Many of them stand
like pickets along what was 150 years ago the battle lines of the Union and Confederate
armies at Gettysburg, monuments, memorials and markers to the estimated 165,000
soldiers who fought there – and thousands who died there – those three days in
July 1863.
The South’s monuments
appear relatively new compared to many of the North’s weathered edifices, and
the reason for this raises the question about national unity since the Civil
War divided the country over race and human rights.
It’s something to marvel
that a century-and-a-half after Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation
Proclamation, the house once divided between North and South is led by a
president who is not only African-American, but who is half black and half
white.
Yet, since the
guns of Gettysburg fell silent, blacks have endured endless battles in order to
achieve equality in their own country, despite Lincoln’s proclamation freeing them;
despite adoption of the Constitution’s 13th amendment abolishing
slavery; despite the 14th amendment affirming citizenship and rights
to all people regardless of race; and despite court decisions that shattered school
segregation and upheld voting rights.
Our nation remains
troubled over race. Just look at the recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling that struck
down the heart of the Voting Rights Act that ensured states, particularly Southern
states, could not deny blacks and other minorities their right to vote. Supporters
of the decision seem unable to understand why African Americans are offended by
this.
Is there somewhere
in the murky recesses of the national psyche the sense that the country remains
divided 148 years since the end of the Civil War?
The process of
re-uniting the country after the war was hard. Reconstruction of the South was handled
poorly by both sides, though could it have been handled any differently? Re-unification also was long; perhaps
100 years long, perhaps still going on in one form or another.
Consider one
example: petitions signed by thousands of residents in as many as 40 states calling
for their state to secede from the union while other states have pending bills
in their statehouses to declare financial sovereignty from the federal
government.
Monumental division
Not
long after the Civil War, Northern veterans began to erect granite obelisks,
domed-temples and other edifices in Gettysburg .
The monuments now litter the placid Pennsylvania
farm fields and rocky slopes, where grave diggers collected about 9,000 soldiers
of the blue and gray killed during the July 1-3 battle, which became the war’s turning
point, leading to the South’s defeat two years later.
Initially,
the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association focused on the Union monuments,
buying land along the Union lines. None of the Southern states bothered to participate
in securing land or proposing monuments on Confederate lines, according to Ronald
Lee’s “The Origin and Evolution of the National Park Idea.”
One group of Confederate
veterans did erect a battlefield monument in 1886, but the Southern states,
partly because the war had depleted their treasuries, did not begin to erect
monuments until 1917, the year the United States entered World War I. That
year, Virginia
built a massive edifice with a bronze Lee astride his horse, Traveller.
It
became apparent that what was needed was a national park in which both sides were
represented equally. In 1890, U.S. Rep. Byron Cutcheon of Michigan ,
who fought for the Union , made the first
attempt to get a bill through Congress.
The
congressman commended the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association’s efforts
as “a work of love and grateful pride to the loyal states,” but, he reminded
fellow congressmen, “There were two armies in Gettysburg .”
For
the monuments to accurately reflect the history of the battle, and to properly
preserve the battlefield, Cutcheon argued, it should not be left to the states,
either North or South: “It must be done by the national government or remain
undone.”
In 1895, Gettysburg became the
first of the national parks and the overseer of all monuments. Yet, Confederate
veterans, even with the battle now 32 years behind them, generally were not eager
to erect monuments in a place of defeat for them.
It is an understandable
attitude since soldiers are taught to hate the enemy, even if they happen to be
their brothers. Long after the war and into the 20th century, the
South’s sons believed they were fighting “northern aggression.”
Northerner
soldiers also viewed the conflict in narrow terms. Lincoln found it maddening at times when his
generals failed to grasp the aim of the war. It was not to defeat an opposing nation, he would tell them, but
to reunite a nation – a nation with a
founding principle that all people are created equal.
As
General Robert E. Lee’s army retreated across the Potomac River to Virginia after the battle, Union General George Meade would
telegraph the White House that he was pursing the “invaders” back to their
country, to which Lincoln
reminded him those invaders were his fellow countrymen.
Reunions and reflections
Sometime
in the 1890s, a few veterans of the armies of the Potomac and Northern
Virginia began to meet on occasion at small reunions. At one held
in Philadelphia , city of brotherly love, the
captured sword of Confederate Brig. General Lewis Armistead, killed at Gettysburg , was returned
to the South.
The
reunions helped to heal wounds made when the nation was split asunder, but they
also, perhaps more so, allowed aging soldiers to reminisce. In 1908, a former
Union general, Philadelphian Henry Shippen Huidekoper, made the suggestion to Pennsylvania
Gov. Edwin Stuart about having a 50th Gettysburg reunion at the battlefield and
inviting as many veterans as possible.
The following year, the Legislature
created the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg Commission and
established the event’s first program, a “Peace Jubilee,” according to a report
to the General Assembly. Congress appropriated $150,000 for the event and
directed the War Department to build tent camps to accommodate the 53,000
veterans – only about 9,000 of them former Confederate veterans – who would attend.
At their 50th
reunion in 1913, the now elderly fighters were photographed wearing the blue
and gray, standing on either side of a battlefield fence shaking hands. In
fact, the former enemies greeted each other warmly, despite concern by one
Southern colonel that “there might be unpleasant differences, at least, between
the blue and gray.”
It was an
electrifying moment, a reflection of national unity, but in 1913 African
Americans still struggled in the South to achieve basic human and
constitutional rights – living under white-instituted segregation that enslaved
emotionally and psychologically.
While Gettysburg’s
veterans spent six days reminiscing, parading, and accepting honors from President
Woodrow Wilson – “We shall not forget the splendid valor” – the Ku Klux Klan
roamed the South, terrorizing African Americans.
The struggle against
this tyranny went on for many decades, well into the middle of the 20th
century. Remnants of this oppression persist even today in the 21st
century as every presidential election reveals efforts to block or restrict
minority voting rights.
Three Presidents
Many
presidents have visited Gettysburg
to offer gestures of peace and healing, but three – Lincoln, Wilson and
Franklin D. Roosevelt – had led or would soon lead the nation through the
crucible of major conflict that in its aftermath re-defined the nation.
Wilson, a
Virginian born four years before the war broke out in 1861, came on the last
day of the 1913 reunion to bless the Confederate and Union camaraderie and make
an attempt at healing words: “We
have found one another again as brothers and comrades in arms, enemies no
longer, generous friends rather … the quarrel forgotten.”
Yet, Wilson
was a segregationist and, many historians believe, a racist, based on his own writings
and actions. As president, his administration imposed harsh workplace policies that
barred blacks from holding federal jobs. Hardly had the war been a quarrel nor had
anyone forgotten it, least of all African Americans.
People are complicated, Wilson no less so. At his insistence during
World War I,
African Americans received equal battle pay, but they fought in segregated
units.
Roosevelt arrived by train
from his home in Hyde Park, NY, for the 75th and what would be the
final reunion, in 1938. The battle’s last 25 veterans joined 1,800 veterans of
the Civil War, most of them in their nineties. Some had to be carried.
On the last day in the northwest corner of the
battlefield, two veterans, one Union and one Confederate,
let fall the drape that covered the tall Eternal Light Peace Memorial that
Roosevelt dedicated.
In his speech paying homage to the assembled veterans
FDR was surely thinking about and seemed to even hint at, Europe ’s
gathering storm that would engulf the world in little more than a year: “It
seldom helps to wonder how a statesmen of one generation would surmount the
crisis of another.”
Unlike Wilson ,
Roosevelt understood the Civil War and Gettysburg ’s
symbolism was about how the nation would meet the endless challenges to its
declared principles of equality and justice:
“The task assumes different shapes at
different times. Sometimes the threat to popular government comes from
political interests, sometimes from economic interests, sometimes we have to
beat off all of them together. But the challenge is always the same – whether
each generation facing its own circumstances can summon the practical devotion
to attain and retain that greatest good for the greatest number which this
government of the people was created to ensure.”
The 150th Anniversary
The National Park employees at Gettysburg call the July 1-3 period the “high
holy days,” according to recent news accounts. The battlefield and its nearly 1,400
monuments is a hallowed place for pilgrimage, a shrine for the history buff, re-enactor
and the curious.
An estimated 10,000 re-enactors dressed in blue
and gray demonstrated the battle last week as part of the 150th
anniversary event, another 15,000 are expected for a re-enactment this week. Tens of thousands from the north, south, east and west are
expected to attend the series of events planned this week.
They come to learn about the tactics and
strategies of the battle, not whether the national unity and the struggle for
equality and justice are causes everlasting. And there will be those with a
Northern perspective – why did Lee send Gen. George Pickett into the last
desperate charge that devastated his regiment and ended the battle? And with a
Southern perspective – how did Mead win that fight?
One thing remains true about the country that, as Lincoln said, was
“conceived in liberty” and “dedicated to the proposition that all men are
created equal.” We continue to test whether our nation, “so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.”
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