Besides the myth that the Confederates blundered into battle at Gettysburg because they were looking for shoes, there is no more enduring Gettysburg legend than the one about the position of the horse hooves on the battlefield’s equestrian monuments. The story goes that if all four hooves of the rider’s horse are on the ground he came through the battle unscathed; one hoof raised, he was wounded; two hooves raised, he was killed.
There are essentially eight equestrian monuments on the battlefield. They are Union generals Meade, Reynolds, Hancock, Howard, Slocum, and Sedgwick, and Confederates, Lee, atop the Virginia Memorial, and Longstreet. When these monuments were placed on the battlefield can help us identify when this myth that the position of the rider’s horse’s hooves conveyed his fate in the battle originated. Meade and Hancock were the first on June 5, 1896. They were followed by Reynolds, July 1, 1899, Slocum, September 19, 1902, Sedgwick, June 19, 1913, and Howard, November 12, 1932. The Virginia Memorial was dedicated on June 8, 1917. Longstreet did not come along until 1998 and by this time the myth was firmly established.
Based on the correspondence we have in the park archives the myth began before the Howard monument and after the Virginia Memorial, so after 1917 and before 1932. It appears to have gathered steam in the late 1920’s and early 1930’s because our files contain several letters from then superintendent, E. B. Davis, responding to questions about it. On October 19, 1931 Davis received a letter from a Mr. Wayman A. Holland, who related he had recently visited Gettysburg and toured the field with an “authorized guide” who told him that equestrian statues on the field followed the “’standard convention’ where the position of the horse’s feet indicated whether the subject was wounded or died in battle.” Holland explained that he had tried to verify this statement by inquiring at the New York Public Library, the Sculptors and Artists League, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and had uncovered no evidence of a “standard convention” regarding equestrians. Now, Holland wished to know the source of the guides’ information.
Davis’s response was that of a man clearly exasperated by a myth that had persisted despite the best efforts of he and his staff to disprove it. His reply is so delightful that I include the full text here:
Your letter of October 19, 1931 is received and noted.
The story that the posture of the horse in equestrian statues on this battlefield indicates whether the rider was killed, wounded, or unhurt seems to be one of those myths which grow up around historical places and are almost impossible to destroy. Sculptors whom I have consulted assure me there is no such convention connected with the art.
This office does not countenance the story. On the contrary, invariably discourages it. It seems, however, to appeal to some imaginations among both guides and tourists.
If you are in position to supply the name of your guide or the number of his cap, I can possibly stop one from further reciting the myth.
Very truly yours,
E. E. Davis,
Whether Davis ever tracked down that guide or not is unknown. That the myth originated with the early battlefield guides is very likely. For visitors unfamiliar with the battle and its generals, as they led visitors on tours of the field, pointing out the position of the horse hooves on an equestrian monument was a simple way to have people remember the general’s fate. The more the story was told the deeper it took root in Gettysburg’s historical mythology until, as Holland’s guide reflects, myth had transformed itself into “a standard convention” even though there was no such thing with the Gettysburg equestrians.
Despite Davis’s efforts the myth never died. We have letters in our files from the 1960’s, 70’s, 80’s, and no doubt the 90’s and the first decade of the 21st Century, on the same question with responses similar to what Davis wrote in 1931. Even the placement of the Longstreet monument whose horse has one hoof raised although the rider emerged unscathed from the battle has failed to dislodge the legend. It is a stubborn thing because it is one of those easy to remember stories that as Superintendent Davis pointed out “grow up around historical places and are almost impossible to destroy.” I have no illusions that the blog post will amount to any more than a puny effort to unseat the Goliath of Gettysburg myths and that it will continue to endure into the future.
D. Scott Hartwig