St. Clair Augustin Mulholland ~ Irishman. Philadelphian. Artist. Civil War Hero. Catholic.

General St. Clair Augustin Mulholland later in life.

As Independence Day approaches each year, I make a habit of finding a patriotic movie or two to pop into the DVD player to watch with the kids. This year, we began with Gods and Generals, that beautiful but flawed epic of the first two years of the Civil War. The film contrasts the career of Confederate General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson with that Union General Joshua Chamberlain, and while focusing on these two, it introduces several other figures as bit players. 

One of these who showed up during the Battle of Fredericksburg was St. Clair Augustin Mulholland. When his name was shown on the screen, it looked familiar. Where had I seen it before? Ah, yes! He appeared prominently in a previous post: "One of the most impressive religious ceremonies I have ever witnessed" ~ Father William Corby's general absolution at Gettysburg.

Mulholland had been at Gettysburg where he witnessed Fr. Corby's general absolution. It was his account of the act that I had included in the post, taken from his book, The story of the 116th Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers in the War of the Rebellion.

But as with so many of these amazing men from the Civil War period, there is much, much more to General Mulholland's story than mere gallantry in combat—though there is plenty of that.

And he is practically forgotten today, even in his adopted hometown of Philadelphia where his earthly remains lie interned in Old Cathedral Cemetery. 

St. Clair Augustin Mulholland was born a son of the Emerald Isle in County Antrim in AD 1839. When still a boy, his family emigrated to the United States in the midst of the Potato Famine. As with many Irish youth, Mulholland gravitated toward a military career, and by the time the American Civil War erupted in 1861, he would become a colonel at the ripe age of 23. 

Mulholland in uniform
during the Civil War.

Serving throughout the war, Mulholland saw action at Fredericksburg where he was wounded leading the ill-fated charge up Marye's Heights. He would be awarded a Congressional Medal of Honor for his gallantry covering the Union retreat at Chancellorsvile. As mentioned above, he served at Gettysburg where his regiment was practically annihilated. He survived to fight and receive wounds at Wilderness. He was wounded again at Po River, and badly injured by a musketball to the groin at Topotomy Creek. 

For his outstanding courage during the the Civil War, Mulholland was given brevet rank of Major General.

But that's not where his story ends, not by a long-shot. 

Following the war, Mulholland returned to Philadelphia where he became chief of police in 1868. In that post, he was credited with bringing discipline to the department which had been in some disorder before his arrival. He is also praised for breaking up a gang known as the "Schuylkill Rangers" which had been terrorizing the city.

He served many years on the Board of Prison Inspections. According to a eulogy written at the time of Mulholland's death in 1910 in the Journal of the American Irish Historical Society:  

It was said of him that he personally helped more unfortunates to start life anew than any other man in the state. He made the subject of prison discipline and its reform a study, and it was he who formed the committee that drafted the new parole law.

General Mulholland was also a lover of American history, particularly the contributions which Irish and Catholic Americans had played in it. Perceiving that secular and Protestant historians tended to minimize or ignore completely the role played by Catholics in American history, Mulholland participated in a campaign of speeches and memorials to remind the nation of their contributions. As part of this effort, Mulholland and his fellow Irish Catholics funded and built several memorials. 

Statue of Commodore Barry in Philadelphia.

Mulholland played a key role in raising $10,500 (the equivalent of about $350,000 in today's dollars) for the creation of the prominent statue of Commodore John Barry which may be seen to this day in dramatic pose behind Independence Hall in Philadelphia. Of Commodore Barry, Mulholland would offer the following praise in a speech: 

One of the most illustrious of Ireland’s sons, a brilliant child of the wind and waves, a heroic warrior of the sea who never knew defeat, the Father and Founder of the Navy of the United States.

It was General Mulholland who first conceived the idea of raising a statue to his friend, Fr. Corby, saying that it would "be of great benefit to the Catholic Church, identifying the Church with patriotism on the battlefields of our country." [Memoirs of a Chaplain's Life, Appendix 2] As chairman of a committee of the Catholic Alumni Sodality, General Mulholland was instrumental moving the project forward. The statue of Fr. Corby was completed shortly after Mulholland's death in 1910. 

Also late in his life, Mulholland was appointed to head the commission to create the Pennsylvania memorial at Gettysburg. Though he did not survive to see the completion of the project, the Pennsylvania memorial would be built and is the grandest on the battlefield. 

While doing the research on this post, I was surprised to discover that there was another side of General Mulholland. Beneath his rough exterior hardened by years of exposure on the march and danger on the battlefield, St. Clair Mulholland retained the softer soul of an artist. Similar to Lew Wallace, who eclipsed his fame as a general during the Civil War by writing a memorable novel (Ben Hur), St. Clair Mulholland was an accomplished painter of landscapes. Following the war, he embarked on a five year tour of Europe where he painted many beautiful scenes. Some examples of his work may be seen below:

Grand Canal, Venice.

Rowing in the Marsh

Shipping of the Coast

Mulholland was also personally devout and chivalrous. In a 1928 essay, Anne Easby-Smith records the following about the general: 

Yet this richly gifted man was, in his piety, as sincere and simple as a little child. His devotion to the Blessed Virgin was touching. From the age of fifteen until his death, he recited the rosary daily. His courtesy to women is illustrated by an incident during the War. Leading a hundred men through the swamp of Chickahominy, he came to a narrow pass where there was room for only one. Two Sisters of Charity were approaching. Immediately, the young officer stepped into the muddy swamp, to be followed by the whole regiment, to the great confusion of the Sisters.

For all his accomplishments, General Mulholland seemed to remain a humble soul to the very end of his life. When he died in 1910, he was buried in Old Cathedral Cemetery in a grave without a marker. The existing plaque was added much later. In the conclusion of her essay, Anne Easby-Smith sums up General Mulholland's character in this way:  

A soldier first and last, General Mulholland had simple tastes and few personal wants. “When I die,” he had said, “wrap me in the American Flag and put me in the hole. That is all the funeral I need.” Faithful to the flag for which he had fought and bled, General St. Clair Mulholland was equally faithful to the creed of his fathers, a true Catholic layman who stood before the world proud of the dual loyalty to God and country of which his entire life was a noble illustration.

What more is there to say? General Mulholland is yet another of those incredible, multi-faceted individuals whose characters were shaped in the forge of the American Civil War and whose subsequent noble lives are an ornament to the country they loved. Given General Mulholland's devotion to God, Ireland, America, and the memory of Civil War comrades, I suspect that the depiction of the sacrifice of the 116th Pennsylvania at Fredericksburg in Gods and Generals would have met with his approval, even if his own prominent presence in the film as their heroic leader may have piqued his humility.

Here are a few other posts on the Civil War that have appeared on this blog:

• Gen. James Longstreet: "Brave soldier, gallant gentleman, consistent Christian"
• Commander of the Union Army: Giuseppe Garibaldi?
• Civil War Vets Aboard the Cruiser Olympia ~ Seamen Purdy and McCue Re-fight their Ancient Battle
• "One of the most impressive religious ceremonies I have ever witnessed" ~ Father William Corby's general absolution at Gettysburg
• Will the Left tear down Stand Watie's monument?
• The Conversion of Frederick Douglass

Commander of the Union Army: Giuseppe Garibaldi?

Giuseppe Garibaldi as a Union General? Could it have happened?

While sorting through a gigantic pile of my deceased father's old papers, I found a newspaper clipping with the title: How Lincoln tried to enlist Garibaldi.

What?

I had never heard this tale before, so I immediately stopped to read the brief article. It began as follows:

An argument which has raged for more than a century over rumors that a hard-pressed Abraham Lincoln appealed to Giuseppe Garibaldi to save the Union in the American Civil War appears to have been settled after the discovery of documentary proof in Garibaldi's own handwriting.

The article then goes on to say that the proof was a small postcard which was found among the royal papers of the exiled House of Savoy which were donated to the state archives in Turin. The postcard was addressed from Garibaldi to Victor Emmanuel II, King of Piedmont-Sardinia, and later King of the united Italy. In it, Garibaldi sought permission to accept the offer to command the American armies. I did a little digging and found the translated text of the postcard here:

Sire, the President of the United States is offering me the command of that army. I find myself obliged to accept this mission for a country of which I am a citizen. Nevertheless before making my decision I thought it was my duty to inform Your Majesty, and to know if you think that I might have the honor of serving him. I have the honor to say that I am the most devoted servant of your Majesty. [Taken from: Garibaldi: Democracy and Civil Rights, p. 47]

And Victor Emmanuel responded as follows:

Do what you are inspired to do by your conscience, which is always your sole guide in affairs of such grave portent, and whatever decision you take, I am certain that you will not forget the dear Italian patria which is always utmost in your own and my thoughts. [Taken from: Garibaldi: Democracy and Civil Rights, p. 47]

Now, there are numerous things going on here of which I was not aware before I began venturing down this rabbit-hole. It seems that Garibaldi had indeed visited America from July 1850 through April 1851, spending most of his time in New York City and working in a candle factory. He even managed to get himself arrested for violating a local hunting ordinance while there. So he did have at least a brief history in the US.

Whether Garibaldi became a US citizen while visiting New York is a matter of dispute. He certainly did join a Masonic lodge while in the States, which is not surprising given his hostility to the Catholic Church. Also, it seems clear that many Americans looked fondly upon Garibaldi as the liberator of Italy and as an inveterate opponent of "Romanism", given that the nation was in the throes of a violent anti-Catholic movement in the 1850s.

What remains unclear is whether Garibaldi had any serious intention of leading Union armies in battle, or whether he was simply seeking to use the offer as leverage to convince Victor Emmanuel to call him out of retirement.

The story of how Garibaldi came to be considered as leader of the Union army is an involved one, the details of which may be found in this article—"Lincoln's Offer of a Command to Garibaldi" in The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, November 1907 issue. In brief, admirers of Garibaldi, when discussing the outbreak of war in America, suggested that his intervention as a military commander might help bring the war to a rapid conclusion. One man, J. W. Quiggle, suggested that Garibaldi might even surpass Lafayette in the annals of American history should he assume such a role.

These ideas, it seems, eventually made their way Washington. Writing immediately after the Union disaster at First Bull Run in July of 1861, Secretary of State William Seward sent a letter to Henry Sanford, American minister in Brussels that read, in part:

I wish to proceed at once and enter into communication with the distinguished soldier of freedom [Garibaldi]. Say to him that this government believes his services in the present contest for the unity and liberty of the American People, would be exceedingly useful, and that, therefore, they are earnestly desired and invited. Tell him that this government believes he will, if possible, accept this call, because it is too certain that the fall of the American Union, if indeed it were possible, would be a disastrous blow to the cause of Human Freedom equally here, in Europe, and throughout the world. 

Tell him that he will receive a Major-General’s commission in the army of the United States, with its appointments, with the hearty welcome of the American People. [Taken from Lincoln's Offer of a Command to Garibaldi]

Negotiations proceeded from this point, and by September 9, 1861, Sanford was dispatched to speak with Garibaldi in person about accepting the commission. Sanford found out that the "distinguished soldier of freedom" had higher expectations than his superiors in Washington had anticipated:

[Garibaldi] said that the only way in which he could render service, as he ardently desired to do, to the cause of the United States was as Commander-in-chief of its forces, that he would only go as such, and with the additional contingent power—to be governed by events—of declaring the abolition of slavery—that he would be of little use without the first, and without the second it would appear like a civil war in which the world at large could have little interest or sympathy. [Taken from Lincoln's Offer of a Command to Garibaldi]

Clearly, Garibaldi had no intention of coming to the United States to serve under men like McDowell, McClellan, Hooker, Burnside, or Pope. He wanted full authority—even executive authority—that may have been possible in rather disorganized places like mid-19th century Italy or South America, but was impossible in the United States, even with a widespread insurrection raging. Whether or not the crafty Garibaldi knew that his terms were a poison pill is a matter for further discussion.

By September 14, Sanford had written to Seward of his failure to enlist General Garibaldi to the Union cause. Thus ended any semi-official negotiations with Washington, though various American ministers in Europe continued to correspond with Garibaldi on the idea for at least another year.

In August 1863, less than a year after the promulgation of the Emancipation Proclamation, and a month after the Battle of Gettysburg, Garibaldi and other "Italian liberals" wrote a letter to Lincoln that appeared in the New York Times. In this letter, he said:

If in the midst of the danger of your titanic strife, our voices may also mingle, O Lincoln, let us the free Sons of Columbus send a message of augury and of admiration of the great work you have initiated. Heir of the thought of Christ and of [John] Brown, you will pass to posterity with the name of Emancipator—more enviable than any crown or any human treasure. [Taken from: Holzer: Dear Mr. Lincoln, p. 129-130]

It should be pointed out that Catholic historians have quite another view of Garibaldi that throws the entirety of this incident into quite a different light. These writers most often portray Garibaldi as a brigand leading brigands; a double-dealing traitor whose word could not be trusted; a radical who attained his goals by force-of-arms; a reckless anarchist and thoughtless destroyer of art, culture and civilization. In other words, they show him to be a proto-socialist radical of the type which would fill the next century with blood and fire.

Later in his life, Garibaldi would write in support of unifying Freemasons, rationalists, workers' societies, etc. into a socialist block. He called for the abolition of the Papacy. In his biography of Pope Pius IX, Alexius J. M. Mills described Garibaldi as follows:

[A] man who from earliest youth, sworn to the secret societies, has passed through every form of wickedness and every scene of desperation—the very evil genius of his unfortunate countrymen. Our readers will perceive at once that we are referring to Joseph Garibaldi—smuggler, pirate, bandit, and chief tool of modern assassins. [Taken from Mills, The Life of Pope Pius IX, p. 115]

Given all this, it is probably for the best that Lincoln's cabinet members listened to the better angels of their nature and left off attempting to provide such a man with an army corps, let alone with command of the entire Union Army. One can only imagine the chaos such a general might have caused, not to mention the jealously and resentment he would have engendered among the native officers.

"One of the most impressive religious ceremonies I have ever witnessed" ~ Father William Corby's general absolution at Gettysburg

Detail from Absolution under Fire by Paul Wood, 1891.

We are studying the Civil War as a family these days, and unlike many other historical events, there is no shortage of good films dealing with the this topic, among them: Glory, Gods and Generals, and Gettysburg.

We watched Gettysburg last night. I hadn’t seen it since it was originally released in 1993 when I saw it on the big screen. Since that time, I have visited the battlefield at least twice. The last time was in 2016 with my oldest daughter on our way back from a homeschool conference in Maryland. It was during that visit that we came across the statue of Father William Corby showing him in the act of giving general absolution on the second day of the battle. I hadn't heard of him before finding his statue, but he has stuck with me ever since. So while watching Gettysburg this time around, I kept my eye out for Fr. Corby.

Lo, and behold...


It seems that Fr. Corby's action had a greater historical import than I had first imagined. Aside from the statue on the battlefield, originally erected in 1910, there are at least two paintings of the event: the one by Paul Wood as seen above, and another by historical artist Bradley Schmehl which may be seen below.

The following account appears in Father Corby's 1893 book, Memoirs of Chaplain's Life:

At about four o’clock the Confederates commenced firing, and about one hundred and twenty cannons from their side belched forth from their fiery throats missiles of death into our lines. The Third Corps were pressed back, and at this critical moment I proposed to give a general absolution to our men, as they had absolutely no chance to practice their religious duties during the past two or three weeks, being constantly on the march. Here I will quote the account of Maj.-Gen. St. Clair Mulholland, then a colonel in the Irish Brigade, a Christian gentleman and as brave a soldier as any in the Army of the Potomac, to which his wounds and army record will testify:

“Now (as the Third Corps is being pressed back), help is called for, and Hancock tells Caldwell to have his men ready. ‘Fall in!’ and the men run to their places. ‘Take arms!’ and the four brigades of Zook, Cross, Brook, and Kelly are ready for the fray. There are yet a few minutes to spare before starting, and the time is occupied by one of the most impressive religious ceremonies I have ever witnessed. The Irish Brigade, which had been commanded formerly by Gen. Thomas Francis Meagher, and whose green flag had been unfurled in every batted in which the Army of the Potomac had been engaged from the first Bull Run to Appomattox, and was now commanded by Col. Patrick Kelly of the Eighty-eighth New York, formed a part of his division. The brigade stood in columns of regiments, closed in mass. As a large majority of its members were Catholics, the Chaplain of the brigade, Rev. William Corby, proposed to give a general absolution to all the men before going into the fight.

“While this is customary in the armies of Catholic countries of Europe, it was perhaps the first time it was ever witnessed on this continent, unless, indeed the grim old warrior, Ponce de Leon, as he tramped through the Everglades of Florida in search of the Fountain of Youth, or De Soto, on his march to the Mississippi, indulged in this act of devotion.

As an aside, Gen. Mulholland is likely forgetting the French presence on the continent. Considering the number of battles fought by French armies in America between 1609 and 1754, it is quite likely that general absolution was offered at some point prior to Gettysburg. To continue...

Father Corby stood on a large rock in front of the brigade. Addressing the men, he explained what he was about to do, saying that each one could receive the benefit of absolution by making a sincere Act of Contrition and firmly resolving to embrace the first opportunity of confessing his sins, urging them to do their duty, and reminding them of the high and sacred nature of their trust as soldiers and the noble object for which they fought….The brigade was standing at ‘Order arms!’ As he closed his address, every man, Catholic and non-Catholic, fell on his knees with his head bowed down. Then, stretching his right hand toward the brigade, Fr. Corby pronounced the words of absolution:

‘Dominus noster Iesus Christus vos absolvat, et ego, auctoritate ipsius, vos absolvo ab omni vinculo, excommunicationis interdicti, in quantum possum et vos indigetis deinde ego absolvo vos, a pecatis vestris, in nomini Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.’

“The scene was more than impressive; it was awe-inspiring. Near by stood a brilliant throng of officers who had gathered to witness this very unusual occurrence, and while there was profound silence in the ranks of the Second Corps, yet over to the left, out by the peach orchard and Little Round Top, where Weed and Vincent and Hazlitt were dying, the roar of the battle rose and swelled and re-echoed through the woods, making music more sublime than ever sounded through cathedral aisle.

Absolution at Gettysburg by Bradley Schmehl.

“I do not think there was a man in the brigade who did not offer up a heart-felt prayer. For some it was their last; they knelt there in their grave clothes. In less than half an hour many of them were numbered with the dead of July 2. Who can doubt that their prayers were good? What was wanting in the eloquence of the priest to move them to repentance was supplied in the incidents of the fight. That heart would be incorrigible, indeed, that the scream of a Whitworth bolt, added to Father Corby’s touching appeal, would not move to contrition.”

Here ends General Mulholland's account. Father Corby now picks up the story in his own voice:

In performing this ceremony I faced the army. My eye covered thousands of officers and men. I noticed that all, Catholic and non-Catholic, officers and private soldiers, showed profound respect, wishing at this fatal crisis to receive every benefit of divine grace that could be imparted through the instrumentality of the Church ministry. Even Maj.-Gen. Hancock removed his hat, and, as far as compatible with the situation, bowed in reverential devotion.

That general absolution was intended for all—in quantum possum—not only for our brigade, but for all, North or South, who were susceptible of it and who were about to appear before their Judge. Let us hope that many thousands of souls, purified by hardships, fasting, prayer, and blood, met a favorable sentence on the ever memorable battlefield of Gettysburg….

During a visit to the Gettysburg battlefield, about a year ago, in 1889, Maj.-Gen. Mulholland told me that a soldier of his regiment knelt near him while the general absolution was being given and prayed with more fervor than the General had ever before witnessed. Twenty minutes later that poor soldier was a corpse!...

About a week after the battle, while on the march, a captain, a non-Catholic, rode up to me, and after an introduction by a friend, said: “Chaplain, I would like to know more about your religion. I was present on that awful day, July 2, when you ‘made a prayer,’ and while I have often witnessed ministers make prayers, I never witnessed one so powerful as the one you made that day in front of Hancock’s corps just as the ball opened with one hundred twenty guns blazing at us.”

Just then I found use for my handkerchief to hide a smile which stole to my countenance caused by the, to me, peculiar phraseology in which the good captain expressed his mind. I could not but admire his candid, outspoken manner, though, and I gave him an invitation to call on me in camp, when I would take pleasure on giving him all the information in my power.

Statue of Fr. Corby at Gettysburg.

One good result of the Civil War was the removing of a great amount of prejudice. When men stand in common danger, a fraternal feeling springs up between them and generates a Christian, charitable sentiment that often leads to most excellent results. [Corby, Memoirs of Chaplain Life, pages 181-186].

It is my intention to return to Gettysburg with the whole family this summer. It will be the first visit for most of them and they should be well-prepared in terms of their history lessons. While there, we'll be certain to pay a visit the statue of Fr. Corby to say a prayer for the repose of his soul, and for all those who suffered and died on those fields.

We'll also be sure to find the statue of that other Civil War figure from the Gray side with a strong Catholic connection, General James Longstreet which my daughter and I didn't find last time. Bishop Joseph Keily of Savannah, who served under Longstreet at Gettysburg, eulogized him in 1904 as a "brave soldier, gallant gentleman, consistent Christian."

Gen. James Longstreet: "Brave soldier, gallant gentleman, consistent Christian"

Statue of Gen. Longstreet in Gainesville, Georgia.

One of the advantages of the present media-driven furor to remove or demolish monuments to the Confederacy is that it is forcing numerous Americans, myself included, to dig deep into the history of the Civil War. And what a strange, convoluted period of history it is! The primary sources are plentiful, rich and deep which makes for endlessly fascinating reading. If the aim of the iconoclasts was to push this period of history even further from the national consciousness, or gloss over it with cherry-picked anecdotes allowing for knee-jerk verdicts, they have failed miserably.

For my own part, I have started looking into the lives and characters of the generals of the Confederacy—and a more intriguing group of characters is seldom to be found. Having done some research into the Cherokee Confederate general, Stand Watie, I next moved on to another atypical rebel officer, General James Longstreet. As I was doing so, CNN published an article asking the question: “Where are the monuments to Confederate Gen. James Longstreet?” It's an interesting question. In truth, there are two that I was able to find. One at Gettysburg, and another in Gainesville, Georgia. Given his bio, however, the man deserves more recognition.

Most people’s familiarity with Longstreet stems from his role as Lee’s second-in-command at Gettysburg, and thus his prominent place in popular historical entertainment such as the movie Gettysburg and Michael Shaara’s novel, The Killer Angels upon which the movie was based. Longstreet’s virtues and flaws as a military leader have long been the subject of spirited debate. But his career on the battlefield is not primarily what interests me here. Longstreet’s life after the war is, if possible, even more interesting than his deeds as Lee’s lieutenant.

During Reconstruction, Longstreet became a pariah to his southern compatriots. In the election of 1868, Longstreet endorsed his old friend from West Point, Ulysses S. Grant, and became a Republican. After winning the election, Grant appointed Longstreet to a customs position in New Orleans, and he was subsequently made a general in charge of the Louisiana state militia. As a result, he was ostracized by many in the South, who considered him a scalawag and a collaborator with carpet-bagging Union profiteers.

It was in his role as head of the Louisiana militia that Longstreet participated in an action that caused his name to be blackened even further within former-Confederate circles. Following a contested election in 1874, a Democrat mob known as the White League attempted to remove the Republican administration from New Orleans by force. Descending on the city in numbers greater than 5,000, they were confronted by a smaller number of largely Black police and militia headed by General Longstreet. As the two sides lined up for battle, Longstreet rode out to meet the rioters in an attempt to quell the matter before the sides came to blows. One White League leader later claimed that it was only with the greatest difficulty that he restrained his men from shooting Longstreet dead on the spot. Instead, they pulled him from his horse and took him prisoner. In the resulting fight, known to history as the Battle of Liberty Place, the White League caused Longstreet’s men to retreat, with about 100 dead and injured on both sides.

Federal troops were later called in to suppress the White League, free Longstreet and restore order. But Longstreet’s days as a military officer were now over, and his role in the affair attracted even more vituperation from those still attached to the Lost Cause. This rancor from his countrymen wounded him. In 1877, he had a religious awakening, as recorded in the book, Lee and Longstreet at High Tide (1904), by his wife, Helen Dortch Longstreet:

“General Longstreet was a most devout churchman. In early life he was an Episcopalian, and he regularly attended that church in New Orleans until the political differences developed between himself and his friends. After that he noticed that even his church associates avoided him. They would not sit in the same pew with him. Cut to the quick by such treatment, he began to wonder if there was any church broad enough to withstand the differences caused by political and sectional feeling. He discovered that the Roman Catholic priests extended him the treatment he longed for. He began to attend that church, and has said that its atmosphere from the first appealed to him as the church of the sorrow-laden of earth. He was converted under the ministration of Father Ryan. After accepting the faith of the Catholic Church he followed it with beautiful devotion. He regarded it as the compensation sent him by the Almighty for doing his duty as he saw it. He clung to it as the best consolation there was in life. He went to his duties as devoutly as any priest of the church, and was on his knees night and morning, with the simple, loving faith of a little child.” [Lee and Longstreet at High Tide, page 118] 

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Longstreet passed away of cancer in 1904 at the age of 82. He was buried in Gainesville, Georgia where the impressive statue shown above may be found today. By the time of his death, any animosity his Confederate comrades had felt for him was gone. Newspaper reports of the funeral service mentioned vast throngs of mourners arriving to pay their last respects. Lavish tributes to Longstreet poured in from all corners of the country. Following the funeral Mass, an oration was given by Bishop Joseph Keily of Savannah, Georgia who had fought under Longstreet during the Civil War. In that eulogy, Bishop Keily gave the man a fitting tribute, saying:

“Having passed the span which Providence ordinarily allots as the term of human life, General James Longstreet has answered the roll-call of the great God. What a brilliant page in history is filled with his grand career….When the Southern States withdrew from the Union by reason of attacks on their reserved rights which were guaranteed by the Constitution, and were forced into the war between the States, James Longstreet offered his services and sword to the cause of self-government. No history of the war may be written which does not bear emblazoned on every page the story of his deeds…

“It is my duty as a priest of God to call your attention to the obvious lesson of this occasion—the vanity of mere earthly greatness and the certainty of death and the necessity of preparation for it. James Longstreet was a brave soldier, a gallant gentleman, but better still—a consistent Christian. After the war between the States, he became a member of the Catholic Church, and to his dying day remained faithful to her teaching and loyal to her creed…” [Lee and Longstreet at High Tide, page 219] 

This seemed to sum up Longstreet in a nutshell. He was a man disappointed by political creeds offered to ephemeral temporal powers, who found fulfillment in loyalty to an eternal creed professed to an everlasting power.

By way of a postscript, I will mention the two extraordinary women in General Longstreet’s life. His first wife, Maria Louisa Garland Longstreet, passed away in 1890 after 40 years of marriage and 10 children. Surprisingly, he married again in 1897 at the age of 76 to Helen Dortch Longstreet. It was Helen who recorded many anecdotes about the general in the abovementioned book, Lee and Longstreet at High Tide. Interestingly, Helen lived to be nearly 100 years old, surviving until 1962 – a full century after her husband’s famous exploits during the Civil War.

These are truly amazing people worthy of remembrance.

Will the Left tear down Stand Watie's monument?

It’s wrong to pre-judge a human being based on their racial characteristics. Beyond that, it’s stupid. Any marginally intelligent person knows this. A Christian, certainly, has no excuse for treating someone badly simply because they are of a different racial category. For a Catholic, it's a sin to do so.

At the same time, as we watch political agitators wantonly destroying symbols of our country’s history in vigilante mobs, one can not help but be struck by their profound ignorance of said history. For these simpletons, the Confederacy equals racism, and everything having to do with it equals racism, and anyone who casts a wistful glance at the sacrifices of their ancestors in support of the Confederacy is, de facto, a racist. But one doesn’t have to dig too deeply into the history to find that the situation was often far more complicated than this snap judgment will afford.

Stand Watie in 1862 before going off to war.

Take, for example, the case of Confederate brigadier general Stand Watie. Of course, you’ve never heard of him because your schooling in American history, like mine, was deeply defective. Stand Watie was a chief of the Cherokee Nation. Born in 1806, he had been among the Cherokees who were forced off their native lands in Georgia to “Indian Territory” in present day Oklahoma. Watie moved in 1835, three years before the rest of the tribe were forcibly relocated as part of the Trail of Tears.

When the Civil War erupted, it is perhaps not surprising that Watie and many of the Cherokees were drawn to the Confederate cause. They had no love for the federal government in Washington, and besides that, slavery was practiced by many American Indian tribes from before contact with Europeans. Watie himself owned slaves. Though divided, the Cherokee eventually threw their lot with the rebels and Stand Watie soon became a colonel in the Confederate army, eventually rising to the rank of brigadier general. Well into his 50s, he was an active fighter in the western theater, taking part in battles throughout the Indian Territories. He would become famous as the last Confederate general to surrender, which he did on June 23, 1865.

The war had been hard on the Cherokee. They lost nearly a third of their number and their territory had been devastated by Union soldiers. After the war, Stand Watie tried to rebuild his home and his fortunes. He died six years later, predeceased by all of his three sons. His two daughters died shortly after him, leaving his widowed wife, Sarah, to carry on until 1883.

Stand Watie was not a paragon of virtue. He had many faults. His cause was wrong and his methods in combat could be unorthodox. He did not always have control of his men, who sometimes reverted to the old Indian practice of scalping their enemies. But was he racist? Our friends on the Left tell us that oppressed minorities can not be racist by definition—that only Whites can be racist. So where does that leave someone like Stand Watie in their postmodern hierarchy of sins?

Stand Watie's Memorial in Tahlequah, OK.

Before you judge Stand Watie, however, at least give a read to this excerpt from a letter he wrote to his wife in 1864 where he examines his conscience:

Sometimes I examine myself thoroughly and I will always come to the conclusion that I am not such a bad man at last as I am looked upon. God will give me justice. If I am to be punished for the opinions of other people, who do not know my heart I can’t help it. If I commit an error I do it without bad intention. My great crime in the world is blunder. I will get into scrapes without intention or any bad motive. I call upon God to judge me, he knows that I love my friends and above all others, my wife and children, the opinion of the world to contrary notwithstanding. [Taken from Chronicles of Oklahoma, Volume 1, page 47.]

You can read more of his correspondence at the above source. It's a fascinating look into the mind of a man in the process of losing a war, despite his best efforts, who was deeply affected by the slanders spread about him by his enemies.

As a Pennsylvania boy born and raised, I have little sympathy for the Confederate cause. But I do recognize that people fought in the Civil War for a variety of reasons that often had little to do with defending or destroying the hideous institution of slavery. Many of those who fought on the wrong side were brave men who sacrificed all. In the not-too-distant past, men could fight one day, be reconciled the next, and be best friends the day after. They could also honor each other years later—call it courtesy, nostalgia, chivalry or what have you. That sense of chivalry seems to be something our society has been sadly lacking for some time now.

Photo from the last reunion of Gettysburg veterans, 1938.

Our modern arbiters of morality in media and the mask-wearing mob insist on judging our ancestors based on their own ill-informed, hyper-politicized 21st century views. These same folks vehemently deny anyone else the privilege of judging them or their actions. But their day will come. I am confident that future generations will judge the lives of men like Stand Watie a good deal more sympathetically than those of the cowardly rioters who pull down the effigies of brave men.

If they eventually deem Stand Watie unfit for a memorial of this kind, they should probably also find and burn all copies of the 1976 movie, The Outlaw Josie Wales, as it includes a character called "Lone Watie" played brilliantly by Chief Dan George. If you've never seen the film, Lone Watie is a likable character and his backstory will sound awfully familiar if you have read this post. In this clip, he explains his rationale for declaring war on the Union.
 

The Conversion of Frederick Douglass

As Frederick Douglass is currently in the public eye for 15 seconds, it is well to pay tribute to the great crusader against the scourge of slavery, and to remind the forgetful that he was a man of deep Christian faith. Though it is to be regretted that he never found his way home to the Catholic Church, his account of his conversion to faith in Christ is noteworthy.

Following is an excerpt from his autobiography entitled, My Bondage, My Freedom which speaks for itself:

“My religious nature was awakened by the preaching of a white Methodist minister, named Hanson. He thought that all men, great and small, bond and free, were sinners in the sight of God; that they were, by nature, rebels against his government; and that they must repent of their sins, and be reconciled to God through Christ. I cannot say that I had a very distinct notion of what was required of me; but one thing I knew very well—I was wretched, and had no means of making myself otherwise. Moreover, I knew that I could pray for light. I consulted a good colored man, named Charles Johnson; and, in tones of holy affection, he told me to pray, and what to pray for. I was, for weeks, a poor, broken-hearted mourner, travelling through the darkness and misery of doubts and fears. I finally found that change of heart which comes by “casting all one’s care” upon God, and by having faith in Jesus Christ, as the Redeemer, Friend and Savior of those who diligently seek Him. 

“After this, I saw the world in a new light. I seemed to live in a new world, surrounded by new objects, and to be animated by new hopes and desires. I loved all mankind—slaveholders not excepted; though I abhorred slavery more than ever. My great concern was, now, to have the world converted.”

Read more in context here: My Bondage, My Freedom by Frederick Douglass.