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


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

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


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

Charles Longfellow- Son Of Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In 1863, he ran off to enlist as a private in the Union Army during the Civil War, and eventually received a commission as a lieutenant in a cavalry regiment. Miraculously, he survived a bout with malaria and what could have been a mortal gun shot wound to his back, which he received while on campaign in Virginia. The bullet traveled across his back, nicked his spine, and exited under his right shoulder. He missed being paralyzed by less than an inch.
He knew his father disapproved of him fighting, but went anyway. He wrote a letter to his father saying, “I have tried to resist the temptation of going without your leave but cannot any longer.”
Charles Longfellow went on to become one of the earliest American tourists in Japan. His journal offers a rare picture of the Asian nation opening up to the world after centuries of isolation. Charles was independently wealthy with inheritances from his grandfather, Nathan Appleton and his mother, and spent the rest of his life traveling the world. He died in 1893, in Cambridge from pneumonia and is buried in the family vault in Mt. Auburn Cemetery. The souvenirs of his travels and his uniforms and accoutrements from his service in the Union Army are at Longfellow House in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
http://www.friendsoflongfellowhouse.org/2008/12/charles-appleton-longfellow-twenty.html
http://www.nps.gov/long/historyculture/charles-longfellow.htm

Charles Longfellow- Son Of Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In 1863, he ran off to enlist as a private in the Union Army during the Civil War, and eventually received a commission as a lieutenant in a cavalry regiment. Miraculously, he survived a bout with malaria and what could have been a mortal gun shot wound to his back, which he received while on campaign in Virginia. The bullet traveled across his back, nicked his spine, and exited under his right shoulder. He missed being paralyzed by less than an inch.

He knew his father disapproved of him fighting, but went anyway. He wrote a letter to his father saying, “I have tried to resist the temptation of going without your leave but cannot any longer.”

Charles Longfellow went on to become one of the earliest American tourists in Japan. His journal offers a rare picture of the Asian nation opening up to the world after centuries of isolation. Charles was independently wealthy with inheritances from his grandfather, Nathan Appleton and his mother, and spent the rest of his life traveling the world. He died in 1893, in Cambridge from pneumonia and is buried in the family vault in Mt. Auburn Cemetery. The souvenirs of his travels and his uniforms and accoutrements from his service in the Union Army are at Longfellow House in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

http://www.friendsoflongfellowhouse.org/2008/12/charles-appleton-longfellow-twenty.html

http://www.nps.gov/long/historyculture/charles-longfellow.htm

An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge Or “A Dead Man’s Dream Is A Short Story By American Author And Civil War Soldier Ambrose Bierce (1842–1913) From An Episode Of “The Twilight Zone” 1964

The film won the 1963 Academy Award for Best Short Film and first prize for Best Short Subject at the 1962 Cannes Film Festival. Often compared to the tales of Edgar Allan Poe, his stories share an attraction to death in its more bizarre forms.

Ambrose Bierce’s world was dramatically shaped by his war experience, as was true of many Union and Confederate soldiers who did not go on to become famous authors. As a soldier in the 9th Indiana Infantry, veteran of Shiloh, Chickamauga, and much of the Atlanta campaign, and as a staff officer, Bierce served faithfully through some of the worst combat the Civil War had to offer.  He produced a series of short reminiscences of that service much in the way that thousands of other veterans wrote of their war experience.

A group of soldiers is hanging a southern farm owner for trying to stop northern military movements across the Owl Creek Bridge.

In the last moments of his life, the southern prisoner dreams he has escaped. And everything that happens in the story is really the images in the prisoner’s mind just before he dies.

Bierce asks the reader to examine how far “right” can go before it becomes “wrong.”  The reader wants to sympathize with Farquhar not because Farquhar did anything right or noble, but because Farquhar is the only “human” in the story.  The reader feels pity and sympathy for Farquhar’s wife who will never see her husband again, and his children who will never have their father.  Yet the reader knows that the soldiers are the ones in the right, when the reader looks through Farquhar’s eyes, and is put in touch with Farquhar’s emotions… maybe, just this once, the bad guy can escape, the reader thinks.  Maybe the bad guy isn’t quite so bad. In very much the same way that Stephen King’s early works twisted reality just enough to make the terrifying plausible, so do many of the works of Ambrose Bierce. 

http://learningenglish.voanews.com/content/short-story-an-occurrence-at-owl-creek-bridge-by-ambrose-bierce-122750404/130926.html

http://www.ambrosebierce.org/journal3hess.html

http://www.humanities360.com/index.php/literary-anaylsis-an-occurrence-at-owl-creek-bridge-by-ambrose-bierce-28955/

Ambrose Bierce- Civil War Soldier And “Master Of The Macabre” 
Bierce was the only major author to have actually been a front-line soldier in the Civil War
In 1913, he traveled to Mexico to gain first-hand experience of the Mexican Revolution. While traveling with rebel troops, he disappeared without a trace.
He enlisted in the Union Army at nineteen. The Civil War cast a long shadow over his life and work, shaping him into the writer he would become, and spawning his fascination with the supernatural. Bierce evolved into a Master of the Macabre and though he became most widely known for his ghost stories, his war stories are considered by some critics to be the best writing on the Civil War.
He fought at Shiloh, Pickett’s Mill, Chickamauga, Kennesaw Mountain, Philippi, Girard Hill, Shiloh, Stones River, Corinth, Missionary Ridge. He resigned in 1865 after taking a bullet wound to the head. Causing him dizziness and black outs. 
Two days spent at Shiloh made an indelible impression on Bierce. Many years later, for example, he would write a haunting autobiographical short story, “The Coup de Grace,” which describes wounded men being burned alive in brush fires and wild pigs eating the corpses. As horrific as it had been, Shiloh would not be the bloodiest battle that Bierce would experience.
Dead horses were everywhere; a few disabled caissons, or limbers, reclining on one elbow, as it were; ammunition wagons standing disconsolate behind four or six sprawling mules. Men? There were men enough; all dead apparently, except one, who lay near where I had halted my platoon to await the slower movement of the line — a Federal sergeant, variously hurt, who had been a fine giant in his time. He lay face upward, taking in his breath in convulsive, rattling snorts, and blowing it out in sputters of froth which crawled creamily down his cheeks, piling itself alongside his neck and ears. A bullet had clipped a groove in his skull, above the temple; from this the brain protruded in bosses, dropping off in flakes and strings. I had not previously known one could get on, even in this unsatisfactory fashion, with so little brain. One of my men whom I knew for a womanish fellow, asked if he should put his bayonet through him. Inexpressibly shocked by the cold-blooded proposal, I told him I thought not; it was unusual, and too many were looking. —from “What I Saw of Shiloh” (1862)
His Civil War StoriesOne of the Missing A Baffled Ambuscade The Affair at Coulter’s NotchA Son of the Gods  One Kind of Officer  A Tough TussleAn Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge  ChickamaugaThe Coup de Grâce  One Officer, One ManThe Story of a Conscience  Parker Adderson, PhilosopherAn Affair of Outposts  Jupiter Doke, Brigadier-GeneralA Horseman in the Sky  The Mocking-BirdGeorge Thurston  Killed at ResacaThree and One Are One  Two Military ExecutionsThe Major’s Tale  A Resumed IdentityA Man with Two Lives  The Other Lodgers 
http://thesmartset.com/article/article09261101.aspx
http://www.nypl.org/blog/2013/04/18/ambrose-bierce-civil-war-stories

Ambrose Bierce- Civil War Soldier And “Master Of The Macabre”

Bierce was the only major author to have actually been a front-line soldier in the Civil War

In 1913, he traveled to Mexico to gain first-hand experience of the Mexican Revolution. While traveling with rebel troops, he disappeared without a trace.

He enlisted in the Union Army at nineteen. The Civil War cast a long shadow over his life and work, shaping him into the writer he would become, and spawning his fascination with the supernatural. Bierce evolved into a Master of the Macabre and though he became most widely known for his ghost stories, his war stories are considered by some critics to be the best writing on the Civil War.

He fought at Shiloh, Pickett’s Mill, Chickamauga, Kennesaw Mountain, Philippi, Girard Hill, Shiloh, Stones River, Corinth, Missionary Ridge. He resigned in 1865 after taking a bullet wound to the head. Causing him dizziness and black outs. 

Two days spent at Shiloh made an indelible impression on Bierce. Many years later, for example, he would write a haunting autobiographical short story, “The Coup de Grace,” which describes wounded men being burned alive in brush fires and wild pigs eating the corpses. As horrific as it had been, Shiloh would not be the bloodiest battle that Bierce would experience.

  • Dead horses were everywhere; a few disabled caissons, or limbers, reclining on one elbow, as it were; ammunition wagons standing disconsolate behind four or six sprawling mules. Men? There were men enough; all dead apparently, except one, who lay near where I had halted my platoon to await the slower movement of the line — a Federal sergeant, variously hurt, who had been a fine giant in his time. He lay face upward, taking in his breath in convulsive, rattling snorts, and blowing it out in sputters of froth which crawled creamily down his cheeks, piling itself alongside his neck and ears. A bullet had clipped a groove in his skull, above the temple; from this the brain protruded in bosses, dropping off in flakes and strings. I had not previously known one could get on, even in this unsatisfactory fashion, with so little brain. One of my men whom I knew for a womanish fellow, asked if he should put his bayonet through him. Inexpressibly shocked by the cold-blooded proposal, I told him I thought not; it was unusual, and too many were looking.
    —from “What I Saw of Shiloh” (1862)

His Civil War Stories

One of the Missing A Baffled Ambuscade The Affair at Coulter’s Notch
A Son of the Gods  One Kind of Officer  A Tough Tussle
An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge  Chickamauga
The Coup de Grâce  One Officer, One Man
The Story of a Conscience  Parker Adderson, Philosopher
An Affair of Outposts  Jupiter Doke, Brigadier-General
A Horseman in the Sky  The Mocking-Bird
George Thurston  Killed at Resaca
Three and One Are One  Two Military Executions
The Major’s Tale  A Resumed Identity
A Man with Two Lives  The Other Lodgers 

http://thesmartset.com/article/article09261101.aspx

http://www.nypl.org/blog/2013/04/18/ambrose-bierce-civil-war-stories


VOICES FROM THE CIVIL WAR
Chancellorsville, Described By Private Nathaniel Bierly, Musician
"Infantry, artillery, cavalry, panic-stricken cattle, accompanied with the shrieks of the wounded and groans of the dying, with a hail of shells from Jackson’s guns and serenaded by the rebel yell, with officers cursing in a chaotic state, was an experience I will never forget." 
Private Nathaniel Bierly, 148th Pennsylvania at Chancellorsvile
Enlisted on 8/29/1862 as a Musician.On 8/29/1862 he mustered into “B” Co. PA 148th Infantry He was Mustered Out on 6/1/1865 at Alexandria, VAOther Information: died 12/2/1902 in Milesburg, PA 
http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=14792917
http://edsitement.neh.gov/lesson-plan/red-badge-courage-new-kind-realism

VOICES FROM THE CIVIL WAR

Chancellorsville, Described By Private Nathaniel Bierly, Musician

"Infantry, artillery, cavalry, panic-stricken cattle, accompanied with the shrieks of the wounded and groans of the dying, with a hail of shells from Jackson’s guns and serenaded by the rebel yell, with officers cursing in a chaotic state, was an experience I will never forget."

Private Nathaniel Bierly, 148th Pennsylvania at Chancellorsvile

Enlisted on 8/29/1862 as a Musician.
On 8/29/1862 he mustered into “B” Co. PA 148th Infantry
He was Mustered Out on 6/1/1865 at Alexandria, VA
Other Information: died 12/2/1902 in Milesburg, PA

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=14792917

http://edsitement.neh.gov/lesson-plan/red-badge-courage-new-kind-realism

CDV of Bvt. Lt. Col. Joseph P. Ash, 5th US Cav.—KIA Todd’s Tavern, VA
1st lieutenant with imprint of “J.E. McClees, Philadelphia.” “Joseph Penrose Ash/United States Army./Taken after he had received/six wounds in battle.” Written in the same hand on verso is a lofty salutation that reads, “To General US Grant/General in Chief/of the Armies of the United States,” a rank Grant achieved in March 1864, two months before Ash was killed. Joseph Penrose Ash (1839-1864) was a fearless and efficient officer who received his appointment in the 2nd Cavalry (later 5th Cavalry) directly from President Lincoln in April 1861 after a daring reconnaissance “inside the enemy lines across the Potomac.” Ash was promoted to 1st Lieutenant in January 1862 and served in the Peninsula campaign being “one of the very few officers” fortunate to emerge unscathed from the 5th Cavalry’s epic charge at Gaines Mill. Lieutenant Ash frequently led squadron size commands and his sterling conduct under fire was mentioned in the official reports of his superior officers including Pleasanton, Merritt and Custer (see OR’s). Ash was severely wounded at Warrenton on November 8, 1862 where he “received at least three saber cuts and a gunshot wound.” He was brevetted major for “conspicuous gallantry” at Warrenton and did not return to his regiment until the fall of 1863. Promoted to captain in September 1863, Ash rejoined the 5th Cavalry in October and was slightly wounded at Morton’s Ford before joining the fight at Bristoe Station. Serving under Merritt and Custer early in 1864, Captain Ash’s “spirited” conduct earned him the accolades of these esteemed cavalrymen. Ash was killed at Todd’s Tavern on May 8, 1864 “while trying to rally a regiment of infantry” and hastily buried on the field. The divisional after action report served as both a testament and eulogy to the young officer: “He died nobly in the discharge of a most important duty; a heroic, patriotic, intrepid cavalry officer, a noble martyr in his country’s service.” Ash was brevetted lieutenant colonel for “conspicuous gallantry at Spotsylvania” and was later reburied in St. James-the-Less Churchyard, Philadelphia on May 15, 1865.  
http://www.cowanauctions.com/auctions/item.aspx?id=81261
CDV of Bvt. Lt. Col. Joseph P. Ash, 5th US Cav.—KIA Todd’s Tavern, VA

1st lieutenant with imprint of “J.E. McClees, Philadelphia.” “Joseph Penrose Ash/United States Army./Taken after he had received/six wounds in battle.” Written in the same hand on verso is a lofty salutation that reads, “To General US Grant/General in Chief/of the Armies of the United States,” a rank Grant achieved in March 1864, two months before Ash was killed.

Joseph Penrose Ash (1839-1864) was a fearless and efficient officer who received his appointment in the 2nd Cavalry (later 5th Cavalry) directly from President Lincoln in April 1861 after a daring reconnaissance “inside the enemy lines across the Potomac.” Ash was promoted to 1st Lieutenant in January 1862 and served in the Peninsula campaign being “one of the very few officers” fortunate to emerge unscathed from the 5th Cavalry’s epic charge at Gaines Mill. Lieutenant Ash frequently led squadron size commands and his sterling conduct under fire was mentioned in the official reports of his superior officers including Pleasanton, Merritt and Custer (see OR’s).

Ash was severely wounded at Warrenton on November 8, 1862 where he “received at least three saber cuts and a gunshot wound.” He was brevetted major for “conspicuous gallantry” at Warrenton and did not return to his regiment until the fall of 1863. Promoted to captain in September 1863, Ash rejoined the 5th Cavalry in October and was slightly wounded at Morton’s Ford before joining the fight at Bristoe Station. Serving under Merritt and Custer early in 1864, Captain Ash’s “spirited” conduct earned him the accolades of these esteemed cavalrymen.

Ash was killed at Todd’s Tavern on May 8, 1864 “while trying to rally a regiment of infantry” and hastily buried on the field. The divisional after action report served as both a testament and eulogy to the young officer: “He died nobly in the discharge of a most important duty; a heroic, patriotic, intrepid cavalry officer, a noble martyr in his country’s service.” Ash was brevetted lieutenant colonel for “conspicuous gallantry at Spotsylvania” and was later reburied in St. James-the-Less Churchyard, Philadelphia on May 15, 1865.

http://www.cowanauctions.com/auctions/item.aspx?id=81261

Unidentified Soldiers Of The 33rd United States Colored Troops

The 33rd was oganized January 31, 1863 or February 8, 1864, as 1st South Carolina Volunteers Colored Infantry. Attached to U. S. Forces, Port Royal Island, South Carolina, 10th Corps, Dept. of the South, to April, 1864. Mustered out January 31, 1866

"No officer in this regiment now doubts that the key to the successful prosecution of this war lies in the unlimited employment of black troops. Their superiority lies simply in the fact that they know the country, while white troops do not, and, moreover, that they have peculiarities of temperament, position, and motive which belong to them alone. Instead of leaving their homes and families to fight they are fighting for their homes and families, and they show the resolution and sagacity which a personal purpose gives. It would have been madness to attempt, with the bravest white troops what I have successfully accomplished with the black ones. Everything, even to the piloting of the vessels and the selection of the proper points for cannonading, was done by my own soldiers."
— Excerpt from February 1, 1863 report by Colonel T. W. Higginson, commander of the First Regiment South Carolina Volunteers (Union) after the January 23 - February 1, 1863 Expedition from Beaufort South Carolina, up the Saint Mary’s River in Georgia and Florida.
http://www.drbronsontours.com/bronson33rduscthistoryandstaugmembers.html

Unidentified Soldiers Of The 33rd United States Colored Troops

The 33rd was oganized January 31, 1863 or February 8, 1864, as 1st South Carolina Volunteers Colored Infantry. Attached to U. S. Forces, Port Royal Island, South Carolina, 10th Corps, Dept. of the South, to April, 1864. Mustered out January 31, 1866

"No officer in this regiment now doubts that the key to the successful prosecution of this war lies in the unlimited employment of black troops. Their superiority lies simply in the fact that they know the country, while white troops do not, and, moreover, that they have peculiarities of temperament, position, and motive which belong to them alone. Instead of leaving their homes and families to fight they are fighting for their homes and families, and they show the resolution and sagacity which a personal purpose gives. It would have been madness to attempt, with the bravest white troops what I have successfully accomplished with the black ones. Everything, even to the piloting of the vessels and the selection of the proper points for cannonading, was done by my own soldiers."

— Excerpt from February 1, 1863 report by Colonel T. W. Higginson, commander of the First Regiment South Carolina Volunteers (Union) after the January 23 - February 1, 1863 Expedition from Beaufort South Carolina, up the Saint Mary’s River in Georgia and Florida.

http://www.drbronsontours.com/bronson33rduscthistoryandstaugmembers.html

Henry O. Nightingale- Eyewitness To History-
The Assassination Of Abraham Lincoln
His 1865 diary describes one of the most infamous events in American history. On April 14, Nightingale attended a performance at Ford’s Theatre. There, he witnessed the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth. Nightingale recounted the horrific scene, writing:
Transcription
A beautiful April day. Remained all day in the Hospital. In the evening, attended Ford’s Theatre and in the last act a most astounding crime was committed the President; Mr. Lincoln, shot through the head, the assassin then leaped out of the box on the stage and drew a large dagger and exclaimed “I have done it. Virginia is avenged. Sic semper tyrannis” and made his escape. the President was conveyed to a neighboring house in dying condition. a fearful night is this. Other [monstrous] crimes the Secretary of State his sons and [illegible] servants staffed found [illegible] God pit the rebellion now for men, will how no mercy death to every Confederate my Rebel sympathies, intense excitement all over the City. is under Martial Law. 

Henry O. Nightingale (1844-1919) was an abolitionist from Rochester, New York who at 18 years of age enlisted in the Northern army at the start of the Civil War. Nightingale fought in numerous battles, including the Battle of Gettysburg.
    Read Nightingale’s account of Lincoln’s assassination
Zoom Info
Henry O. Nightingale- Eyewitness To History-
The Assassination Of Abraham Lincoln
His 1865 diary describes one of the most infamous events in American history. On April 14, Nightingale attended a performance at Ford’s Theatre. There, he witnessed the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth. Nightingale recounted the horrific scene, writing:
Transcription
A beautiful April day. Remained all day in the Hospital. In the evening, attended Ford’s Theatre and in the last act a most astounding crime was committed the President; Mr. Lincoln, shot through the head, the assassin then leaped out of the box on the stage and drew a large dagger and exclaimed “I have done it. Virginia is avenged. Sic semper tyrannis” and made his escape. the President was conveyed to a neighboring house in dying condition. a fearful night is this. Other [monstrous] crimes the Secretary of State his sons and [illegible] servants staffed found [illegible] God pit the rebellion now for men, will how no mercy death to every Confederate my Rebel sympathies, intense excitement all over the City. is under Martial Law. 

Henry O. Nightingale (1844-1919) was an abolitionist from Rochester, New York who at 18 years of age enlisted in the Northern army at the start of the Civil War. Nightingale fought in numerous battles, including the Battle of Gettysburg.
    Read Nightingale’s account of Lincoln’s assassination
Zoom Info

Henry O. Nightingale- Eyewitness To History-

The Assassination Of Abraham Lincoln

His 1865 diary describes one of the most infamous events in American history. On April 14, Nightingale attended a performance at Ford’s Theatre. There, he witnessed the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth. Nightingale recounted the horrific scene, writing:

Transcription

A beautiful April day. Remained all day in the Hospital. In the evening, attended Ford’s Theatre and in the last act a most astounding crime was committed the President; Mr. Lincoln, shot through the head, the assassin then leaped out of the box on the stage and drew a large dagger and exclaimed “I have done it. Virginia is avenged. Sic semper tyrannis” and made his escape. the President was conveyed to a neighboring house in dying condition. a fearful night is this. Other [monstrous] crimes the Secretary of State his sons and [illegible] servants staffed found [illegible] God pit the rebellion now for men, will how no mercy death to every Confederate my Rebel sympathies, intense excitement all over the City. is under Martial Law.
Henry O. Nightingale (1844-1919) was an abolitionist from Rochester, New York who at 18 years of age enlisted in the Northern army at the start of the Civil War. Nightingale fought in numerous battles, including the Battle of Gettysburg.

    Read Nightingale’s account of Lincoln’s assassination