Shaping Chancellorsville: How memories of the battle shaped the battlefield

part one in a series

It has become the stuff of legends: Astride his horse, Traveller, Robert. E. Lee rides into the Chancellorsville clearing, the mansion in flames behind him, his men gathered ‘round with hats off, cheering wildly. It’s late morning, May 3, 1863, and the Army of Northern Virginia has overcome odds of nearly two-and-a-half to one to score what would become known as “Lee’s Greatest Victory.”

From this pinnacle, Lee would launch his army northward, toward Gettysburg. Meanwhile his victory at Chancellorsville comes at a terrible price: the loss of Lee’s “left arm,” Lieutenant General Thomas Jonathan “Stonewall” Jackson, accidentally wounded by his own men while carrying out a surprise flanking maneuver on the second day of the battle; he would die days later.

These are the motifs from Chancellorsville that have carried on from history into iconography and memory: Lee’s greatest victory, the martyrdom of Jackson, the road to Gettysburg.

Other parts of the story, though, have remained largely forgotten, which has in turn had a huge impact on the very ground of Chancellorsville itself. What has been remembered and what has been forgotten has shaped the battlefield, which has further impacted the shape of the story.

Generally forgotten is the fact that May 3 was the second-bloodiest day of the Civil War: more than 17,000 killed, wounded, and missing (just under nine thousand Confederates and just over eight thousand Federals). In total, the battle would cost 30,000 lives, although most of the post-war memory focuses on the loss of only one: Stonewall Jackson’s.

Likewise forgotten are the side actions at Fredericksburg and Salem Church, where advancing Federal reinforcements ran into resistance from smaller Confederate forces, affecting the outcome of the entire campaign.

Over the next few weeks, this series will examine what has and hasn’t been remembered about Chancellorsville as “public memory” over the past 150 years and, specifically, how those memories have been employed over time in the establishment, expansion, and evolution of the Chancellorsville Battlefield.[1] A look at every land acquisition would be impractical, so won’t present a full chronology of park development. Instead, I’ll focus on several key instances. Along the way, I’ll refer to park signage, publications, and interpretive programs as they directly relate to land acquisition (a content analysis of those media would provide an even clearer picture of the uses of and articulation of memory over time).

As the basis of my discussion, I’ll look at four strains of Civil War “memory,” as articulated by scholar Gary Gallagher, which have evolved over time: the Union memory, emphasizing the war to preserve the Union; the Emancipation memory, emphasizing the war to end slavery; the “Lost Cause” memory, emphasizing a romanticized vision of southern valor in the face of overwhelming odds; and a Reconciliation memory, emphasizing mutual sacrifice by both sides in the crucible of battle.[2]

The Lost Cause memory, in particular, played a significant role in shaping the Chancellorsville battlefield over time. In large part, that’s because the Chancellorsville-specific motifs of “Lee’s greatest victory”[3] and “the martyrdom of Jackson” are central tenets to the overall Lost Cause narrative. The battle represents the Confederate high tide—regardless of anything folks at Gettysburg have to say[4]—and it introduces the great “What If” that has powered Lost Cause imagination ever since: “What if Jackson had lived?” (or, as sometimes articulated, “What if Jackson had not gotten shot?”).

Other motifs have also been used over time—and the reconciliation theme would be particularly important in the earliest land preservation efforts because veterans were still very much a part of those efforts—but the physical evolution of the Chancellorsville Battlefield has largely been guided by the “greatest victory” and “martyrdom” storylines.

To see how, stay tuned!