Perhaps after Washington, there are few military figures in American history who have commanded the debates, attention, adoration, and loathing that Robert E. Lee has in the hundred plus years since his death. If a nation's history is a great story, it needs a compelling cast of characters, and if Washington was the original hero, and Benedict Arnold the original anti-hero, the Civil War and its leading actors are the next great characters in the story. Lee, perhaps, is the anti-hero who, by force of his personality, his dignity, the image he carefully portrayed and maintained, we perhaps wished was the hero instead - or is at least the anti-hero America can't bring itself to hate.
It's hard to separate the man from the myth and the marble; still harder to separate him from the century of adulation and hagiography of authors of the Lost Cause, Freeman most particularly. But Guelzo, a practiced military writer (his Gettysburg is a worthwhile read), is almost the perfect man to do so. He is a talented writer with a great sense of pace, and while he shines in detailing Lee's military achievements, he doesn't give Lee's personal life the short shrift, either.
We follow Lee through his somewhat peripatetic and certainly financially insecure upbringing, and learn that he chose West Point and a continual career with the military because it provided the security he had always lacked as a boy; we follow him through his courtship of Mary Custis and his uneasy relationship with Arlington, through the Mexican War, and then through the tumultuous weeks and months following South Carolina's secession and Virginia's decision to follow the South. Guelzo, for all his military acumen, does a brilliant job of sharing enough battlefield details but staying high-level, as suits this biography: I thought this part really shone, and his mastery was very clear in how well and easily he moved the narrative forward. Full marks here.
Finally, we follow Lee through the conclusion of the war, through his surprise Presidency at the college of Washington (now W & L) to his death. The last chapters deal with Lee's legacy and a quick summary of the Lee historiography, including an overview of the analyses of Lee as a general and military tactician.
This is not a perfect book. Guelzo's analysis of Lee's emotional life is both oversimplified and absent at times. He does not shed much light on his marriage, or even on Lee's emotional turmoils once the war began. He does an excellent job of pointing out that Lee had really very little experience commanding large groups of men before the Civil War - how, exactly, did he become such a formidable strategist and general? Guelzo spends a great deal of time analyzing the emotions that had prompted Lee into secession and then into generalship, but there is little corresponding treatment elsewhere. He repeats, again and again to the point of redundancy, that Lee had always sought security and independence, which seems absolutely true, but I would have liked more analysis in other parts of his life. Was his marriage happy? At what point did he feel comfortable commanding large armies in the battlefield?
Perhaps this would be too much to be contained in a single volume; perhaps, also, emotional speculation is not the role of a biographer - although one would hope there would be sufficient evidence for it be shared without speculation. A couple other reviews have mentioned curious detail in some sections accompanied by a lack of detail in others, and I found this to be true. All that said, this was a great single-volume biography, and Guelzo allows us to truly get to know the man, from his love for his children, fear of insecurity, relationship with his father, his frustration with his stalled and glacial military promotions, his bursts of anger, especially during the war.
There is one final complaint, and that is Guelzo's treatment of Lee historiography in the final chapter. Guelzo, throughout the book, is very careful to condemn Lee's attitude towards slavery, and very notably highlights Lee's failings in race relations. I really appreciated this, and felt, if anything, that he waxed a little too lyrical about Lee's serious shortfalls when it came to being a slave owner and white man vis-a-vis Black men and women. But points for Guelzo for making his attitude perfectly clear; in the narrative, he was no sentimental apologist for old Marse Robert. His approach here is nuanced and factual.
But speaking of Charlottesville and the pulling down of Lee status, Guelzo sounds befuddled and irked that people wish to no longer have Lee, an old Confederate master, lording over them. He sounds almost offended that people have requested the removal of the name "Lee" from Washington & Lee. I am not quite sure where I stand on this either, for while Lee deserves to be remembered, does his mythology need to reign on as it does? It is, I think, the Lee mythology which is so dangerous: the marble and virtuous man - some paragon of perfection that encapsulates a past aristocracy that we wish to glamorize. Guelzo makes noise about Lee's complexity being an important part of the American character, which it is, but he fails to understand that perhaps we must lose Lee as a myth to have a true understanding of our history. His biography has treated Lee as a man, with all his flaws and imperfections; the story we believe about him has yet to do the same, and for a long time, that story has loomed out at us from the statues now going down across the country. He ought to be remembered, but perhaps he need not loom over us.