Continuing with my theme this spring of visiting Revolutionary War battlefields, I stopped by the Kings Mountain Battlefield on the way back from Atlanta a couple weeks ago.
I'm always interested in how history is interpreted for the public -- and reading between the lines at the park center, it seems that we may have committed a few atrocities at the conclusion of the battle. The NPS handled this well, by putting that into the context of the anger and frustration of the patriots at British atrocities committed earlier in the campaign. They also didn't go into all the details or dwell on it, which helps to keep it in perspective. One other thing about the battlefield -- the mountain part is a little bit of a misnomer. I'd always thought that Kings Mountain was one of the real mountains that you see from I-85; it's not. The "mountain" is a rise of about 150 feet off the plain.
Unlike the battle of the Brandywine ("escape itself was almost victory"), we won this one. That may go a long way to explaining why this is a national park and Brandywine is a state park. Then again, perhaps some other things are important here -- like in the 1930s when Congress added this to the National Park system, land was cheap in rural South Carolina. Or, South Carolinians did a good job of campaigning to get recognition for the South's contribution to the Revolution.
Southerners had been complaining about the imbalance in historical memory for a long time. One of my antebellum orators at UNC was angry about this. In 1857 Henry W. Miller, a North Carolina politician, delivered a graduation address where he complained about how unfair Northern literature was to the South. Obviously slavery was central to Miller's complaint.
But even beyond slavery, Miller thought that the histories written by Northerners were unfair to the South:
On the 20th of May, 1775, more than a year before the congress at Philadelphia proclaimed the American colonies free and independent States, a gallant band in North-Carolina, led by those stout-hearted patriots, the Brevards, the Polks, the Alexanders, pledged their "lives, their fortunes, and most sacred honor" in defense of the independence of their country. ...
Yet strange to say, the "historian of Washington," [Washington Irving] whose work promised to be a faithful record of our glorious struggle for national existence -- in which the gallant deeds of each were the property of all -- does not pay those great events -- those daring blows struck for independence -- even the cold respect of a passing notice. The history of the struggle of Greece against her Persuian invaders, without the devotion of Leonidas or the glory of Thermopylae!
Now, the reason that address is important is that it was part of a turn taken by orators at UNC in the 1850s as our nation headed towards Civil War. Because I'm now deep in my paper on ideas in antebellum literary addresses, I thought I'd talk about one other aspect of the addresses, which relates to Kings Mountain. Some of the addresses employ romantic images to appeal to a sense of national pride. One of the most romantic is Aaron Brown's 1854 graduation address. Brown was a UNC graduate (as were almost all of the antebellum graduation speakers) and a lawyer (again, almost all graduation speakers at UNC for this time were). He was also a former governor of Tennessee. Brown_appealed to his audience's patriotic sentiments:
If you would kindle up in your bosoms the patriotic fires of the revolution, look out to the west, where you can almost behold the battle grounds of Guildford and King's Mountain. Nearly in the same range of vision, lies good old Mecklenburg, who threw down the first defiance to British power, and first proclaimed American Independence. Turn your eyes now to yonder eastern summit. There you can look down upon the plain, that stretches off in the distance as far as Yorktown, where the last great battle was fought, and where the American Eagle uttered her loudest notes of triumph and exultation. Surrounded on every side by holy and consecrated memorials like these, who is not compelled to exclaim 'this is the place'--the very place beyond all others, where the alters of learning, piety and patriotism should have been erected.
Elsewhere in the oration, Brown appealed to the sentiments of freedom that motivated the Revolutionary generation. He pointed out that taken from a purely utilitarian standpoint, they would have been better off paying the taxes that the British imposed on the colonies. But, but ...
Heaven inspired them to know and feel, that the hour had come when they should build up an independent Empire in the new world; an Empire wherein the civil and religious liberties of themselves and their posterity should be secured and established.
At a few places (ok, maybe more than a few places), Brown took some poetic license:
All else was abandoned. The implements of husbandry were left rusting the field--the ring of the anvil was no longer heard, save in the manufacture of some rude instrument of war--churches dedicated to the Most High were deserted, with no one to minister at their alters--the school houses and the colleges were shut up, and both teacher and scholars hastened to the tended field. Long and dubious was the conflict; when driven from the plains, they took refuge in the mountains; the rocks and the hills became their castles of defense. Sometimes buried in snows--often wasted with disease and threatened with famine. When compelled to retreat from province to province, the enemy would follow them, by the blood trickling from the feet of their bare-footed soldiery....
I'll be writing more about my literary address paper shortly. Some of the things that interest me are how the orators interpreted the Constitution, how they saw the Constitution as a piece of the creation of a nation, and how they used romantic imagery as a prop to the Constitution.
The image is of Gerard Hall on the UNC campus, where many of the graduation addresses were delivered. Better pictures on the way soon -- as soon as the weather improves to the point where the cherry blossoms come out.
Update as of February 12, 2011--I now have a couple more photographs of the battlefield, which I took on the way home from Atlanta last weekend. The mountain looks a lot larger and steeper from the National Park's walking trail than from their interpretative center. The images are of the north face of the mountain, the two monuments at the crest, and a monument placed in 1930 to honor the c olonel in command of the loyalist forces. y
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