Stories about a future president evolving from a greenhorn to a victorious commander in the wilds of Kentucky (P. 42), diehard Confederates who refused to lay down their arms (P. 22), veterans reuniting at Gettysburg (P. 36) and an artist who lionized the Confederacy and its heroes in beautiful sculpture (p. P8) would seem to have little in common. Sometimes, however, a theme can sneak up on you, and a closer look reveals that memory—the memory of wartime service—plays a part in all these studies.

James A. Garfield depended on an idealized memory of his Civil War service to help him gain the White House, and at Gettysburg veterans of both sides put aside the rancor of the war years to meet, memorialize and celebrate together their service at the largest battle of the Western Hemisphere.

For Moses Ezekiel, a Jewish man who grew up in a society where his religion was tolerated but not always made to feel welcome, enrollment at the Virginia Military Institute made him part of something that gave him widespread acceptance. He hung on to that memory for the rest of his life, creating heroic sculpture that celebrated the Confederacy.

The memories of the diehard Rebels is a bit harder to divine. Some of them undoubtedly took trains to Gettysburg, to sit down, reminisce and bury the hatchet with their former foes. Others, however, likely passed on their unreconstructed sentiments to descendents, informing their memories of the Civil War and its meaning.

Recently scholars have begun to argue that the Civil War didn’t end in 1865, that the events it put in motion continued for decades afterward. Memory is a tricky and powerful thing. If you are not careful, it can sneak up on you.

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