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John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., A deserter. (search)
the death-struggle fixed on the cold upturned faces of the dead; but never have I witnessed an expression more terrible and agonizing than that which passed over the face of the boy-deserter, as he thus heard his sentence. He had evidently regarded himself as a mere prisoner of war; and now he was condemned to death! He had looked forward, doubtless, to mere imprisonment at Richmond until regularly exchanged, when hang him on that tree! burst upon his ears like the voice of some avenging Nemesis. Terrible, piteous, sickening, was the expression of the boy's face. He seemed to feel already the rope around his neck; he choked; when he spoke his voice sounded like the death-rattle. An instant of horror-struck silence; a gasp or two as if the words were trying to force their way against some obstacle in his throat; then the sound came. His tones were not loud, impassioned, energetic, not even animated. A sick terror seemed to have frozen him; when he spoke it was in a sort of m
Horace Greeley, The American Conflict: A History of the Great Rebellion in the United States of America, 1860-65: its Causes, Incidents, and Results: Intended to exhibit especially its moral and political phases with the drift and progress of American opinion respecting human slavery from 1776 to the close of the War for the Union. Volume II., X. Tennessee--Kentucky--Mississippi—Buell — Bragg — Rosecrans — Grant — Van Dorn.. (search)
bel soldier says Van Dorn sat on his horse grimly and saw it all. That's Rosecrans's trick, said he; he s got Price where he must suffer. Maybe this is one of the apocrypha of battle. A Rebel soldier says it s truth. But Hamilton's division receded under orders — at backward step; slowly, grimly, face to the foe, and firing. Bat when the 56th Illinois charged, this was changed. Davies's misfortune had been remedied. The whole line advanced. The Rebel host was broken. A destroying Nemesis pursued them. Arms were flung away wildly. They ran to the woods. They fled into the forests. Oh! what a shout of triumph and what a gleaming line of steel followed them. It is strange, but true. Our men do not often shout before battle. Heavens! what thunder there is in their throats after victory! They report that such a shout was never before heard in Corinth. Price's once invincible now invisible legions were broken, demoralized, fugitive, and remorse-lessly pursued down the hi
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 43 (search)
er's lips distilled, The startled nation woke — awoke to hear Rebellion's demons in her citadel, By dark and perjured sentinels invoked-- Singing her dirge, like the volcanic bass Of Aetna's organ chiming with the sea When groans the Titan in immortal pangs-- The trepidation of conflicting hosts, Mixed with the wild alarm of clamorous bells, The strife — the shout — the wailing of despair. Time, by whose hands the mouldering dust of death Is shovelled in the vaults of coffined realms, What Nemesis insatiate still inspires The suicide of Empires? In her breast, Greece nursed the serpent faction with her blood, That stung her to the heart. Rebellion's steel Pierced the fair bosom of imperial Rome By foreign foes unconquered; and the land Of God's own people drank the fatal cup Which dark dissension pressed upon her lips. As midnight's bell proclaims with double tongue One year departed and another born, Swift throng around me with imperial mien And god-like brow, and eyes of sad rep<
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 146 (search)
s of the Cumberland echoes the roar Of the sentinel's warning — the foe's on the shore! Our war-drums are beaten, our bugles are blown, And our legions advance to their musical tone. By the banks of the Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead, Kentucky has routed her insolent foe, And victory's star gilds the night of our woe. By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy, The demon of treason stalked forth to destroy. Our rich teeming harvests he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of our dwellings illumined his path. Like an eagle-plumed arrow our Nemesis comes. Shout, soldiers! sound bugles! and clamor, O drums! Let the land ring aloud in the wildness of joy, And the bonfires blaze brightly-but not to destroy. For the God of the Union has prospered the right, And the cohorts of treason have melted in flight. Blow, bugles! roll, river! and tell to the sea That our swords shall not rest till Kentucky is free. Louisville Journal
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 5. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 97 (search)
soldier says Van Dorn sat on his horse grimly and saw it all. That's Rosecrans's trick, said he, he's got Price where he must suffer. Maybe this is one of the apocrypha of battle. A rebel soldier says it's truth. But Hamilton's division receded under orders — at backward step, slowly, grimly, face to the foe, and firing. But when the Fifty-sixth Illinois charged, this was changed. Davies's misfortune had been remedied. The whole line advanced. The rebel host was broken. A destroying Nemesis pursued them. Arms were flung away wildly. They ran to the woods. They fled into the forests. Oh! what a shout of triumph and what a gleaming line of steel followed them. It is strange, but true. Our men do not often shout before battle. Heavens! what thunder there is in their throats after victory. They report that such a shout was never before heard in Corinth. Price's once invincible now invisible legions were broken, demoralized, fugitive, and remorselessly pursued down the hil
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 8. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 28 (search)
Are New-Zealanders Belligerents?--The London Daily News published the following communication: Sir: We are at war with the New-Zealanders — we for empire, they for independence! What if President Lincoln recognize their belligerent rights? and what if New-York capitalists take a New-Zealand loan — and if an American Laird furnish a New-Zealand Alabama, to be commissioned by a Maori lieutenant, and manned by British seamen from the naval reserve, and so on? Why not? and what then? I am, sir, etc., Nemesis
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 104 (search)
The forest foliage, glittering goldenly, The azure sky, the many-perfumed breeze, Ah! sunny clime! fond Nature smiles on thee. Antistrophe: The sound of mourning! dear homes ruthlessly Laid waste! for Death and Hell walk hand in hand! Sackcloth and Ashes! Bend the stubborn knee-- Woe is thy heritage, thou goodly land. Epode. O bleeding land! there is, that bringeth cheer; Renew thy fading hopes, repress thy sighs. O traitor band! there is, that causeth fear; Haste ye and hide, ere Nemesis arise! O mourning heart, be still! The gloomy night, Even to eye that's not “of faith,” grows gray; Soon shall its darkness melt away in light. Come, quickly come, light of the glorious day! Arise, and gird your loins, ye men of might! Earth trembling, hope, heaven, bide the end; hear ye! Go forth, great-hearts! Do battle for the right! Go forth, and faint not: “God and Liberty!” “Thine is the fight, O God.” For liberty To worship thee in peace, we draw the sword; Thy cause shal
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 2.13, Notes on African travel, etc. (search)
Zealand Association, in 1838, that Great Britain had sufficient colonies, even though New Zealand might become a jewel in England's colonial crown! On General Gordon. 1892 I have often wondered at Gordon; in his place I should have acted differently. It was optional with Gordon to live or die; he preferred to die; I should have lived, if only to get the better of the Mahdi. With joy of striving, and fierce delight of thwarting, I should have dogged and harassed the Mahdi, like Nemesis, until I had him down. I maintain that to live is harder and nobler than to die; to bear life's burdens, suffer its sorrows, endure its agonies, is the greater heroism. The relief of Khartoum, that is to say, removing the garrison and those anxious to leave, was at first, comparatively speaking, an easy task. I should have commenced by rendering my position impregnable, by building triple fortifications inside Khartoum, abutting on the Nile, with boats and steamers ever ready. No Ma
Knight's Mechanical Encyclopedia (ed. Knight), I. (search)
ted to the scene of her exploits, twice ascended the river, and her ribs upon the strand of Clarence Cove were visible but a few years since, and may yet remain. Her engines were 16 horse-power. Her weight, without engine, 33,600 pounds. The Garry Owen was the first iron vessel with water-tight bulkheads; suggested by C. W. Williams. See bulkhead. Iron vessels for America, Ireland, France, India, and China were built in Scotland and on the Mersey, 1833-39. The iron steam-vessels Nemesis and Phlegethon were used in the villainous Opium War of 1842. They were not the last vessels built on the Clyde for piratical expeditions. The Ironsides was the first iron sailing vessel of any magnitude employed for sea voyages. The Great Britain, built at Liverpool, was the boldest effort in iron shipbuilding in her time, but was eclipsed by the Leviathan, afterwards renamed the Great Eastern, which was built from the designs of Brunel, by Russell & Co., at Millwall, on the Thames
John Jay Chapman, William Lloyd Garrison, Chapter 1: introduction (search)
rd to the slavery question between 1830 and 1860. The gathering and coming on of that war, its vaporous distillation from the breath of every man, its slow, inevitable formation in the sky, its retreats and apparent dispersals, its renewed visibilities-all of them governed by some inscrutable logic — and its final descent in lightning and deluge;--these matters make the history of the interval between 1830 and 1865. That history is all one galvanic throb, one course of human passion, one Nemesis, one deliverance. And with the assassination of Lincoln in 1865 there falls from on high the great, unifying stroke that leaves the tragedy sublime. No poet ever invented such a scheme of curse, so all-involving, so remotely rising in an obscure past and holding an entire nation in its mysterious bondage — a scheme based on natural law, led forward and unfolded from mood to mood, from climax to climax, and plunging at the close into the depths of a fathomless pity. The action of the dram
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