Personal Recollections of Distinguished Generals — Inside the Classic
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William F. G. Shanks, a war correspondent, opens his 1866 collection with a frank admission: he writes from too close a vantage point, where generals appear smaller than their public reputations. The preface declares an intent to show commanders 'not as on parade, but in undress uniform,' and the excerpts bear this out. Hooker is depicted delivering quiet, sarcastic official reports—one noting that a subordinate's swamp excuse was fabricated—and later facing Grant's ironic endorsement that inflated capture numbers. Sherman is described as 'of too bilious a temperament,' and Shanks does not hesitate to label a tactical delay a 'blunder.' The tone is conversational, occasionally acid, and deliberately unheroic.
The Correspondent's Perspective
Shanks positions himself as a corrective to official history. He writes that 'very few generals have appeared great to the war correspondents,' and that 'the very sun shines through them.' The preface likens distant generals to a mirage, and claims that proximity shrinks men rather than magnifying them. This lens shapes every portrait. The excerpts show Shanks relaying not just battlefield actions but the internal frictions of command—Hooker's dismissal order suppressed by the President, Burnside's resignation, and the 'treachery of a clerk' that leaked it. The reader is given a backstage pass to the Army of the Potomac's politics.
Sharp Critiques and Ironic Reports
Shanks highlights how generals used official reports as weapons. Hooker, after General Shurtz blamed a swamp for lateness, 'added very quietly that he had thoroughly examined the country… and that no such swamp as described existed.' In another instance, Hooker's ironic punctuation—an exclamation point after a doubled capture list—backfired when Grant indorsed the report, stating the total 'exceeded the actual captures by the whole army!' The excerpts also reveal Hooker's dismissal for criticizing Burnside at Fredericksburg, and his later fallout with Sherman over the slow pursuit of Joe Johnston. These are not dry summaries; they are pointed, personal, and often petty.
Temperament and Tactical Judgment
Shanks does not shy from character judgments. Sherman is 'of too bilious a temperament ever to sacrifice an opportunity to vent his spleen,' and Hooker's 'candid criticism' of Sherman's delay at Snake Creek Gap is called 'particularly provoking.' The author frames these clashes as inevitable: 'Curtius and Alexander, Jomini and Napoleon' are invoked to suggest that great commanders have always resented criticism. Yet Shanks also shows Hooker's own flaws—his sharp tongue cost him commands. The excerpts offer no grand theory of leadership, only a series of revealing incidents where personality overrides strategy.
Readers should approach these recollections as a contemporary's snapshot, not a definitive history. Shanks warns that his subjects may appear 'Lilliputian' to those who did not know them, and his own biases—evident in his sympathy for Hooker and irritation with Sherman—color every page. The value lies in the texture: the leaked order, the ironic report, the swamp that never was. These details, too small for official records, are what Shanks preserves.
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