Some Observations on Civil War Maps and Landscapes -- Lowe
Viewing Historic Landscapes
In many places, the 19th century lies close to the surface with merely a veneer of changes. The land is farmed much as it was a hundred years ago. Old houses, mills, and churches survive, or their foundations may be located. The new road network is in many places congruent with the old, except that old turnpikes have been straightened to become major highways. Paved county roads follow the winding courses of old farm roads. Small villages have grown into larger towns, yet preserve their core as a historic district.
Elsewhere, however, the 19th century has been obliterated by large-scale recontouring of land, high density development, quarrying, highway construction, or some other drastic change in land use. Civil war battles were often fought for possession of crucial transportation crossroads‑‑a fact that continues today to spur the necessities of modern growth and development. Only where modern highways and railroads have bypassed a once important settlement, such as Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia, does the 19th century landscape stand fully revealed to modern eyes. At the battlefield level, an understanding of the agrarian landscape, enables an assessment of what has been lost and what remains.
In addition to looking at the agrarian context of the war, some effort must be made to understand the landscape as the participants understood it. Many Civil War officers operated with a deficient understanding of regional topography, particularly in the first years of the war when reliable maps were almost non-existent. Columns were sent down the wrong roads, told to bivouac at villages that were impossibly distant, ordered to use fords that could not be located, and so on. Main roads were identified by the next major town, and farm roads by the name of a church, hamlet, or prominent resident along the route. Directions were given in terms of local residents (take the left fork at the Walker House), local watercourses (after crossing Plum Run), or local landmarks (just before you get to Widow's Peak at Keller's Mill). For an outsider, the local landscape could be hopelessly confusing, and often residents conspired to keep it that way.
Intelligence and Mapping
In the absence of reliable maps, military officers relied on the intelligence that could be gathered by scouts and topographical engineers. This information, in turn, was often compiled into more reliable maps.
Because much of the Civil War was fought on Southern soil, Confederate officers typically had a better mental picture of the landscape. There were invariably soldiers in the ranks who were born and raised in an area and knew every back road and mule path. These men served as guides and assisted the preparation of more accurate maps. But many uncertainties remained. Although these guides knew their backyard intimately, many had never been ten miles from home and were unfamiliar with what was over the next ridge. It was up to the headquarters staff to piece together this mosaic of details to generate a useful picture of the region. A map produced during the war is important not only for the information it contains but for the information it leaves out, providing a clue to the user's ``mental topography.''
How did officers and individual soldiers orient themselves and locate their position within the landscape? Battle reports of both sides usually include place names for crossroads, farms, churches, hills and ridges, small streams, that could only have been learned on-site. Reports of brief actions on previously unknown ground sometimes include these details, presupposing an informal intelligence gathering effort on the part of officers and individual soldiers. ``So where are we?'' must have been one of the most asked question in the ranks, spurring someone familiar with an area to step forward with the answer or someone else to go to the nearest house or mill, find an inhabitant and ask the names of local residents and terrain features. This information was then disseminated by word of mouth to headquarters and through the ranks. Besides simply satisfying curiosity, one motivating factor would have been the desire to relocate at some future time, the bodies of comrades who might end up buried on the field. These details of location and terrain are what enable us today to match up the action with the landscape.
The most detailed military maps of both sides include names of some residents and streams, but very little terrain information except for the grossest elevation features. Sometimes rivers and streams were completely misplaced. This built-in uncertainty forced a commander to rely on scouts or pursue a first-hand reconnaissance to get a truer picture of the region through which he advanced.
In many places, the 19th century lies close to the surface with merely a veneer of changes. The land is farmed much as it was a hundred years ago. Old houses, mills, and churches survive, or their foundations may be located. The new road network is in many places congruent with the old, except that old turnpikes have been straightened to become major highways. Paved county roads follow the winding courses of old farm roads. Small villages have grown into larger towns, yet preserve their core as a historic district.
Elsewhere, however, the 19th century has been obliterated by large-scale recontouring of land, high density development, quarrying, highway construction, or some other drastic change in land use. Civil war battles were often fought for possession of crucial transportation crossroads‑‑a fact that continues today to spur the necessities of modern growth and development. Only where modern highways and railroads have bypassed a once important settlement, such as Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia, does the 19th century landscape stand fully revealed to modern eyes. At the battlefield level, an understanding of the agrarian landscape, enables an assessment of what has been lost and what remains.
In addition to looking at the agrarian context of the war, some effort must be made to understand the landscape as the participants understood it. Many Civil War officers operated with a deficient understanding of regional topography, particularly in the first years of the war when reliable maps were almost non-existent. Columns were sent down the wrong roads, told to bivouac at villages that were impossibly distant, ordered to use fords that could not be located, and so on. Main roads were identified by the next major town, and farm roads by the name of a church, hamlet, or prominent resident along the route. Directions were given in terms of local residents (take the left fork at the Walker House), local watercourses (after crossing Plum Run), or local landmarks (just before you get to Widow's Peak at Keller's Mill). For an outsider, the local landscape could be hopelessly confusing, and often residents conspired to keep it that way.
Intelligence and Mapping
In the absence of reliable maps, military officers relied on the intelligence that could be gathered by scouts and topographical engineers. This information, in turn, was often compiled into more reliable maps.
Because much of the Civil War was fought on Southern soil, Confederate officers typically had a better mental picture of the landscape. There were invariably soldiers in the ranks who were born and raised in an area and knew every back road and mule path. These men served as guides and assisted the preparation of more accurate maps. But many uncertainties remained. Although these guides knew their backyard intimately, many had never been ten miles from home and were unfamiliar with what was over the next ridge. It was up to the headquarters staff to piece together this mosaic of details to generate a useful picture of the region. A map produced during the war is important not only for the information it contains but for the information it leaves out, providing a clue to the user's ``mental topography.''
How did officers and individual soldiers orient themselves and locate their position within the landscape? Battle reports of both sides usually include place names for crossroads, farms, churches, hills and ridges, small streams, that could only have been learned on-site. Reports of brief actions on previously unknown ground sometimes include these details, presupposing an informal intelligence gathering effort on the part of officers and individual soldiers. ``So where are we?'' must have been one of the most asked question in the ranks, spurring someone familiar with an area to step forward with the answer or someone else to go to the nearest house or mill, find an inhabitant and ask the names of local residents and terrain features. This information was then disseminated by word of mouth to headquarters and through the ranks. Besides simply satisfying curiosity, one motivating factor would have been the desire to relocate at some future time, the bodies of comrades who might end up buried on the field. These details of location and terrain are what enable us today to match up the action with the landscape.
The most detailed military maps of both sides include names of some residents and streams, but very little terrain information except for the grossest elevation features. Sometimes rivers and streams were completely misplaced. This built-in uncertainty forced a commander to rely on scouts or pursue a first-hand reconnaissance to get a truer picture of the region through which he advanced.
