In my own blog post about the Dowling statue, I wondered who the people behind the statue were, and how they managed to collect enough funding to erect the statue in the first place. At the time I was somewhat skeptical that I’d ever know the answers to those questions, but looking through the Houston Public Library archives I’ve actually found quite a few instances of documentation detailing just who those people were.

For example, the “Historical Souvenir Book” located in the archives, even as a document outlining the “Constitution and By-Laws” of Dick Dowling Camp 197 (pg. 1), does seem to offer some insight as to the motivations and workings of the people behind the statue. To combat the “wave of Lincoln propaganda” that the writers of this constitution claim is spreading “like the dangerous influenza” seems to be one of the main interests of the group. (pg. 10); particularly, with a focus on the “names of men of the South who have achieved great things.” (pg.11) The book even goes so far as to give a brief history of the Confederacy and the Civil War through the eyes of these men. But perhaps most exciting to read were the details on the statue itself: actual information about the fundraising efforts behind the monument. From a fund that “amounted to only $40” to a donation of several hundred dollars from the Hibernian Society of Houston, and even with details like the $250 donation of John H. Kirby, the book chronicles the birth of the statue. (pg. 18) Apparently, “entertainments were given by the Daughters of the Confederacy” as well, further implying some fund raising efforts beyond collecting money from members and other Camps.

In fact, another, more recent document in the archive goes into further description of the process. The “Houston Municipal Art Commissions Records” describes the fund raising as beginning in the late 1800s through the Camp and a committee “composed of Houston’s leading citizens”. (RGA33-b2f23-01) Even more historical Houston names show up in this document, with George Hermann, John T. Browne, and William P. Hobby each participating in the fund raising. (RGA33-b2f23-01) The document marks the price of the monument at $1909.25, and points out specifically that “most of the funds ($1,171) were raised at a St. Patrick’s Day entertainment,” in keeping with the history provided by the Souvenir Book. (RGA33-b2f23-01) Apparently, there was also a “Fourth of July party” to raise funds, beyond those collected by individuals and the Camp.

Learning about the fund raising process behind the monument has mostly answered my question from before, especially in coming to the realization that major Houstonians did lend a hand in the statue’s creation. However, the Historical Souvenir Book in particular has given me a few more things to think about; namely, just how radical were the people behind the Dowling statue, and other Confederate monuments? The Dick Dowling Camp makes it pretty clear that they do not think Lincoln deserves monuments of his own, and the book even goes so far as to disregard slavery as a minor issue before the war. This all seems like rather strange information to feature in an organization’s constitution, so I can’t help but wonder how much of the group was based solely on a need to keep a part of the Confederacy alive.

At the beginning of searching through these archives, my primary interest was in discovering the behind-the-scenes machinations of putting up the statue of Dick Dowling. Much like Jocelyn, my interest became drawn instead to the newspaper articles and their representations of Dowling’s statue. However, I would like to posit that perhaps the reason for the representation of the Irish as the primary caretakers of the statue was not because of a flagging interest of Confederate groups, but this representation is instead the result of a shift in acceptance of the Confederacy as a part of Houston’s past. The Houston press may have wished to distance itself from such connections, and as such the Irish focus of the statue became more pronounced than when the statue was first created.

In 1959, Neta V. Taylor felt the need to compile a scrapbook of records pertaining to Dick Dowling and the construction of the statue in his honor that strove to place the United Confederate Veterans in the forefront of care and creation of Dowling’s statue. Despite this care of someone connected to the UCV placing so much effort into constructing a history of the statue, the newspaper articles of just one year before in the scrapbook focus almost entirely on the Irish Hibernians and downplayed the importance of his role as a Confederate soldier. A 1940 article discussed a memorial service for Dowling held by the UCV and the Daughters of the Confederacy. The article, while mentioning his Irish connection, focuses on the Confederate groups as being instrumental in the memorial and care of the statue. Eighteen years later, a newspaper article discussing the possibility of yet again moving the statue discusses the importance of the Irish nature of the Davis Guards under the header “Defeated Yankees.” This 1958 articles and others show a shift in the constructed memory of Dowling by the Houston press, one more focused on his Irish heritage than his military prowess.

Perhaps a leading motivation for Mrs. Taylor, her scrapbook creates an opposing constructed history of Dick Dowling’s statue to the press’ Irish-focused one of 1958. On one article that states that the statue “was financed by the Ancient Order of the Hibernians” she affixed a note stating categorically that this was just not true at all, that it was instead the veterans, who just happened to be Irish, who funded the statue. It is unclear who she anticipated would read this scrapbook, but clearly she wished to redress representation that she felt was incorrect. Another 1958 article discussing the theft of Dowling’s sword place a humorous light on the statue, but once again, the title, “Horrors! St. Patrick’s Day ‘Bout Here– and No Sword for Dick,” places a prominent focus on his Irish heritage. A much smaller adjacent article discusses the UCV observing Dowling’s Civil War victory twenty-five years earlier. Whether or not the UCV continued this event is unclear, but the press was certainly not shy of Irish care for the statue in future years.

By the time around the 1990s, press focus on the statue had shifted almost entirely to focus on Dowling’s Irish heritage. One possible source for this shows up in an article discussing the attempts to restore the statue. A state representative, Garnet Coleman, referred to Confederate statues in general as a “part of history [that] serve as a reminder of where we don’t want to be.” The article cites his representing a “predominantly black” portion of Houston as his certification for being able to discuss this topic. The selection of Coleman for a quote on this article which otherwise focuses strongly on city history seems to demonstrate an acknowledgement of dismissal of these statues due to their connection to the institution of slavery. By discussing Dowling as an Irishman rather than a Confederate soldier, the press was able to make Dowling “acceptable” to the public. Are there other motivations for this shift? Did the UCV continue to commemorate Dowling’s statue, or did the Irish truly completely take over in care for this landmark?

When looking through the archives, I found myself most drawn to the newspaper articles. Most of the sources I examined carefully were stories about the statue or Dowling’s life and its significance, as well as other records and pamphlets from different members of historical societies and groups working out details for ceremonies.  While Cotham’s book provides a great deal of useful background regarding Dowling and the Battle of Sabine Pass, which is helpful in contextualizing the sources about the monument. I found, though, that most of the sources in the archive dealt less with the actual battle of Sabine Pass and details of Dowling’s life than they did with the creation, relocation, and preservation of the statue. Dowling’s story was always present as a backdrop and the raison d’être of these questions, but the documents I examined most closely shed more light on contemporary history than on the battle itself.

One thing I did find interesting was how the story of Dowling was manipulated and changed and frequently misinterpreted. There is even one article in RGA33-b2f27-54 with such egregious errors that a NB has been added at the end to clarify such major details as where Dowling and his parents had lived prior to Houston and who commanded Dowling. The number of men in the battle fluctuated between 42 and 47—one newspaper article in the Art Commission records even remarked that the number was continually contested—and Dowling’s identity was also changing. Sometimes he was a great confederate war hero, other times, “Houston’s favorite Irish man.” (RGA33-b2f27-01)  When talking about his personal life, some journalists and pamphlets emphasized his influential role as a businessman and in oil, while others began with his role as a charismatic and innovative saloon owner.

A recurring theme in the newspaper articles was Dowling’s importance to the Irish community of Houston. A 1939 article in the Houston Chronicle described the statue as being “held in reverence by all Irishmen.” (RGA33-b2f27-58) As can be seen in another Chronicle article in 1958, as well as several in the 1980s and 1990s, there appear to have been certain Irish men and women in Houston who would take a special interest in the statue and make sure it was preserved and taken care of. Needham was the “unofficial caretaker for the Dowling statue” and the Miggins family later makes a family tradition out of coming and caring for the statue annually by cleaning it and holding a small ceremony. (RGA33-b2f27-02, RGA33-b2f27-57) It certainly seems that, in later years, the Dowling statue took on the greatest degree of importance for the Irish community. While there was a confederate salute by Ike Turner Camp #1275, the Sons of Confederate Veterans, this was surrounded by all sorts of Irish-centric events, from a speech by an Irishman flown in from Ireland to such frivolous flourishes as a dancing leprechaun.

Looking forward, I would be very interested to see why it is that these Irish people and heritage groups took such a great interest in preserving Dowling’s memory. Houston never struck me as a city with a particularly large Irish population—although I am basing that on nothing more than personal experience—so why would such pains be taken to commemorate this particular hero? Dowling certainly has an impressive story and leaves a great legacy, but I would think that, particularly in modern times, the Irish heritage groups might want to pick a slightly less controversial Irish hero who could be completely theirs and not someone they had to share with the Sons of Confederate Veterans and proponents of the Lost Cause ideology. Was there some event that spurred this Irish interest in the statue? How did they get along with the Confederates? And why this Irish hero above any other?

The Dick Dowling statue in Hermann Park raises many questions over its origin and its inconspicuous location in the back of Hermann Park. One of the most frequently asked questions about the Dick Dowling statue is who was behind the statue and what were their objectives for commissioning the statue to be built? Looking through the sources, it becomes evident that delegates from the Dick Dowling Camp of Confederate Veterans, members from the Ancient Organization of Hibernians, and the Emmett Council, a Catholic organization, were involved in organizing the creation and dedication of the Dowling Monument (Transcript of Dowling Monument Ass. Records, 3). Many of the sources indicate that these organizations were involved because “each group represented an important facet of Dick Dowling’s life,” including his service to the Confederacy, his Irish nationality, and his Catholicism (SC1268-01-02, RGA33-b2f23-01). In fact, members of both Irish organizations and the Dick Dowling Camp were requested to send members to the dedication of the Dick Dowling Monument in 1905 (Transcript Ass. Records, 67). Furthermore, the Dick Dowling Memorial Association ordered that the statue be decorated with symbols of the Confederacy, the Irish Harp and Shamrock, and the Coat of Arms of Texas (Transcript Records, 179). Thus, each of the separate organizations within the committee desired that the statue reflect their own affiliation and relationship with Dowling. Furthermore, I believe each of these organizations attempted to “claim” Dowling as a representative of their organization and this is why they were involved in commissioning the statue to be built.

In regard to my own question about Dowling’s present location at the southeastern edge of Hermann Park, the sources shed little light on why the statue is in its current obscure location. The sources do, on the other hand, indicate why the statue was moved from its original location in front of City Hall in 1905. After City Hall burned down in 1940, the statue was first moved to Sam Houston Park, and then in 1958 the statue was moved again to its present location in Hermann Park (RGA33-b2f23-11). However, the sources are unclear on why the statue was moved from Sam Houston Park to storage and then taken from storage again. Some of the sources emphasize that George Hermann participated in the original fund raising for the Dowling Monument and perhaps this is why the statue was moved to Hermann Park (RGA33-b2f23-01). Another source mentions that the “statue must be moved to accommodate the renovation and master plan for Hermann Park” (RGA33-b2f25-09). An article from the Houston Chronicle, dated April 27, 1958, comments that the director of City Parks and Recreation, Gus Haycock, chose the statue to be situated in front of Hermann Hospital. However, trustees of the Hermann estate informed Haycock that this location was reserved for George Hermann. Thus, a different location was designated for the Dowling statue. However, Tod Needham, an Irishman, complained that he did not want the statue to be “shoved in some obscure corner of the park.” In response, Haycock stated that he believed the alternate site was not obscure and would suite the Dowling statue well (RGA33-b2f25-84).

This newspaper article leads me to believe that Dowling’s current location is a product of Hermann’s estate demanding that a statue of George Hermann be placed in the more appealing location. Yet, this does not answer why the Dowling statue was moved from Sam Houston Park or why it was placed in storage for so many years. The articles from this archive allow us to answer many questions posed about the Dowling statue. However, the articles do not delve into the motives and reasons behind many of the events like why the statue is in its current resting place. Instead, these articles simply record the events as they transpired. After browsing through the archive, my question is as follows: did the burning of City Hall serve as an excuse to move the Dowling statue from a place of prominence or was it simply a coincidence? Also, I would like to know why in the Houston Chronicle article from 1997 (SC1268-f1-14), they refer to Dowling as an Irish hero and not a Civil War hero? Does this reflect growing sentiment about the unpopularity of Texas’s role in the Civil War and Houston’s attitude towards its Civil War “heroes”?

Through the use of emerging technology help them build their point, William Thomas III and Edward Ayers combine the desire to shift focus on the mindset of Antebellum America away from a stark, fundamental difference with the desire to create a new form within scholarship itself. The discussion is often problematic, with focus on how to insert hyperlinks taking precedent over the fusion of ideas, but the concept is an interesting one. Thomas and Ayers discuss two towns- Augusta, Virginia and Franklin, Pennsylvania- in the center of the argument in order to both decentralize the importance of slavery in the Civil War and to show that the use of slavery was not necessarily simply a stepping stone to modernity.

In regards to their use of technology, it does provide for an interesting idea and makes me question what form the future of scholarship will take. Instead of simply using footnotes as a traditional essay would, Thomas and Ayers created hyperlinks to summaries of other essays, tables and other sources in order to make their use of sources fully transparent. With this form, the boldness of primary sources does not necessarily have to be lost with a simple summary or reference. This becomes problematic in the summary of argument prior to the case study itself. Four of nine sections become focused on the ideas of other historians, and while it is not necessarily a bad idea to define one’s terms, there is no integration of ideas with their argument, instead it is a simple summary of points rather than a use of them.

Once they begin their argument itself, Thomas and Ayers focus on different social and economic aspects to prove that the South and the North were not always as clearly distinct as Charleston and Boston. Both towns were wealthy, and through the planting of many crops, not just cotton, Augusta utilized both slavery and modern technology. Of course, their economic system was not necessarily as advanced, technically speaking, as a factory-based town, but the use of railroads shows that they were not cut off from the non-agricultural world. Franklin, by contrast, was a more profitable farming town even without the use of slaves. The social structures and culture were more or less the same in both towns, and the technology they chose was quite similar. Through all of this, both towns retained the essential fundamentalist ideas of the main differences between North and South while still being remarkably similar in other aspects.

This argument and its structure is simultaneously fascinating and a cause for concern. I am very much against the idea that such large portions of the nation were so sharply divided in all aspects as fundamentalists seem to believe. Thus, I find this essay, with all its faults, quite a compelling argument, but one which could have been fleshed out a bit more in order to integrate the ideas of other historians with their own rather than trying to stand alone against the fundamentalists.

Kornblith’s “thought experiment” is certainly interesting and imaginative, but speculative. Even though much care is clearly taken to consider only reasonable historical possibilities, Kornblith’s argument – that “a victory by Henry Clay in the 1844 presidential election” would have prevented the Mexican-American War and, therefore, the Civil War – seems like a bit of a stretch sometimes.

Kornblith begins by analyzing the election itself, as a way to legitimize his speculation by pointing out how “highly plausible” it was. Although Polk and Clay had very different political opinions, Clay’s unwillingness to fight for the annexation of Texas, a motive “pregnant with… fatal consequences” mostly affected Polk’s standing in the south, where Kornblith claims “the Democratic issue of Texas had driven Whig economic issues from the center ring of the southern political arena,” particularly because it was closely tied to the issue of slavery. Kornblith points out, however, that the North was more important to the election in the end, and that “the distribution and magnitude of the immigrant vote” ultimately doomed Clay. Kornblith believes, therefore, that his alternate history has merit, since it was by such a slim margin that it did not occur in the first place.

Kornblith goes on to describe Clay’s policies in office, specifically regarding westward expansion. Clay “did not consider the annexation of Texas essential to the national interest,” and certainly opposed going to war over it. He believed in a “free and autonomous Texas” being the best choice for the nation, and according to Kornblith this position would extend to “collaboration between the United States and Great Britain.” This cooperation, in turn, would affect further expansion like that into the Oregon territory and California, where Clay would have continued to reflect his pacifist view and focus on other issues instead, thus avoiding conflict with Mexico.

Kornblith also posits that Clay’s presidency would have strengthened the second party system, not only by promoting different policies from Polk such as a national bank and federal aid, but by avoiding the polarizing question of slavery. “Without the Mexican-American war,“ Kornblith suggests, “there would have been no Wilmot Proviso… no debate in the late 1840s over the status of slavery.” Clay’s America was one where the issue of slavery was in “the background of national politics,” thus avoiding the sectional conflict that lead to the Civil War.

Kornblith goes on to discuss the future of slavery and antislavery under Clay, one where slavery could go without being a major national issue until well into, or even past, the 19th century, and perhaps where a peaceful end to slavery could be achieved, as it was in Brazil. However, his main point remains that, under Clay and without the Mexican-American War, America might have avoided the Civil War entirely.

I am somewhat unsure of whether or not I am persuaded by Kornblith’s arguments. On the one hand, it certainly bothers me how speculative his case is, and how many specific events in the history of a nation as complex as the United States he claims would have gone a certain way with only the election of Clay as a major catalyst. For example, Kornblith assumes that, “absent other evidence of southern aggression, most northern whites would probably have accepted a moderately strengthened fugitive slave law as a reasonable concession to southern interests.” However, I find it hard to believe that, given the obvious differences between the North and the South – Clay or no Clay – and the tender nature of arguments regarding slavery, the nation wouldn’t have been torn by any federal choices involving slavery. Kornblith stays as true to history as he can while making his argument, but some of the assumptions still seem weak.

However, I tend to disagree with fundamentalist ideas, as described by Kornblith and our discussions in class, and Kornblith has actually done a relatively good job of further convincing me to reject those ideas. Regardless of whether or not his argument is totally plausible, Kornblith does make one thing very clear: there were many factors involved in the start of the Civil War; so, it seems unrealistic to believe that the war was inevitable. If even one of those factors had changed, be it Clay’s election to office or something like the United States failing to secure Texas and other western territories, there is still a chance that the Civil War could have been avoided, or perhaps delayed. The North and South were certainly different social systems, but that alone was not the cause of the war. Else, as we asked in class, how did the United States avoid secession for so long? Fundamentalists’ approach to the causes behind the Civil War Is too black and white for my tastes, and so I can’t help but agree with Kornblith to some extent.

Kornblith presents a counterfactual hypothesis that revolves around the absence of the Mexican-American War and the effects this would have on delaying or perhaps halting the outbreak of the Civil War. Kornblith postulates that this counterfactual scenario is vital to understanding the causes of the Civil War and for clarifying the “long-standing debate between fundamentalists and revisionist about Civil War causation” (104). Vital to this scenario, Kornblith posits the victory of Henry Clay over James K. Polk in the presidential election of 1844 for “had Clay won, the ‘manifest destiny’ of the United States would probably not have included Texas and the lands ceded by Mexico in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo” (80). Kornblith begins by stating that if Clay’s defeat resulted from popular enthusiasm for westward expansion, then Clay’s election might have only delayed the annexation of Texas and war with Mexico; however, if Clay’s loss was caused by other factors unrelated to expansion or slavery, “his election could have set the nation on a very different course in the mid-1840s, on that might have ended in a permanently smaller United States and no civil war–at least no civil war in the early 1860s” (81). Kornblith concurs that the role of expansion contributed to the Democratic victory in the South but he emphasizes that the Whigs lost the election in the North due to the hostile voting style of New York immigrants against the Whigs. Thus, Kornblith postulates that a Clay victory in 1844 was entirely possible as his defeat was not caused by immense popular support for war with Mexico (84). Kornblith continues, arguing that by avoiding war with Mexico, Clay would have been free to focus on economic policies like maintaining a protective tariff, promoting internal improvements, and reestablishing a national bank. In addition, these policies would split Congress along partisan lines, reinforcing the second party system, and would have “pushed slavery to the background of national politics” (89). More importantly for his hypothesis, the strengthening of the two-party political system would have prevented the emergence of the Republican Party. Furthermore, Kornblith presents the idea that “under a Clay presidency, the debate over slavery would have persisted and probably intensified, but without territorial expansion, it would not have been framed in terms of irreconcilable constitutional interpretations, each with passionate popular support” (90). Kornblith concludes “if both Democratic and Whig party candidates that year had opposed expansion, and if settlers in Texas and California had subsequently grown confident they could govern themselves in independent republics, mainstream political debate throughout the 1850s might have ignored the question of slavery in federal territories” (100).

I am persuaded by the article’s argument to a certain extent. The one thing that bothers me about Kornblith’s argument is that counterfactual reasoning rests on assumptions. However more importantly, the article’s argument in regard to the role of slavery identifies weaknesses in revisionist and fundamentalist thinking about the causation of the Civil War. Kornblith alleges that early twentieth-century revisionists argue that the Civil War could have been avoided because slavery would have gone into rapid decline over the next generation (90). However, Kornblith suggests “for all their analytical differences, recent historians of the political economy of the Old South have agreed on one crucial point: southern slavery was not nearing a peaceful conversion to free labor when the Civil War broke out” (92). Thus for Kornblith, if Clay had won, the fate of slavery rested on the “relative strength of proslavery and antislavery forces in American politics” (92). Regarding the fundamentalists, Kornblith summarizes their argument, stating that “removing other historical factors would have made little or no difference” for fundamentalists (79). However as Kornblith postulates: had Clay won the election of 1844 and thus avoided war with Mexico, his implementation of economic policies would have reinvigorated the two-party system and would have pushed slavery to the background. Furthermore, even if slavery did persist (as Kornblith alleges it would have regardless of Clay’s victory), the Wilmot Proviso and subsequent debates over the Compromise of 1850 and the Kansas-Nebraska Act would not have happened because the Nebraska Territory would have been organized on the basis of the Missouri Compromise with little congressional debate. Thus, the fact that Kornblith’s article presents a reasonable argument for at least halting the outbreak of war lends doubt to the fundamentalist viewpoint that the social and cultural systems of the North and the South were too different for reconciliation and that war could not have been avoided.

In his article “Rethinking the Coming of the Civil War: A Counterfactual Exercise,” Kornblith uses counterfactual history to prove that the Mexican-American war was a significant cause of the Civil War. Through his argument, he also evaluates several of the events and issues that fundamentalists would say caused the Civil War to be inevitable, to determine whether any were significant. According to Kornblith, the major cause of the Civil War were the conflicts over the slave status of territories acquired during the Mexican-American War, and that, without these, the Civil War never would have taken place.

After proving his postulation that Clay won the election in 1844 is not ludicrous—the election was very close and had clay gotten just 5,000 more votes in New York, he would have been president—Kornblith speculates on how Clay would have approached sectional tensions. According to Kornblith:

“Clay was more sensitive than Webster to sectional tensions and to the explosive consequences of adding new territory to the federal domain.”

Kornblith says Clay would have advocated Texas and California remain independent territories, and would have encouraged Missouri Compromise-type situations for any other territories that wanted to join the Union. Since Clay would have successfully diffused the sectional tensions over slavery, Clay’s presidency would have led to conflicts over economic issues, such as concerns about a new national bank.

Kornblith goes on to examine the status of slavery and abolitionist movements, to see if these could have caused the war independent of conflicts over slavery in new states. Although he cites a memorial by Lincoln that suggests Clay advocated gradual emancipation combined with African Colonization, Kornblith thinks it’s unlikely Clay would have made this a policy. Kornblith said abolitionism was still very much divided and not very popular. The main issue would have been conflicts over the fugitive slave law, which Clay, as a slaveholder, would have upheld and perhaps strengthened, but Kornblith does not believe these sectional differences would have led to secession, at least not by 1865.

Would slavery then have continued indefinitely in the United States, or come to a peaceful conclusion, as it did in Brazil in the 1880s? Kornblith finds this unlikely, as it would have been impossible to get enough support for a constitutional amendment at least until the 1900s.

The last question Kornblith raises are the parallels between the American Revolution and the Civil War. He cites the stories of Calhoun in the Civil War and Townshend in the American Revolution to show that, on some level, both wars were an issue of principle and stubbornness. Just as Townshend radicalized some colonists with his insistence on achieving constitutional clarity regarding Parliament’s role in taxes, Calhoun cared less about new territories and more about the constitutional right to bring slaves there.

While Kornblith raises some interesting questions regarding the causation of the Civil War, I am not entirely convinced by his argument that the Mexican-American War was mainly responsible for the outbreak of the Civil War. Of course it is impossible to know for sure how people would have reacted 170 years ago, but, regardless, Kornblith ignores some of the other factors fundamentalists cite in their arguments. For instance, he does not discuss the major economic differences between the North and the South that existed independently of the Mexican-American war. With these economic differences came a range of cultural differences. While any single one of these arguments would not, in and of itself, have led to secession or a Civil War, fundamentalists do not argue this either. They say the war was the product of a combination of irreconcilable factors. Even if Clay had not become president and things had played out exactly as Kornblith suggests, it is not unreasonable to posit that even just the fugitive slave law, in conjunction with some of the arguments over the slave status of new territories and economic issues such as a national bank, could have led to an argument resulting in secession.

Kornblith also ignores any other environmental, historical and political factors that could have led to an increase in the popularity of the abolitionist movement, such as the religious revival in the North mentioned by Manning. It took nearly 20 years following the 1844 election for the Civil War to commence, and movements such as these would have just been beginning to take hold. Even Kornblith cannot prove that the North and the South got along delightfully before the Mexican-American War, and, even without the war, it is quite likely that other events would have highlighted sectional differences that would ultimately result in secession.

Questions of why the Confederate soldiers fought for a government that supported slavery and why the Union soldiers fought in spite of not necessarily believing in racial equality are thoroughly explored in What This Cruel War Was Over by Chandra Manning. In her book, Manning places the focus of Civil War ideology on the written records of soldiers both from the Union and from the Confederacy. Manning attempts to answer the question of whether these soldiers were fighting for something other than the orders of commanders, and if so, what exactly that was. The book operates in a vacuum of sorts in this sense, utilizing soldier-produced documents almost exclusively for the bulk of the text, and although it provides thought-provoking answers, I am not sure that it sells me on its argument. While Manning discusses a gradual acceptance of blacks by Union soldiers, she largely ignores changes in Confederate soldiers showing doubts about slavery. These doubts, though part of a very small minority, show that Confederate soldiers fought for the protection of their homes and families rather than simply to uphold their “masculine identity” or the establishment of slavery (65). The problems that brought these men into the Civil War may not have been at the forefront of the Confederate soldiers’ minds by the end of it.

Manning characterizes the Union soldiers as being ignorant of the horrors of slavery yet not necessarily interested in equality for the races. Over time she claims that “wartime experiences convinced them that slavery must be destroyed in order to win the war” (14). While the discussion of their racism does create a nuanced conception of how Union soldiers were not guilt-free, pure saviors of America, Manning still paints a surprisingly rigid duality of each side that fought in the Civil War.  By the end of the war, as she describes it, the Union soldiers “found reasons to discard old views,” contemplating ideas of “racial equality” that they never had before, and the Confederate soldiers remained as unchanged, “otherwise good and ordinary men” that embraced slavery without doubt in order to protect their families and society (221). Although she gives examples of Confederate soldiers who “began very cautiously to regard the institution of slavery more critically,” Manning concludes that “neither of them could imagine a South without slavery” because they felt uncomfortable sharing these radical thoughts outside of their diaries (171).

Within the framework of her argument, the Union soldiers originally fought for Revolutionary ideals and, after arriving in the South, became invested in the movement for slavery. Confederate soldiers, on the other hand, remained focused on protecting their old way of life in any way possible, even if that meant upholding the institution of slavery. This dichotomy shows little give for a grey area between Confederacy and Union, yet perhaps this strict categorization is necessary in order to arrive at the most complete answer for why the Civil War was fought.

It is certainly baffling that non-slaveholders in the South would fight for the Confederacy, but Manning does seem to make a good case for why the poor, white Southern man would go to war to protect an institution he didn’t have a direct stake in. However, what was more interesting about Manning’s discussion of the thoughts and motivations of Confederate soldiers was their ideas in the later years of the war, and how much changed over time from the very beginning of the war to the year 1864, after the Emancipation Proclamation had ensured that a successful Union would mean an end to slavery in the South.

Confederates were, at first, very patriotic; mostly because the Confederacy promised white Southern men everything they could ever want. Manning quotes “Georgia soldier Josiah Patterson” as saying that he went to war to ensure that his sons “grew up under a government that would facilitate their ‘hopes of becoming great and good men.’” (30) Southern men went to war because they “believed that their personal interests were best served and their families best protected by fighting for a Confederacy more attuned to white Southerner’s individuals needs.” (31) The Confederacy was simply the best choice for the Southern man, with a new government formed with the intention of protecting the white man’s interest first and foremost. Of course, the issue of slavery was still a reason these men went to war, even if they didn’t own slaves. “Slavery undergirded white Southerner’s convictions of their own superior moral orthodoxy.” (32) It was the presence of slaves that gave white Southerners a sense of equality, for they were “equal in not being slaves” (33) Even if a southern man didn’t own slaves himself, slavery was still a major part of his life in the South, so much so that it was worth fighting for.

However, later in the war Confederate soldier’s views of their government began to crumble, with good reason. Of course, as early as 1862 there were reasons to doubt the Confederacy; in fact, “the Confederacy’s particular variety of patriotism” was one of the only things holding together the government after “divisions like localism and class fissures” threatened to end it. But by 1864, Confederate troops were having a harder time believing in their government’s earlier promises. Originally Confederate soldiers would have “never dreamed that the authorities” would fail to protect their families, but by March 1864 one Pvt. Peter Cross’s wife “was so desperate that Cross had to ask his parents to plead with the North Carolina state government for money to buy a little salt and grain.” (167) The Confederacy also began requiring the reenlistment of soldiers when their terms were due to expire, a move that caused white Southern men to feel as though it “robbed them of control over their own actions, a key attribute of white manhood.”(167) Some Confederate soldiers, like Pvt. Noble Brooks, began to question slavery, but were too “worried that publicly criticizing slavery might lead to trouble” (171) for their families. The Confederacy had gone from being a government built to support the white man to an almost oppressive force in the minds of some Confederate soldiers, failing to support their families and even going so far as to strip them of the very freedom and superiority they had hoped for initially. Even in the light of these changes, however, white Southern men were still determined to fight for the Confederacy, if only because they could not “imagine a South without slavery” (171). Confederate troops did not believe that their families “could be safe in the absence of slavery” (172), and therefore clung on to their original views of slavery and the South, even in the face of “high prices, food shortages, social unrest, and ‘desolation and ruin’” (172), because they simply could not accept any other way of life. So, even as late as 1864, and even as Confederate troops’ patriotism began to crumble, the continuation of slavery was one of the reasons white men still went to war for the South.