hide Sorting

You can sort these results in two ways:

By entity
Chronological order for dates, alphabetical order for places and people.
By position (current method)
As the entities appear in the document.

You are currently sorting in ascending order. Sort in descending order.

hide Most Frequent Entities

The entities that appear most frequently in this document are shown below.

Entity Max. Freq Min. Freq
Jefferson Davis 656 14 Browse Search
United States (United States) 252 0 Browse Search
Zachary Taylor 164 8 Browse Search
Mississippi (Mississippi, United States) 140 0 Browse Search
V. H. Davis 126 0 Browse Search
John C. Calhoun 115 1 Browse Search
John Davis 115 1 Browse Search
Sidney Webster 112 0 Browse Search
Washington (United States) 112 0 Browse Search
Mexico (Mexico, Mexico) 84 0 Browse Search
View all entities in this document...

Browsing named entities in a specific section of Varina Davis, Jefferson Davis: Ex-President of the Confederate States of America, A Memoir by his Wife, Volume 1. Search the whole document.

Found 141 total hits in 55 results.

1 2 3 4 5 6
Zachary Taylor (search for this): chapter 18
was less open to the accusation of saying all he believed, he sincerely thought all he said, and, moreover, could not understand any other man coming to a different conclusion after his premises were stated. It was this sincerity of opinion which sometimes gave him the manner to which his opponents objected as domineering. After the canvass for Mr. Polk had closed with his election, in the spring of 1845, Mr. Davis came down to Natchez for his wedding. On the steam-boat he met General Zachary Taylor for the first time since he left Prairie du Chien, and the general approached him most cordially An entire reconciliation took the place of the unexpressed but friendly regard which had never ceased to exist in all those years of mutual grief and separation. I had been quite ill, and could not then undertake the ceremony; but some three weeks afterward he came on a short visit, and we concluded to marry then. On February 26, 1845, at The briers, in the presence of my family and
John Anthony Quitman (search for this): chapter 18
large majority, and that he could not be elected. He was defeated, of course, but decreased the Whig vote considerably. Next year, 1844, he was nominated elector for Polk and Dallas, and went out on an active campaign. At that period it was a general canvass, as the State had not been districted, and there was no railway throughout the length of it, except a short road from Vicksburg to Jackson, and six miles of unused track from Natchez to the little town of Washington, which General John Anthony Quitman had been instrumental in having laid down. The majority of travellers went by stage-coaches, and these made only one weekly trip, so that the candidates for office either bought a carriage and horse, or horses, but more often the former, and drove by easy stages from place to place, or rode on horseback with an old-fashioned pair of leather saddle-bags strapped on behind the saddle, stopping at such gentlemen's houses as were on the road, where they were hospitably received and e
Martin Van Buren (search for this): chapter 18
the Latin or English classics — in the former of which he was a proficient scholar, and remembered them well because he loved them-but from the pure, high standard of right of which his course was the exemplar. His politics, like my father's, were what was then called Whig, as, indeed, were those of most of the gentlefolk of Natchez. Everybody took the National Intelligencer, then edited by Messrs. Gales & Seaton, who were men of sterling honesty, with strong Federal views. They held Mr. Van Buren's name and fame as anathema. They believed all they published, and, as a consequence, the Whigs believed them. In every argument the statements of the National Intelligencer were of frequent reference, and as to facts, accepted by both sides. These papers gave, in stately periods, the six weeks old news from the under world, and, as they were English, London was often the theme. We knew then more about Lord Brougham than about the Czar of Russia, more of the Duke of Wellington than o
Chambre (search for this): chapter 18
ke a summer rose, had made quite a local success. He was the uncle, I think, of the poet and aesthete Oscar Wilde. A soiree was given the evening we reached the hotel, and first among the guests his figure impressed me. He was then about thirty-four or five, slender, and very refined in manner, with flashing black eyes, and a singular pallor of complexion. He was the first poet I had ever encountered, for my journeys had been of the character so happily described since as Autour de ma Chambre. While I was listening attentively to his sprightly talk, and expecting his flow of conversation to become rhythmical, my husband came up, bringing General Gaines, who, at the request of some lady friends, was in full uniform. He was not a tall man, hardly — as my memory serves me--five feet ten inches tall. He had a fine military bearing; a good, compact head; stern blue eyes, and carried himself very proudly. His manner of talking was very peculiar; he halted between every two or thre
David Page (search for this): chapter 18
t Prairie du Chien, and the general approached him most cordially An entire reconciliation took the place of the unexpressed but friendly regard which had never ceased to exist in all those years of mutual grief and separation. I had been quite ill, and could not then undertake the ceremony; but some three weeks afterward he came on a short visit, and we concluded to marry then. On February 26, 1845, at The briers, in the presence of my family and some of his, we were married. The Reverend David Page, of Trinity, the pastor of the Episcopal church of Natchez, performed the ceremony. After a breakfast to our friends, we left on a tour of visits to his family at Bayou Sara and Woodville, and from thence to New Orleans. In those days trousseaus were moderate, and young people did not expect presents, but gave them to the bridesmaids. The groomsmen were never expected to give presents. Two bonnets were an abundance, and every young bride had a second-day dress, i.e., one finer a
Myra Clarke Gaines (search for this): chapter 18
for my journeys had been of the character so happily described since as Autour de ma Chambre. While I was listening attentively to his sprightly talk, and expecting his flow of conversation to become rhythmical, my husband came up, bringing General Gaines, who, at the request of some lady friends, was in full uniform. He was not a tall man, hardly — as my memory serves me--five feet ten inches tall. He had a fine military bearing; a good, compact head; stern blue eyes, and carried himself vetics. He responded, I a — think, sir, that — a — the — a English language is a — sufficiently copious — to express — a — all the ideas that — a General Scott will — a — ever have. As will readily be seen the two generals were not friendly. Mrs. Gaines, then a laughing, brown-eyed little woman, unwhipped of social conventionalities, not because she did not understand them, but because she understood them and was naturally lawless, was very attentive to her feeble old hero.
Joseph E. Davis (search for this): chapter 18
dren were told, Martin Van Buren wants to set these dogs on your family. However, I have strayed far afield and must return to the subject of these memoirs. Mr. Davis, on his way to a preliminary caucus at Vicksburg, his first essay in political life, came by the Diamond Place on horseback, en route. He brought a message from his brother that he would expect me at once. The next day Miss Mary Bradford, Mr. Davis's niece, afterward Mrs. Richard Brodhead, of Pennsylvania, came up on horseback, accompanies by a servant-man leading a horse with a lady's side-saddle. The old-fashioned high swung carriage and pair came also to bring my impedimenta, and all in the blue unclouded weather we rode over the rustling leaves through the thick trees to The Hurricane. Mr. Davis was then thirty-six years old, and looked about thirty; erect, well-proportioned, and active as a boy. He rode with more grace than any man I have ever seen, and gave one the impression of being incapable either of
Richard Brodhead (search for this): chapter 18
d to the lock and lying on watch. The Whig children were told, Martin Van Buren wants to set these dogs on your family. However, I have strayed far afield and must return to the subject of these memoirs. Mr. Davis, on his way to a preliminary caucus at Vicksburg, his first essay in political life, came by the Diamond Place on horseback, en route. He brought a message from his brother that he would expect me at once. The next day Miss Mary Bradford, Mr. Davis's niece, afterward Mrs. Richard Brodhead, of Pennsylvania, came up on horseback, accompanies by a servant-man leading a horse with a lady's side-saddle. The old-fashioned high swung carriage and pair came also to bring my impedimenta, and all in the blue unclouded weather we rode over the rustling leaves through the thick trees to The Hurricane. Mr. Davis was then thirty-six years old, and looked about thirty; erect, well-proportioned, and active as a boy. He rode with more grace than any man I have ever seen, and gave
Joseph Emory Davis (search for this): chapter 18
aving bayous, washed in the yellow clay by the drainage to the river bank, about one-eighth of a mile from us. Mr. Joseph E. Davis came to see the family when I was sixteen, and urged my mother to let me go to him for a visit. After much insistk before Christmas, 1843, and went up to the Diamond Place, the home of Mrs. David McCaleb, the eldest daughter of Mr. Joseph E. Davis, whose plantation is thirteen miles north of The Hurricane. The steam-boats at that time were literally floatinamilies; guns and ammunition for hunting, pocket-knives, nails, and screws. This little closet was an ark, of which Mr. J. E. Davis kept the key, and made provision for the accidental needs of each one after his kind. At the back of the house was ed about the temper of the horse, but grew careless, approached too close to him, and at last was mortally injured. Mr. J. E. Davis was leaning over the poor fellow, much distressed, when Randall sighed out, It is in the breed of them gray Medleys,
George Winchester (search for this): chapter 18
he next year that the visit was made. In those days the only mode of communication was by boat, or by going to Vicksburg and driving thirty-six miles back down stream. Therefore, under the care of our life-long and intimate friend, Judge George Winchester, of Salem, Mass., a jurist of renown in Mississippi, we took the old Magnolia steamboat, the week before Christmas, 1843, and went up to the Diamond Place, the home of Mrs. David McCaleb, the eldest daughter of Mr. Joseph E. Davis, whoseto whom the boat meant ice, new books, and every other luxury New Orleans could furnish or their purses command. A journey on one of these packets was an ideal mode of travel. I hope I may be excused for paying here a passing tribute to Judge Winchester, a saintly man, to whom I owe the little learning I have acquired, and also the realization of my childish ideal of Great-heart. He was an eminent lawyer, an incorruptible jurist, a strong thinker, and a devoted, self-sacrificing, faithful
1 2 3 4 5 6