The majority of the characters in True Grit celebrate a brutal kind of courage, one that has its roots in violence and aggression. In particular, people like Rooster and LaBoeuf are proud of their daring ways and even compete over who’s tougher or who’s a better marksman. In keeping with this, Portis demonstrates how important it is in the macho culture of the Wild West to prove oneself, something that can seemingly only be done by committing some grand act of strength or violence. Because of this investment in such a rugged form of bravery, the characters in True Grit often overlook the value of intelligence, believing that physical acts are the only marker of true courage and resilience. In turn, Mattie’s cleverness allows her to make up for the fact that she’s an inexperienced young woman who isn’t necessarily physically capable of the same kind of reckless bravado as the men around her. And yet, she does exhibit physical bravery, combining her invigorated spirit with her intelligence to outwit her adversaries. As such, Portis implies that it’s foolish to depend solely on the brutish “grit” that is so lauded in cowboy culture, ultimately indicating that acting bravely and intelligently is usually more effective than simply relying on violence and blind courage.
Mattie exists in a society that stands in awe of men who prove themselves through acts of violence. The people surrounding Mattie seemingly care more about whether or not a man has “grit” than whether or not he’s a good person. In alignment with this, Rooster Cogburn enjoys a hallowed reputation as a feared and respected U.S. marshal simply because everyone knows he’s ruthless. The mere fact that he works for the nation’s federal government is a testament to how his history as a fearless man plays to his favor. After all, he used to be part of a gang of outlaws that terrorized the West in the final years of the Civil War, a group that LaBoeuf describes as “not soldiers at all but murdering thieves.” And yet, in spite of his troubling personal history, Rooster remains a revered marshal. Mattie herself serves as a good representation of her society’s willingness to excuse violent transgressions, as she focuses exclusively on the benefits of Rooster’s mercilessness. When Stonehill asks her why she has chosen to hire Rooster, she says, “They say he has grit. I wanted a man with grit.” In response, Stonehill implies that the very same “grit” that attracts Mattie is what makes Rooster a dangerous, morally suspect man, but when he warns her against getting involved with such a character, she merely says, “The good Christian does not flinch from difficulties.” By saying this, she embodies her society’s belief that it’s honorable to brazenly confront adversity.
At the same time, though, Mattie is capable of recognizing the negative aspects of her society’s obsession with aggressive, hypermasculine displays of power. For instance, when Rooster and LaBoeuf start arguing about who’s better at shooting, they do nothing but distract themselves from the more important task. “This is the famous horse killer from El Paso, Texas,” Rooster tells his friend Captain Finch, making fun of LaBoeuf for accidentally shooting Ned Pepper’s horse instead of Ned himself. This comment sets off a dispute in which each man tries to prove his marksmanship skills by throwing corn paddies and shooting at them in the air. “They drank whiskey and used up about sixty corn dodgers like that,” Mattie writes. It’s worth noting here that the group is supposed to be chasing after Ned Pepper and his gang, but they’ve distracted themselves by wasting food and trying to prove their superiority. “It was entertaining for a while but there was nothing educational about it. I grew more and more impatient with them,” Mattie explains, and she finally tells them to stop. In this moment, readers see that, despite Rooster and LaBoeuf’s respected reputations, their need to feel dominant only makes them behave stupidly, whereas Mattie is able to recognize their foolishness.
Mattie’s intelligence not only helps her see through the useless posturing of her companions; it also allows her to get the best of people. When she combines her daring spirit with her quick-wittedness, she manages to carry out acts of bravery that rough-and-tumble men like Rooster could only accomplish through the use of brute force (which often only creates more trouble). For example, when she attempts to cross the river on a boat with Rooster and LaBoeuf at the outset of their journey, the two men instruct a deckhand to escort her back to land. Despite her protests, the deckhand leads her and her horse off the boat and up a large hill, but she doesn’t give up. Instead of using physical aggression to challenge this man, she says, “Wait, stop a minute,” pretending that there’s something “wrong” with her hat. When he stops and turns to look at her, she kicks her horse into action and rides back down the hill, leaving him in the dust and leading the horse through a narrow part of the river. This is a perfect representation of the way she combines quick thinking with acts of bravery, since she gets the best of the deckhand by outwitting him, and then courageously steers her horse into the water, eventually reaching the other side of the river before Rooster and LaBoeuf even come ashore. It is exactly this unyielding spirit that soon impresses LaBoeuf, who advocates for her when Rooster suggests she turn back toward the end of the journey. “I think she has done fine myself,” LaBoeuf says. “She has won her spurs, so to speak.” In this fashion, Portis conveys the message that a person need not turn to violence and brutish notions of “grit” to prove themselves. Rather, courage and resilience ought to be combined with intelligence, which is often undervalued in the cutthroat world of the American Frontier.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Violence, Courage, and Intelligence ThemeTracker
Violence, Courage, and Intelligence Quotes in True Grit
People do not give it credence that a fourteen-year-old girl could leave home and go off in the wintertime to avenge her father’s blood but it did not seem so strange then, although I will say it did not happen every day.
Tom Chaney raised his rifle and shot him in the forehead, killing him instantly. There was no more provocation than that and I tell it as it was told to me by the high sheriff of Sebastian County. Some people might say, well, what business was it of Frank Ross to meddle? My answer is this: he was trying to do that short devil a good turn. Chaney was a tenant and Papa felt responsibility. He was his brother’s keeper. Does that answer your question?
I said, “I have hopes that the marshals will get him soon. His name is Tom Chaney. He worked for us. I am trying to get action. I aim to see him shot or hanged.”
“Yes, yes, well might you labor to that end,” said Stonehill. “At the same time I will counsel patience. The brave marshals do their best but they are few in number. The lawbreakers are legion and they range over a vast country that offers many natural hiding places. The marshal travels about friendless and alone in that criminal nation. Every man’s hand is against him there save in large part for that of the Indian who has been cruelly imposed upon by felonious intruders from the States.”
MR. GOUDY: How many, Mr. Cogburn?
MR. COGBURN: I never shot nobody I didn’t have to.
MR. GOUDY: That was not the question. How many?
MR. COGBURN: Shot or killed?
MR. GOUDY: Let us restrict it to “killed” so that we may have a manageable figure. How many people have you killed since you became a marshal for this court?
MR. COGBURN: Around twelve or fifteen, stopping men in flight and defending myself.
MR. GOUDY: Around twelve or fifteen. So many that you cannot keep a precise count. Remember that you are under oath. I have examined the records and a more accurate figure is readily available. Come now, how many?
MR. COGBURN: I believe them two Whartons made twenty-three.
Judge Parker knows. He is a old carpetbagger but he knows his rats. We had a good court here till the pettifogging lawyers moved in on it. You might think Polk Goudy is a fine gentleman to look at his clothes, but he is the sorriest son of a bitch that God ever let breathe. I know him well. Now they have got the judge down on me, and the marshal too. The rat-catcher is too hard on the rats. That is what they say. Let up on them rats! Give them rats a fair show! What kind of show did they give Columbus Potter? Tell me that. A finer man never lived.
“I want Chaney to pay for killing my father and not some Texas bird dog.”
“It will not be for the dog, it will be for the senator, and your father too. He will be just as dead that way, you see, and pay for all his crimes at once.”
Goudy will claim the boy was provoked and he will tell a bushel of lies about me. I should have put a ball in that boy’s head instead of his collarbone. I was thinking about my fee. You will sometimes let money interfere with your notion of what is right.
“Yes, a splendid inducement. Well, perhaps it will all work out to your satisfaction. I shall pray that you return safely, your efforts crowned with success. It may prove to be a hard journey.”
“The good Christian does not flinch from difficulties.”
“Neither does he rashly court them. The good Christian is not willful or presumptuous.”
“That is hard to believe.”
“What is?”
“One man riding at seven men like that.”
“It is true enough. We done it in the war. I seen a dozen bold riders stampede a full troop of regular cavalry. You go for a man hard enough and fast enough and he don’t have time to think about how many is with him, he thinks about himself and how he may get clear out of the wrath that is about to set down on him.”
I thought it was in LaBoeuf’s favor that his first shot had struck and killed Lucky Ned Pepper’s horse. If he had been shooting from panic would he have come so near to hitting the bandit chieftain with his first shot? On the other hand, he claimed to be an experienced officer and rifleman, and if he had been alert and had taken a deliberate shot would he not have hit his mark? Only LaBoeuf knew the truth of the matter. I grew impatient with their wrangling over the point. I think Rooster was angry because the play had been taken away from him and because Lucky Ned Pepper had beaten him once again.
LaBoeuf pulled one of his revolvers and got two dodgers out of the sack and tossed them both up. He fired very rapidly but he only hit one. Captain Finch tried it with two and missed both of them. Then he tried with one and made a successful shot. Rooster shot at two and hit one. They drank whiskey and used up about sixty corn dodgers like that. None of them ever hit two at one throw with a revolver but Captain Finch finally did it with his Winchester repeating rifle, with somebody else throwing. It was entertaining for a while but there was nothing educational about it. I grew more and more impatient with them.
I said, “Come on, I have had my bait of this. I am ready to go. Shooting cornbread out here on this prairie is not taking us anywhere.”
By then Rooster was using his rifle and the captain was throwing for him. “Chunk high and not so far out this time,” said he.
I said, “If you refuse to go I will have to shoot you.”
He went on with his work and said, “Oh? Then you had better cock your piece.”
I had forgotten about that. I pulled the hammer back with both thumbs.
“All the way back till it locks,” said Chaney.
“I know how to do it,” said I. When it was ready I said, “You will not go with me?”
“I think not,” said he. “It is just the other way around. You are going with me.”
I pointed the revolver at his belly and shot him down. The explosion kicked me backwards and caused me to lose my footing and the pistol jumped from my hand.
The bandit chieftain made no reply. He brushed the snow and dirt from my face and said, “Your life depends upon their actions. I have never busted a cap on a woman or anybody much under sixteen years but I will do what I have to do.”
I said, “There is some mix-up here. I am Mattie Ross of near Dardanelle, Arkansas. My family has property and I don’t know why I am being treated like this.”
Lucky Ned Pepper said, “It is enough that you know I will do what I have to do.”
Who was to blame? Deputy Marshal Rooster Cogburn! The gabbing drunken fool had made a mistake of four miles and led us directly into the robbers’ lair. A keen detective! Yes, and in an earlier state of drunkenness he had placed faulty caps in my revolver, causing it to fail me in a time of need. That was not enough; now he had abandoned me in this howling wilderness to a gang of cutthroats who cared not a rap for the blood of their own companions, and how much less for that of a helpless and unwanted youngster! Was this what they called grit in Fort Smith? We called it something else in Yell County!
I hurriedly cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. The charge exploded and sent a lead ball of justice, too long delayed, into the criminal head of Tom Chaney.
Yet I was not to taste the victory. The kick of the big pistol sent me reeling backward. I had forgotten about the pit behind me!
The lawyer had blamed Rooster for taking me on the search for Tom Chaney and had roundly cursed him and threatened to prosecute him in a court action. I was upset on hearing it. I told Lawyer Daggett that Rooster was in no way to blame, and was rather to be praised and commended for his grit. He had certainly saved my life.
Whatever his adversaries, the railroads and steamboat companies, may have thought, Lawyer Daggett was a gentleman, and on hearing the straight of the matter he was embarrassed by his actions. He said he still considered the deputy marshal had acted with poor judgment, but in the circumstances was deserving an apology.
These old-timers had all fought together in the border strife under Quantrill’s black standard, and afterward led dangerous lives, and now this was all they were fit for, to show themselves to the public like strange wild beasts of the jungle.
