Wish I could be part of the festivities up in Gettysburg this week. Well, not really. I read in the newspaper that this year’s reenactment promises to be the “biggest and best so far.” That must mean that there will be more people involved, more noise, and more smoke; it promises to be an entertaining show. Maybe for next year, instead of going for the biggest and best, organizers can work on making it more realistic. You want to get me to Gettysburg in early July than give me real suffering. I’m not asking for much, just something that reflects a reenactor’s sincere interest in wanting to better understand the horror of battle. Perhaps a blow to the head with the but of a rifle or a minor flesh wound caused by a bee bee that could be extracted with period medical tools. Now that would point to a sincere commitment to experiencing the past through the other-regarding emotions of empathy and sympathy.
There is precedent for this. Consider the yearly reenactments of Jesus’s crucifixion that take place in the Philippines.
There is something admirable in their willingness to endure such a severe amount of pain in order to fully embrace what they interpret to be the significance of Jesus’s sacrifice. For many it is the only way to fully embrace both the historical event of the crucifixion as well as its spiritual import. By extension one wonders how the experience of the crowd is shaped in comparison with a less realistic reenactment of the crucifixion. Are they able to identify more closely with the nature of the event being portrayed? Of course, I am not suggesting that Civil War reenactors try to bring a bit more of the reality of the battlefield to their performance. What it does bring home for me, however, is how little suffering and sacrifice comes through in reenactments. Though I’ve only been to a few reenactments I’ve never felt anything close to a feeling of sorrow or even admiration for what the soldiers endured during the Civil War. It’s always been entertaining and fun for me, in part because I know the reenactor is not suffering in any way, and because of that I’ve always felt just a little uneasy about attending such events.
Today was the perfect day to drive to Petersburg and hang out at the Crater. I try to get down there at least once a year to recharge the batteries and find those special places where I can lose myself in the past for a few moments. This trip I decided to walk off the field itself into the wooded areas along the edge of the battlefield. I walked a few hundred yards along the Confederate right where the 46th and 34th Virginia were located. The Federal attack managed to occupy about 200 yards along this portion of the battlefield, but what is striking when you walk this area is the incline that they would have had to manage. In short, it would not have been an easy area to defend given the disorganization in Federal ranks and decisiveness of the Confederate counterattacks beginning at roughly 9am. Along the Confederate left one is also struck by the uneven terrain and the difficulty that the Ninth Corps would have had in securing the area that was defended primarily by brigades from North Carolina under the command of Col. Lee M. McAfee. I also explored one of the two “covered ways” that the Ninth Corps used for its attack as well as numerous smaller traverses. Finally, I followed the “covered way” used by Mahone’s division for their counterattack. If you walk about 100 yards beyond the crater you will come to a depression where the wood line is extended out. Find an entrance into the woods and you can walk a few yards before the ground levels out. It’s of course impossible to know what the area looked like on July 30 given that the battlefield functioned as a golf course in the early twentieth century. I actually spent so much time exploring the area beyond the perimeter of the field that I almost forgot to make a quick trip around the crater itself. Along the way I ran into a very nice couple who were trying to make sense of what they were seeing. I asked if they had any questions and ended up giving them a fairly detailed account of the battle and a bit about what happened on the site after the war. They were very grateful.
From there I went to Blandford Cemetery which I like to call, “Lost Cause Central”. I absolutely love walking Blandford. It’s a beautiful spot and you can usually walk it with very few people around. I did my usual route, which took me to the Confederate section and William Mahone’s mausoleum. It’s a very curious resting place. You can’t really see it in this photograph, but the only indication that this is Mahone’s gravesite is the “M” that is situated inside the star above the door. Mahone was larger than life and in my mind the most important Virginia politician of the nineteenth century after Thomas Jefferson. The structure itself is an imposing one and perhaps fitting given Mahone’s importance, but one wonders why there is nothing more than a letter to identify its occupant. You might say that an “M” is all that would have been needed in this case, much like the simplicity of “Grant” on the monument in Washington, D.C. Or it could reflect the bitterness and anger that befell Mahone owing to his foray into politics and leadership of the Readjuster Party, which controlled Virginia state politics for four years.
Mahone’s obituaries reflect a deep mistrust from around Virginia that followed him until his death in October 1895. Much of what I found tried to focus on his military career, but in the end could not fail to notice what many deemed to be the actions of a traitor. The Richmond Times Dispatch offered a dispassionate overview of Mahone’s military and political career and listed numerous regret notices from Virginia politicians and “resolutions of regret” from local Confederate veterans organizations, including the A. P. Hill Camp, Gray’s Veterans, and the R. E. Lee Camp. The Norfolk Landmark reported to its readers that Mahone’s death “removes one of the most conspicuous figures in the public life of this State since the war.” After describing his accomplishments on the battlefield, the paper concluded that Mahone “combined with signal strategic ability a personal bravery and self command” and “enjoyed the confidence and esteem of General Lee.” Virginia “loses one of her most distinguished sons,” suggested the Portsmouth Star and “as an organizer of forces, he was unquestionably one of the greatest minds of the age.” North of Richmond, the Fredericksburg Free Lance described Mahone as a “Confederate general who displayed great ability and achieved marked success.” Even while offering favorable accounts of Mahone, the same newspapers could not resist commenting on his controversial political career. Another newspaper urged its readers to remember Mahone’s political legacy: “The name of Virginia was dragged in a mire of reproach and became a by-word and a mockery. From the effects of that political delirium we are just recovering.” And the Fredericksburg Free Lance predicted that Mahone’s death “will probably bring about the entire union and thorough cooperation of the divided and disorganized Republican party of Virginia.” Finally, one eulogist noted that, “Few public men have ever had such a loss of friends as Mahone.”
Could the placement of the “M” somehow have been the result of an unspoken compromise between the Mahone family and the community? Mahone’s remains would be interred at Blandford, but keep the visual reminder to a minimum. When it comes to trying to understand and/or debate how to remember the Civil War generation there is a tendency to simplify in a way that ignores the complexity of the lives being remembered. The categories employed tend to be more about how we feel or how we choose to identify with the past. What I find so interesting about Mahone is that he serves to remind us that not even his own generation could agree on how he ought to be remembered.
To wrap up my trip I met my friend, Emmanuel Dabney, for lunch in Petersburg. Emmanuel works as an interpreter for the NPS at Petersburg and is currently working on an M.A. in public history. He is incredibly passionate about historic preservation and hopes to make a career in the NPS. I predict that Emmanuel is going to be a real force in the preservation world.
If he was it was only temporary given the drastic changes to the color of his skin. This photograph was taken on Franklin Street in Richmond in 1980. My wife and I spent a few hours listening to Michael Jackson’s music on the evening of his death. It is next to impossible to deny his talent. Over the past few days I’ve caught snippets of various specials, including a number of interviews with Jackson. What stands out when not discussing music or dance is an almost childish and simplistic view of the world. I suspect that his early career left very little time for education and I assume that includes an understanding of American history. With that in mind it is easy to imagine Jackson not thinking twice about engaging the black community of Richmond in a Confederate kepi. See the story here. Thanks for the wonderful music.
The Richmond Dispatch included a great deal of commentary that referenced the presence of black soldiers in the battle to both warn its readers of possible dangers and as a means to maintain support for the war effort. By including such detail readers on the home front were made aware of the dangers that black soldiers represented and, by extension, the threats posed by their own slaves. According to one editorial, “Negroes, stimulated by whiskey, may possibly fight well so long so they fight successfully, but with the first good whipping, their courage, like that of Bob Acres, oozes out at their fingers’ ends.” The attempt to deny black manhood by assuming they were “stimulated by whiskey” to fight reinforced stereotypes while the reference to “whipping” took on a dual meaning between the battlefield and home front as a way to maintain racial control. In addition, the North’s use of black troops allowed the newspaper to draw a sharp distinction between “heartless Yankees” who brought themselves to a “barbarous device for adding horrors to the war waged against the South” and “Robert E. Lee, the soldier without reproach, and the Christian gentleman without stain and without dishonor.” Highlighting Lee’s unblemished moral character highlighted his role as the Confederacy’s best hopes for independence, but also served as a model for the rest of the white South to emulate as the introduction of black troops represented an ominous turn.
The Richmond Examiner not only acknowledged the execution of black Union soldiers, but went a step further and encouraged Mahone to continue the practice in the future:
We beg him [Mahone], hereafter, when negroes are sent forward to murder the wounded, and come shouting “no quarter,” shut your eyes, General, strengthen your stomach with a little brandy and water, and let the work, which God has entrusted to you and your brave men, go forward to its full completion; that is, until every negro has been slaughtered.—Make every salient you are called upon to defend, a Fort Pillow; butcher every negro that Grant sends against your brave troops, and permit them not to soil their hands with the capture of a single hero.
“If Grant had a drinking problem, the answer to your question could be that he was willing to sacrifice thousands of more men due to the fact his judgment was impaired by alcohol.” – Richard Williams [scroll down for comment]
Thousands of more men compared to what exactly? Compared to someone who is best remembered as the embodiment of civilized warfare?
Robert E. Lee’s Casualties (1862-1865)
Seven Days battles – 20,204
Second Manassas – 9,000
Sharpsburg – 13,000
Chancellorsville – 13,000
Gettysburg – 21,000
Overland Campaign – 31,000
Petersburg Campaign – 28,000
Ulysses S. Grant’s Casualties (1861-1865)
Battle of Belmont – 3,100
Forts Henry and Donelson – 2,700
Shiloh – 13,000
Vicksburg – 4,800
Chattanooga – 5,800
Overland Campaign – 38,000
Petersburg Campaign – 42,000
Yesterday I mentioned that beliefs about Grant and alcohol typically have something to do with larger issues. Williams’s comment is a case in point. If it can be shown that Grant had a serious enough problem with alcohol it might provide evidence for another long-standing belief, which is that he needlessly sacrificed his men in battle. The image of “Grant the butcher” provides the perfect foil against Robert E. Lee who embodies the martial characteristics of the Virginia cavalier. Does anyone doubt that this is exactly who Williams had in mind in his implicit comparison. As the argument goes Lee fought a traditional war of virtuous generals and civilized tactics while Grant and Sherman ushered in a new era of warfare that anticipated the blood baths of the twentieith century.
My noting Lee’s casualty statistics should not be interpreted as an attack of any kind. I tend to agree with Gary Gallagher’s analysis of Lee as a modern general who understood the importance of offensive, but costly operations as representing the best strategy given issues related to infrastructure, manpower, and the expectation of the civilian population. Still, one might conclude that Grant’s casualty figures demonstrate that he did indeed needlessly sacrifice his men in battle. Of course, you do not have to be an alcoholic to order large numbers of young men to their deaths. You could just as easily be a Virginia gentleman.
Apparently my last post on Grant has caused some confusion over at Richard Williams’s blog. Williams interprets my language as an attempt to downplay or ignore those historians who have argued that Grant was an alcoholic or that his fondness for it hampered his leadership on the battlefield. First, let me be very clear that I have nothing at stake in this debate beyond my interest in Grant as an important historical figure. Second, I am not a Grant scholar. What I know is based on having read a number of journal/magazine articles along with a few recent biographies by William McFeely, Jean Edward Smith and especially, Brooks Simpson’s Ulysses S. Grant: Triumph and Adversity, 1822-1865, which has been acknowledged by the historical community as the best of the lot. [By the way, Joan Waugh also bases her short commentary on this issue on Simpson's work.] I’ve learned something from all of these studies. Williams cites a short essay by Edward Longacre at the History News Network as evidence of Grant’s addiction. Longacre’s characterization may be right depending on how we define our terms and how we weigh the evidence. Of course, there is always the danger of presentism in applying modern definitions and accompanying judgments one way or the other. Even with those concerns the discussion/debate ought to continue since we are dealing with an important individual in American history and how we understand and evaluate Grant’s public career matters. As for where I stand on the issue right now I will leave you with a recent post by Brooks Simpson over at Civil Warriors.
Still, I can’t help but wonder if this debate is about much larger issues. Many take on a defensive posture when it comes to certain conclusions and generalizations because they are connected to much larger assumptions about the war. Both Grant and Robert E. Lee are useful in this game. Believing that Grant was an alcoholic fits neatly into that larger image of a dirty/God-less/industrial North that stands in sharp contrast with a peaceful/agrarian South. Believing that Grant was a drunk reinforces his image as a “butcher” who achieved victory simply by massing overwhelming resources against Lee, the Army of Northern Virginia and the rest of the Confederacy rather than engaging in sophisticated and complex maneuvers. Finally, it reinforces the view that the United States army was made up of barbarians whose only goal was to pillage the good people of the South who wanted nothing more than to be left in peace.
The above image of Grant is one of my favorites from the Civil War era. A number of things come to mind when I look at it, including alcohol, but that constitutes just one fraction of my overall assessment of the man.
Yesterday I received the page proofs for Joan Waugh’s new book, U.S. Grant: American Hero, American Myth (UNC Press, pub. date, 11/15). I’ve read the first chapter and I am enjoying it very much. It’s part biography, cultural history, and memory study. The first chapter covers his life up to the Civil War and includes a short section on the controversy surrounding Grant’s drinking. Anyone familiar with recent Grant studies already knows that the evidence against Grant is weak or inconclusive. According to Waugh and others, Grant drank occasionally, but not “when it counted” and rarely in excess. Included in Waugh’s analysis are a few references to the image of Grant the drunk in our popular culture. They include an episode of The Beverly Hillbillies called “The South Rises Again” (1967) and a short story published by James Thurber in 1930 called “If Grant Had Been Drinking at Appomattox” in which the author imagines a hung-over Grant surrendering to Lee. It’s pretty funny:
General Lee, dignified against the blue of the April sky, magnificent in his dress uniform, stood for a moment framed in the doorway. He walked in, followed by his staff. They bowed, and stood silent. General Grant stared at them. He only had one boot on and his jacket was unbuttoned.
“I know who you are,” said Grant.’You’re Robert Browning, the poet.” “This is General Robert E. Lee,” said one of his staff, coldly. “Oh,” said Grant. “I thought he was Robert Browning. He certainly looks like Robert Browning. There was a poet for you. Lee: Browning. Did ya ever read ‘How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix’? ‘Up Derek, to saddle, up Derek, away; up Dunder, up Blitzen, up, Prancer, up Dancer, up Bouncer, up Vixen, up -’”.
“Shall we proceed at once to the matter in hand?” asked General Lee, his eyes disdainfully taking in the disordered room. “Some of the boys was wrassling here last night,” explained Grant. “I threw Sherman, or some general a whole lot like Sherman. It was pretty dark.” He handed a bottle of Scotch to the commanding officer of the Southern armies, who stood holding it, in amazement and discomfiture. “Get a glass, somebody,” said Grant, .looking straight at General Longstreet. “Didn’t I meet you at Cold Harbor?” he asked. General Longstreet did not answer.
“I should like to have this over with as soon as possible,” said Lee. Grant looked vaguely at Shultz, who walked up close to him , frowning. “The surrender, sir, the surrender,” said Corporal Shultz in a whisper. “Oh sure, sure,” said Grant. He took another drink. “All right,” he said. “Here we go.” Slowly, sadly, he unbuckled his sword. Then he handed it to the astonished Lee. “There you are. General,” said Grant. “We dam’ near licked you. If I’d been feeling better we would of licked you.”
I‘ve been thinking quite a bit about the images of slave rebellions and miscegenation that shaped the world view of white Southerners throughout the antebellum period. In the case of Nat Turner’s Rebellion newspapers throughout Virginia and beyond offered extensive coverage and attempted to offer an explanation that would assuage the concerns of what white Southerners believed to be docile and loyal slaves. However, even before the bloody events that transpired in Southampton County, Virginia in August 1831 there had already been close coverage of slave insurrections in the broader “Atlantic World” that stretched back to the rebellion in Saint Domingue. In fact, by 1831 explanations purporting to explain why their slaves might rebel had already been strongly embedded by subsequent rebellions in Demerera, Barbados, and elsewhere. The explanation that abolitionists (Missionaries) were responsible for the violence on their plantations provided a ready-made answer for Southern slaveowners who pointed the finger at the small abolitionist community in Boston. Such an explanation, however, makes little sense without a broader appreciation of how events throughout the Atlantic World shaped their outlook. Indeed, as historian Edward Rugemer asserts in his excellent study, The Problem of Emancipation: The Caribbean Roots of the Civil War, explanations of Turner’s Rebellion take on a hysterical quality. He notes that by the time of the insurrection William Lloyd Garrison’s Liberator had only recently begun publication, though its circulation was quite limited, The American Anti-Slavery Society had not yet been formed, the “Declaration of Sentiments” had not been written, and the New England Anti-Slavery Society had not even published its second Annual Report. Finally, many northern newspapers condemned the violence in Virginia.
A few months after Turner’s Rebellion a much larger insurrection in Jamaica (”Baptist War”) involving 60,000 slaves broke out. This was followed by England’s decision to abolish slavery in the West Indies. My point is that to understand the fears of white Southerners (slaveowner and nonslaveowners alike) we have to consider the few rebellions that took place throughout the colonial and antebellum periods in a much broader context. Information flowed back and forth freely first through word of mouth in port cities and later via the printed word. White Southerners did not have to have seen the above woodcut, which was published in Authentic and Impartial Narrative of the Tragical Scene Which Was Witnessed in Southampton County to understand the dangers of insurrection or their role in preventing such a nightmare. By 1831 many white Southerners had come to view their world from a defensive posture which acknowledged the threat to slavery as stemming from ruthless abolitionists and a distant government.
William L. Garrison → Nat Turner → Jamaica → England abolishes slavery in West Indies → John Brown → Election of Republican Party → Emancipation Proclamation → Crater → ?
The men who joined the regiments that constituted the Virginia brigade of Mahone’s division at the Crater did not have to have seen the above woodcut because they lived it. All of the regiments were raised in the Richmond-Petersburg-Norfolk area and William Mahone was born and raised in Southampton County. The woodcut beautifully frames how we as historians should unpack/analyze how Confederates at the Crater viewed the presence of USCTs as well as how they responded.
