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George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 73 3 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Henry Walcott Boynton, Reader's History of American Literature 56 4 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 1, Colonial and Revolutionary Literature: Early National Literature: Part I (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 51 1 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1 46 4 Browse Search
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 43 7 Browse Search
Varina Davis, Jefferson Davis: Ex-President of the Confederate States of America, A Memoir by his Wife, Volume 1 43 1 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2 40 2 Browse Search
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 9. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones) 38 2 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Book and heart: essays on literature and life 32 2 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises 31 1 Browse Search
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Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, I. Across Sherman's track (December 19-24, 1864） (search)
entle terms, ordered them out. High words passed, swords and pistols were drawn on both sides, and a general fight seemed about to take place. Mett and I were frightened out of our wits at the first alarm and threw our arms about each other. I kept quiet till I saw the shooting about to begin, and then, my nerves all unstrung by what I had suffered during the night, I tuned up and began to cry like a baby. It was well I did, for my tears brought the men to their senses. Judge Baker and Col. Scott interfered, reminding them that ladies were present, and then arms were laid aside and profuse apologies made for having frightened us. Both parties then turned their indignation against the railroad officials, and somebody was making a bluster about pitching the conductor into the creek, when he appeared on the scene and appeased all parties by announcing that a locomotive and car would be sent out to meet the passengers for Macon on the other side of the creek and take us to the city. I
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 7 (search)
ot a word is said in their public prints about the $300,000 they stole from the bank at Greenville, S. C., nor the thousands they have taken in spoils from private houses, as well as from banks, since these angels of peace descended upon us. They have everything their own way now, and can tell what tales they please on us, but justice will come yet. Time brings its revenges, though it may move but slowly. Some future Motley or Macaulay will tell the truth about our cause, and some unborn Walter Scott will spread the halo of romance around it. In all the poems and romances that shall be written about this war, I prophesy that the heroes will all be rebels, or if Yankees, from some loyal Southern State. The bare idea of a full-blown Yankee hero or heroine is preposterous. They made no sacrifices, they suffered no loss, and there is nothing on their side to call up scenes of pathos or heroism. This afternoon our premises were visited by no less a person than the righteous Lot hims
John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, July, 1862. (search)
rote a very accurate general description of the battle, giving the position of the troops; referring to the reinforcements which came up, and the great shout with which they were welcomed. These mysterious impressions suggested the existence of an undiscovered, or possibly an undeveloped principle in nature, which time and investigation would ultimately make familiar. Colonel Ammen says, If superstition, or a belief in the supernatural, is an indication of weakness, Napoleon and Sir Walter Scott were the weakest of men. With General Garfield I called on General Rousseau this morning. He is a larger and handsomer man than Mitchell, but I think lacks the latter's energy, culture, system, and industry. July, 24 We can not boast of what is occurring in this department. The tide seems to have set against us everywhere. The week of battles before Richmond was a week of defeats. I trust the new policy indicated by the confiscation act, just passed by Congress, will have g
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., One of Stuart's escapes. (search)
rm which he always wore, riding that swift Arabian, blazing with his golden caparison, and exclaiming, Behold yonder battery, my men! Charge on it! Sweep the foeman from your path! The gay and elegant form of Stonewall Jackson will be seen as he leads his cavalry, and swears in the charge; Stuart will give his cautious counsel to fall back; and we shall have, in the yellow-covered pamphlets, a truthful picture of the war. But then will come the better order of things, when writers like Walter Scott will conscientiously collect the real facts, and make some new Waverley or Legend of Montrose. For these, and not for the former class, I propose to set down here an incident in the life of the great commander of the Southern cavalry, of which he told me all the particulars, for I was not present. It was about the middle of August, 1862, and Jackson, after deciding the fate of the day at Cold Harbour, and defeating General Pope at Cedar Mountain, was about to make his great advance u
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., A deserter. (search)
without premonition or suspicion of his danger, with the abrupt prospect of an ignominious death; and I think the great English writer would have considered my incident more stirring than his own. It was on the morning of August 3 I, 1862, on the Warrenton road, in a little skirt of pines, near Cub Run bridge, between Manassas and Centreville. General Pope, who previously had only seen the backs of his enemies, had been cut to pieces. The battle-ground which had witnessed the defeat of Scott and McDowell on the 21St of July, 1861, had now again been swept by the bloody besom of war; and the Federal forces were once more in full retreat upon Washington. The infantry of the Southern army were starved, broken down, utterly exhausted, when they went into that battle, but they carried everything before them; and the enemy had disappeared, thundering with their artillery to cover their retreat. The rest of the work must be done by the cavalry; and to the work in question the great c
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Longbow's horse. (search)
u are Captain Longbow, I believe. Yes, sir. Of Colonel Jackson's command? Of the command which engaged you the day before yesterday. General Patterson smiled. I see you are reticent, and it is a good habit in a soldier. But I know that Colonel Jackson commanded, and from his boldness in opposing me with so small a force, he must be a man of nerve and ability. He has that reputation, General. Do you know General Johnston? Yes, sir. I am afraid of his retreats. General Scott declares that one of them is equal to a victory. I assented with a bow. Colonel Stuart, commanding your cavalry, I do not know, continued the General, but I am afraid he gobbled up one of my companies of infantry just before the late fight. That makes the number of prisoners taken considerably in your favour. The company was commanded, however, only by a Second Lieutenant, and as I have you, Captain, he added with a smile, the odds are not so great. The General's courtesy and
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., A fight, a dead man, and a coffin: an incident of 1864. (search)
ct the inhabitants from the depredations of these detached parties which spread such terror amid the population. To the Valley Mosby accordingly directed his attention, and this region thenceforth became his main field of operations. Scarce a day passed without an attack upon some wandering party, upon some string of wagons, or upon the railroad by which the Federal army was supplied. These stirring adventures are the subject of a volume which will soon appear from the accomplished Major Scott, of Fauquier. The object of this chapter is to record the particulars of one of the fights referred to, in which a small band of Confederates under Captain Mountjoy, that accomplished partisan of Mosby's command, suffered a reverse. Were it within the scope of the present article to draw an outline of the person and character of this brave gentleman-Captain Mountjoy-many readers, we are sure, would derive pleasure from the perusal of our sketch. Never was a braver heart than his-nev
Robert Lewis Dabney, Life and Commands of Lieutenand- General Thomas J. Jackson, Chapter 4: life in Lexington. (search)
g half prepared to his recitation, desired to extract a hint to assist his own ignorance, in the shape of a leading question from the teacher. Another cause which detracted from Jackson's success as a teacher of the natural sciences, was the lack of practical skill in performing physical experiments. As has been remarked, he was not gifted with much of the minute manual dexterity which goes to the making of a skilful artisan or musician; nor had his mind that mechanical turn which Sir Walter Scott declared to be, in his opinion, the usual index of a little trumpery understanding. His experiments were not brilliant, and sometimes they resulted in ludicrous blunders, at which he laughed as heartily as any of the lads of his class. One of the most painful consequences of his ill health was a weakness of the eyes, which rendered reading by any artificial light injurious, and threatened total blindness. This infirmity was not usually revealed by any visible inflammation, but rat
Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House, Xii. (search)
Xii. As the different members of the Cabinet came in, the President introduced me, adding in several instances,--He has an idea of painting a picture of us all together. This, of course, started conversation on the topic of art. Presently a reference was made by some one to Jones, the sculptor, whose bust of Mr. Lincoln was in the crimson parlor below. The President, I think, was writing at this instant. Looking up, he said, Jones tells a good story of General Scott, of whom he once made a bust. Having a fine subject to start with, he succeeded in giving great satisfaction. At the closing sitting he attempted to define and elaborate the lines and markings of the face. The General sat patiently; but when he came to see the result, his countenance indicated decided displeasure. Why, Jones, what have you been doing? he asked. Oh, rejoined the sculptor, not much, I confess, General; I have been working out the details of the face a little more, this morning. Details? excl
Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House, XIX. (search)
tudio the office of the Solicitor of the Treasury Department, an irregular room, packed nearly full of law books. Seating myself, I believe, upon a pile of these at Mr. Lincoln's feet, he kindly repeated the lines, which I wrote down, one by one, as they fell from his lips:-- Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? the authorship of this poem has been made known since this publication in the evening post. it was written by William Knox, a young Scotchman, a contemporary of sir Walter Scott. He died in Edinburgh, in 1825, at the age of 36. the two verses in brackets were not repeated by Mr. Lincoln, but belong to the original poem. Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, He passeth from life to his rest in the grave. The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around, and together be laid; And the young and the old, and the low and the high, Sha
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