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Seven Score and Ten Years Ago

The Gettysburg Address at 150.

Nov 25, 2013, Vol. 19, No. 11 • By GARY SCHMITT
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November 19 marks the 150th anniversary of President Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address—rightly judged to be the greatest speech in America’s history. And while there have been innumerable books and articles written about the content, language, and rhetorical sophistication of Lincoln’s remarks, far less has been written about why he chose the dedication of the Soldiers’ National Cemetery at Gettysburg, some four and a half months after the battle itself, to deliver the speech he did.

The only known photograph of President Lincoln giving his Gettysburg address

The only known photograph of President Lincoln giving his Gettysburg address

Lincoln had been invited by the organizing committee for the battlefield’s consecration to give, as “Chief Executive of the nation,” “a few appropriate remarks.” But these were to follow the main attraction of the day, a speech by famed orator Edward Everett, former president of Harvard, senator, and governor of Massachusetts. With Everett expected to speak to the assembled crowd for two hours at least, Lincoln could well have chosen to follow Everett with just a few perfunctory lines, assuming what really mattered to the organizers was the president’s attendance, not what he might have to say.

But Lincoln chose a different path. Why?

To start, while we remember the battle at Gettysburg as a great victory for Union forces—and, indeed, it was the first-ever clear victory at that time over Confederate forces led by Robert E. Lee—Lincoln saw the success there as less than satisfactory. Although the bluejackets had, over the first three days in July, held off rebel assaults against the heights they held in and around Gettysburg, and left the Confederates bloodied and in retreat back to Virginia, Union forces under General George Meade remained on those heights and failed to pursue their wounded prey.

Lincoln was furious and dejected. The opportunity to crush Lee’s forces as they were pinned against the high waters of the Potomac came and went as Meade, in the president’s eyes, dilly-dallied and allowed Lee to escape back into the protective home grounds
of Virginia.

Meade had his reasons: His troops were exhausted and he was unsure of the state of Lee’s forces. But Lincoln suspected there was more to Meade’s reluctance to pursue Lee than just military judgment. When the president asked Meade to take command of the Army of the Potomac as Lee’s forces made their way north into Pennsylvania in June 1863, Meade’s circular to his troops announcing that he had accepted the command of the Army of the Potomac spoke of Lee’s “hostile invasion.” And in a note congratulating his troops immediately following the battle, Meade wrote that the remaining task of the Army was “to drive from our soil every vestige of the presence of the invader.”

A Pennsylvanian, politically a Democrat, and an in-law to Virginia’s governor, Meade used the words “invasion” and “invader” in direct defiance of Lincoln’s argument that the conflict was a war to preserve the Union and that the Confederate states were in a state of rebellion. To write “invasion” implied the South constituted a separate, sovereign entity.

In an exchange of telegrams with Meade over the 10 days following the battle, Lincoln made his displeasure known. So much so that Meade on July 14 offered his resignation. While not accepting his resignation, Lincoln pulls no punches on why he is upset in a final cable to Meade on the matter: It appears you “were not seeking a collision with the enemy, but were trying to get him across the river without another battle.” Indeed, Lee “was within your easy grasp, and to have closed upon him would, in connection with our other late successes [Grant’s victory at Vicksburg], have ended the war. As it is, the war will be prolonged indefinitely.”

But why not accept Meade’s resignation? Lincoln was, after all, absolutely correct about the failure of Meade to finish off Lee. In fact, more Americans would die in the war after Gettysburg than had died in the two years preceding it.

Lincoln understood that to fire Meade would be to damage morale. Instead of newspapers reporting on the great victory at Gettysburg, the stories would have been all about how Lincoln had lost another commanding general and, this time, someone who had actually been victorious in battle. And, indeed, Lincoln never did fire Meade as commanding general of the Army of the Potomac; instead, he brought Ulysses S. Grant back East, made him commander of all the Union armies, and gave him free rein to direct the campaigns in the field.

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