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George Washington (search for this): chapter 3.36
he mortal eye. For this place was one of those historic localities where the forms and voices of the mighty men of old appeared still to linger. Here young Colonel Washington, after that bloody march of Braddock, had paused on his journey to Williamsburg to accept the hospitalities of John Parke Custis. Here he had spent hour after hour conversing with the fair young widow who was to become Mrs. Washington, while his astonished body-servant held the bridle for him to mount; here he had been married; here were spent many happy days of a great life — a century at least before the spot saluted my gaze! In this old locality some of the noblest and fairestcavalry horses; and the fences had been long since torn up and burned. The mansion was gone; it had passed like a dream away. The earth upon which the feet of Washington had trodden so often was a waste; the house which stood upon the site of that former one in which he was married, had been swept away by the hot breath of war.
Jamaica, L. I. (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
lry had scattered themselves in search of edibles. These were found in profusion, from barrels of excellent hams, and crackers and cakes, to the luxuries so costly in the Confederate capital, of candy and comfits, lemons and oranges, bottles of Jamaica ginger, and preserved fruits. There was no little interest in a walk through that debris of sutlerdom. You knocked in the head of a barrel, entirely ignorant whether hard bread or candy, pork or preserved strawberries, would greet your curiouswere panting with the combined heat of the weather and the great conflagration. Under such circumstances, the reader may understand that it was far from unpleasant to discover a cool spring beneath the bank; to take water and ice and lemons and Jamaica ginger, and make a drink for the gods! Of this pandemonium of strange sights and sounds and smells --of comic or tragic, amusing or disgusting.details — I shall mention but one other subject; one, however, which excited in me, I remember, at
Tunstall (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
arbour, and I was going with a few companions toward the White House, whither the cavalry had preceded us. I thought I knew t to Locksley Hall, and I was soon en route again for the White House. This was McClellan's great depot of stores on the Pe of base, if you prefer the phrase, reader --and to the White House General Stuart had hurried to prevent if possible the de culminate. Strange moment for my first visit to the White House! to a spot which I had seen often in fancy, but never bnd diamonds, was played still in the eyes of fancy! The White House had been to the present writer an honest old Virginia mak them the heaviest blow. The officer commanding at the White House had promptly obeyed the orders sent him, and the nascenty the side of Destruction. Such was the scene at the White House on that June day of 1862; in this black cloud went down who destroys in order to destroy. But let that pass. Since that time I have never revisited Roslyn or the White House.
Williamsburg (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
ind them they left fire and destruction; a scene in which a species of barbaric and disgusting splendour seemed to culminate. Strange moment for my first visit to the White House! to a spot which I had seen often in fancy, but never before with the mortal eye. For this place was one of those historic localities where the forms and voices of the mighty men of old appeared still to linger. Here young Colonel Washington, after that bloody march of Braddock, had paused on his journey to Williamsburg to accept the hospitalities of John Parke Custis. Here he had spent hour after hour conversing with the fair young widow who was to become Mrs. Washington, while his astonished body-servant held the bridle for him to mount; here he had been married; here were spent many happy days of a great life — a century at least before the spot saluted my gaze! In this old locality some of the noblest and fairest forms that eye ever beheld had lived their lives in the dead years. Here gay voic
Roslyn (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
Roslyn and the White house: before and after. Quantum mutatus ab illo! That is an exclamationry! But I wander from my subject, which is Roslyn before and after. The reader has had a glimpse lawn, the stables, the great elms! --this is Roslyn! It was truly Roslyn, or rather the ghost oathetic faces. It was the past and present of Roslyn that occupied my mindthe recollection of the bh surrounded me in the glad hours of youth-but Roslyn itself, the sunny old mansion, where the weeksarms toward the ruin, seemed to come a murmur, Roslyn! Roslyn! In war you have little time for mRoslyn! In war you have little time for musing. Duty calls, and the blast of the bugle jars upon the reveries of the dreamer, summoning him over the faded glories, the dead splendour of Roslyn; those merry comrades whereof I spoke called thariots of other generations. The house, like Roslyn, was a ruin still smouldering. No traces of i destroy. But let that pass. Since that time I have never revisited Roslyn or the White House. [3 more...]
Richmond (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
called to me, as did the friends of the melancholy hero visitor to Locksley Hall, and I was soon en route again for the White House. This was McClellan's great depot of stores on the Pamunkey, which he had abandoned when deciding upon the James river line of retreat-change of base, if you prefer the phrase, reader --and to the White House General Stuart had hurried to prevent if possible the destruction of the stores. He was too late. The officer in charge of the great depot had applied 's Monthly and Weekly were seen in great numbers, their open pages exhibiting terriffic engravings of the destruction of rebels, and the triumph of their faction. Here were newspapers fixing exactly the date of General McClellan's entrance into Richmond; with leading editorials so horrible in their threatenings, that the writers must have composed them in the most comfortable sanctums, far away from the brutal and disturbing clash of arms. For the rest, there was a chaos of vials, medicines, b
Washington (United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
t of masquerade of ruffles and silk stockings, furbelows and flounces, and lace and embroidery, and powder and diamonds, was played still in the eyes of fancy! The White House had been to the present writer an honest old Virginia mansion of colonial days, full of warm hearts, and kindness and hospitality, where bright eyes outshone the gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls; where the winding river flowed amid blooming fields, beneath lofty trees, and the suns of earlier years shone down on Washington and his bride. Again, as at the White House-quantum mutatus ab illo! Let me outline the objects that met my view as I galloped up the avenue, between the great trees which had seen pass beneath them the chariots of other generations. The house, like Roslyn, was a ruin still smouldering. No traces of it were left but overthrown walls, bricks calcined and shattered, and charred timbers still sending up lurid smoke. The grounds were the picture of desolation; the flower-beds, once
Bordeaux (France) (search for this): chapter 3.36
on of rebels, and the triumph of their faction. Here were newspapers fixing exactly the date of General McClellan's entrance into Richmond; with leading editorials so horrible in their threatenings, that the writers must have composed them in the most comfortable sanctums, far away from the brutal and disturbing clash of arms. For the rest, there was a chaos of vials, medicines, boxes, half-burnt lemons; and hundreds of empty bottles, bearing the labels, Chateau Margot, Lafitte, Clicquot, Bordeaux, and many othersthe very sight of which spolia of M. S. nearly drove the hungry and thirsty Confederates to madness! It was a sombre and frightful spot. Infection and contagion seemed to dwell there — for who could tell what diseases had afflicted the occupants of these beds? No article was touched by the troops; fine coloured blankets, variegated shirts, ornamental caps, and handkerchiefs, and shawls, remained undisturbed. One object, however, tempted me; and, dismounting, I picked
Virginia (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
ling land and blasted it, effacing all its beauty. With that beauty, every landmark had also disappeared. I travelled over the worn-out road, my horse stumbling and plunging. Never had I before visited, I could have made oath, this portion of Virginia! All at once we came — I and the merry comrades who accompanied me — in sight of a great waste, desolate-looking field, of a clump of towering trees, and a mansion which the retreating enemy had just burned to the ground. There were no fenes had shone; here a sort of masquerade of ruffles and silk stockings, furbelows and flounces, and lace and embroidery, and powder and diamonds, was played still in the eyes of fancy! The White House had been to the present writer an honest old Virginia mansion of colonial days, full of warm hearts, and kindness and hospitality, where bright eyes outshone the gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls; where the winding river flowed amid blooming fields, beneath lofty trees, and the suns of earlier y
Locksley Hall (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 3.36
the place seemed to look out, sombre and hopeless. From the pine-trees reaching out yearning arms toward the ruin, seemed to come a murmur, Roslyn! Roslyn! In war you have little time for musing. Duty calls, and the blast of the bugle jars upon the reveries of the dreamer, summoning him again to action. I had no time to dream over the faded glories, the dead splendour of Roslyn; those merry comrades whereof I spoke called to me, as did the friends of the melancholy hero visitor to Locksley Hall, and I was soon en route again for the White House. This was McClellan's great depot of stores on the Pamunkey, which he had abandoned when deciding upon the James river line of retreat-change of base, if you prefer the phrase, reader --and to the White House General Stuart had hurried to prevent if possible the destruction of the stores. He was too late. The officer in charge of the great depot had applied the torch to all, and retreated; and when the cavalry arrived, nothing was
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