Bruce Catton's Army of the Potomac Trilogy from the Library of America
My grandparents gave me my first Civil War history book for Christmas in 1982 - it was Bruce Catton’s The Civil War - the narrative portion of the American Heritage Picture History of the Civil War, which was first published in 1960. We had ancestors who had served in the Confederate Army, and I had expressed an interest in the fight. As I pored over Catton’s words, I became even more enthralled with the story of the war: larger-than-life characters, a nation in peril, epic battles - what kid wouldn’t be immediately taken?
I still have that first book by the way - it’s among my most treasured volumes.
This is why Catton occupies a special place in my memory. Embracing the words lauding Catton’s skill inside the dust jacket of The Civil War: “he has the eloquence of a fine writer and the authority of a respected scholar,” I soon moved to Catton’s other works - including his volumes on U.S. Grant, and of course the three volumes collectively known as the Army of the Potomac Trilogy. And thus began, at the age of 15, a lifelong dedication to the serious study of Civil War history. I’ll go on the record here to say that of all the books I have read about the Civil War, and that’s a lot, I have encountered nothing more accessible, more captivating, nor more beautifully written than Catton’s work. Suffice it to say, it was Catton that got me started. Without him, I am not sure I would have pursued my interest in Civil War history at all.
And sadly, I don't think anyone reads him anymore, which is a damn shame.
It’s a southern thing. If you know you know.
This is why I was thrilled to learn that the Library of America enlisted Civil War scholar Gary W. Gallagher to edit a single-volume collection of all three books: Mr. Lincoln’s Army, Glory Road, and A Stillness at Appomattox. I hope this will introduce Catton to a new generation of readers, who will most certainly enjoy his evocative and accessible writing.
Gallagher’s introductory essay begins with brief look at Catton’s childhood in Benzonia, Michigan, early in the 20th century, and especially at “how the small boys in the village looked at the old soldiers [Civil War veterans] in awe,” as Catton recalled - “‘Those terrible names out of the history books - Gettysburg, Shiloh, Stone’s River, Cold Harbor - came alive through those men. They had been there.’” (xvii-xviii) Gallagher then follows Catton through a stint at Oberlin College, a hitch in the Navy during the Great War, a career in journalism, as a WWII-era Washington D. C. bureaucrat, and finally his decision, at the age of fifty, to become a full-time writer of history.
Students of Civil War history will find most interesting how Catton harnessed the published materials of his time, which by our standards, were very limited. He primarily drew from published letters and diaries and relied heavily on the 128-volume War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, published between 1880 and 1901 by the War Department - and loaded with all sorts of battle reports, correspondence, and other Civil War papers (fun fact, I just ordered a set for my classroom - HUZZAH!). Catton also leaned hard on regimental histories - books written by Civil War veterans for Civil War veterans. Now, it is safe to say that these histories might tend to amplify any particular regiment’s derring-do on the battlefield, and thus one might read them with suspicion. Still, Catton used them precisely because they were tales told by the participants, and reflected what was important to them. As Gallagher reminds us, this is what is so compelling about the trilogy. “Catton anticipated a later flowering of scholarship on common soldiers. Together with Bell I. Wiley’s [The] Life of Johnny Reb and The Life of Billy Yank, the Army of the Potomac Trilogy marked a striking change in a field long dominated by attention to celebrated generals and their battles.” (xxiv) In the end, The Army of the Potomac Trilogy is a soldiers’ story. And to reinforce this idea, Gallagher concludes his essay with Catton’s closing words from A Stillness at Appomattox, recreating a most evocative scene at Appomattox Courthouse. Rather taking the reader inside McLean’s parlor to witness the famous meeting between Lee and Grant, Catton chose to leave us with the soldiers’ perspective: “The little cavalcade went trotting along the road to the village, and all around them the two armies waited in silence. As the generals neared the end of their ride, a Yankee band in a field near the town struck up ‘Auld Lang Syne.’” (xxvi) To close three volumes and over 1000 pages of text covering America’s greatest conflict like this - well…Catton knew how to stir his readers’ souls.
Readers will note an incisive look at soldier recruitment, the character and traditions of the Army of the Potomac, the evolution towards a so-called “hard war,” political intrigue, emancipation, the profound connections between the civilian and battle fronts, and a sense of meaning to the whole thing. It was exactly this multi-dimensional approach to the war - an all-encompassing study that combined riveting anecdotes, lucid prose, and insightful analysis that so captivated when I first read Catton’s work. But beyond all of that, one would be hard pressed to find a better writer. Catton’s attention to clarity worked well with his penchant for stylistic flourish. Which is why, I suppose, I find myself returning to his many books time and again. I hope this volume inspires others to do the same.
With compliments,
Keith