THE LOST
Gettysburg
ADDRESS
Charles Anderson’s
Civil War Odyssey
DAVID T. DIXON
B-List History
SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA
Copyright © 2015 by David T. Dixon
All rights reserved
B-List History, Santa Barbara, California
No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of David T. Dixon.
Cover design by Peter O’Connor
Book design and production by BookMatters
Maps by Hal Jespersen
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-9861551-0-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-9861561-1-6 (electronic book)
ISBN 978-0-9861551-2-3 (paperback)
David T. Dixon
P.O. Box 30923
Santa Barbara, CA 93130
davidtdixon.com
To my parents,
William B. and Peggy A. Dixon
Contents
INTRODUCTION:
The Accidental Historian
1 Patriot Legacy
2 Bear Grass Lessons
3 Born to Lead
4 Devilish Whispers
5 Political Outcast
6 Texas Fever
7 Debate at Alamo Square
8 Treachery and Treason
9 Capture
10 Exodus
11 Escape
12 Homeward
13 Hero
14 Rank Amateurs
15 Blood and Buttons
16 A Dangerous Man
17 Severing the Head of the Snake
18 The Pit Bull and the President
19 Unfortunate Misstep
20 Dreams Lost and Fulfilled
AFTERWORD:
American Sacred Scripture Reconsidered
APPENDIX:
Charles Anderson’s Gettysburg Address
Acknowledgments
Notes
Index
Illustrations
INTRODUCTION
The Accidental Historian
ANTHROPOLOGIST ROB TOLLEY gasped when he realized what he held in his hands.
One bright summer day in 2002, several tattered cardboard boxes had arrived at Bartley Skinner’s remote Wyoming ranch. Skinner’s eyesight was failing, so he asked his friend Tolley to help him sort through the collection. The presumed author of this morass of nineteenth-century material was Skinner’s great-grandfather, an obscure Ohio governor named Charles Anderson. As Anderson’s saga emerged from a mountain of loose ephemera, the anthropologist became an accidental historian.
Tolley toiled for several years to preserve the Anderson legacy. He painstakingly identified, cataloged, and donated pieces of the collection to various archives and historical societies. After sifting through nearly four hundred crumbling, forgotten documents, Tolley was still puzzled by one particular artifact. A thirty-nine-page manuscript written in dark brown ink on a gray-lined legal pad appeared to be a speech written at some point during the Civil War, yet no title or date hinted at its secret. Even after the untitled speech was gifted to the Ohio Historical Society, Tolley continued to try to unravel its mysterious origins.
The breakthrough came when Tolley found an old journal article featuring Anderson’s participation in the Gettysburg Memorial ceremonies on November 19, 1863. Edward Everett of Massachusetts, one of the era’s most celebrated orators, was the keynote speaker at the consecration. His two-hour address was too long to remember. Lincoln’s two-minute masterpiece was impossible to forget. Following the dedication, Lincoln and the other dignitaries attended a rally at Gettysburg Presbyterian Church, where Charles Anderson, then a well-known orator in his own right, thrilled the audience with a fiery speech.
Everett’s oration was published soon after the event. Lincoln’s brief address was destined to become sacred scripture to generations of American schoolchildren. The president congratulated Anderson on his fine speech, and the Ohio delegation requested that it be printed. That never happened. Curiously, biographical summaries of Anderson ignore the speech. His great-grandson, Bartley Skinner, never spoke of it. Anderson himself apparently did not consider it significant. Only after Tolley read excerpts of the oration published in contemporary newspapers did he realize that the mystery speech included in that box of ephemera was indeed the long-lost original manuscript of Anderson’s address at Gettysburg.
Tolley was stunned. Had he really stumbled upon an important piece of Gettysburg history in the middle of the Wyoming wilderness? As an anthropologist and archaeologist on the faculty of Indiana University East, Tolley subscribed to the notion that such significant discoveries are the result of careful research, detailed planning, and diligent fieldwork. The more he thought about the history of archaeology, however, the more he realized that many explorers happened upon their discoveries by accident or coincidence.
How Tolley came to know the Skinners, and to eventually become the custodian of Charles Anderson’s papers, was pure serendipity. Years before his chance discovery of Anderson’s speech, Tolley and his climbing party had just finished an expedition in the Wind River mountain range in western Wyoming. After weeks spent traversing peaks and glaciers in this rugged wilderness, the weary explorers could think of little else but ending their monotonous routine of freeze-dried meals with a celebratory feast. Locals claimed that the Fort William Guest Ranch near Pinedale had the best steaks around. They warned, however, that it was a little off the “beaten path.”
Tolley and his intrepid band had almost given up hope as they traversed a series of gravel roads, passing through numerous cattle guards and gates. They finally wandered into the place at the end of a long dirt track five miles from town in the posted ranchlands. Bartley and Rose Skinner, a spry and elderly couple, greeted them. Grilling steaks over an open aspen wood fire, Skinner sipped gin and spun tales of his great-grandfather, Governor Anderson. The hearty fare and warm fellowship was a pleasant end to an arduous journey, and the ranch became a regular stop during Tolley’s frequent outings in Wyoming. As the years passed, Tolley and his family grew close to the Skinners.
Fort William was a virtual museum shrine to Bartley Skinner’s ancestors. Paintings, military artifacts, and family relics were his prized possessions. Guests perused Anderson’s personal library, complete with the governor’s penciled notes written in the margins of nearly every volume. The hidden treasures at the ranch, however, were documents that helped tell the story of Charles Anderson’s eventful life. Anderson was a leader among a class of Southern men whom Lincoln viewed as critical to the preservation of the Union. A Kentuckian by birth like the president, Anderson also shared Lincoln’s great obsession. Anderson may have been the most zealous of all Southern Unionists. By chance or design, he kept turning up at critical events, both in the run-up to war and during the conflict itself. His oration at Gettysburg was just one of a series of dramatic encounters that kept the Anderson name in the press and in the minds of Americans in both the North and the South, particularly after Anderson’s brother Robert surrendered Fort Sumter.
Lincoln’s subsequent martyrdom meant that his masterful address was destined to be carved in stone and memorialized as secular scripture, while the featured orations of Edward Everett and Charles Anderson were largely forgotten. Anderson was just one of many important Civil War figures whose stories were overshadowed by a public consumed with the legacies of Abraham Lincoln, Robert E. Lee, Ulysses S. Grant, and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson. Some of these stories have yet to be told. They may be lying dormant in a collection of unread manuscripts in an archive, or in an even less likely locat
ion such as Pinedale, Wyoming, waiting for an enterprising researcher to uncover their significance.
In 2014, Rob Tolley gave me the opportunity to share in the excitement of his archival adventure. He asked me to look at a random assemblage of Anderson’s notes and papers that he had been unable to identify. Among this heap of material were eight manuscript pages in Anderson’s own hand. These documents had entire sections crossed out. Some of the phrases used on these pages sounded familiar. Upon closer examination, I confirmed that these notes were actually part of an early draft of Anderson’s Gettysburg oration. Despite the voluminous studies of this iconic event, to my great delight, fresh surprises and insights still turn up.
The story of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address remains incomplete even after 150 years. When Anderson’s speech disappeared from view, part of the context of Lincoln’s words was also lost. By considering the major orations that came before and after the president’s brief remarks, one may better understand the purpose of Lincoln’s speech and the political strategy behind all three addresses in promoting the administration’s wartime agenda. For a brief instant, Anderson became famous as a former slave owner who had sacrificed nearly everything to help save the Union. His remarkable yet almost forgotten life story helps explain why he shared the spotlight with Lincoln on such an important day in the middle of the Civil War.
CHAPTER ONE
Patriot Legacy
THE STORY OF CHARLES ANDERSON begins with the memorable experiences of his father, Richard Clough Anderson, who became the dominant influence and example in Charles’s life. The Anderson family had emigrated from Scotland to the Virginia Colony sometime in the seventeenth century. Born in 1750 at the family plantation on Gold Mine Creek in Hanover County, Richard was the third son of Robert Anderson and Elizabeth Clough. Robert was an accomplished hunter and spent much of his time in woods outside of Richmond with his friend John Findley, who owned a pack of hunting dogs.
Young Richard made due with a tutor and the common schools of Richmond, while his older brother was in England earning the education required to manage their father’s Virginia farm. He preferred to be out chasing game with his father, or simply exploring the countryside near the James River. Richard surprised his parents when, at just sixteen years old, he accepted a position in the counting house of wealthy Richmond merchant Patrick Coots. Robert Anderson was appalled. Although Coots was a friend of the family, they considered the merchant trade to be beneath the son of a gentleman. Richard ignored his parents’ advice and, within a few years, became a valued and trusted employee. When Coots needed a reliable man to supervise his cargo and represent him in overseas transactions, he chose nineteen-year-old Richard for the important office. It was a dream job that satisfied the young man’s keen taste for adventure.1 The merchant assistant traveled throughout the West Indies, London, and various European ports, learning the French language that was vital to conducting international business at the time. On December 16, 1773, Richard Anderson happened to be in Boston Harbor when a band of protestors, some disguised as Indians, started dumping tea from the British East India Company into the water. He took little notice of the incident. He did not understand then how his presence foreshadowed a series of important moments when happenstance would place him on the scene of critical events in America’s war of revolution. Richard returned to Richmond just as the war that would shape his future was about to begin. Virginians were forced to take sides in the contest, and the Andersons of Gold Mine were steadfast to the patriot cause. Their fellow parishioners in St. Paul’s Church may have had some influence on their allegiance. The minister’s son, Patrick Henry, was their friend and neighbor. Henry, like Robert Anderson, was in the middle ranks of the colony’s landed gentry. His skill and passion as an orator, combined with his radical views, made him the logical choice as Virginia’s first postcolonial governor in 1776.
Patrick Coots had no intention of risking his immense fortune in a rebellion against what was then the strongest nation on earth. When his young protégé resigned and expressed a desire to join the Continental Army, Coots tried to talk Richard Anderson out of it. Professional British soldiers would crush the rebellion in a matter of months, the merchant reasoned. Leaders like Patrick Henry would be hanged. The Anderson farm, along with the property of other disloyal English citizens, would be confiscated. Revolution promised ruin. When it became clear that Coots could not change Richard Anderson’s mind, he recommended the young man to Patrick Henry, who urged Richard to accept the office of paymaster general. Anderson refused, instead insisting he serve in the line and fight alongside his brothers. His commission as captain of the Fifth Battalion, Regiment of the Virginia Line, arrived in March 1776. By this time, Anderson had enrolled most of his men from Hanover County.
The twenty-six-year-old captain was well prepared for the rigors of war. He was of medium height but endowed with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. His blue eyes sparkled with intelligence, and his countenance was generally cheerful though serious. Richard was known for being cool under pressure and braver than most men. Years spent hunting in the woods of his childhood had made him strong and resourceful. Life aboard ship had steeled his constitution to disease and hardship. As he marched his troops north to meet General Washington, Anderson expected that his men would soon be tested.
Washington was reeling from the British success following the Battle of Long Island. Forced repeatedly to retreat, the Continental Army found itself facing yet another defeat at the Battle of White Plains, New York, on October 28, 1776. Anderson’s troops saw limited action. Morale was low, the army poorly trained, and the entire state of New York about to be lost. Ninety percent of the troops who had fought at Long Island were gone. Many had deserted. Washington himself confided to his cousin, John A. Washington, “I think the game is pretty near up.” Perhaps Coots was right. This revolution appeared to be over.2
Continental troops retreated into New Jersey and Pennsylvania while General Washington prepared for one final attempt at reversing his fortunes. The opportunity came near Trenton in December 1776. Washington’s bold plan involved crossing the Delaware River in terrible weather conditions to mount an attack on an inferior force of Hessians. The main crossing was planned for the night of December 25. General Adam Stephen had ordered Anderson to cross the previous evening, scout in various directions for enemy pickets, avoid any engagement with a superior force, and return via Trenton. It was a dangerous and risky mission. The company had completed its reconnaissance and was returning to camp when they passed a Hessian outpost in the midst of a violent hail storm. Anderson’s troops killed the sentry, wounded five others, and raised the alarm, which carried back to the city. A few Hessians made a weak pursuit, but the Continentals escaped back across the river. Those were the first shots fired in the Battle of Trenton.
On the march back to camp, Richard Anderson met Washington’s main force, then in motion toward its fateful crossing. The commanding general rode up and was visibly angry when he was told of Anderson’s recent advance. He sent for General Stephen and demanded an explanation, reportedly saying, “You sir, may have ruined all my plans.” After Stephen admitted that he was responsible for the action, Washington dismissed the general, exonerated Anderson, and ordered his weary troops to the rear of the column. The young captain never forgot Washington’s fair treatment during this episode. Ironically, General Stephen’s poor judgment and Anderson’s unauthorized scouting expedition actually worked in Washington’s favor. Hessian colonel Johann Rall, thinking he had repulsed the planned attack, relaxed his guard thus enabling the surprise attack that ultimately would defeat him.3
Washington took nearly nine hundred enemy prisoners that day and moved back across the Delaware River to prepare for a British counterattack. To thwart the movements of General Charles Cornwallis and his five thousand soldiers, Washington again moved his six-thousand-man army across the river and established camp south of the Assunpink Creek near Trenton. The Second Battle
of Trenton, as this contest came to be called, occurred on January 2, 1777. It was another smashing success for the Americans. Washington’s troops won this victory, a subsequent battle at Princeton, and then retired to winter quarters near Morristown, New Jersey. When the news of these unexpected triumphs reached the other colonies, enlistments swelled and the rebellion was saved.
Captain Anderson did not accompany his troops to their winter camp. He had taken a ball from a large-bore German Yager musket in the hip and was transported to a hospital in Philadelphia on a gun carriage. While he recuperated in Philadelphia, he contracted a severe case of smallpox. Not a handsome man to begin with, his absurdly long nose and pock-marked face later earned Anderson the dubious distinction as one of the ugliest men in the American army. He finally left the hospital in May and rejoined his regiment at Morristown. Thanks to General Washington’s heroics at Trenton, the war for American independence continued, and Anderson was right in the middle of it.
Richard Anderson served with General Nathanael Greene at the ill-fated Battle of Brandywine Creek in the fall of 1777. There, Washington made a strategic error, leaving his right flank exposed and nearly losing his entire army. Greene’s division held off British general William Howe’s advance long enough for the Americans to escape and fight another day. That day came three weeks later at Germantown, Pennsylvania, when Washington tried in vain to dislodge the British from their occupation of Philadelphia. Anderson retired with his troops for a long, hard winter at Valley Forge, content in the knowledge that the French, Poles, and other Europeans were supporting their cause. The troops drilled and trained under the Marquis de Lafayette and Friedrich William von Steuben, and emerged from their winter quarters a much more effective fighting force.
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