First hand accounts of the 19th century

Slow as I am to catch on to some technologies, one thing has delighted me about email that I discovered a few years ago, about a year after I started blogging. You can write to professors, who are often authors, or even reporters, and they write back to you, often gregariously and personally. My experience in life has taught me that sometimes it takes people a while to get to know me (a morbid sense of humor, lack of common social skills and asking questions a little to direct at the wrong time – your basic Asperger Syndrome symptoms – might be the cause), but somehow in emailing, none of that is a problem.

A week or so ago I was communicating (email, of course) with an author of one of my favorite American history books, Joanne Freeman of Yale University, who wrote Affairs of Honor. I was asking her about something I had read in an article she had just published in The New York Times and she recommended to me a diary of a congressional clerk whose diary had been published under the name Witness to the Young Republic (1989). I Amazoned it and saw it was a truncated version of the diary of Benjamin Brown French, who I vaguely remembered reading about in Lincoln books. I only recollected that he was one of the few people I could think of who was quoted as actually having liked Mary Todd Lincoln and I knew he was at Lincoln's deathbed, but I couldn’t remember who he was otherwise. I plied through a few of my books and found a few quotes. It’s not that he had a very dramatic public life and I don’t think you would say anything he accomplished was “great.” His high point was as Commissioner of Public Buildings, first under his friend, Franklin Pierce and then others, including Lincoln. But he personally knew John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin van Buren, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler, James Polk, Zack Taylor, Millard Fillmore, James Pierce, James Buchanan, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Johnson and Ulysses Grant. He had the right to name drop and dramatic things happened around him all the time.

Anyway, Witness was whittled down from about 4000 pages to a little over 600 and I’m grateful. Exciting things can’t have happened everyday and there is more than enough here to enjoy of the first hand accounts that have so much more authority than the second or third hand biography. And, it has provided for me this week’s post, combing through my bookshelf for interesting little first hand observations from history.

I’ll start with Mr. French’s observations about a fight in congress he observed, violence in congress being the topic of Professor Freeman’s article I had read:

“During Thursday another of those scenes, so disgraceful to the House of Representavies, occurred in that body. Mr. Wise had made some remarks to which Mr. Stanly alluded in a manner that W. thought malevolent & unkind. He went to Mr. Stanly’s seat to remonstrate with him when angry words passed between them, and Wise, as he says in his statement to the Committee, since called Stanly “ a mean, contemptible puppy and miserable wretch,” to which Stanly replied[.] “You are a liar,” when Wise struck him, and fight instantly ensued. Nearly all the members rushed to the spot where they were engaged. The House was in Committee[.] Mr. Samson Mason endeavoured for two or three minutes, in vain, to restore order. I was at the Clerk’s table where I could see & hear all that transpired. The Speaker crying at the entent of his voice[.] “Order – order – order,” exclamations from the crowd of “Damn him[,] down with him” –“Where are your Bowie knives”—“Knock him down,” etc. Mr. Clarke, the Clerk of the House, seized the mace & went into the midst of the melee & exclaimed[,] “Gentlemen, respect the symbol of authority, respect yourselves.” Mr. Arnold & Mr. W. O. Butler of Ky. Were seen in violent personal contest, & Mr. Houston of Ala. Held an uplifted cane over Mr. Arnold’s head, which some member arrested in its descent, & thus, probably saved Mr. A. a bloody coxcomb. In two or three minutes order was restored, mainly, I believe, by the exertions of Dixon H. Lewis, whose seat was at the head of the aisle where the tumult occurred, & who, as soon as he could[,] moved his tremendous form into the middle of the fight & instantly separated the first belligerents, & there he stood like an elephant among a parcel of dogs, keeping them all at bay, & separating any who seemed inclined to fight, until the House came to order.”

I can’t help smiling thinking of Dennis Kucinic clinging to the leg of Marsha Blackburn as she pulls Barney Franks hair, Boehner and Pelosi having a slap fight and Debbie Wasserman Schultz karate chopping Dan Issa, but, unfortunately for C-Span, we have become a very civilized nation.

“In the midst of this, an officer from my center informed me that some important movement of the enemy was going on in his front, beyond that of the line with which we were engaged. Mounting a large rock, I was able to see a considerable body of the enemy moving by the flank in rear of their line engaged, and passing from the direction of the foot of Great Round Top through the valley toward the front of my left. The close engagement not allowing any change of front, I immediately stretched my regiment to the left, by taking intervals by the left flank, and at the same time “refusing” my left wing, so that it was nearly at right angles with my right, thus occupying about twice the extent of our ordinary front, some of the companies being brought into single rank when the nature of the ground gave sufficient strength or shelter. My officers and men understood my wishes so well that this movement was executed under fire, the right wing keeping up fire, without giving the enemy any occasion to seize or even to suspect their advantage. But we were not a moment too soon; the enemy’s flanking column having gained their desired direction, burst upon my left, where they evidently had expected an unguarded flank, with great demonstration."

Thus speaks Col. Joshua Chamberlain of the 20th Maine Infantry of a little piece of action named Little Round Top, one of the most dramatic actions at Gettysburg, where he had his troops perform the “right-wheel forward” maneuver to head off General Le Bell Hood’s Alabamians charging up the hill to their front and flank. Let's keep going:

“It was imperative to strike before we were struck by this overwhelming force in a hand-to-hand fight, which we could not probably have withstood or survived. At that crisis, I ordered the bayonet. The word was enough. It ran like fire along the line, from man to man, and rose into a shout, with which they sprang forward upon the enemy, now not 30 yards away. The effect was surprising; many of the enemy’s first line threw down their arms and surrendered. An officer fired his pistol at my head with one hand, while he handed me his sword with the other. Holding fast by our right, and swinging forward our left, we made an extended “right wheel,” before which the enemy’s second line broke and fell back, fighting from tree to tree, many being captured, until we had swept the valley and cleared the front of nearly our entire brigade.

Meanwhile, Captain Morrill with his skirmishers (sent out from my left flank), with some dozen or fifteen of the U.S. Sharpshooters who had put themselves under his direction, fell upon the enemy as they were breaking, and by his demonstrations, as well as his well-directed fire, added much to the effect of the charge.”

This from Chamberlain’s own papers, collected in Through Blood & Fire by Mark Nesbitt. Chamberlain, later a Major General and four time governor of Maine (beating the same poor guy three times in a row), and there for Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, got the Medal of Honor for Little Round Top, and we want our heroes to deserve their laurels. But, naturally, nothing can be simple, and Captain Holman S. Melcher later claimed that he was responsible for the famous bayonet charge, and there is some reason to believe it. Chamberlain acknowledges that his brave captain asked permission to charge and that he told Melcher that had already decided to give the order. Melcher ran to his troops and the “Bayonet” was very quickly heard down the line. Even Chamberlain stated in a speech that his order to charge with bayonets was never given or given imperfectly.

At Appomattox, he had his troops stand at attention and "carry arms" in tribute to the marching Confederate soldiers. It was not appreciated by Union soldiers, but, did not hurt his career or his popularity. I’ve been to Gettysburg three times now, to Little Round Top thrice, and along with the long rising plain where Pickett’s Charge failed, is my favorite spot - beautiful and interesting in its own right. I tried to imagine the scene where Chamberlain had his men honor their enemy, but wasn't sure where it took place. Probably should have asked.

Here’s a little Lincoln legend which came from the work of his law partner, Billy Herndon, a fascinating, if not so great western figure in his own right:

“He [Lincoln], in the years . . . 1833 & 4 was in love with a young lady in New Salem by the name of Mis[s] Ann Rutledge. She accepted the overtures of Lincoln and they were engaged to be . . . married. This young lady was a woman of exquisite beauty, but her intellect was quick – sharp – deep & philosophic as well as brilliant . . . a short time before the marriage was to be she took sick with the brain fever and died in 4 or 5 days. Lincoln went & saw her during her sickness – just before her death. Mr Lincolns friends after this sudden death of one whom his soul & heart dearly & [?] loved were compelled to keep watch and ward over Mr Lincoln, he being from the sudden shock somewhat temporarily deranged. We watched during storms – fogs – damp gloomy weather Mr Lincoln for fear of an accident. He said “I can never be reconcile[d] to have the snow – rains & storms to beat on her grave.”

David Donald, the late renowned Lincoln scholar, shows how Herndon, set on making his career on his late partner’s biography ferreted the story out from old timers and Ann’s own family. Herndon sometimes thought his older partner’s glumness was due to constipation, but turned to the Rutledge story for an explanation. It was quite controversial as Mrs. Lincoln, no friend of Herndon’s, was still alive. Professor Donald is very skeptical of the whole story, which he describes as a “floating rumor” that grew into a “fixed romance.”

“Bad as all slaveholders are, we seldom meet one destitute of every element of character commanding respect. My master was one of this rare sort. I do not know of one single noble act ever performed by him. The leading trait in his character was meanness; and if there were any other element in his nature, it was made subject to this. He was mean; and, like most other mean men, he lacked the ability to conceal his meanness. Captain Auld was not born a slaveholder. He had been a poor man, master only of a Bay craft. He came into possession of all his slaves by marriage; and of all men, adopted slaveholders are the worst. He was cruel, but cowardly. He commanded without firmness. In the enforcement of his rules, he was at times rigid, and at times lax. At times, he spoke to his slaves with the firmness of Napoleon and the fury of a demon; at other times, he might well be mistaken for an inquirer who had lost his way.”

. . .

“I was glad to learn, in your story, how early the most neglected of God’s children waken to a sense of their rights, and of the injustice done them. Experience is a keen teacher and long before you had mastered you’re ABC, or knew where the “white sails” of the Chesapeake were bound, you began, I see, to gauge the wretchedness of the slave, not by his hunger and want, not by his lashes and toil, but by the cruel and blighting death which gathers over his soul.”

. . .

“My term of actual service to Mr. Edward Covey ended on Christmas day, 1833. The days between Christmas and New Year’s day are allowed as holidays; and, accordingly, we were not required to perform any labor, more than to feed and take care of the stock. This time we regarded as our own, by the grace of our masters and we therefore used or abused it nearly as we pleased. Those of us who had families at a distance, were generally allowed to spend the whole six days in their society. This time, however, was spent in various ways. The staid, sober, thinking and industrious ones of our number would employ themselves in making corn-brooms, mats, horse-collars, and baskets; and another class of us would spend the time in hunting opossums, hares, and coons. But by far the larger part engaged in such sports and merriments as playing ball, wrestling, running foot-races, fiddling, dancing, and drinking whisky; and this latter mode of spending the time was by far the most agreeable to the feeling of our masters. A slave who would work during the holidays was considered by our masters as scarcely deserving them. He was regarded as one who rejected the favor of his master. It was deemed a disgrace not to get drunk at Christmas; and he was regarded as lazy indeed, who had not provided himself with the necessary means, during the year, to get whisky enough to last him through Christmas.”

These are all from The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, which details his life in slavery through his escape. Almost every paragraph of the book is interesting, but much of it painful to read. His real last name was not Douglass, but Bailey. When he was safe in the north, he let a host, Mr. Johnson, chose his name (Johnson was much too common). Mr. Johnson was reading The Lady of the Lake, a poem by Sir Walter Scott, and he chose the name of a father and daughter in it, James and Ellen Douglas, Douglas being a well known Scottish clan. I have no idea why Frederick's last name had two s’s at the end. I guess someone didn’t spell so well. Douglass escaped long before the Civil War and the 13th Amendment. It is ironic that he became free not by escaping or when all others did, but when he was purchased from his owner by European friends.

November 13, 1861

“I wish here to record what I consider a portent of evil to come. The President, Governor Seward, and I, went over to McClellan’s house tonight. The servant at the door said the General was at the wedding of Col. Wheaton at General Buell’s and would soon return. We went in, and after we had waited about an hour, McC. Came in and without paying any particular attention to the porter, who told him the President was waiting to see him, went up stairs, passing the door of the room where the President and Secretary of State were seated. They waited about half-an-hour, and sent once more a servant to tell the General they were there, and the answer coolly came that the General had gone to be.

I merely record this unparalleled insolence of epaulettes without comment. It is the first indication I have yet seen of the threatened supremacy of the military authorities.

Coming home I spoke to the President about the matter but he seemed not to have noticed it, specially, saying it was better at this time not to be making points of etiquette & personal dignity.”

The legendary snub of President Lincoln by General McClellan, who must rank as one of the most arrogant and incompetent generals in our history. We must, excepting those who still wish the Confederacy a different result, be glad for the day the President had it and busted him (although he briefly let him back) and that he was able to defeat him in the 1864 election.

John Hay was a fascinating fellow and I read a volume of his diaries and letters edited by Tyler Dennett under the title Lincoln and The Civil War long ago. The fact that his father had an office next door to Lincoln’s in Springfield, Illinois and that he himself was a school buddy of Lincoln’s private secretary, John Nicolay, made his career. Serving as a secretary of Lincoln’s might have been the highlight of any man’s career, but he was in government except for a few years ever after and was McKinley’s and TR’s Secretary of State.

October 19, 1863

“The President told me this morning that Rosecrans was to be removed from command of the Army at Chattanooga. Thomas is to take his original army and Grant to command the whole force, including Hooker’s and Burnside’s reinforcements. He says Rosencrans has seemed to lose spirit and nerve since the battle of Chickamauga. I told him that I believed Thomas would fail in attack, like Meade and others. The vis inertiae which prevents those fellows from running when attacked will prevent them from moving in the initiative.”

What a propitious moment – Grant to command the whole Military Division of the Mississippi! Some thought General George Thomas was slow to move, others that he was a, if not the, main reason for Grant’s success, though they were not on great terms. But, Hay was certainly wrong about Thomas that day as Chattanooga was probably his greatest moment. Thomas’ lack of interest in self-promotion or military promotion, for that matter, makes him even more sanguine than his boss and may be why most people have never heard of him (although this blog’s incendiary commenter, Bear, is a big fan).

April 28, 1864

“The Pres tells a queer story of Meigs. When McClellan lay at Harrison’s landing, Meigs came one night to the President & waked him up at Soldiers’ Home to urge upon him the immediate flight of the Army from that point – the men to get away on transports & the horses to be killed as they
c[ould] not be saved. ‘Thus often,’ says the President, ‘I who am not a specially brave man have had to sustain the sinking courage of these professional fighters in critical times.’”

And well presidents might always have to, I think, as it is the general, not they, who is sacked and ridiculed when things don’t go well and bears the images of his dead troops ever after.

Here’s one about family love and respecting your elders:

“The picture you have drawn of that slovenly German Gelehrte whose highest delight is to lecture boys about a rhetoric of which he never could practice either the style or the action or the voice or the art, and then gloating over his own foolish production in private, instead of rolling on the ground with mortification as his grandchildren would do – this picture grinds the colery into my esophagus, but it is not so hideous as the picture of his voting for the Embargo under the preposterous and the dishonest pretene that it was a measure of resistance, although he knew Jefferson was a temporizer by nature. Even that is not so bad as his voting for the Embargo under the preposterous and dishonest pretence that it was a measure of resistance, although he knew Jefferson better than anyone else did, and (like Hamilton) knew that Jefferson was a temporizer by nature. Even that is not so bad as his going to caucus to nominate a candidate for the opposition party, an act which scandalized even his admiring mother to hot and just remonstrance. And even this is not so bad as his jumping at the Russian mission and deserting his self-evident duty in Massachusetts at the time of the utmost difficulty and under the hottest kind of fire, avowedly because he wanted to escape attack – my teeth chatter at this exhibition. Yet worse follows! To see him dawdle on in Russia under one pretense or another when his mother and father pray him to come home, and he had ceased to be useful where he is, but during all these years, while the young Americans like Clay are forcing the country to assert some shadow of self respect, I do not see J. Q. A. open his mouth, and his one allusion to the war is to call it a rash act. Finally, I see him find his chief delight in quarreling with foes and friends alike, but still clinging to Europe, until Monroe makes him his tool to break down treacherously the Virginia dynasty which gave Monroe all the credit the idiot ever had.”

That’s from ground breaking historian Henry Adams’ critique of his brother Brooks’ biography of their grandfather, former President John Q. Adams. Henry spent 80 pages tearing it apart. You can tell there is some warmth lacking in this relationship. Gelehrte in the first sentence means academic, pundit, savant or scholar. JQA taught rhetoric at Harvard and Henry doesn't seem to have much appreciation for him there either. I think the grinding "colery" in his esophagus is celery, but that neither makes much sense or is certain.

Last, this is from the diary of Zenas Leonard, who spend over 5 years as a mountain man including in the service of Joseph Walker, in my opinion the greatest of mountain men for reasons stated in my post of February 28, 2008, King of the West. This memoir, Narrative of the Adventures of Zenas Leonard, is filled with his participation in Indian fights, a bison hunt, getting chased by a grizzly, a bear and bull fight, river crossings and all the other things you usually only read about in adventure novels. He lived it.

“Capt. Walker then gave orders to some of the men to take the bows of the fallen Indians and put the wounded out of misery. The severity with which we dealt with these Indians may be revolting to the heart of the philanthropist; but the circumstances of the case altogether atones for the cruelty. It must be borne in mind, that we were far removed from the hope of any succour in case we were surrounded, and that the country we were in was swarming with hostile savages, sufficiently numerous to devour us. Our object was to strike a decisive blow. This we did – even to a greater extent than we had intended.”

Leonard returned home five and a half years later to shocked parents who had believed their son long dead on his adventure. After a visit he returned west, but only as far as Missouri where he became a trader servicing those still trapping and adventuring. The era of the mountain men was nearly over, but the trails they blazed were the paths of later pioneers who crossed the west with their wagons and boots on the way to Oregon and California. When the so called “Great Pathfinder,” John Fremont, made his first trip out west, Leonard had been back from his trip with Cap’n Walker for seven years.

Death in Botetourt County - a bizarre introduction into how well off we are

I’m looking at list of people who died in Botetourt County, Va., pronounced hereabouts – botetot. I reside in the small town of Buchanan within the county. According to the U.S. census department, Botetourt County has a little over 32,000 as of 2008. There are some college campuses in this country with more people than that. Buchanan has something over 1200 people, of whom I know by name and face a handful. There are many blocks in NYC with more people than that.

The death list I’m reading is from 1862. Back then, Botetourt had about a third as many people as now, some 11,550 (1860 census), which was less than a sixth of the size of the most populated county in Virginia, Henrico. 24% of Botetourt's population were slaves, which was not a high percentage for Virginia, a couple of counties being nearly three quarters slave.

There is no death list for 1863, the year before the damn Yankees invaded us, requiring our fearless general to personally burn the bridge crossing the James to slow the advance. We couldn’t stop them here, but we did down river in Lynchburg. Actually, my ancestors were busy being peasants in Russia and Hungary at the time, far as I know, so my family didn’t have a dog in the fight and I’m just pretending to take sides now in case any of my neighbors stumbles upon this. Still, just as I adopt the founding fathers as my own, and have an affinity for the ancient Greeks, I, and probably most Americans, am happy to glom onto whatever heritage I like.

By “down river” and “James” in the paragraph above, I meant the James River, of course. The same one that colonial Jamestown sits upon a hundred and sixty miles or so to the East of us. It’s not a straight line by water though. The James zig zags up and down, all over the place. Mostly it goes through wilderness, that is, if you don’t count the train tracks running along it, the dams and the telephone wires passing over it here and there. Occasionally there’s a town on the river, but surprisingly few. Buchanan is the prettiest of them. I know I’m biased, but it’s true all the same as far as I have seen.

This 1862 death list I’m looking at fascinates me. There are one hundred and eighty nine names on it. Thirty two of those were slaves, or almost 17% of them. That’s considerably less than their percentage in the population, but it starts to get a little closer to the target if you remember a bunch of young white men died fighting who probably otherwise would not have been on the list. Still, you’d think the slaves would be much less healthy than the whites and die much easier when there were epidemics. Another much smaller handful on the list was free blacks, but I have no statistics to tell me what part of the population they were. The rest were white, if that wasn’t obvious.

Illness by far took most of those on the list. The largest part of them died of diphtheria – forty six to be precise, or just shy of 25%. According to the source of all knowledge in the universe, Wikipedia, Diphtheria is still around killing folks today, although you wouldn’t think so in America, where we’ve had easy access to vaccination since it was invented in 1920. But there have been outbreaks elsewhere of late, particularly in Russia, the Saharan countries, Central and South America.

Seventeen more Botetourtians died of Typhoid Fever, but others are said to have died of just “fever,” and that may be the same thing. Maybe they just didn’t know. I’m sure it wasn’t real scientific, at least as we see it nowadays. Lincoln's son, Willie, died that same year of Typhoid or something akin. There just wasn't any cure.

Of those who died of diphtheria, April, June, August, October and November seemed to be particularly bad months. Typhoid deaths seemed a little more spread out over the course of the year, but June looked like the worst month to me without actually counting. It’s not hard to figure the terror these people must have experienced when others are just dropping like flies in any given month. Even when they were invaded, few civilians expected to be killed, if any. But, disease doesn’t care what side you are on.

By the end of the war, it looks like the double scourge of Diphtheria and Typhoid had pretty much run its course here, at least for the time being.

There were other causes of death, though. Among them were diarrhea (also referred to as the flux and bowel hemorrhage – not sure if they were all the same or different,) tb, which they called scrofulo (really scrofula), bronchitis, brain injury, neuralgia (“neuralgia”), liver complaint, croup and eueresipelus (probably erysipelas, a strep germ caused skin inflammation according to Wikipedia), among a few others. Samuel W. McClure, 27, was just listed as killed crossing the Potomac. Not sure he was fighting at the time, but it would seem to make sense. One infant died of “teething,” although that seems a little hard to believe.

The oldest to die was Susan Deisher. She was 89 and for her they just said “old age”. Nowadays, we smugly say there is no such thing; she died of some organ failure or cancer, etc., but, in a way, old age actually describes it better than cardiac arrest or the technical cause. Catharine Anderson made it to 86, dying of “old age” as well. I wonder if she and Susan knew each other. Both of them were born at the onset of the Revolutionary War. I guess between the railroads and the industrial revolution, they must have seen a lot in their time on earth.

Nineteen, or more than 10% of those who died never saw age 2, and fourteen of those never even saw 1. Five of that little group were slaves.

Forty six of the one hundred eighty nine, or just a smidge under a quarter of them were age 5 or under. This was not a great time to be a kid, but that has always been the case in the world until recently. I don’t have the heart to tell you how many of them lived only days. Makes you shiver.

Of the thirty two slaves who died that year, the most, five, were owned by Cary Breckenridge, who had a wealthy and powerful family, the only one on the list of whom I was familiar with his family and who I will talk about in a bit.

The oldest slave who died that year, Bill, was 80 and another was 70, both dying of “old age.” But most of the slaves who died were very young. In fact, almost 50% of those slaves were 10 or under. Phil, a slave, died on Christmas Day. I find it a little strange that he was one of only five of all of those who died in Botetourt County to do so in December, 1862. You’d have thought that would have been a bigger month for the reaper, given it was winter. Stranger yet, all five of those who died in December, did so on Christmas Day or after. Sounds eerily like a quota that had to be filled at the last moment. If you ever had a job where you had to bill out your time, you understand the end of the year rush.

The war took its toll too. One man died of camp fever at Richmond. Four were shot at Seven Pines, four at Gaines Mill, three at Williamsburg, one each at Leesburg, Malvern Hill, Sharpsburg, Richmond and Manassas. For four of them, I can’t tell you where it happened, and two were just listed as “Army” and “killed,” leaving aside the drowned McClure. There may be others, but you can’t always tell from the records. It seems to me that there should have been more deaths from disease in the army camps, and one instance of camp fever doesn’t seem quite right. Most of the soldiers died in what was known as the Richmond Campaign of ’62, of which Stonewall Jackson, who may have commanded many of them, served so brilliantly. I have a feeling gun shot might also refer to canon shot, but I’m just speculating. They also distinguish between dying of gun shot and gun shot wounds. I don’t.

Three Wrightsman sisters died, two in February, one in September, of unknown causes. One can only imagine their parents’ pain. Three Aldersons died too, all in their 20s, one at Seven Pines, the other two of diphtheria and pneumonia. Typhoid took three of the Murphy’s and three Glasgows perished too, two of them of the dreaded diphtheria.

George Morris died and three of his children, all of fever, all on August 24th. Three Harris’ died, ages 3, 6 and 8, all of diphtheria, all in August.

Many of the slave children who died may have been brothers and sisters too, but they didn’t have last names, so we can’t know.

Cary Breckenridge’s (sometimes Breckinridge) family bear some discussion. He was from one of those sterling Virginia families dating back to colonial times. His father, James, became quite wealthy, amassed some 4000 acres and built a mansion at Grove Hill in the Shenandoah Valley which I am planning on visiting sometime this year. I don’t even know if big house is still there. Cary studied law under the pre-eminent instructor of the time, George Wythe, who also taught Jefferson (Cary’s uncle was Jefferson’s attorney general) and John Marshall. Grove Hill is not that far from Monticello, and Jefferson visited him there as did Madison, Monroe, Patrick Henry and Edmund Randolph (a bigger deal back then, than now). His brother, John, was Jefferson's attorney general (almost VP in 1804), and figured prominently in the controversial Kentucky Resolutions. Love to see Jame's guest roster.

Cary was one of James’ two sons, but in 1844 he was all that was left and he moved into Grove Hill with his family. He served in some minor government posts, but concentrated on the estate. To document his wealth, only five families owned over 50 slaves in the County. His was second largest with 131.

Cary’s cousin, John, was vice president of the United States under Buchanan, and then a respected general and the last secretary of war for the Confederacy (and, actually, after Lincoln, received the most electoral votes in 1860).

Cary was way too old to fight in the Civil War himself, but he paid for a cavalry company and his five sons fought.

His son, Cary, rose to Colonel, and actually Brigadier General at the end, but he refused to use the rank because he never saw combat as one. Losing his three brothers (one of them, John, is on the 1862 list, dying at Seven Pines), he barely managed to keep his own, having five horses shot from under him and being wounded five times. He was also a prisoner briefly. A physical giant, he went on to some public posts, and lived until 1918, long enough for the First World War to happen. He had been a Botetourt County school superintendant by then for over thirty years.

His sister Lucy has had some small fame, at least among history buffs, because she kept a diary for two years during the war, which I understand is quite interesting, but I haven’t read. It, like too many other books, is on my list.

She was engaged twice, the first fiancé dying in the war. The second she held off marrying as long as she could, having a low view of the institution – “A woman's lot after she is married, unless there is an immense amount of love, is nothing but suffering and hard work”. You might wonder then what her mother's life was like. She also seemed to have a great interest in flirting with her gentleman callers. She eventually did marry the poor guy, but, sadly, she lived only five more months after that herself. All that suffering and hard work, I guess.

She described herself as a “complete abolitionist,” and cried when she saw a young slave beaten, but, part of the reason she was against it was that she saw the “peculiar institution” as a burden on whites. She noted that she and her brothers were never allowed to strike or even scold a servant. Her desire was to fight along with the men, as she did not see female lives as being any more worthwhile of preserving than mens'. Plus, she seriously wanted to kill some Yankees.

I read Mary Johnston’s wonderful The Long Roll last year. She was a bestselling author of the early 20th century who was from my adopted hometown, and her account of the Civil War, which focused on Stonewall Jackson and his troops, was hailed by one major book review as the “best fictional study of the Civil War . . .” and got similar reviews from others. Her father was a major during the war and her older cousin was General Joseph E. Johnston. I’ve read that Margaret Mitchell claimed to have been intimidated by The Long Roll when she started the far more successful Gone with the Wind, but I can’t seem to verify it any way that satisfies me.

One character in Mary Johnston's story is named Cary and another has a last name Breckenridge. When I read The Long Roll, it immediately reminded me of the Breckenridge family history, particularly their kindness to slaves, and I believe aspects of different characters, particularly those from the two leading families, are drawn from them. I could be wrong, as while the family had strong credentials, they were not unique in Virginia.

I don’t know why there are no death records for 1863. I’m not sure anyone knows. The 1864 records show only forty three deaths, a dramatic improvement. There are no slaves listed at all on it and only eight free blacks, one of them dying at age 90. Hard to say what the absence of slave deaths means. Obviously, there was less death all around that that year, but could it have been because there were fewer slaves around too?

Of course, despite my faux-Yankee bashing at the top of this post, I am a Yankee through and through, regardless of where I live. When I read Civil War history, I am invariably rooting for the North, and champing at their incompetence, particularly the infantile Gen. George B. McClellan who has very few admirers since he and his wife died. But, if not for the issue of slavery, my sympathies would be with the South. I hardly want secession now, but I do believe it is as natural a right as it was at the time of our revolution. Certainly, I had greater admiration for the southern fighters, too, if much less so their government and economy. Both of those were more of a mess than they were in the north and it decided the outcome in my (and many others) opinion.

There is a point to all this going on about death and the like here. If you read a newspaper or an online forum these days, all you hear and see is how bad everybody seems to think it is these days. I can bellyache about the economy a bit too, if you hadn’t noticed. But, I do believe it will likely all work out some day, when it has to. It might not be fair when it happens, or pretty, but reckonings rarely are. I do remember dear old Grandma Sophie telling me when I was a little boy, you will stop eating sugar when you are ready and not before then. The old battleaxe knew something. And we will stop with the spending way over our heads someday too, but not before we are ready.

We are so much better off than we were in 1862. I can see dear old Bear commenting now - "You do realize that there was a bloody civil war going on then, you idiot" - but, I don't care if it was 1892, 1942 or 1972. We are so much better of now, it's not funny. 

No time in the history of the world has ever been as magnificent as it is now right here in our own country and much of the world. Even our poor are nowhere near as badly off as they once were. Even poor people in far poorer countries have a shot at a better life. Yes, we are congenital knuckleheads, and we screw a lot of things up, but collectively, we make a lot of things better too. Between our medicines, our communications and technology, the omnipresent free entertainment, our shops and products, life could not be better for the healthy, if you just open your eyes. And while we have the potential to destroy ourselves, why waste what time we have being depressed? At least give a little hurrah.

I heard a comedian, Louis C. K. talk about how he was on an airplane, sitting in a chair flying 34,000 feet above the ground, and the guy next to him was cursing because he couldn’t use the internet on his laptop. It was funnier when he said it, but you get the point.

I’ve heard all the arguments before - those poor people in The Congo are starving or being tortured and my aunt died of cancer at age 21. Was it Woody Allen’s Alvy Singer character who said if one person in the world was starving, he couldn’t sleep at night? I sympathize. It's really sad, but, at some point, you have to get over it or why not take the little pill you have hidden in the secret compartment in your tooth?

It’s not that everyone has it great, or the same fortune, and I’m sure not saying people are happier now, because we may be the whiniest babies in the history of the planet. Maybe that comes with all the success. I’m saying, collectively, we have the most magnificent lives and opportunities of any time, anywhere, ever. The fact that a technological moron like me can communicate with others thousands of miles away simply by typing on a keyboard and punching a few buttons should prove that. Even if you are massively depressed, and I know a bunch who are, you can take a little pill and make yourself feel better.

I’m also saying that there is so much we have now that we didn’t have before that we really need, health permitting, to be a little happier, a little more optimistic and stop the doomsday chants. Neither Bush nor Obama signals the end of the world (just maybe a horrifying financial disaster). Unless you have fantasies of being Conan the Barbarian, D'artagnan or Pericles, when in history would you have rather lived?

Were we alive in 1862, no matter where we might have resided, there would have been no feeling of security that we would not die of any number of diseases at any time. It's possible now, just not likely. When you see the devastation that was part of normal life back then memorialized in a document like this death list, it really comes to you - things are just not so bad.

We all have our personal problems, but nothing like the slaves faced or even the Breckenridge family or those who came before me in beautiful Botetourt County.

Now, shut up, America and try to enjoy yourself, for crying out loud.

Endlessly fascinating: The Civil War

I have three favorite wars which I find endlessly fascinating. The first really isn't one war; arguably its four - the two wars between Persia and Greece and the two Peloponesian Wars (sometimes considered one war), all of which were fought mostly in Greece in the 5th century B.C.; then WWII and the third, the War Between the States aka The Civil War. I admit that I sometimes feel a little guilt glorying in the carnage and horrors of others, but that is a pleasure I share with millions of others. War is hell, but it is also riveting reading.

For the Greek Wars, I think I have absorbed what is most valuable, Herodotus' coverage of the Persian Wars, Thucydides study of the Peloponesian, and several of the works of the modern scholar, Donald Kagan. There are other authors who I have proffited from immensely (particulary Michael Grant and Barry Strauss), but modern historians are mostly relegated to commentating on the ancient recorders and I find Kagan the best of the bunch.

For WWII, the reading is endless. Churchill's The Second World War I read when I boy as my parents had it in the house, and I recently re-read one volume and will probably re-read a second this year. Readers of this blog know I am enthralled with Richard Rhodes, The Making of the Atomic Bomb. I am not a basher of the unfortunate David Irving and I believe a number of his books are excellent, including The Trail of the Fox (Rommell), Hitler's War and Churchill's War. Also, the German officer, Heinz Guderian's Panzer, the repentant Nazi, Albert Speer's Inside the Third Reich, Spandau and Infiltration, Winterbotham's ground breaking The Ultra Secret, John Toland's The Rising Sun: The Decline and Fall of the Japanese Empire, Nigel West's little but excellent A Thread of Deceit, all come to mind, but I must break off here with the traditional "too many others to mention," or this will be what the whole post is about. John Keegan wrote a whole little book just on WWII books he has read.

The Civil War is equally difficult to limit to a few books and I know I can't do it without waking up tonight in a start with a sudden memory of what I forgot to add, but, I loved the fictional Traveler, Harry Hansen's The Civil War and any book by Bruce Catton, Shelby Foote, James McPherson and Douglas Freeman. And, I've already posted here on the wonderful memoirs of Edward Porter Alexander on May 15th of this year, the best, in my humble opinion, from the war. Henry Steele Commager's Living History, The Civil War is the veritable horn of abundance. Of course, all that leaves out books just on Lincoln alone, an even bigger group, but I've said before I probably enjoyed most The Library of America's Abraham Lincoln, Speeches and Writings, Ronald Whites' The Eloquent President, and Benjamin Thomas' and Steven B. Oates' biographies. Many think David Donalds' Lincoln the best, and it might be. There are many others, of course and I'm sure someone somewhere is screaming what about Doris Kearns Goodwin's popular Team of Rivals, which I thought was really good, but not among the best.

Sometimes, alone with my library (that must sound pathetic, but really I enjoy it), I saunter through one of the wars, lately the Civil War and just mark down stuff that is interesting to me. Recently, doing so I found a bunch of stickies and pieces of paper stuck inside some of these books and figure I probably put them there so that I could blog about it. As usual, I look for the unusual.

Here's the legendary Sam Houston, governor of Texas, only a few years a state, vainly and powerlessly protesting against Texas' secession and entry into the Confederacy:

Fellow-Citizen, I have refused to recognize this Convention. I believe that it has derived none of the powers which it has assumed either from the people or from the Legislature. I believe it guilty of an usurpation, which the people cannot suffer tamely and preserve their liberties. I am ready to lay down the office rather than yield to usurpation and degradation.

At the end, he wrote in capital letters, screaming out his warning. Sorry, Sam. On a cheerier note, here's a paragraph from the inspirational Second Inaugural Address:

But the picture has its lights as well as its shadows. This great strife has awakened in the people the highest emotions and qualities of the human soul. It is cultivating feeling of patriotism, virtue, and courage. Instances of self-sacrifice contending are rife throughout the land. Never has a people evinced a more determined spirit than that now animating men, women, and children in every part of our country. Upon the first call, the men fly to arms, and wives and mothers send their husbands and sons to battle without a murmur of regret.

Stirring, no? I may have neglected to mention that this was from Confederate President Jefferson Davis' Second Inaugural Address, not Lincoln's. Davis was appointed president in 1861 when there was no time for elections and then elected the next year. As for Lincoln, let's take a look at what the London Times thought about our hero in 1862:

We do not think that even now, when Mr. Lincoln plays his last card, it will prove to be a trump. Powerful maliginity is a dreadful reality, but impotent maliginity is apt to be a very contemptible spectacle. Here is a would be conqueror and a would-be extirpator who is not quite safe in his seat of gevernment, who is reduced to such straits that he accepts a defeat as a glorious escape, a capitulation of 8,000 men as an unimportant event, a drawn battle as a glorious victory, and the retreat of an invading army which retires laden with plunder and rich in stores as a deliverance. here is a President who has just, against his will, supplied antagonists with a hundred and twenty guns and millions of stores, and who is trembling for the very ground on which he stands. Yet, if we judged only by his pompous proclamations, we should believe that he had a garrison in every city of the South. This is more like a Chinaman beating his two swords together to frighten his enemy than like an earnest man pressing on his cause in steadfasteness and truth.

Well, much of that was hard to argue with, and then General Grant came East. And, in the end, Lincoln did at least indirectly free the slaves when the 13th amendment was ratified. I admit those racist bits ("the Chinaman") that sneak into the language of even heroic sounding writing in the 19th and 20th century cracks me up a bit. I can't copy the whole article here but its tone was anti-slavery but also anti-Northern and condemned the emancipation proclamation as an incitement to murder. It's okay, the Brits and we fell in love in time for the two big wars.

Here's Joshua Chamberlain, the hero of Gettysburg's Little Round Top skirmish, telling of a sad moment at Appomattox just as victory is in hand and a white flag has come in from the enemy with the messenge from Lee asking Grant to discuss surrender:

I was doubtful of my duty. The flag of truce was in, but I had no right to act upon it without orders. There was still some firing from various quarters, lulling a little where the white flag passed near. But I did not press things quite so hard. Just then a last cannon-shot from the edge of the town plunges through the breast of a gallant and dear young officer in my front line, -- Lieutenant Clark, of the 185th New York,--the last man killed in the Army of the Potomac, if not the last in the Appomattox lines. Not a strange thing for war,--this swift stroke of the mortal; but coming after the truce was in, it seemed a cruel fate for one so deserving to share his country's joy, and a sad peace offering for us all.

I hate it when that happens.

If ever there was a guy you love to hate on the side of the North, it was George B. McClellan, who was for too long Lincoln's General and possibly the most vain popinjay ever to wear stars, and that is saying a lot. The president's patience with him undoubtedly prolonged the war. Here is Lincoln's secretary of the navy, Gideon Welles, on McClellan:

McClellan is an intelligent engineer and officer, but not a commander to lead a great army in the field. To attack or advance with energy and power is not in him. to fight is not his forte. I sometimes fear his heart is not earnest in the cause yet I do not entertain the thought that he is unfaithful. The study of military operations intersts and amuses him. It flatters him to have on his staff French princes and men of wealth and postion; he likes show, parade, and power. Wishes to outgeneral the rebels, but not to kill and destroy them. In a conversation which I had with him in May last at Cumber-land on the Pamunkey, he said he desired of all things to capture Charleston; he would demolish and annihilate the city. He detested, he said, both South Carolina and Massachusetts, and should rejoice to see both States extinguished. Both were and always had been ultra and mischievous, and he could not tell which he hated most. These were the remarks fo the General-in-Chief at the head of our armies then in the field and when as large a proportion of his troops were from Massachusetts as from any State in the Union.

McClellan was extremely popular with the troops and blamed Lincoln for his problems. At Gettysburg, rumors of his appearence reportedly rallied the troops several times. But, Lincoln sacked him eventually, and replaced him with Fighting Joe Hooker. I like Bruce Catton's strange introduction to this charming character and probably above average general for the North, in his Glory Road:

Beyond any question, Joe Hooker was the handsomest commander the Army of the Potomac ever had. Crusty Publisher Alexander K. McClure grew fairly dreamy-eyed when he tried to describe him: "A man of unusually handsome face and elegant proportions, with a complexion as delicate and silken as a woman's." Major Dawes . . . spoke of Hooker's "Apollo-like presence," and a newspaper correspondent noted that the general had large gray-blue eyes, a rosy skin, and an abundance of blond hair, and said that he looked like an ideal soldier with his erect carriage and his square shoulders. To another correspondent Hooker looked "as rosy as the most healthy woman alive."

There are a million stories from the war. They are greater than any one man's ability to collect. Hence, we will never stop having volumes with new information. Here's a touching moment between Meade and Grant after the latter shows unusual anger hearing a subordinate berate Meade, this one from Catton's Pulitzer and National Book Award winning A Stillness at Appomattox:

For once in his life Meade was calm and not irascible. He stood facing Grant, towering head and sholders over him, and he murmured gently: his name's Griffin, not Gregg, and that's only his way of talking"; and as he spoke he leaned forward and buttoned up Grant's uniform coat for him, for all the world like a kindly father getting his son ready for school. Then Grant went back to his stump and his twigs and his cigars, and couriers dashed off with orders, and in the trackless forest the support troops shouldered their muskets and tried to go forward through the midday twilight.

Lincoln had as his two private secretaries (there was another one who is almost never mentioned in Civil War writings, but that's for another time) John Hay and John Nicolay, who were still young men. They sometimes seemed to me like they were having a great time even in the midst of the terrible pressure of working for Lincoln (whom they referred to as "the tycoon") during the war. Here's a letter from Hay, later the U.S. secretary of state, to Nicolay where the teasing reminds me of boys being boys wherever they are [brackets are mine]:

Glorious news come borne on every wind but the South Wind. While
P[ope] is crossing the turbid and broad torrent of the Mississippi in the blaze of the evening's fire and G[rant] is fighting the overwhelming legions
of B[eauregard] at Pittsburgh, the little Napoleon [McClellan] sits trembling
before the handful of men at Yorktown afraid either to fight or run. S[tanton][secretary of war] feels devilish about it. He would like to remove him if he thought it would do.

Things go on here about as usual. There is no fun at all. The Hell-cat [Mrs. Lincoln] is getting more Hell-cattical day by day.

Lamon has indicted Horace Greeley [powerful newspaper man not afraid to criticize Lincoln] criminally for libel and thinks of going to New York to bring him down to the jail here. He would not be persuaded by his best friends.

We have made Van Alen a Brig. Gen. The Senate, however, have not yet confirmed him. I am geting along pretty well. I only work about 20 hours a day. I do all of your work & half of my own now you are away.

Don't hurry yourself. We are getting on very well. I talk a little French, too, now. I have taken a devil of a notion to the Gerolts. I went to see them the other day. The children were less scared than usual and they and Madame la Baronne talked long and earnestly of the state of your hygiene and said, "it was good intentions you for to go to the West for small time."

The latest rumour in "our set" is that Mr. Hay and Miss Hooper are engaged, as Count Gurowski [Polish nobleman, writer and Lincoln critic] calls it. I wish I had that old nuisance's neck in a slip noose. I'm afraid the Hoopers will hear it and then my good times there will be up.

Thomas J. DiLorenzo, an economist who writes about Lincoln, is no fan of his. You do not need to agree with all of his conclusions to appreciate his work, as the field of Lincoln is one that is exceedingly hagiagraphic and needs sunlight. DiLorenzo points a torch where others would prefer dark. Here's a paragraph which points such a torch on General Sherman, whose march to the sea delighted many in the North, probably got Lincoln re-elected, and devastated the South:

Upon taking command in Tennessee, Sherman described the ultimate purpose in the war to his wife: "extermination, not of soldiers alone, that is the least part of the trouble, but of the people." His loving wife responded by expressing her sincerest wish that the war would be a war "of extermination and that all [Southerners] would be driven like the Swine into the sea. may we carry fire and sword into their states till not one habitation is left standing." "Sherman and his family," explains Sherman biographer John Marszalek, "saw everyone south of the Mason-Dixon Line as an implacable enemy."

There is always another side in any discussion of war. Harry Hansen, who wrote my favorite one volume history of the war, describes Sherman, replying to a plea from the mayor and councilmen of Atlanta not to make refugees of the remaining people, as follows:

Sherman was quick to defend his course. He deluged the mayor and councilmnen with a a flood of words about the war, the guilt of the South, and his determination to root out the enemy. Atlanta might again become a battleground, said he, so in asking the citizens to leave he was doing them a kindness. Hardships of war? "War is cruelty and you cannot refine it," said the general; "and those who brought war into our country deserve all the curses and maledictions a people can pour out." The Confederates had sent men and munitions to carry the war into Kentucky and Tennessee, and hundreds and thousands of women and children had fled from the Confederate armies and desperatdoes, "hungry and with bleeding feet."

Why not end this post with Lincoln himself, in one of my favorites among his letters, this one to his wife, mostly because it emphasizes just how different growing up then was from growing up now.

Think you better put "Tad's" pistol away. I had an ugly dream about him.

Tad was ten.

The Civil War Gift that Keeps on Giving

The Civil War is the gift that keeps on giving to history buffs. One of the delights of my impending second half century commencing next month will be to continue to read accounts of the memoirists who came out of it. In my opinion, and I'm not alone, this post concerns what I think is the best of them, by far, even if most people never heard of him. So, no, it's not General Grant's.

General Grant's Personal Memoirs is often considered the cream of the group, as well as a literary masterpiece. I can't agree. Surely the story of how he wrote it while dying of cancer in order to provide for his family and (I suppose, less nobly, it helped secure his place in history), and Mark Twain's help in publishing it, is an enticing story. But, like many memoirs, I sometimes had trouble slogging through it, and, here I admit heresy – although I liked it, in general, I skimmed parts of it. Yes, you can jump all over me and say, well, how can you know? I read enough and I'm pretty sure I didn't miss anything important either. I can't recall learning anything I didn't already know, nor having read any part of it that just made me sit up and say, wow. He won the war. Isn't that enough?

This isn't like one of my Jefferson posts. I liked the Personal Memoirs well enough. It is well written and Grant is about as important figure as we have from that time. And, I like Grant and am willing to agree with most superlatives about him. He was a great general well suited to his enormous task, one of the best presidents (in my top ten), occasionally very witty (although not in the book) and a good person too, if occasionally not the best judge of character. It’s just that I believe that the memoir’s highest accolades may be to some degree made out of respect for him and the conditions under which it was written, rather than for the book itself. Still, if you are insistent that it is a classic, and wonderfully written, would you point me to where?

I stand with those few (at least) who think Edward Porter Alexander’s memoirs the better of the two, and perhaps best of all. Porter was a reasonably big player in the war – he fought from Bull Run to Appomattox and even out West in between, but he certainly was not a major player in the Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, Grant, Meade, McClellan, etc. mode. Yet, entering the war at age 25, he rocketed up the ranks to brigadier general at age 28 through talent and energy. He was wonderfully respected by his superiors, including by the gold stamp, General Lee.

A graduate of West Point out of Georgia, EPA, he went out West to serve only to resign when war became imminent. He quickly showed his worth, right from the start in fact, engaging in some of the first battles after Sumner. He fought mostly in Virginia, with Johnston, Lee, Longstreet, Jackson, Stuart, Beauregard, etc., but also out West in Tennessee for a while. He was original and instrumental in some aspects of signal warfare, spying (including with balloons) and eventually in his forte, artillery, the arm with which he served out most of the war. EPA was the South's chief artillery officer for the great bombardment from both sides that preceded Pickett's charge. He was also a good shot and tried his hand at sharpshooting (sniping) whenever he got a chance.

Like everyone in the Confederate armies (and like in our revolution, there were really two separate armies - the professional and the militias) he suffered privation, and was constantly threatened with loss of life, severe injury and the pleasure of watching his countrymen chopped to bits on a regular basis. But, if his rememberances are not delusions, he had a pretty good time of it, loving the science of artillery, the new and precise technologies, military strategy, well executed battle plans and, perhaps most of all, the camaraderie that comes with war. He was no doubt an unrepentant Confederate, believed deeply to his dying day that they were fighting for recognized rights (no screeds against slavery, unfortunately) and even when he was a successful man in his later years writing for his family, he seemed perfectly comfortable talking about the affection his “darkies” had for him. He was a man of his time.

Despite the sleepless nights or in the rain, the lack of food and other agonies, he never wavered, at least as he recalls many decades later. However, he wasn’t a fanatic. He delighted in his few opportunities for a good sleep, a great meal or spending time with people of whom he was fond. And, when he was shot or was thrown off his horse and got a furlough, no one could have been happier. There was no false guilt from being away from his post when the South needed him. He missed his wife and little children too much for that.

There are actually two memoirs, the later written but earlier published one stemming from the earlier written but later published one. EPA started the larger project for his family and completed all but adding the figures he spoke (number of troops, deaths, things like that), but, then a few years later turned it into the critically acclaimed Military Memoirs (1907), well known for its analytical point of view. When it came out, The New York Times review said – “This latest “Confederate memoir” is a clear-cut, non-partisan and fearless piece of military criticism.” That’s an accurate picture. MM’s well received analysis have now long been part of military discussion.

Much later in this past century, and of course way after his and his children's deaths, it became clear from EPA's records that there was an earlier and slightly incomplete book, which, thanks to great scholarship has been painstakingly put together from packets of papers, after they succeeded in put it in order. It was published only in 1989.

This is the book now known as Fighting for the Confederacy, written in the late 1800s at EPA's daughter’s urging for family purposes only when he was working down in Nicaragua at the request of President Grover Cleveland Alexander (not a relative, but a friend) in an arbitration effort. Most of FFTC is taken from his own memories, and some from a diary he kept. He does not stop at personal observation and like all writers of a sweeping history, he often relied on the recollections and records of other combatants and authors for matters of which he was not present. There are still many blanks in the book for details never completed by EPA and that may seem odd at first. Although the lack of facts and figures at his fingertips bothered him when writing (he frequently repeats that he was writing far from his books and records) its really the kind of information that professionals might want and 99.9 % of readers have no need of and would have no recollection of a few seconds later. Besides, if you really care, you only need look in the notes where the editors have supplied the missing information.

Or, you could read MM, which was written for publication and professionally done. In it, he determined to publish his view of the war as one would a chess match, determining, for better or worse, the accomplishments and mistakes of both sides.

EPA had already contributed in magazines about the war and was an accomplished writer, although he did not make a living at it (he was quite financially successful in life, and had several hats, including planter). FFTC is the better of the two books, despite that it was written for his family and never intended to be professionally published. It contains the same analysis as MM, but also adds much color, starting from the beginning of his life through the end of the war, when, returning home after a long detour through the North where he foolishly first attempted to find his way to Brazil in order to fight there, and is greeted by his beloved wife, who he affectionately dubs “Miss Teen” throughout. His stories about his personal experiences, the colorful characters, his retelling of well known (at that time) anecdotes and the military analysis and battle details, all mixed together, makes it the great read it is. It’s never boring, something I don't think I can say of any Civil War memoir I've ever read, and you learn something with every turned page.

Through EPA we see the greats of the Confederacy, and sometimes also Northern generals, but as he and the men saw them, not the mythology. Indeed, much of the Confederate soldier worship of Lee and Jackson is found here, but so are criticisms of them, something missing in the work of many other former confederates (although the first edition of General James Longstreet’s memoirs had come out roughly ten years earlier and were necessarily a defense of his own conduct which required criticism of some others, particularly General Lee; but, admittedly, he had a greater bias).

Before giving you a taste of EPA himself, there are a few special criticisms he makes that has drawn attention. Probably most audacious is his treatment of Stonewall Jackson, a warrior par excellence that men like me grow up worshipping for some good reasons (I leave aside as usual the schizophrenia required that allows us to be so enamored of those who supported slavery). And, EPA is clearly a Jackson fan himself, and emphasizes his singular astonishing qualities, but has two hot issues which he brought to the debate.

The first of these occurred during the week long battle known as the Seven Days in 1862, by far the longest battle of the war until 1864, when Grant came East and began the non-stop part of the war. That EPA felt strongly about his opinion on this point is obvious from his repetition of it. I lost count of the times he mentioned it. Jackson, whose zeal, skill and movement was so critical in winning early battles for the South, simply stopped and failed to show just when a planned movement by him in conjunction with others could have wiped out McClellan’s army and ended the war then and there due to despondency in the North. He was sleeping. EPA firmly believes the reason Jackson failed to move was due to religiosity; that is, he had earlier stopped traveling on the Sabbath due to his strong beliefs (which EPA referred to at one point as "superstition"), and, instead of resting, insisted on going to church twice that day. He was never quite able to quite catch up in that week long campaign until too late.

Actually, I believe EPA is not only mostly wrong in this, but that is evident from his own work. The sabbath stop took place days earlier than Jackson's failure to show. EPA himself reports a scene of a subordinate trying to urge Jackson to move, and Jackson, sitting on a log in the woods, responds not at all except to make some non-committal grunts from under his hat. It sounded, to my distant ears, like severe exhaustion. And although Jackson sometimes seemed superhuman, he was, of course, not. More the point - how can anyone ask Jackson, after the fact, not to drive himself to exhaustion, when it was his ability to perform at such a physically debilitating level that made him who he was and was the reason for so many of his great victories.

You do not need to rely on my appreciation of the facts to agree. Two renowned Civil War scholars, Gary W. Gallagher, in his The Richmond Campaign of 1862 and Douglas Southall Freeman, in his R.E. Lee, detail Jackson’s overwhelming exhaustion at that time (while still performing magnificently overall) beyond any reasonable argument, and link it to his one failure in the Seven Days. No doubt, taking off Sunday to go to church was not a good idea. However, the following week was so filled with required wakefulness, including two sleepless nights Jackson rode back and forth to conference with Lee, that when he was finally forced to sleep through a battle, his previous break almost certainly made no difference at all.

Of course, if one of Jackson’s generals or men had done the same thing – slept when they should have been fighting or even marching, he would have arrested and charged them. Which brings us to EPA’s second and fairer criticism. Jackson pushed his men as hard as he pushed himself (their exhaustion was as bad or worse as his), and, for Jackson, even something like a cold hungry soldier leaving the lines of a march to get a coat from a fallen Yankee or something to eat, was a crime worthy of court martial. In one episode, Jackson even had his generals all arrested because some men had broken the march for understandable reasons. This included A. P. Hill, one of the great fighting generals, who deeply resented it, and it caused bad feelings between the two until Jackson died later that year (Hill died very late in the war defending Petersburg and was at least reputedly on both Lee’s and Jackson’s lips when each passed – quite a tribute if true).

Well after Jackson’s death, EPA had an enlisted man snare a rubber coat from a fallen Yankee for him, and he and his friend noted how glad they were that Jackson wasn’t around to see it. While EPA reported a few men in his time for violations too, he largely seemed to want them all to get off unscathed, and definitely did not want to see anyone executed because of a lapse in judgment or even worse.

EPA does not treat Lee as a porcelain doll either, although he is as profuse in his praise as he was for anyone. At one point he comments that some people think being too critical of Lee only means not saying that everything he did was perfect. He attributes a few mistakes to Lee,

most at Gettysburg (in allowing J.E.B. Stuart's cavalry to wander on a mission for a while; in allowing Pickett’s charge to happen without proper information, and in not trying to get Meade to attack him instead of visa versa), but even worse later on in allowing Grant to escape after his punishing loss at Cold Harbor and to cross the James and set up in front of Petersburg, without quickly moving against him. Given the way the war was going at that point in 1864, and the possibility of a Lincoln loss in the election, EPA believes that a further Union army defeat instead of being allowed to escape and set up for the final seige might have been the difference between winning and losing the entire war. Remember, for the South, a draw was a win. We can't know what would have happened, of course, but EPA has a strong argument. He also points out the rare times Lee’s famous courtesy failed, which by my count, happened three times just when EPA was watching (and one time bore the brunt).


EPA was also quick to praise Grant, clearly seeing him as the only Northern general with the vision and understanding to win the war for them, but also criticized him for several times splitting his forces, when a tremendous blow by concentrated troops at one end of a battlefield would have ended the war on more than a few occasions.

For the most part, EPA is not out just to criticize, but is plentiful with praise, particularly for his Southern compatriots whom he knew well. However, he didn’t seem to spare anyone when he thought they made a mistake. One of the actors he seems to praise the most, and whose wisdom he clearly respected, was James Longstreet, Lee’s “Warhorse,” aka Old Pete. Though EPA had several bosses, he several times noted where he thought that Longstreet had the better of the argument – at Gettysburg in particular, where he was against Pickett’s Charge and was for getting Meade to attack them; but also in several larger strategic decisions concerning the war.

EPA mostly defends Longstreet from his critics, without trying to offend them himself (many old Confederates had it in for Longstreet, who picked up his friendship with Grant and worked for the Union after the war), and details how right to the end Longstreet stuck by Lee and would have fought to the very last man, even after he had had been shot through the neck and lost the use of one arm for the rest of his life. I can think of few instances EPA found fault with Longstreet, although he points out how he completely misconceived his orders at Seven Pines and thereby probably lost the victory for them (it was pretty much a draw). However, he also weakly excuses Longstreet for a terrific mistake out West, because he believes, without any real evidence that I can see, that the plan was forced upon him. My personal read is that Longstreet was among the South’s best men (Lee seemed to prize him only after Jackson). If no one can point out a general’s big mistakes in a four year long war, then he has just succeeded in covering them up.

Now that I have already committed heresy in the Civil War world (at least as far as the North is concerned) by not calling Grant's memoirs great writing, I have to say that I would not call EPA a great writer either, just a very good one; there are too many clichés and more than a few overwritten sentences (although, again, I have to remind myself that it was all a first draft not to be published). Yet, with that caveat, I can't think of a memoir I've enoyed more or one from which I learned more about military tactics and strategy, small pieces of period knowledge, the personalities of the generals, the day to day lives of the men, and so on.

I think I can put my finger on the difference between EPA's and Grant's memoirs. Grant wrote as a hoary old soldier and former president in a matter of fact style (I counted six paragraphs of the first fifteen in the book starting with the word "my"). He was conscious of his place in history and had a tremendous sense of dignity. He had undergone horrifying pressure, and borne it all. It was a hard job with terrific consequences and he wanted to reflect that appropriately. But, it had been a job, however necessary. In Chapter II of his memoirs he wrote - " A military life had no charms for me, and I had not the faintest idea of staying in the army even if I should be graduated, which I did not expect." In the conclusion he stated - "But this war was a fearful lesson, and should teach us the necessity of avoiding wars in the future." That type of general profound statement is not what makes a book great.

To the contrary, EPA, even as an older man, was remembering the best days of his life. He was still a very young man during the war, even though people grew up faster then, and although his own responsibilities were at times immense, the fate of the Confederacy, much less most battles, did not rely on him alone. Through all the death and destruction, he remained a happy warrior and the memories exhilarated throughout his life. And, it's infectious, which is why his book is so moving in spirit and action. Besides, who would you expect another soldier to pal around with, be themselves, and give great material to for a future book -- fun loving young Alexander or placid and ponderous old Grant?

The difference between the two memoirs can be readily seen as to their estimates of commanders. Grant's comments are made in short paragraghs one after another near the end of the book, seemingly as filler, and you learn nothing you could not have picked up in many places. There is some analysis of a few generals, but they are wooden and without examples. In EPA, the estimates of the leaders is frequent, interspersed and virtually always illustrated with personal example. It makes a big difference.

Time to let EPA speak for himself. I chose personal anecdotes as opposed to his detailed and exciting battlefield reports as these are most unique to him. First, a story from when he was just a young teenage boy from which we can see how much life has changed for the young, at least for the advantaged.

My feelings were so much enlisted [about an election] that I got into a quarrel with two of the ‘town’ boys, Jim Hester & Ben Kappell, which came very near ruining my life.

I was told that these two had armed themselves with pistols & intended to whip me. I borrowed an old ‘pepper-box’ revolver from our ‘overseer,’ John Eidson, loaded it heavily, I got 6 special ‘Walker’s Anticorosive Caps’ for the nipples, instead of the common ‘G. D.’s’

It would be too long to detail the quarrel, but, indignant at being bullied by two older & larger boys, I at last came into collision with Jim Hester. He struck me over the head with a light ‘skinny-stick,’ breaking it. I drew my revolver &, aiming at his breast, pulled the trigger. It snapped, failing to explode the cap. Hester drew a single barrel pistol, while I tried another barrel, which also snapped. . . . (don’t worry, they both live and become good friends).

This one is from out West before the war:

I had a glorious chase after my first buffalo. Our first sight of them was some 50 miles west of Ft. Kearny where one afternoon a bunch of about 15 bulls were seen about 2 miles to the front & left. Our 6 Delaware Indians saw them first & with two white wagon masters started for them & were more than half way to them when I started on a very fine grey horse I had. The buffalo soon took alarm & galloped off into the bluffs on the left which they climbed, & then getting on the level & hard table land, covered only with the short buffalo grass, they headed due south as fast as their legs could carry them pursued by all nine of us. . . . But at last my grey let himself out & going through the bunch so close that I could have touched them on either side he place me alongside of the leader, both bull & horse at their best speed. . . . I sighted it as well as I could behind the buffalo’s left shoulder & let fly. The bullet struck where I intended, passed nearly through & broke the shoulder on the opposite side, & the old bull – for there was no cow in the herd – fell with a real crash.

This odd occurrence was also from before the war, but is somewhat typical of the eclectic anecdotes he shares throughout:

But the excitement of the winter was caused by the going crazy of my intimate associate John Ector, who lived with the Ragans in the cottage adjoining us on the right. . . . Some time early in February 1861 his conduct began to be a little peculiar at times. He got excited upon religious subjects & began to be a little peculiar at times. He began to show that exaggerated self appreciation which is so often a sign of incipient insanity. At last it became necessary to have him watched constantly, & one night they sent for me about 4 A.M/ to come over, for he had a violent fit & had driven two soldiers who were nursing him & Maj. Ragan out of the house with a poker, breaking bones of one man’s hand. I went over, hurriedly, in dressing gown & slippers, & got him in his room & disarmed him, but had to stay with him till breakfast time, at 8:30 A.M. , when he insisted on going over to my house, to get my guns & pistol, to kill all the people on the post whom he thought were plotting against him.

I know the following beliefs aren't the general philosophy now, but before, during and even after the war for quite a while, it was still a strongly held belief and not just in the South:

I think it is even now admitted by all candid & unprejudiced Northern writers that when the states formed the Union by the adoption of the Constitution they reserved their sovereignty in that instrument itself. And it is beyond dispute that some of the states in their acts adopting the Constitution even more expressly stated that they reserved sovereignty – Massachusetts I think is one of these. But in such a partnership any right expressly reserved by one is equally the right of all, even if the constitutional reservation were of doubtful interpretation.

We had the right therefore to secede whenever we saw fit, & it was truly for our liberty that we fought. Slavery brought up the discussion of the right in Congress & in the press, but the South would never have united as it did in secession & in war had it not been generally denied at the North & particularly in the Republican party.

His view on the start of the war:

The first hostile act upon either side was the act of Maj. Robert Anderson who, without orders or authority, & for actual reasons that God only knows, about Christmas 1860 spiked the guns of Fort Moultrie, where he was stationed, & moved secretly by night into Fort Sumter.

Fort Sumter was of no earthly or conceivable use to any state of the Union except South Carolina, or indeed to any other power on earth except to one having the design to conquer S.C. by arms. . . .

But the defensive case of the South does not even rest here. She made no hostile retort to Anderson’s act, & she even permitted him to buy supplies for his garrison . . . though she immediately began to erect batteries both for offense & defense should the occasion require & renewed her efforts . . . to secure peaceful separation. . . .

But the South never struck back before a second act was committed.

Here he relates a strange coincidence of the war which I’ve never seen in a first hand report elsewhere, and for good reason, as EPA by chance happened to be one of the few in a position to notice it among those who were present at the start and end of the Virginia campaigns - Bull Run and then Appomattox:

And now I will stop the narrative a bit to tell of what I this one of the most remarkable coincidences of the war which started at Bull Run, the sight of the first real Virginia battle and ended at Appomattox C. H. . . .

McLean had married the widow of my wife’s uncle . . . So in my frequent excursions . . . I frequently called on the [McLean] family . . . .

Well those were the very first cannon shot fired between the two great Virginia armies [at Bull Run in 1862]. . . & they were aimed at McLean’s house. . . .

And he had been both out of sight & out of mind for over two years after . . . when whom should I meet the yard . . . but Maj. McLean. He was a short, stout little fellow & with a face easily remembered. I said, “Hello! McLean, why what are you doing here?” He replied, “Alexander, what the hell are you fellows doing here. I stood it on Bull Run till, backwards & forwards, between you, my whole plantation was ruined & I sold out & came way off here over 200 miles to this out of the way place where I hoped I never would see another soldier of either side, & now just look at this place”-- & he pointed around to his yard full of tents & his fields stretching off low from [being] trampled & fences burned in the numerous camp fires, for the last guns were fired on his lands & in his house Gen. Lee surrendered to Gen. Grant. . . .

I have been to McLean's house in Appomattax C. H. It still looks like a nice place to live and was fairly remote. I can see why he moved there and appreciate how annoyed he must have been when the war found him at last.

Here’s EPA trying to save a Northern prisoner who had come down to watch the North whip the South at the Bull Run when they were sure that was going to happen:

What’s the matter, Colonel,” said I. “What are you trying to shoot that man for?” “He’s a member of Congress, God damn him,” said the Colonel. “Came out here to see the fun! Came to see us whipped & killed! God damn him! If it were not for such as he there would be no war. They’ve made it & then come to gloat over it! God damn him! I’ll show him,” & again he tried to get at the poor little fellow who was evidently scared almost into a fit. “But Colonel,” I said, “you must not shoot a prisoner. Never shoot an unharmed man.” (And, yes, in the end, EPA met the prisoner who was turned over to guards and later learned of his exchange).

When and where could this following scene happen in America anymore? I doubt even in Yellowstone National Park:

It was about six o’clock when the rear of our column was practically up, & Gen. Jackson at last gave the order to Rodes to move. Immediately a bugle sounded “Forward,” & it was taken up & echoed through the woods by other bugles in every direction. These bugles do not seem to have heard by the enemy – or if heard they were attributed to their own cavalry. For the first intimation they are said to have received of our advance was appearance of deer, turkeys, rabbits, &c. running out of the woods ahead of our lines.

At Gettysburg:

One story was told of a young lady, who was not allowed to buy hay, for the family milk cow, without a permit. She applied at headquarters for the permit, but it was refused unless she would take the oath of allegiance. She demurred to that, but Gen. Milroy insisted, saying that “this wicked rebellion must be crushed,” to which she answered, “If you expect to crush this rebellion by starving John Harman’s old cow you may try it & be damned to you."

I mean no defense of EPA’s unapologetic Southern stance and principles, some of which are difficult to swallow, particularly as he was writing some 40 years later, but, as I notice with people I know, racial prejudice has long legs. Here, he talks about disciplining his rented (and apparently loyal) slave, Charlie:

The only incident I recall is my giving my darkey, Charley, a small licking for getting drunk, on some apple jack he had managed to purloin from our hospital stores. That was the second & last time I ever had to punish him. The first was a year before at Keach’s near Richmond for robbing the Keach’s pear tree.

Late in the war, Lee and EPA disagree about the time of a meeting and we see that, even though EPA was sure of his facts, eventually, he knew when to shut up:

By that time we were at the road, where Gen. Lee was sitting on old Traveller waiting for me, & three or four dark figures near were either staff or couriers. I remember the conversation very vividly. “Good morning, General Alexander. I had hoped to find you waiting in the road for me on my arrival.” This was said with the very utmost stiffness & formality. “Yes, Sir! I was all ready & might have been here just as well, but you told me last night that you’d start at two o’clock, & it’s not near that yet, so I did not hurry.” Which I said as good-naturedly & blandly as I knew how. “One o’clock was the hour, Sir, at which I said I would start!” This was said with a very severe emphasis.

“I misunderstood you then, General, I thought you said two.” “One o’clock, Sir, was the hour!” This was so emphatic that I concluded to let him have the last word & I said no more.

EPA was a true believer, make no mistake. Here he defends the South’s treatments of black prisoners in a way that just seems just too credulous. Then again, he does make worse charges against his own, so perhaps I am just showing my biases as well in questioning his appraisal:

About this time, there arose some trouble between the Confederate & Federal authorities about the treatment of prisoners. I believe it was claimed by them that we had put Negro prisoners to work upon intrenchments where they were exposed to fire. If that is true it was unjustifiable but I do not think it true. At least I never saw or heard of such a thing in our army. Our men had sometimes shot Negro troops when they could & would have taken prisoners if they had been white, but so far as I know once delivered to the provost guard they were treated as white prisoners.

One of the most unloved and underreported facts about the war was Lincoln’s almost inexhaustible patience for slavery in the Southern states (as opposed to its expansion), even to the very end. Still, the South resisted anything short of complete sovereignty, even when slavery was clearly dead and they could have recouped so much of their loss:

At that date, Feb. 9^th [1865], Mr. Lincoln practically offered the South four hundred million dollars as compensation for the slaves set free, & any other reasonable political conditions they might choose to name, if she would return to the Union. But our committee was under instructions. The president & cabinet had absolutely forbidden our delegates to accept any terms, or even to consider any, short of our independence.

Good thing they turned it down too as the war ended on much better terms after a military solution. There is some controversy over that whole point about what Lincoln offered and I don't intend to go into it here. I have tried with the above quotes to show you things you can find in EPA which are not garden variety Civil War history and thus to increase its value. The truth is, a great deal of FFTC is battle descriptions, and they are wonderfully done. Many readers will undoubtedly find his analysis of most of the major battles the most interesting part of his work (as I did). I always ask myself a question when reading through almost any non-fiction work – am I learning anything? The answer here is quite positive. While not hiding EPA’s Southern bias as to the rightness of their fight, I will end with a quote from The New York Times review of Military Memoirs when it came out in 1907, and quarrel only with the too wishful conclusion of the first sentence:

“There is no trace of bitterness in his book, no regret at the final outcome, but on the other hand a willing and even outspoken acquiescence in what seems to the author the better results of Northern victory. If every man who gave up the fight at Appomattox, every one who marched away with Grant, and those who directed civil affairs in Washington immediately afterward could have acted in the same cheerful, loyal spirit, how much better had it been for their battle-scarred country!”