopped it just before it began. Emma said that “it was in General Grant’s eyes an added grace, for he would never allow it to be remedied, although the very simplest use of the surgeon’s knife would have removed it.” LaSalle Corbell Pickett, the wife of Confederate General George Pickett, claimed that on a visit to the White House President Grant told a story of a surgery that Julia and he had arranged but that he at the last minute could not let her go through with. Pickett’s romantic account had President Grant stating:

““My dear, I am very selfish and ought not to say this; but I don’t want your eyes changed. They look just as they did the first time I ever saw them—the same eyes I looked into when I fell in love with you—the same that looked up into mine and told me that my love was returned. I have seen that expression in them through all the years and I don’t want it to be lost. You might look better to other people, but to me you are prettier as you are. So, if you don’t mind, please let’s keep your dear eyes just as they always have been.””

— President Grant as quoted by LaSalle Corbell Pickett

Additionally, President Grant’s Executive Clerk William H. Crook claimed Grant thought his wife “was absolutely perfect” and stopped her from receiving surgery because “He liked her just as she was.” It is difficult to determine the veracity of these claims, but it is interesting to note that they all share some level of similarity to Julia’s account. Their main commonalities are the sentiment Ulysses expressed to have his wife keep her eyes the same as when they had fallen in love and Julia’s desire to improve her appearance for his sake. Nothing of the potential visual benefits was ever mentioned. Rumors were printed in the papers in 1869 suggesting Julia was continuing to pursue her options for surgery during that time perhaps lending some credence to the accounts. One newspaper article in 1877 defended the former first lady for any ignorance she might have exhibited regarding famous European individuals on her world tour, chalking it up to her difficulty in reading. The same article speculated that despite the “grim phantom of threatened blindness” that could result from her condition, “she was afraid to precipitate the calamity by any attempt to improve their looks.”

President & First Lady Grant at Martha’s Vineyard in the 1870s

Article headline from Boston Globe newspaper July 21, 1889.

Newspapers would later pick up on the romantic anecdote between the famous couple and publish it in typical flowery Victorian prose. One paper in 1889 concluded that “Nor Lancelot, nor Romeo, nor lover of any clime or age ever spoke words of tenderer gallantry than those of the hero of Appomattox.”

Ulysses, who had always patiently and lovingly accommodated Julia’s condition, showed he had no interest in having her go through such a procedure simply for appearances. Perhaps he didn’t fully understand or was too concerned with the risks of the procedure to entertain the idea for the purposes of improving her vision. Ulysses, as he had done throughout their life, would continue to read to and write correspondence for his wife when necessary. The reading of newspapers and sometimes books was turned into a family occasion at White Haven, Galena, and other homes. Her family accepted and loved her wholeheartedly, only mentioning briefly how it troubled her to read or write.

Julia Grant with her father Frederick and two children Ellen (Nellie) and Jesse.

Julia was certainly self-conscious about her condition, but the common assertion that she “always” insisted on being photographed in profile is simply untrue. Many images exist with both her eyes in view and her condition fully noticeable to the observer. Perhaps she drew upon the confidence of knowing that she was beautiful in the eyes of the most important individual in her life and so saw no need to hide her strabismus. Perhaps as more time went on, she also became increasingly aware that it would be pointless to try to hide it when it was already so well known to the public. There is also the fact that the “defect” had been turned into something more of an endearing trait through the romantic tale associated with it. Out of 50 photographs of Julia that were inspected, she is in full profile in only 17 of them, or 34% of the time. It should be noted that being photographed in profile was a popular choice for portraiture in the Victorian era, not simply for those looking to hide something in their appearance. Those with enough funds available typically sat for a series of photographs, some of them in profile. There are numerous images from the 1850s to the 1890s where Julia confidently faces directly into the camera lens.

Two images of Julia Grant taken during a photography session.

Julia in her later years in Washington DC

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. Upon his deathbed in 1885, Ulysses gazed into those same eyes to the adoring soul that he had first fallen in love with some 40 years before. Their imperfection was perfection to him and she knew that. Inspired by her husband’s struggle against adversity to complete his memoirs, Julia did not allow her failing eyesight to deter her from accomplishing a similar goal. Julia, prompted by her children, dictated to her son Fred and her secretary the words that would eventually become The Personal Memoirs of Julia Dent Grant, published posthumously 73 years after her death. In the end, Julia gave everyone a chance to see life through those same eyes.