St. Joshua of Joshua Top

My recent visit to Gettysburg reminded me of a phenomenon that never ceases to amaze me. As I drove through the Little Round Top area, and specifically, by the spur where the 20th Maine fought, I was again astonished by the number of people packed into that small area. Many of them are, of course, there because of either The Killer Angels or Ted Turner’s movie adaptation of it.

The star of both book and movie is Col. Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, the commander of the 20th Maine Infantry. To be sure, Jeff Daniels gave a terrific performance as Chamberlain, and he deserves the accolades that he received for that performance (too bad the follow up in Gods and Generals wasn’t half as good). He really captured–and even looked a great deal like–the essence of the fighting professor.

It bears noting that I am a great admirer of Chamberlain’s, and also a fan. The very first article on the Civil War that I ever wrote–awful as it was–was a biographical sketch of Chamberlain’s life entitled “The Fighting Professor”. I have a real war-time autograph of Chamberlain’s hanging on the wall of my office (from February 1863, signed with the rank of lieutenant colonel), framed with the Dale Gallon print Hold at All Costs, a depiction of Chamberlain’s defense of Little Round Top. I also own Don Troiani’s Bayonet, a depiction of the charge of the 20th Maine at the climax of the fighting for Little Round Top.

Having said all of that, it never ceases to amaze me as to the completely disproportionate amount of attention that Chamberlain receives vis-a-vis others who also made equally important contributions to the Civil War. There’s no doubt that this is the result of the focus on him in both Shaara’s book and Turner’s film. There’s also the fact of the compelling story: professor of rhetoric, no military training whatsoever, becomes Medal of Honor winning hero who accepts the Confederate surrender at Appomattox. There’s also the point that Chamberlain unquestionably had a true gift for the English language. His writings–in florid Victorian prose–are nevertheless some of the finest writings I have ever read.

Because of the combination of all of these factors, and probably others I haven’t even thought of, Chamberlain receives a very disproportionate amount of attention for his exploits. It’s reached the point that Chamberlain is almost treated like a saint, and the 20th Maine’s spur becomes the destination of an almost religious pilgrimage. It means that, much as I admire Chamberlain, I’m sick to death of hearing about him, and it caused me, a number of years ago, to jestingly dub him St. Joshua of Joshua Top. In the first year or two after the release of the movie, the 20th Maine’s spur was so crowded with people searching for Buster Kilrain’s name on the regimental monument that you almost couldn’t move up there. Fortunately, as the years have passed, this has subsided a bit, but the whole St. Joshua of Joshua Top mentality survives. It never ceases to amaze me.

While any attention to the Civil War is a good thing, this whole St. Joshua of Joshua Top phenomenon unfortunately means that other, equally deserving heroes, such as Brig. Gen. George Sears Greene, whose defense of Culp’s Hill had greater military significance than did Chamberlain’s defense of Little Round Top, have been largely shunted into history’s dustpan, largely forgotten, and certainly not receiving the credit they deserve. Is it right? No, it definitely is not right. Is it understandable? Yes, it is. Is it unfortunate? Absolutely. Can anything be done about it? Sadly, probably not. As long as people’s first impressions of the Battle of the Gettysburg continue to result from either Shaara’s book or Turner’s movie adaptation of it, this unfortunate phenomenon will continue on unabated.

And it means that equally worthy and deserving soldiers will continue to be overlooked in favor of St. Joshua of Joshua Top. It also means that equally important and interesting spots, such as Culp’s Hill, where the Union truly was saved, go largely unvisited and are often deserted. What’s wrong with this picture?