Civil War Carte de Visite Photographed By Remington’s, New York
This carte de visite shows a woman wearing the most fashionable apparel of the early 1860s. For the first time, women wore skirts and blouses, although the blouse is covered with a jacket. That the skirt is deeply pleated and extends more to the back than from the front probably dates it around 1865. The skirt is trimmed with starkly contrasting trimming in a Greek key design, which was very stylish. The jacket was most likely made of silk and trimmed with braid.
Division of Information, Technology and Society, Photographic History National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution Behring Center-http://www.civilwar.si.edu/life_cdv_younglady.html#

Civil War Carte de Visite Photographed By Remington’s, New York

This carte de visite shows a woman wearing the most fashionable apparel of the early 1860s. For the first time, women wore skirts and blouses, although the blouse is covered with a jacket. That the skirt is deeply pleated and extends more to the back than from the front probably dates it around 1865. The skirt is trimmed with starkly contrasting trimming in a Greek key design, which was very stylish. The jacket was most likely made of silk and trimmed with braid.

Division of Information, Technology and Society, Photographic History
National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution
Behring Center-http://www.civilwar.si.edu/life_cdv_younglady.html#

Unidentified Soldier In Union Sergeant’s Frock Coat And Forage Cap With Unidentified Woman In Dress And Hat With Veil Between 1861 And 1865
Layers Of Civil War Womens Clothing
 List of the Civil War womens clothing that they wore starting next to the skin and working out in layers: 
Layer 1 * Drawers (underpants) made of cotton or linen and trimmed with lace * Chemise (long undershirt) usually made of linen * Stockings held up with garters
Layer 2 * Corset or stays stiffened with whale bone * Crinoline, hoop skirt, or 1 or 2 petticoats (dark color if traveling due to mud and dirt)
Layer 3 * Petticoat bodice, corset cover, or camisole
Layer 4 * Bodice * Skirt, often held up with “braces” (suspenders) * Belt * Slippers made of satin, velvet, done in knit, or crochet
Layer 5 (outerwear for leaving the house) * Shawl, jacket, or mantle * Gloves or mitts * Button up boots * Parasol * Bonnet or hat * Bag or purse * Handkerchief * Fan sometimes made of sandalwood * Watch pocket
Photo Repository:  Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print
http://www.visit-gettysburg.com/civil-war-womens-clothing.html

Unidentified Soldier In Union Sergeant’s Frock Coat And Forage Cap With Unidentified Woman In Dress And Hat With Veil Between 1861 And 1865

Layers Of Civil War Womens Clothing

List of the Civil War womens clothing that they wore starting next to the skin and working out in layers:

Layer 1
* Drawers (underpants) made of cotton or linen and trimmed with lace
* Chemise (long undershirt) usually made of linen
* Stockings held up with garters

Layer 2
* Corset or stays stiffened with whale bone
* Crinoline, hoop skirt, or 1 or 2 petticoats (dark color if traveling due to mud and dirt)

Layer 3
* Petticoat bodice, corset cover, or camisole

Layer 4
* Bodice
* Skirt, often held up with “braces” (suspenders)
* Belt
* Slippers made of satin, velvet, done in knit, or crochet

Layer 5 (outerwear for leaving the house)
* Shawl, jacket, or mantle
* Gloves or mitts
* Button up boots
* Parasol
* Bonnet or hat
* Bag or purse
* Handkerchief
* Fan sometimes made of sandalwood
* Watch pocket

Photo Repository: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print

http://www.visit-gettysburg.com/civil-war-womens-clothing.html

 Carlos Alvarez de la Mesa Was A Spanaird Who Came To The U.S. To Fight In The Civil War, And Fought At Gettysburg
The Spanish national immigrated to the U.S. in 1861 to join the Union Army and fight in the Civil War. Weeks after marrying into a family of “New England blue bloods,” the 32-year-old joined the “Garibaldi Guard.” Also called the 39th New York Infantry Volunteers, its companies were composed of ethnic Hungarians, Germans, Italians, Spaniards and other immigrants.
De la Mesa fought in the pivotal battle of Gettysburg. The officer received a gunshot wound to his foot as he leaped over a stone wall, and was trampled by his “entire company.” He suffered critical wounds across his body. Despite his illnesses, he went on to serve for years in the Veteran Reserve Corps before he died in an insane asylum from “disease of the brain” in 1872.
http://dmna.ny.gov/historic/reghist/civil/infantry/39thInf/deLaMesa/39thInf_Coll_deLaMesa_photo.htm
http://www.timesunion.com/default/article/War-letters-tell-poignant-tale-2208663.php

Carlos Alvarez de la Mesa Was A Spanaird Who Came To The U.S. To Fight In The Civil War, And Fought At Gettysburg

The Spanish national immigrated to the U.S. in 1861 to join the Union Army and fight in the Civil War. Weeks after marrying into a family of “New England blue bloods,” the 32-year-old joined the “Garibaldi Guard.” Also called the 39th New York Infantry Volunteers, its companies were composed of ethnic Hungarians, Germans, Italians, Spaniards and other immigrants.

De la Mesa fought in the pivotal battle of Gettysburg. The officer received a gunshot wound to his foot as he leaped over a stone wall, and was trampled by his “entire company.” He suffered critical wounds across his body. Despite his illnesses, he went on to serve for years in the Veteran Reserve Corps before he died in an insane asylum from “disease of the brain” in 1872.

http://dmna.ny.gov/historic/reghist/civil/infantry/39thInf/deLaMesa/39thInf_Coll_deLaMesa_photo.htm

http://www.timesunion.com/default/article/War-letters-tell-poignant-tale-2208663.php

The 1st And 15th Arkansas’ Famous Humanitarian Act
Privates Henry Clements and John McKamie Wilson Baird, of the “Jackson Guards”, A Prewar Volunteer Militia Company Which Became Company G, 1st Arkansas
During the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain on June 27, 1864, the 1st/15th Arkansas became involved in a famous humanitarian act. At one point in the battle, not far from the position known as the “Dead Angle”, the Union frontal assault had failed leaving hundreds of dead and wounded Union soldiers between the Confederate works and the Union lines.
The woods and brush between the two armies caught fire because of the gunfire and artillery. The fire began to creep toward the wounded soldiers. Lt. Colonel William P. Martin who was commanding the 1st and 15th combined Arkansas Regiments, jumped on the earthworks and ordered his Confederate soldiers to cease firing. He then waved a white flag of truce yelling to the Union soldiers to “come and get your wounded, they are burning to death.” For a short time the Union and Confederate soldiers helped remove the wounded and put out the fires. The next day the Union generals presented Martin with two Colt Revolvers as a thank you for his humanitarian efforts. Later the opposing forces began to fire at each other again.
Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield, The Civil War for Kids
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1st_Arkansas_Infantry_Regiment

The 1st And 15th Arkansas’ Famous Humanitarian Act

Privates Henry Clements and John McKamie Wilson Baird, of the “Jackson Guards”, A Prewar Volunteer Militia Company Which Became Company G, 1st Arkansas

During the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain on June 27, 1864, the 1st/15th Arkansas became involved in a famous humanitarian act. At one point in the battle, not far from the position known as the “Dead Angle”, the Union frontal assault had failed leaving hundreds of dead and wounded Union soldiers between the Confederate works and the Union lines.

The woods and brush between the two armies caught fire because of the gunfire and artillery. The fire began to creep toward the wounded soldiers. Lt. Colonel William P. Martin who was commanding the 1st and 15th combined Arkansas Regiments, jumped on the earthworks and ordered his Confederate soldiers to cease firing. He then waved a white flag of truce yelling to the Union soldiers to “come and get your wounded, they are burning to death.” For a short time the Union and Confederate soldiers helped remove the wounded and put out the fires. The next day the Union generals presented Martin with two Colt Revolvers as a thank you for his humanitarian efforts. Later the opposing forces began to fire at each other again.

Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield, The Civil War for Kids

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1st_Arkansas_Infantry_Regiment

Grand Rapids Resident Captain Samuel Judd of Company A Of The 3rd Michigan Infantry Regiment
He was born in Massachusetts in 1806 and killed at the battle of Fair Oaks in Virginia in 1862. 
More than 90,000 Michigan men, nearly a quarter of the state’s male population in 1860, served in the war. 14,753 Michigan soldiers died in service, roughly 1 of every 6 who served. 4,448 of these deaths were combat deaths while the majority, over 9000, were from disease, a constant fear in crowded army camps with poor food, sanitation and exposure issues and pre-modern medicine. This put Michigan’s loss at sixth highest among the Union states (the non-state U.S Colored Troops losses also exceeded Michigan’s).
When, at the beginning of the war, Michigan was asked to supply no more than four regiments Governor Austin Blair sent seven. Upon the arrival of Michigan’s 1st volunteers President Abraham Lincoln was prompted to remark, “Thank God for Michigan.”
http://www.mlive.com/news/grand-rapids/index.ssf/2011/04/150_years_since_the_beginning.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michigan_in_the_American_Civil_War

Grand Rapids Resident Captain Samuel Judd of Company A Of The 3rd Michigan Infantry Regiment

He was born in Massachusetts in 1806 and killed at the battle of Fair Oaks in Virginia in 1862.

More than 90,000 Michigan men, nearly a quarter of the state’s male population in 1860, served in the war. 14,753 Michigan soldiers died in service, roughly 1 of every 6 who served. 4,448 of these deaths were combat deaths while the majority, over 9000, were from disease, a constant fear in crowded army camps with poor food, sanitation and exposure issues and pre-modern medicine. This put Michigan’s loss at sixth highest among the Union states (the non-state U.S Colored Troops losses also exceeded Michigan’s).

When, at the beginning of the war, Michigan was asked to supply no more than four regiments Governor Austin Blair sent seven. Upon the arrival of Michigan’s 1st volunteers President Abraham Lincoln was prompted to remark, “Thank God for Michigan.”

http://www.mlive.com/news/grand-rapids/index.ssf/2011/04/150_years_since_the_beginning.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michigan_in_the_American_Civil_War

Random Lincoln Facts
Returning from New Orleans in 1828 by boat, Lincoln and a companion were attacked in their sleep by seven men, “with intent to kill and rob them.” As Lincoln emerged from a hatchway, an attacker “struck him a blow with a heavy stick … making a scar which he wore always”
Stephen Douglas called Lincoln “two-faced.” Lincoln responded: “I leave it to my audience. If I had another face, do you think I would wear this one?”
Lincoln had a high-pitched voice that could be heard over great distances. When excited, the pitch went higher still, and sometimes became unpleasant. Still, his voice was an asset because it could be heard by all the crowds that gathered outdoors to hear him speak. (Microphones did not yet exist.) For example, at least 15,000 people heard him give the Gettysburg Address and “acres of people” heard his first inaugural address
A dentist broke off part of Lincoln’s jaw bone while pulling a tooth — without anesthesia. The extraction may have taken place in Louisville, KY in Sept. 1841
Lincoln was several times the victim of domestic violence at the hands of his wife, Mary. (a) About 1860: Mary struck him “on [the] head with a piece of wood while reading paper in South Parlor — cut his nose — lawyers saw his face in Court next day but asked no questions” (b) Before 1861: Angry at his choice in meat for a guest, Mary “abused L. outrageously and finally was so mad she struck him in the face. Rubbing the blood off his face Lincoln and [the guest] left” (c) there are also records of Mary throwing coffee at him, throwing potatoes at him, chasing him down the street with a knife (once) or a broomstick (frequently), pulling out part of his beard, and of a strike to his face in his last weeks alive.
http://www.doctorzebra.com/prez/g16.htm#ref2
Sotos, John G. The Physical Lincoln Sourcebook. Mt. Vernon, VA: Mt. Vernon Book Systems, 2008
Boller, Paul F. Jr. Presidential Anecdotes. New York: Oxford University Press, 1981

Random Lincoln Facts

  • Returning from New Orleans in 1828 by boat, Lincoln and a companion were attacked in their sleep by seven men, “with intent to kill and rob them.” As Lincoln emerged from a hatchway, an attacker “struck him a blow with a heavy stick … making a scar which he wore always”
  • Stephen Douglas called Lincoln “two-faced.” Lincoln responded: “I leave it to my audience. If I had another face, do you think I would wear this one?”
  • Lincoln had a high-pitched voice that could be heard over great distances. When excited, the pitch went higher still, and sometimes became unpleasant. Still, his voice was an asset because it could be heard by all the crowds that gathered outdoors to hear him speak. (Microphones did not yet exist.) For example, at least 15,000 people heard him give the Gettysburg Address and “acres of people” heard his first inaugural address
  • A dentist broke off part of Lincoln’s jaw bone while pulling a tooth — without anesthesia. The extraction may have taken place in Louisville, KY in Sept. 1841
  • Lincoln was several times the victim of domestic violence at the hands of his wife, Mary. (a) About 1860: Mary struck him “on [the] head with a piece of wood while reading paper in South Parlor — cut his nose — lawyers saw his face in Court next day but asked no questions” (b) Before 1861: Angry at his choice in meat for a guest, Mary “abused L. outrageously and finally was so mad she struck him in the face. Rubbing the blood off his face Lincoln and [the guest] left” (c) there are also records of Mary throwing coffee at him, throwing potatoes at him, chasing him down the street with a knife (once) or a broomstick (frequently), pulling out part of his beard, and of a strike to his face in his last weeks alive.

http://www.doctorzebra.com/prez/g16.htm#ref2

Sotos, John G. The Physical Lincoln Sourcebook. Mt. Vernon, VA: Mt. Vernon Book Systems, 2008

Boller, Paul F. Jr. Presidential Anecdotes. New York: Oxford University Press, 1981

Mary Todd Lincoln
Mary Ann Todd Lincoln, the wife of the president was only 5′-2″ tall. With the President being 6 feet 3.75 inches tall, usually reported as an exact 6’4.. the difference between the two was a considerable 14 inches. That stovepipe hat just made him a whole lot taller. 
Photo National Archives
http://awesometalks.wordpress.com/did-you-know-abraham-lincoln-summary/

Mary Todd Lincoln

Mary Ann Todd Lincoln, the wife of the president was only 5′-2″ tall. With the President being 6 feet 3.75 inches tall, usually reported as an exact 6’4.. the difference between the two was a considerable 14 inches. That stovepipe hat just made him a whole lot taller.

Photo National Archives

http://awesometalks.wordpress.com/did-you-know-abraham-lincoln-summary/

Civil War Photographer - Mathew Brady -
Mathew B. Brady was one of the most celebrated 19th-century American photographers, best known for his portraits of celebrities and his documentation of the American Civil War. He is credited with being the father of photojournalism.
"My greatest aim has been to advance the art of photography and to make it what I think I have, a great and truthful medium of history." - Mathew B. Brady …
In 1861, when the Civil War began, Brady sent his Washington photographers out into the field, in part to acquire portraits of military leaders. Later, both Brady and Alexander Gardner claimed credit for photographing the war in all its phases. In fact, countless photographers followed the army, though most were only interested in the profits that came from making portraits for soldiers to send back home….
Photo National Archives http://www.npg.si.edu/exh/brady/war/civilpg.htm

Civil War Photographer - Mathew Brady -

Mathew B. Brady was one of the most celebrated 19th-century American photographers, best known for his portraits of celebrities and his documentation of the American Civil War. He is credited with being the father of photojournalism.

"My greatest aim has been to advance the art of photography and to make it what I think I have, a great and truthful medium of history." - Mathew B. Brady …

In 1861, when the Civil War began, Brady sent his Washington photographers out into the field, in part to acquire portraits of military leaders. Later, both Brady and Alexander Gardner claimed credit for photographing the war in all its phases. In fact, countless photographers followed the army, though most were only interested in the profits that came from making portraits for soldiers to send back home….

Photo National Archives http://www.npg.si.edu/exh/brady/war/civilpg.htm

 Luther “Yellowstone” Kelly- Fresh out of the Army in 1868, he embarked on a 12-year journey through the northern Plains that made him a legend in his own time.…
He joined the Union army at age 15 to fight in the Civil War. Before he was 20, he was a well-known scout, frontiersman, explorer and Indian fighter
In the spring of 1865, with the Civil War winding down, Kelly secured permission from his mother to join the Army. He traveled to Rochester NY, where he attempted to join the Fourth New York Cavalry but was turned down due his young age 15.  Later he joined the 10th Infantry by lying about his age. He was unaware that the 10th Infantry was not a volunteer corps and that he would be obliged to continue serving after the war.
After leaving the army, Kelly embarked on what The New York Times later called “the most adventurous period of his life”, establishing himself as “one of the greatest hunters, trappers, and Indian scouts” of the American West.
He guided two expeditions in Alaska and served as a captain of volunteers in the Philippines. His last assignment was as an agent on the San Carlos Indian Reservation and he later retired in California where he died. His last request was to be buried at the summit of Kelly Mountain in Billings Montana overlooking the land he scouted and loved.
Read more: http://billingsgazette.com/news/local/yellowstone-kelly-spent-his-youth-exploring-montana/article_22dc5f0f-c823-5a22-a965-7120005109eb.html#ixzz3BH04cHlz
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thecivilwarparlor/new/photo
ColorbyS.Palmer@TheCivilWarParlor Tumblr

Luther “Yellowstone” Kelly- Fresh out of the Army in 1868, he embarked on a 12-year journey through the northern Plains that made him a legend in his own time.

He joined the Union army at age 15 to fight in the Civil War. Before he was 20, he was a well-known scout, frontiersman, explorer and Indian fighter

In the spring of 1865, with the Civil War winding down, Kelly secured permission from his mother to join the Army. He traveled to Rochester NY, where he attempted to join the Fourth New York Cavalry but was turned down due his young age 15.  Later he joined the 10th Infantry by lying about his age. He was unaware that the 10th Infantry was not a volunteer corps and that he would be obliged to continue serving after the war.

After leaving the army, Kelly embarked on what The New York Times later called “the most adventurous period of his life”, establishing himself as “one of the greatest hunters, trappers, and Indian scouts” of the American West.

He guided two expeditions in Alaska and served as a captain of volunteers in the Philippines. His last assignment was as an agent on the San Carlos Indian Reservation and he later retired in California where he died. His last request was to be buried at the summit of Kelly Mountain in Billings Montana overlooking the land he scouted and loved.

Read more: http://billingsgazette.com/news/local/yellowstone-kelly-spent-his-youth-exploring-montana/article_22dc5f0f-c823-5a22-a965-7120005109eb.html#ixzz3BH04cHlz

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thecivilwarparlor/new/photo

ColorbyS.Palmer@TheCivilWarParlor Tumblr


Thomas Issac Duvall & William Duvall- William Died Waving His Sword And Shouting “Victory”
Thomas Duvall (left) and William Duvall (right), along with brother Henderson, enlisted in Company C, 3rd Missouri Infantry on December 10, 1861, at Richmond, Missouri, after prior service in the Missouri State Guard. William was promoted to lieutenant on May 8, 1862.
The Duvalls fought at Carthage, Wilson’s Creek, Lexington, Pea Ridge, Farmington, Iuka and Corinth. On October 4, 1862, Lieutenant William Duvall was killed during the Confederate attack on Corinth, trying to plant the Confederate flag on the Union fortifications. Lieutenant Colonel Finley L. Hubbell, 3rd Missouri Infantry, recorded in his diary that William died waving his sword and shouting “Victory.”
Thomas Duvall and his brother Henderson were later killed at Champion Hill, Mississippi, on May 16, 1863.
Image Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield; WICR 30171


P.S. Alexander & S.W. Stone
This rare tintype features two Missouri State Guard soldiers. On the right is Private P. S. Alexander of the Moniteau County Rangers; his comrade is Private S. W. Stone of the California Guards. Both are dressed in civilian clothing, typical of the Missouri State Guard. Stone is wearing an elaborate tooled leather sheath with a Bowie knife and is holding a musket, while Alexander is holding a civilian half-stock rifle and has a large knife in his belt. A bouquet of flowers adorns his hat.
Image Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield; WICR 30025

Warrior-Poet William Haines Lytle- He Had A Major Reputation In The 1800’s Heyday Of Poetry. He died at Chickamauga, left behind on the battle field where Confederate soldiers actually protected his body 
Confederate officer, Colonel Wm. Miller Owen, in his reminiscences of the civil war, relates that, while riding over the battlefield of Chickamauga, on September 20, 1863, he came upon the body of General Lytle, which he recognized as that of an old friend. He says: “A confederate soldier was standing guard over the body. Dismounting, I asked the man his instructions, and he replied, ‘I am here to take charge of this body, and to allow no one to touch it.’
His poetry was loved by both Yankees and Southerners, especially “Antony and Cleopatra” They read his poetry aloud in a makeshift tribute. They found some of his latest verses on his body including these lines he had written for his sisters:“In vain for me the applause of men,The Laurel won by sword or pen,But for the hope, so dear and sweet,To lay my trophies at your feet.”


‘Tis Only Once We Love By William Haines


The heart that throbbed at Glory’s voice And followed in her train, Although in sloth it slumbers long, May wake to life again. But ah! when once true love has bloomed, As many a heart can prove, The fragrance wasted ne’er returns— ‘Tis only once we love.
I tread the sunny paths of life, ‘Mid beauty’s proud array, But the spell that lent a charm to all Has mist-like passed away. No more the thrill from mingled pulse The eloquent low sigh, Nor the unbidden tear of joy That trembled in the eye.
Yet ofttimes in my early dreams, From some enchanted isle, Comes one with her soft, winning voice And the old gladsome smile,
And hand in hand we wander on Through violet-bordered glades, Till with the night’s starred legions bright The joyous vision fades.
Ah! sadly pass the hours away When that sweet light departs, Which fair as dawn on Eden rose With rapture on our hearts. And many a blossom fair is culled As through the world we rove; But the fairest is the rarest flower. ‘Tis only once we love.
Lytle never married, and left no direct descendants.
Photo Brady National Photographic Art Gallery (Washington, D.C.) info wiki and http://myweb.wvnet.edu/~jelkins/lp-2001/lytle3.html

Warrior-Poet William Haines Lytle- He Had A Major Reputation In The 1800’s Heyday Of Poetry. He died at Chickamauga, left behind on the battle field where Confederate soldiers actually protected his body

Confederate officer, Colonel Wm. Miller Owen, in his reminiscences of the civil war, relates that, while riding over the battlefield of Chickamauga, on September 20, 1863, he came upon the body of General Lytle, which he recognized as that of an old friend. He says: “A confederate soldier was standing guard over the body. Dismounting, I asked the man his instructions, and he replied, ‘I am here to take charge of this body, and to allow no one to touch it.’

His poetry was loved by both Yankees and Southerners, especially “Antony and Cleopatra” They read his poetry aloud in a makeshift tribute. They found some of his latest verses on his body including these lines he had written for his sisters:

“In vain for me the applause of men,
The Laurel won by sword or pen,
But for the hope, so dear and sweet,
To lay my trophies at your feet.”

Tis Only Once We Love By William Haines

The heart that throbbed at Glory’s voice
And followed in her train,
Although in sloth it slumbers long,
May wake to life again.
But ah! when once true love has bloomed,
As many a heart can prove,
The fragrance wasted ne’er returns—
‘Tis only once we love.

I tread the sunny paths of life,
‘Mid beauty’s proud array,
But the spell that lent a charm to all
Has mist-like passed away.
No more the thrill from mingled pulse
The eloquent low sigh,
Nor the unbidden tear of joy
That trembled in the eye.

Yet ofttimes in my early dreams,
From some enchanted isle,
Comes one with her soft, winning voice
And the old gladsome smile,

And hand in hand we wander on
Through violet-bordered glades,
Till with the night’s starred legions bright
The joyous vision fades.

Ah! sadly pass the hours away
When that sweet light departs,
Which fair as dawn on Eden rose
With rapture on our hearts.
And many a blossom fair is culled
As through the world we rove;
But the fairest is the rarest flower.
‘Tis only once we love.

Lytle never married, and left no direct descendants.

Photo Brady National Photographic Art Gallery (Washington, D.C.) info wiki and http://myweb.wvnet.edu/~jelkins/lp-2001/lytle3.html

Poet Warrior - William Haines Lytle
Celebrated American poet before the Civil War. Lytle’s most famous poem, “Antony and Cleopatra” (published in 1857), was beloved by both North and South in antebellum America
He was a politician in Ohio, renowned poet, and military officer in the Army during both the Mexican American War and The Civil War, where he was killed in action as a brigadier general. 
Lytle was mortally wounded at the Battle of Chickamauga in Georgia while leading a counterattack on horseback. Once his identity was known, respectful Confederates placed a guard around his body, and many recited his poetry over their evening campfires.
His funeral was held in the early afternoon at Christ Church on Fourth Street in Cincinnati. So many people lined the streets that the funeral cortege did not reach Spring Grove Cemetery until dusk. Lytle’s monument, one of the most impressive ones there, is near the entrance to the cemetery. The alleged shooter of Lytle was never discovered, and to this day has never been discovered, all that is known is that the shooter was a Confederate sniper using a Whitworth .45 caliber percussion rifle.
According to history presented to The Daughters of The Confederacy, the shooter was Hillary Garrison Waldrep of Company B of the 16th Alabama Regiment of Infantry. In order to make the shot that was purportedly approved personally by General Bragg, Waldrep had to adjust the sights on his rifle for 200 yards beyond where they usually were. According to the account, once General Lytle fell to the ground, his horse was spooked and ran toward the Confederate soldiers. Bragg gave Hillary Garrison Waldrep General Lytle’s horse, bed-roll and equipment. Waldrep later sold the horse for $100.
Taken From Antony and Cleopatra-Lytle’s most famous poem, 1858:
I am dying, Egypt, dying;

Hark! the insulting foeman’s cry;

They are coming; quick, my falchion!

Let me front them ere I die.

Ah, no more amid the battle

Shall my heart exulting swell;

Isis and Osiris guard thee, —

Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Haines_Lytle
http://waroftherebellion.com/images/lyttle2.jpg

Poet Warrior - William Haines Lytle

Celebrated American poet before the Civil War. Lytle’s most famous poem, “Antony and Cleopatra” (published in 1857), was beloved by both North and South in antebellum America

He was a politician in Ohio, renowned poet, and military officer in the Army during both the Mexican American War and The Civil War, where he was killed in action as a brigadier general.

Lytle was mortally wounded at the Battle of Chickamauga in Georgia while leading a counterattack on horseback. Once his identity was known, respectful Confederates placed a guard around his body, and many recited his poetry over their evening campfires.

His funeral was held in the early afternoon at Christ Church on Fourth Street in Cincinnati. So many people lined the streets that the funeral cortege did not reach Spring Grove Cemetery until dusk. Lytle’s monument, one of the most impressive ones there, is near the entrance to the cemetery. The alleged shooter of Lytle was never discovered, and to this day has never been discovered, all that is known is that the shooter was a Confederate sniper using a Whitworth .45 caliber percussion rifle.

According to history presented to The Daughters of The Confederacy, the shooter was Hillary Garrison Waldrep of Company B of the 16th Alabama Regiment of Infantry. In order to make the shot that was purportedly approved personally by General Bragg, Waldrep had to adjust the sights on his rifle for 200 yards beyond where they usually were. According to the account, once General Lytle fell to the ground, his horse was spooked and ran toward the Confederate soldiers. Bragg gave Hillary Garrison Waldrep General Lytle’s horse, bed-roll and equipment. Waldrep later sold the horse for $100.

Taken From Antony and Cleopatra-Lytle’s most famous poem, 1858:

I am dying, Egypt, dying;

Hark! the insulting foeman’s cry;

They are coming; quick, my falchion!

Let me front them ere I die.

Ah, no more amid the battle

Shall my heart exulting swell;

Isis and Osiris guard thee, —

Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Haines_Lytle

http://waroftherebellion.com/images/lyttle2.jpg

Civil War-era wallet was discovered by Naval Historical Center archeologists during their excavation of the Confederate submarine H.L. Hunley
The archeologists stated that the wallet was in remarkably good condition. Hunley became the first submarine in history to sink a warship during the Civil War in 1863. Photo by Chris Ohm. (RELEASED) Photo WIKI
(CNN) — Born and built amid gray-cloaked secrecy during the American Civil War, the H.L. Hunley — the first submarine to sink an enemy ship — has held tight to its murky mysteries.

Civil War-era wallet was discovered by Naval Historical Center archeologists during their excavation of the Confederate submarine H.L. Hunley

The archeologists stated that the wallet was in remarkably good condition. Hunley became the first submarine in history to sink a warship during the Civil War in 1863. Photo by Chris Ohm. (RELEASED) Photo WIKI

(CNN) — Born and built amid gray-cloaked secrecy during the American Civil War, the H.L. Hunley — the first submarine to sink an enemy ship — has held tight to its murky mysteries.


Ode to the Confederate Dead




Allen Tate, 1899 - 1979







Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the element,
The wind whirrs without recollection;
In the riven troughs the splayed leaves
Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament
To the seasonal eternity of death;
Then driven by the fierce scrutiny
Of heaven to their election in the vast breath,
They sough the rumour of mortality.

Autumn is desolation in the plot
Of a thousand acres where these memories grow
From the inexhaustible bodies that are not 
Dead, but feed the grass row after rich row.
Think of the autumns that have come and gone!--
Ambitious November with the humors of the year,
With a particular zeal for every slab,
Staining the uncomfortable angels that rot
On the slabs, a wing chipped here, an arm there:
The brute curiosity of an angel’s stare
Turns you, like them, to stone,
Transforms the heaving air
Till plunged to a heavier world below
You shift your sea-space blindly
Heaving, turning like the blind crab.

     Dazed by the wind, only the wind
     The leaves flying, plunge

You know who have waited by the wall
The twilight certainty of an animal,
Those midnight restitutions of the blood
You know--the immitigable pines, the smoky frieze
Of the sky, the sudden call: you know the rage,
The cold pool left by the mounting flood,
Of muted Zeno and Parmenides.
You who have waited for the angry resolution
Of those desires that should be yours tomorrow,
You know the unimportant shrift of death
And praise the vision
And praise the arrogant circumstance
Of those who fall
Rank upon rank, hurried beyond decision--
Here by the sagging gate, stopped by the wall. 

     Seeing, seeing only the leaves
     Flying, plunge and expire

Turn your eyes to the immoderate past,
Turn to the inscrutable infantry rising
Demons out of the earth they will not last.
Stonewall, Stonewall, and the sunken fields of hemp,
Shiloh, Antietam, Malvern Hill, Bull Run.
Lost in that orient of the thick and fast
You will curse the setting sun.

     Cursing only the leaves crying
     Like an old man in a storm

You hear the shout, the crazy hemlocks point
With troubled fingers to the silence which
Smothers you, a mummy, in time.

                               The hound bitch
Toothless and dying, in a musty cellar
Hears the wind only.
     
                    Now that the salt of their blood
Stiffens the saltier oblivion of the sea,
Seals the malignant purity of the flood,
What shall we who count our days and bow
Our heads with a commemorial woe
In the ribboned coats of grim felicity,
What shall we say of the bones, unclean,
Whose verdurous anonymity will grow?
The ragged arms, the ragged heads and eyes
Lost in these acres of the insane green?
The gray lean spiders come, they come and go;
In a tangle of willows without light
The singular screech-owl’s tight
Invisible lyric seeds the mind
With the furious murmur of their chivalry.

     We shall say only the leaves
     Flying, plunge and expire

We shall say only the leaves whispering
In the improbable mist of nightfall
That flies on multiple wing:
Night is the beginning and the end
And in between the ends of distraction
Waits mute speculation, the patient curse
That stones the eyes, or like the jaguar leaps
For his own image in a jungle pool, his victim.

What shall we say who have knowledge 
Carried to the heart?  Shall we take the act
To the grave?  Shall we, more hopeful, set up the grave
In the house?  The ravenous grave?

                                   Leave now
The shut gate and the decomposing wall:
The gentle serpent, green in the mulberry bush, 
Riots with his tongue through the hush--
Sentinel of the grave who counts us all!




From Selected Poems by Allen Tate, published by Charles Scribner’s Sons.
http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/ode-confederate-dead
Zoom Info

Ode to the Confederate Dead




Allen Tate, 1899 - 1979







Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the element,
The wind whirrs without recollection;
In the riven troughs the splayed leaves
Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament
To the seasonal eternity of death;
Then driven by the fierce scrutiny
Of heaven to their election in the vast breath,
They sough the rumour of mortality.

Autumn is desolation in the plot
Of a thousand acres where these memories grow
From the inexhaustible bodies that are not 
Dead, but feed the grass row after rich row.
Think of the autumns that have come and gone!--
Ambitious November with the humors of the year,
With a particular zeal for every slab,
Staining the uncomfortable angels that rot
On the slabs, a wing chipped here, an arm there:
The brute curiosity of an angel’s stare
Turns you, like them, to stone,
Transforms the heaving air
Till plunged to a heavier world below
You shift your sea-space blindly
Heaving, turning like the blind crab.

     Dazed by the wind, only the wind
     The leaves flying, plunge

You know who have waited by the wall
The twilight certainty of an animal,
Those midnight restitutions of the blood
You know--the immitigable pines, the smoky frieze
Of the sky, the sudden call: you know the rage,
The cold pool left by the mounting flood,
Of muted Zeno and Parmenides.
You who have waited for the angry resolution
Of those desires that should be yours tomorrow,
You know the unimportant shrift of death
And praise the vision
And praise the arrogant circumstance
Of those who fall
Rank upon rank, hurried beyond decision--
Here by the sagging gate, stopped by the wall. 

     Seeing, seeing only the leaves
     Flying, plunge and expire

Turn your eyes to the immoderate past,
Turn to the inscrutable infantry rising
Demons out of the earth they will not last.
Stonewall, Stonewall, and the sunken fields of hemp,
Shiloh, Antietam, Malvern Hill, Bull Run.
Lost in that orient of the thick and fast
You will curse the setting sun.

     Cursing only the leaves crying
     Like an old man in a storm

You hear the shout, the crazy hemlocks point
With troubled fingers to the silence which
Smothers you, a mummy, in time.

                               The hound bitch
Toothless and dying, in a musty cellar
Hears the wind only.
     
                    Now that the salt of their blood
Stiffens the saltier oblivion of the sea,
Seals the malignant purity of the flood,
What shall we who count our days and bow
Our heads with a commemorial woe
In the ribboned coats of grim felicity,
What shall we say of the bones, unclean,
Whose verdurous anonymity will grow?
The ragged arms, the ragged heads and eyes
Lost in these acres of the insane green?
The gray lean spiders come, they come and go;
In a tangle of willows without light
The singular screech-owl’s tight
Invisible lyric seeds the mind
With the furious murmur of their chivalry.

     We shall say only the leaves
     Flying, plunge and expire

We shall say only the leaves whispering
In the improbable mist of nightfall
That flies on multiple wing:
Night is the beginning and the end
And in between the ends of distraction
Waits mute speculation, the patient curse
That stones the eyes, or like the jaguar leaps
For his own image in a jungle pool, his victim.

What shall we say who have knowledge 
Carried to the heart?  Shall we take the act
To the grave?  Shall we, more hopeful, set up the grave
In the house?  The ravenous grave?

                                   Leave now
The shut gate and the decomposing wall:
The gentle serpent, green in the mulberry bush, 
Riots with his tongue through the hush--
Sentinel of the grave who counts us all!




From Selected Poems by Allen Tate, published by Charles Scribner’s Sons.
http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/ode-confederate-dead
Zoom Info

Ode to the Confederate Dead

Allen Tate, 1899 - 1979
Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the element,
The wind whirrs without recollection;
In the riven troughs the splayed leaves
Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament
To the seasonal eternity of death;
Then driven by the fierce scrutiny
Of heaven to their election in the vast breath,
They sough the rumour of mortality.

Autumn is desolation in the plot
Of a thousand acres where these memories grow
From the inexhaustible bodies that are not 
Dead, but feed the grass row after rich row.
Think of the autumns that have come and gone!--
Ambitious November with the humors of the year,
With a particular zeal for every slab,
Staining the uncomfortable angels that rot
On the slabs, a wing chipped here, an arm there:
The brute curiosity of an angel’s stare
Turns you, like them, to stone,
Transforms the heaving air
Till plunged to a heavier world below
You shift your sea-space blindly
Heaving, turning like the blind crab.

     Dazed by the wind, only the wind
     The leaves flying, plunge

You know who have waited by the wall
The twilight certainty of an animal,
Those midnight restitutions of the blood
You know--the immitigable pines, the smoky frieze
Of the sky, the sudden call: you know the rage,
The cold pool left by the mounting flood,
Of muted Zeno and Parmenides.
You who have waited for the angry resolution
Of those desires that should be yours tomorrow,
You know the unimportant shrift of death
And praise the vision
And praise the arrogant circumstance
Of those who fall
Rank upon rank, hurried beyond decision--
Here by the sagging gate, stopped by the wall. 

     Seeing, seeing only the leaves
     Flying, plunge and expire

Turn your eyes to the immoderate past,
Turn to the inscrutable infantry rising
Demons out of the earth they will not last.
Stonewall, Stonewall, and the sunken fields of hemp,
Shiloh, Antietam, Malvern Hill, Bull Run.
Lost in that orient of the thick and fast
You will curse the setting sun.

     Cursing only the leaves crying
     Like an old man in a storm

You hear the shout, the crazy hemlocks point
With troubled fingers to the silence which
Smothers you, a mummy, in time.

                               The hound bitch
Toothless and dying, in a musty cellar
Hears the wind only.
     
                    Now that the salt of their blood
Stiffens the saltier oblivion of the sea,
Seals the malignant purity of the flood,
What shall we who count our days and bow
Our heads with a commemorial woe
In the ribboned coats of grim felicity,
What shall we say of the bones, unclean,
Whose verdurous anonymity will grow?
The ragged arms, the ragged heads and eyes
Lost in these acres of the insane green?
The gray lean spiders come, they come and go;
In a tangle of willows without light
The singular screech-owl’s tight
Invisible lyric seeds the mind
With the furious murmur of their chivalry.

     We shall say only the leaves
     Flying, plunge and expire

We shall say only the leaves whispering
In the improbable mist of nightfall
That flies on multiple wing:
Night is the beginning and the end
And in between the ends of distraction
Waits mute speculation, the patient curse
That stones the eyes, or like the jaguar leaps
For his own image in a jungle pool, his victim.

What shall we say who have knowledge 
Carried to the heart?  Shall we take the act
To the grave?  Shall we, more hopeful, set up the grave
In the house?  The ravenous grave?

                                   Leave now
The shut gate and the decomposing wall:
The gentle serpent, green in the mulberry bush, 
Riots with his tongue through the hush--
Sentinel of the grave who counts us all!

From Selected Poems by Allen Tate, published by Charles Scribner’s Sons.

http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/ode-confederate-dead