Poet's Coroner
Mr. Peperium
Everyone who reads history has a pet theory about some aspect of whatever rabbit warren of the past has attracted his or her interest. Years of reading about the American Civil War has given me more than enough facts and figures with which to nourish several theories of my own.
My favorite theory, the one I keep on my desk in a gilded cage, the one I groom regularly and fatten on Purina Theory Chow (I once bought a bag of Conspiracy Theory Chow by accident; didn't get a wink of sleep that night)—the theory, in short, that I am about to take for a short run—has a pedigree that stretches all the way back to that breeding ground of pet theories, the town and environs of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
No, I’m not going to argue that Dan Sickles was right to push his Third Corps so far forward (though I do suspect that, by providing what modern car designers would call a “crumple zone” Sickles may actually have saved the Union left that day). And no, I’m not going to suggest that Old Pete was right about sidestepping, in Blitzkrieg Fashion, a defensive nut that so much valor proved unable to crack (though again, that theory has its merits). My pet theory is more rare and exotic than that--and I have the papers to prove it. I’m going to declare that the Battle of Gettysburg was not won at Gettysburg. Nor was it won by George Gordon Meade or lost by Robert E. Lee. It was won in Virginia and the victorious officer was a brigadier of Union cavalry.
Maj. Gen. John Buford
At this point my pet theory smiles up at me, rolls over and asks to have its tummy scratched. And I give in. After all, the sheer simplicity of this cute little guy beggars description. Wielding the razor I borrowed from William of Occam, I give my theory a poodle-cut and proceed.
On June 9, 1863, John Buford led a surprise raid on J. E. B. Stuart’s cavalry encampment at Brandy Station. Looked at in terms of immediate results, the battle was a draw. However, what Victor Davis Hanson would call the “ripples” of this fight were far-reaching and decisive.
First, it was the first time in the war that Union cavalry had shown true initiative and derring-do. Second, because his vaunted cavaliers were taken completely by surprise, Stuart felt compelled to retrieve his flagging reputation. (The Richmond papers, so quick to lionize Stuart for his successful exploits in the past, turned on him with a zest we moderns would find all-to-familiar.)
This second ripple led directly to the third and biggest ripple: Stuart’s broad interpretation of Lee’s rather loosely worded orders as regards the role of the cavalry in the upcoming invasion of Pennsylvania. Which led to Stuart’s attempt to garner glowing headlines by once again riding around the Army of the Potomac. Which led, when that army showed unwonted skill and initiative in shadowing Lee's northward progress (under the leadership of that much-maligned man, Joseph Hooker), to Stuart’s absence for weeks before, and for two days during, the battle.
The rest you know. I realize that my pet theory is probably not original. I may well have run across it in my reading and just don’t remember it. If, after the war, Longstreet had not turned Republican and published articles critical of Lee, Stuart, though a fallen hero, would most likely have come in for his fair share of blame for the outcome at Gettysburg. And of course my theory has the fault that all pet theories share—it is too simple, too neat. Which is one of the reasons why I prefer the Schoolmen to Occam.
Be that as it may, pet theories are fun to have. They’re like Webkinz for adults. And if you have a blog you can hold a no-holds-barred cage match, mano a mano, pet theory against pet theory. I now step back and look forward to seeing the fur fly. I might mention that my pet theory is up to date as far as shots, so there is no danger of serious infection if my theory happens to take a chunk out of yours. On the other hand, it is not beyond the realm of possibility that your theory and my theory could get together and make a whole new theory. I’ve seen it happen before which is why, in spite of all the well-intentioned advice from the Humane Society, I've never had my pet theory spayed.
Well played, Sir.
Buford wasn't at the skirmish at Kelly's Ford (another surprisingly aggressive Union cavalry move) prior to Chancellorsville, was he? I know that he led an unprecedented Yankee cavalry charge on the far left flank at Second Manassas that temporarily stunned the Rebel horse opposite him, although they quickly regained their composure and drove him from the field.
My own pet historickal theory dates from about 100 years before: the British move toward Ft. Duquesne (led by George Washington) in its effort to wrest control of the Ohio River Valley from France precipitated a continent-wide alignment of European allies with each of these powers for the Seven Years' War. Frederick the Great allied Prussia with Britain, causing his enemy, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, to turn to France (with which it did not have a history of sympathy). To seal that alliance, Maria Theresa eventually sent her daughter, Marie Antoinette, to Paris to wed the Dauphin (later Louis XVI). The rest, as they say, is history, but I've always thought it rayther hard that poor Antoinette essentially lost her head because of .....Pittsburgh.
Posted by: Robbo the Llama Butcher | October 25, 2007 at 10:25 AM
Love the pug Mr. P. You have such a way with pictures.
My pet theory is the more educated the person is, the more boring they are. Now Mr. P, you must (by honour) put your theory with mine and see what the outcome is....General McCellan, I think.
Time to don the apron. The lunchroom beckons.
Posted by: Mrs. Peperium | October 25, 2007 at 10:38 AM
Yes, Robbo, when you start connecting dots you do come up with some striking statements. Essentially, Marie Antoinette was killed by George Washington's thrist for military glory.
But Mrs. P's theory, I'm afraid, falls to the ground. I've always found McClellan a fascinating figure because of his flaws brought on by his being, as one contemporary put it, "chock full of big war science".
Posted by: Mr. Peperium | October 25, 2007 at 11:01 AM
Funny. I would say describing a man as "chock full of big war science" is just a more genteel way of saying he was a perfect bore. And his boringness (is that a word?) was most on display with the way he fought, or more accurately, did not fight. He just stood around and tried to look good. Which he did. But that tactic only works for so long.
Posted by: Mrs. Peperium | October 25, 2007 at 01:19 PM
Mr. P, I did it. Two dalamatian costumes done with a bit more than three hours to spare. Come home early please. I need you to fill the flask with rum so you can spike my cider on the hayride..it's going to be quite chilly tonight and I'm still seeing spots...
Posted by: Mrs. Peperium | October 25, 2007 at 03:08 PM
General McClellan deserves a lot more credit than he often receives. It was he who built the Army of the Potomac into a formidable fighting machine, instilling in it a strong sense of purpose and discipline.
Considering the condition of the pre-war Army--and the fact that many of its officers had left for service in the Confederacy--this was no mean feat.
McClellan was a close student of the French Army under Napoleon as well as the contemporary French Army (he served as an observer with the French Army during the Crimean War).
However, as much as he appreciated Napoleon and French military elan, McClellan never seems to have developed audacity--perhaps understood best as a willingness to hazard a battle on one throw--on anything close to a Napoleonic level. A little more audacity might have served him better during the Peninsula Campaign and, almost certainly, could have won him the Battle of Antietam.
Perhaps, this lack of audacity was born out of concern for his army. Maybe, the lack of reliable intelligence that vexed the Army of the Potomac until it developed a reliable cavalry arm and McClellan's knowledge that his Army was what stood between the rebellion and the nation's capital contributed to it as well.
Posted by: Old Dominion Tory | October 25, 2007 at 03:27 PM
Now, as to Mr. Peperium's pet theory. I can see his point--that the embarrassment over the Brandy Station fight led Stuart to attempt to redeem his reputation by emarking on another free-wheeling ride "around the Union Army." This absence deprived Lee of information about the Army of the Potomac's whereabouts which caused him to blunder about blindly in the Pennsylvania countryside until fate brought him to Gettysburg.
But Lee could have extricated his Army from the Gettysburg battlefield if he had found it not to his liking. He was under no requirement to attack on the second day, just as he was under no requiremnt to attack on the third day.
I think Lee wanted a Napoleonic outcome, the big victory on the lines of Jena and Austerlitz, to Gettysburg just as much as any of his contemporaries did. To borrow a phrase from Shelby Foote, his blood was up. And, in the Army of Northern Virginia, he saw the instrument to win that battle. Considering his Army's record to the battle--e.g., Second Manassas, Chancellorsville--it is easy to understand why.
So, while I'll give Mr. Peperium credit for his theory and General Buford credit for his actions in the spring and summer of 1863, I hold that the biggest influence on the Battle of Gettysburg was Robert E. Lee.
Posted by: Old Dominion Tory | October 25, 2007 at 04:04 PM
I've got my own pet theory to promenade (though I don't think it'll win best in show).
I think Hitler never would have risen to power, and WWII (and all its devastation) thus averted, if America hadn't been so intent on foisting democracy upon a post-war Germany completely unused to the concept. If the German people, defeated, humiliated, in impossible debt, had had a focal point to rally round, a ruler to look up to as it always had--if not a Kaiser than a constitutional monarch perhaps--they never would have fallen prey to the tour de force that was Hitler. Instead, the unruly masses had, essentially, the unruly masses to look to; the gaping void left during the Weimar Republic was impossible to sustain. It was destined to be filled by the violence and the energy of Hitler.
I'm not the first to think thus; Churchill would have agreed.
Let the fur fly.
Posted by: Christine | October 25, 2007 at 04:06 PM
Well, Germany had been a democracy before the war, but it should be needless to say by now that the Allied Powers' policy towards the Central Powers was one which lead to many disasters.
Among other things, the fall of the Austro-Hungarian empire meant the end of Danubian free trade, and the erection of prohibitive tariff barriers which significantly worsened the lot of your average Joe Peasant.
Posted by: Andrew Cusack | October 25, 2007 at 04:34 PM
'Led' not 'lead', rather.
Posted by: Andrew Cusack | October 25, 2007 at 04:35 PM
I think the lack of audacity on the part of George McClellan was probably born primarily out of his concern for George McClellan, both in terms of military prestige and in terms of political calculations.
Posted by: Robbo the Llama Butcher | October 25, 2007 at 04:48 PM
Again, an apt description of a boring person:
"I think the lack of audacity on the part of George McClellan was probably born primarily out of his concern for George McClellan..."
Okay, here's my historical pet theory, the Decembrists caused Russia to become the Soviet Union. How did they do this? Easy. They were the original '60's generation. Had they not been the rebels against their parents and societal dropouts they were and instead grown up to be useful men - useful to Mother Russia that is, then Czar Nicholas and his father would have had much better counsel among their advisors. Instead the Decembrists did what they did, and Czar Nicholas and his dad ended up many years later drawing the B team for advisors.
If I think about it, I can make it sound more intelligent and convincing. I just haven't thought about my old pet theory for at least 10 years. By the way, you've got to love the Decembrists were packed up and sent off to Siberia. Oh, if only we had done that with algore....
Posted by: Mrs. Peperium | October 25, 2007 at 05:01 PM
"The Decembrist leaders had to lie to their soldiers to get them to participate in the abortive regime change, telling them that it was to restore the deposed Czar Constantine over his vicious younger brother, Nicholas I. Their rallying cry, 'Long live Constantine! Long live the Constitution!' was taken up by the rank-and-file only because it was assumed that the word 'Constitution' referred to Constantine’s wife!"
-- Michael Weiss, 'The sensation of liberty', The New Criterion, October 2007
Posted by: Andrew Cusack | October 25, 2007 at 10:01 PM
When I wrote "foisting democracy upon a post-war Germany", I meant, of course, post-WWI Germany. The only other time democracy had been attempted before then was in 1848, and it lasted only about a year.
Posted by: Christine | October 26, 2007 at 05:01 AM
Actually the Reichstag was elected by universal male suffrage from 1871 onwards.
Posted by: Andrew Cusack | October 26, 2007 at 07:10 AM
Well, "onwards" until the Nazis, that is.
Posted by: Andrew Cusack | October 26, 2007 at 07:11 AM
Very true. Germany was among the first to introduce universal suffrage. My meaning would have been clearer if I'd used the phrase "liberal democracy" in my original comment.
The Reichstag represented a type of democracy, an haut bourgeois type, where unimportant bills were passed by permission of the aristocray, with Chancellor Bismarck holding almost absolute power, and later Emperor Wilhelm II--a quite different model from that the U.S. insisted on for post-war Germany.
Posted by: Christine | October 26, 2007 at 09:47 AM
Addendum: In the vein of Mr. P's whimsically written piece, my pet theory is meant to be taken with a grain of salt (or cat litter, whatever you wish). There were myriad causes for WWII, as we all well know...
Posted by: Christine | October 26, 2007 at 09:59 AM