In 2008, Drew Gilpin Faust, an historian with a distinguished background in higher education, published a book entitled, This Republic of Suffering. As the current president of Harvard University and the author of a number of books on the antebellum South and the American Civil War, her latest offering presents to the reader a rather different perspective regarding the war. It is one that focuses on, shall we say, the “death experience”, along with its anticipation, preparation, justification and predictably sad aftermath.
All of these aforementioned discussions bring into play a great number of factors for further consideration. Included among them is dealing with the emotional loss of a loved one and the oft-ensuing test of faith, presented to surviving family members and comrades. A sense of closure, which was often elusive, is discussed as well because in many cases there was no body to grieve over. In relation, was the death a so-called “Good Death”, an important concept in 19th century thinking and in tune with the Catholic ars moriendi of centuries past, or perhaps, something other? At a more granular level and closely intertwined with these concepts were the attempts to justify loss by validating the war in a spiritual sense, while within the same breath, questioning the benevolence of God for allowing such carnage to occur.
These are just a few of the points the author attempts to impress upon the reader in her unique and rather grim assessment of this calamitous event. The basic facts are in and are indisputable in terms of the loss of life incurred during the Civil War. Over the course of the event, nearly 620,000 soldiers lost their lives. To put this into a modern perspective and in relation to the nation’s population growth since the war, that number today would be closer to six million. The long and short of it is this: The American Civil War, through its deployment of improved killing methodologies, both technical and tactical, produced an enormous number of casualties. That fact, coupled with a still primitive understanding of medical science in terms of treating the wounded and controlling the spread of disease, added exponentially to the head count of its victims.
In addition and key to Faust’s argument, there was a lack of government policy and infrastructure within the North and the South to deal with massive numbers of dead soldiers. Because of this oversight, it usually became the burden of the families, strangers and comrades of the deceased to directly address the issue and attempt to provide a sense of closure. This problem, taken up later in the war and in the years following, led to an eventual sea change in how government responds to the challenges of proper identification, notification and interment of the fallen. In this review, the intent is to touch upon these unfortunate byproducts of war’s aftermath.
The "Good Death"
As there is much information and author insight within its pages relative to killing, dying and bereavement, the aspects mentioned above I found to be especially intriguing. Within the chapters, Dying and Naming, are numerous references that address the issue of notification. The author points out that it was usually a complete stranger (an attending doctor, a charity volunteer for example) or comrade who usually bore the responsibility of contacting the next of kin. Army chaplains on both sides were also loosely given this responsibility, but being in short supply, their results were mixed at best. Again, as the concept of ars moriendi loomed large within the minds of the population and as witness to the event, it became one’s duty to attempt to report the “Good Death.”
In lieu of the traditional deathbed attentiveness of relatives, this in many ways provided a substitute path to the confirmation and righteousness of loss. She further illustrates that because of a lack of any efficient notification system, and in keeping within the tradition of ars moriendi, it became a custom borne of necessity, often befalling to complete strangers or comrades of the deceased. This makeshift system served what appears to be a two-fold process, with both objectives being very important within their own right. One was to provide the news of the loss itself and secondly, to offer the desired confirmation that yes, it was indeed a “Good Death.” However, and due to poor communications, shifting priorities or improper identification, the news to families often arrived much later and was at times, incorrect. Unfortunately in these cases, further branches were added onto the tree of angst that often defined the bereavement experience.
What to Do With the Fallen
Proper identification of the dead presented a number of unique challenges. Long before the use of military-style dog tags as identifiers, soldiers were left to their own devices to help ensure proper identification and notification in the event of their passing. In Naming the author mentions some of these improvised methods used by soldiers. Pocket Bibles, commercially produced badges with name inscriptions, addressed envelopes and the pinning of one’s name to one’s garment were some of the methods employed. To many soldiers the thought of dying as an unknown statistic represented the worst of fates. As Dr. Faust states, “If a soldier could not save his life, he at least hoped to preserve his name.” Well said.
Further building upon the aspects of notification and identification, transportation and the interment of the dead were enormous issues for both the armies and families of the deceased. In Burying the author graphically illustrates the horror of battle’s aftermath. What is to be done with the bodies and how can one attach any sense of honor to the carnage? From a religious and philosophical standpoint, most understood the need for the proper care of the deceased, but when dealing on a scale of multitudes and the continual movement of armies, other priorities need to be taken into consideration. Contrary to the prevailing Protestant doctrine of the time in regards to careful preparation for the afterlife and eventual resurrection, for the sake of expediency many were buried without identification, in mass graves or both. This scenario to many soldiers envisioned their worst nightmare.
As illustrated in Burying, the treatment of the dead, especially the common foot soldier, largely depended on improvisation. Graphically explained, interment of their remains usually offered the worse of all worlds in terms of etiquette, materials, manpower, sanitation and identification. Existing cemeteries centered near military hospitals were totally inadequate and established ones near battlefields were virtually non-existent. Field hospitals were poorly organized and ambulatory transport of the severely wounded did not exist. Prison camps were a hell on earth where little sanitation was present and disease ran rampant. A truly hellish environment reigned supreme and men were buried wherever and however the situation dictated. It was also accepted that the responsibility of post battle interment fell to the victorious army, which usually led to an even further degradation of burial standards for the opposing army’s dead, or in other words, a further dehumanization of war’s hapless victims.
Also worthy of mention, the author states that grieving families often made the difficult journey to a battlefield in the hope of locating the body of a loved one and make arrangements for its return home. So too to the battlefields would flock entrepreneurs, with the hope of making profit through the sale of fabricated coffins, memorabilia or an embalming opportunity for those not too far gone. Scavengers, not unlike human vultures, would also descend upon the field, who, along with the morbidly curious, had no interest in offering respect to the fallen.
The general exception to the interment horrors that befell the common soldier, in Burying, Dr. Faust states that high-ranking officers of both sides commanded a much higher regard in death, as they did in life. Deceased officers, unless black, were usually returned to their army of origin. Embalmed and packed into metal coffins they were eventually sent home to grieving families and to a proper burial, sometimes to the contempt of the lowly conscript. As a disgruntled Texan ruminated, “The officers get the honor, you get nothing. They get a monument and you get a hole in the ground and no coffin." After its conclusion and during the 1865 to 1871 repatriation effort, an enormous undertaking to identify and rebury the Union dead, nearly one half of its victims were still left nameless.
The Aftermath
The national trauma that defined the American Civil War was not soon forgotten. Lessons learned during this period were key in reshaping and redefining the government’s policies and attitudes toward its enlisted ranks. But change and its enablers often take time.
Although initiated during the latter part of the war and built upon shortly thereafter, today’s network of national cemeteries, borne from the repatriation effort, offers continuing honor to those who have served the nation. But as the author briefly discusses in Accounting, regarding the war’s African American troops, emancipation did indeed have its sociological boundaries, as they were interred in specific “Colored” sections within the cemeteries. The author also feels the repatriation undertaking would not have taken place without the concentrated forces of constituents and mourners of the dead. And as a tribute to the enormity of the Civil War, this undertaking was transformational, changing forever the definition of country and its moral obligations to future generations. This is not the entire story however.
As she further outlines in Accounting, while politicians in Washington argued about the repatriation and respect due the Confederate dead, it was ironically the women of the South who took up the charge to ensure their memory was not forgotten, nor that their struggle was in vain. Overcoming a multitude of obstacles and bitterness, their accomplishments and contributions to honor should not be underestimated.
The author appears confident in her assessment that from these cemeteries, a message continued to be telegraphed to a nation’s conscience. It is one that expressed the enormous high cost, emotionally, financially and in treasure, of prolonged conflict. I tend to agree with her assessment and would like to express it in slightly different terms. Although silent, simple and positioned neatly in rows, these tombstones continue to speak loudly and with one voice to future generations, if they should choose to listen. What concerns me today is how few citizens may actually be paying attention. It is a point certainly worthy of further discussion and argument.
A Conclusion
The Antietam battlefield near my former home is full of ghosts, both in the literal and metaphysical sense. During times past, this writer has walked those fields, attempting to understand the battle and its grisly aftermath. In relation to this, I found Drew Faust’s This Republic of Suffering, to be an enlightening book but also a disturbing book. I also found it to be one that was at times, not an easy read. It does however, answer some of my questions as to what Antietam, for example, must have looked like following the battle and the smoke was only beginning to clear.
It is also obvious that within these pages tremendous energy was spent researching eyewitness accounts of the events. Her efforts have been rewarded with a book that is rich in content but at times, repetitive and drawn out in presentation. From a historical perspective, I felt it provided an interesting take on the Civil War, although through a dark lens, but I also feel that view enabled her to make her points. Anyone with a desire to understand how such events shaped this nation should find the book to be an excellent resource and if there was any bias in her presentation, I think it would have to revolve around validating the age-old statement that yes, war is indeed hell.
Daniel Gundlach - D. M. Gundlach has been around for while. Long enough to have fostered a number of interests anyway. Included are animals, history, ...
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