| 1 | Author: | Lee
Susan (Pendleton) | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Memoirs of William Nelson Pendleton, D.D.  | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | William Nelson Pendleton, the third surviving son of
Edmund Pendleton, third of that name in the county of Caroline,
Virginia, and Lucy Nelson, was born on December 26, 1809. "I should have written to you again before this, but for the
last ten days I have experienced a sharp attack of fever, which
confined me to bed for that time. Travelling through the swamps
of Carolina did prove, as you apprehended, dangerous, and it is
another proof of the Divine mercy to me that my sickness has
not been more severe. I was taken with a violent ague, succeeded
by a burning fever. One of the officers who called to see
me, believing my sickness more serious than I imagined, sent
for a physician. The doctor, happily for me, understood his
business (that is, giving physic), and dosed me at the rate of once
every two hours for six days, and this I am persuaded, through
the blessing of God, saved me from the most violent bilious
fever, or, as the doctor told me, from yellow fever, as when he
first saw me he thought I was in for that alarming disease. . . .
Being alone for the greater part of the time, you may imagine that
it went rather hard with me; but the officers were very kind to
me, and the ladies would send some little delicacies now and
then,—all which attentions tended to alleviate my sickness; at
least, they called forth my gratitude, and aided my poor stock of
patience. My colonel has given me orders for Augusta, Georgia,
to repair thither by the last of the month. In the mean time I
await some letters from New York to decide my destination." ". . . Do what I will, I cannot overcome the oppression of
heart and depression of spirits under which I have been laboring;
and the circumstances in which I am placed, the company in which
I am sometimes thrown, tend rather to increase my melancholy. ". . . I fear I have led you into a great error. You seem to
think that I have undergone a great change since you saw me.
When I look into myself for the change you speak of, I find
there a state far different from that you have imagined. I feel
that I have undergone no sudden operation of the Holy Spirit; I
feel that I am still liable to the charge of an unstable faith, that
I am still under the dominion of sin and worldly thoughts, and
that my heart, though sincerely turned towards the great and
good God, and endeavoring to yield itself in gratitude and love
to Him, is still unchanged. All that I can in strict truth say is
that, in obedience to the instructions of the Gospel, I feel bound
to change the habits of my life, and this I can only do in a
measure; that is, I find evil thoughts will enter my mind and
render that act which might appear good frequently wicked, as
being a species of hypocrisy. And does not this prove that a
change of heart has not been wrought in me? I find it hard to
express myself in the precise way in which I would have you
understand me; I feel on the subject of religion precisely as I
did when I last wrote to you. ". . . I stayed in Washington till two o'clock Friday, having
ascertained that travel with what speed I would Philadelphia
must be my limit Saturday; and since no boat leaves Philadelphia
for the North on Sunday, I could not in any event get on until
Monday. A young Mr. L—, from Richmond, had travelled
with me, and finding out who I was, introduced himself to me.
We walked about together, and then went to the Capitol, and
visited both Houses. Did not stay long enough in the House of
Representatives to hear anything said, but in the Senate we were
more fortunate. Mr. Dickerson, of New Jersey, as chairman of
the Committee on Manufactures, made a report on the tariff, and
then arose Mr. Hayne, and for about ten or fifteen minutes proceeded
in the most impassioned but happy eloquence I ever
heard. General Smith, of Maryland, said something, and so did
Governor Miller, of South Carolina, At last rose Mr. Clay;
calm, steady, and powerful, he stood ahead of them all. I do
not think I ever heard him surpassed, though this was seemingly
but a minor occasion. Mr. Hayne had made some tough charges
against the committee reporting the bill. Mr. Clay was one of
that committee, and it was with fine effect he stepped forward
from his seat, and, as he said, repelled them with indignation.
With Mr. Hayne I was captivated; with Mr. Clay I was charmed:
the one all sincerity and fire, the other all learning and force. ". . . I have arranged with Mr. Ross*
* Assistant professor of mathematics.
to take charge of his
scholars†
† Private pupils.
on Monday, and am to have them exclusively. There
are now four, and it is probable will be more, I can now tell you
the arrangement of my hours. I rise in time to be dressed by
sunrise, when I study my Bible and say my prayers. These
things I have not more than done before breakfast-time,—seven
o'clock. At eight I go to my section, and remain there until eleven.
Hereafter the next hour is to be devoted to the scholars Mr. Ross
gives up. One is, you know, the dinner-hour. From two to four
I intend devoting to Greek; from four to six reading, and the
night to mathematics. Day before yesterday I called to ask Mr.
Harris to lend me Doddridge, which he did, and offered at the
same time Bickerslith, recommending it to me. I brought it to
my room, and this morning find in your letter a desire I should
get it. I do not feel fit for the sacrament at this time. It shall
be my endeavor to cultivate the requisite temper and dispositions.
I met with Mr. Warner‡
‡ Professor of history and ethics.
on Friday as I was walking for exercise.
We had a long talk as to the religious principles of many of the
young officers here, and as to the tendency to infidelity in all
young men, and particularly in the corps of cadets. I suggested
the possible advantages to be derived from his trying to introduce
'Gregory's Letters' as a part of the studies of his course. But
he seems to think the view the young men would get of Christianity
in so short a time would be so superficial as to do more
harm than good. It is, indeed, alarming here. R—came to
see us the other evening, and, as he usually does, got on the
subject of religion. I, of course, tried to defend Christianity, and
we were arguing—or rather it was no argument, but sneering on
one side—till eleven o'clock. He treats the Christian religion
with the most supreme contempt, and you may judge of the pain
it gives one feeling the greatest reverence towards Christianity
to hear it and the Bible laughed at. R—has read a good
deal among the infidel writers, but I have read more on the
Evidences of Christianity than he has, and, therefore, his assertions
were less dangerous to me than they would be to many
others; but how melancholy it is that a man should thus try
to ruin his fellow-men! I have felt badly ever since. What
would become of our happiness, the confidence we have in the
death and resurrection of our Saviour being taken away?
Thanks to a merciful God, no earthly power can destroy the
ground on which that confidence rests; and how delightful it is
to the heart, when distressed, to trust in the sure promises of
a religion whose evidences have stood the test of eighteen
centuries, and still convince every fair mind! . . . ". . . After no little bustle and show I sit down to write again.
It is getting late on Monday evening. The examinations did not
begin to-day, as I had hoped, on account of the necessity for a
review by General Macomb, and because the Board of Visitors
had to be organized. "You ask me to give my recollections of your father as I knew
him when associated with him as professor in Bristol College. . . .
It was in the fall of 1833 that I first became acquainted with your
father. He had not been long out of West Point, where, I believe,
he had been an assistant professor. He bore then the same
character he always sustained. I was struck with his military
bearing, his firmness and decision of purpose combined with gentleness.
He always showed great ability in the discussion of any
debatable point, and a willingness to be set right if in error. I
have never met with any one so far removed from anything like
guile; so generous was he that his generosity was taken advantage
of by those who were so disposed. As a professor I need
say nothing as to his competency and ability as a teacher. He
brought with him from West Point a reputation which was of
great service to a young college. He introduced something of
a military discipline, which was much needed. ". . . The bill chartering us as a college has become a law, and
it is pronounced by the honorable Legislature of Pennsylvania
illegal to call the said college by any name other than 'Bristol
College.' This, of course, raises us in importance, and, it may
be, increases our responsibility. But the distressing derangement
of money-matters throughout the United States will injure us, we
fear, by preventing the friends of the Church from aiding in
the means of enlarging our plan of operations as soon as they
would otherwise have done. All this is in the hands of God.
He will direct that which is best for His own honor. . . . In
reply to your queries about the appropriation of my time: From
five to six, dressing, etc.; from six to seven, attending one of my
classes; after breakfast, until nine, I have generally been employed
in sweeping, dusting, and fixing the rooms,—Gurdon assisting
me; from nine to ten, a class; from ten to twelve, in the Blue
Room;*
* The large study-room.
after dinner, till three, reading and writing; from three
to four, Greek; from four to five, in the Blue Room; at night,
reading. The two hours in the Blue Room in the morning I
have devoted to Biot;†
† French treatise on analytical geometry.
that in the afternoon to preparing my
lessons for the next day. My reading I wish to make effectual
to the great object before me. To this end it will be necessary
for me to get speedily some of the books recommended by the
last General Convention. Many of them I can borrow. Ecclesiastical
history, and profane, too, I must first cultivate diligently,
and this shall now be my business. . . . I have to-day been much
struck with the character of Abraham, sketched by Dr. Clarke in
his Commentary,—the undoubting confidence with which he
believed God, and the ready, cheerful obedience he habitually
rendered when called upon; his courage and generosity and faithfulness.
Let us study his conduct under the different circumstances
of life, and exert ourselves to live like him. . . . I intended
to have told you before,—I have made you responsible
for a debt of twelve dollars. You recollect the Missionary Society.
When the subscription-plan was arranged and presented
I subscribed a dollar a month for myself, and then proceeded
to write your name pledging the same sum for you likewise.
Can you pay by knitting? or in what way? I fear I may have
put you into a difficulty." "I am much harassed by a sort of sinking of hope, calling
upon me for vigorous effort in every way, by prayer and self-examination,
and a wielding of the sword of the spirit and active
exercise. Let us remember the encouragement given by our
Saviour to the prayers of two or three who shall agree as touching
what they shall ask, and pray with me for supplies of
grace and strength and Divine wisdom in all things, bringing
peace and hope and devoted purpose in every duty before me.
. . . As to being happy, there is at all times the delightful reflection
that I can pray, happy or not, and, provided I am still left to
do my duties aright, it matters little in the great account whether
I was or was not allowed a tranquil course. Besides religious
comfort, I apply the maxim by which Dr. Johnson used to regulate
his gloomy moods, 'When solitary be not idle, and when
idle be not solitary.'" ". . . I have been to church, and can sincerely say, in the
psalmist's language, 'I was glad when they said unto me, Let us
go up into the house of the Lord.' How appropriate, how
solemn, how delightful our service! Alone, and thrown more
ùpon a personal and hearty intercourse with our God and Saviour,
I feel it more: the service then seems to me a sort of
bond, connecting the devotions of my own soul with those of the
Church and with the precious aspirations of my own family; and
I do not think I was ever blessed with a more delightful frame
than when joining in it to-day. The same gentleman preached
of whom I spoke in my last, Mr. Motte, and an admirable discourse
it was. I was surprised to find the congregation so large.
The church is small, it is true, but it was as full as it could be,
and there were a good many young men." ". . . After writing on Sunday, I had to go to church in the
afternoon, and then Mr. Motte invited me to take tea with him.
I breakfasted this morning with a Mr. Lewis, who did himself the
honor of tracing a relationship with me. Afterwards transacted
some business before leaving the village of Oxford, and then,
with two of my subs, mounted on our baggage-wagon and came
out here, six or seven miles, where the rest of our party were at
work, and here I am in a private house by the road-side, where
we have been hospitably entertained by a kind old Scotchman.
We go on rapidly, and soon the party will be as far as Roxborough,
by or before which, however, I shall be on my way towards
the mountains. ". . . Here I am, quartered by polite invitation, at the house
of General C—, whom I met in Norfolk. I must write on
Sunday, for if I do not, there will be no opportunity of sending
a letter before Wednesday, and by that time I expect to be far
away from Danville. There is no Episcopal church here, and
our communion is hardly recognized in this large county. Two
good-looking dissenting churches are, however, open this morning,
—the Presbyterian and the Baptist,—the former of which I
wish to attend by and by." "My beloved Wife,—Early this Monday morning I have
risen to write to you. Yesterday I was permitted to enjoy a
great privilege in attending a place where prayer is wont to
be made, and where the truth, as it is in Jesus, was declared,
though in a homely way. Just on the other (east) side of the
mountain, in Montgomery County, there was to be a Baptist
meeting, and as it was the only place of public worship near,
though some seven or eight miles off, Mr. Barberin, at my invitation,
and myself determined to ride thither. And I was
amply repaid for the trouble of descending and reascending the
mountain. ". . . Mr. Cunningham and myself rode over the mountains
from our work ten miles last night, most of the distance by
moonlight. I wish you and others of my dear friends could
witness the scene through which we passed. I cannot pretend
to give you the slightest idea of its mingled grandeur and beauty.
Imagine us, after nightfall, traversing the mountain defiles. On
either hand the tall hills frowning darkly upon us below, the little
mountain stream dashing in its wildness, and making an
incessant sound to break away the solemn stillness of the road,
while here and there the prevailing darkness was relieved by the
moonbeams finding their way through openings in the trees, now
illuminating the road and hill-sides, now glittering on the foaming
cascades. I never saw anything like it. And then I thought,
'Why is this beautiful to me? Why does it fill me with awe
and delight? 'Tis the goodness of God; 'tis an evidence of His
benevolence in creating things so lovely, and endowing me with
a sensibility for what He has made beautiful and sublime, and
allowing me opportunities for enjoying them.' . . . What distresses
me often is a heavy sense of my unfitness, through a depraved
and unsanctified heart, for the sacred and responsible
office of the ministry. I have come to the conclusion, years ago,
that God required of me to preach the Gospel, and I think myself
unfit for it. You cannot conceive how I suffer at times from
this; and were it not that I know the Lord is sufficient for all
things, and that He can, and often does, use the weakest and
most unworthy of His servants to promote the salvation of men,
I could not but shrink from what is before me. As it is, however,
I try to obey Him in casting all my care upon Him, with
the earnest prayer that He will either keep me back, should He
not fit me for His work, or that He will be pleased to pour upon
me His enlightening and sanctifying grace, to prepare me for a
useful course of ministerial labor. I often think of the character
and history of St. Peter, and find comfort in comparing my own
character with his,—so far as I may with reverence. He was
impetuous yet ardent, bold yet unsteady, confident of fidelity
yet weak to shame in the time of trial. All these failings, you
have no need of being told, lie at the bottom of my character,
and most of their opposite virtues are there too; then I think
how true, how faithful, how honored he afterwards was, and it
animates me to hope for such supplies of Divine grace as will
enable me to be true and faithful; and if it please Him, I would
serve, honored also by usefulness in my future life. Join me often
in praying for this. . . . My health has improved greatly since
leaving the heat and marshes of Carolina. While in Danville
my liver was in a bad state, and there was no little threatening
of disease, but it is all gone, and I never was in better condition.
It is a great delight to read the anecdotes of the dear children." ". . . As you may suppose, I was very anxious about you
in your long stage-ride on Saturday, and but for the tranquillizing
effect of trust in God as your guardian and guide, should have
suffered from corroding anxiety. You must have had a most
uncomfortable day of it, and yesterday was worse. We could
not venture to the Seminary in the morning on account of the rain,
but by the time for night service it had cleared up, and we
ploughed through the mud. We are all well, but how we get
along without you is another question. I shall try to carry on
everything as usual, but that is easier undertaken than done.
Saturday I heard Sue her Greek, made her read in Rollin to
me, heard Lucy read in the prayer-book, and then made them
both spell all the difficult words in the Psalm. Yesterday I read
the Lessons with Sue and made Lucy again read the Psalms.
To-day, Monday, having gone to Alexandria soon after breakfast,
and having to take an algebra class immediately upon getting
back, and that followed by geography and the little boys' Latin
grammar, I have not yet been able to attend to the little girls'
lessons, but shall-do so. They seem quite happy. The household
concerns get on pretty well. I gave directions this morning
to have some of the bedding attended to, and when the
butcher came, directed him to bring out what is wanted until
next Sunday. I ordered out meal and herrings this morning.
I am thus particular because you will like to hear everything,
and because I shall want your advice from time to time. R. remarked
just now, 'What a difference it makes to be in a house
without any lady!' and all have this feeling." "To Rev. W. N. Pendleton, Episcopal High School of Virginia: ". . . I am enabled to spend a half-hour to-night writing to
you because Joseph Trapnell preached for me, and I am consequently
less fatigued than usual. You will like to know that
the children are all well and that we are comfortably settled.
They arrived yesterday at three o'clock, dusty and tired, and you
can't tell how disappointed I was, what a shock it was to my
whole being, when, on getting to the stage, I discovered you were
not with them. But not a moment did I regret that you stayed,
save that my selfishness shrinks from a protracted separation.
I felt that for you to remain with your papa and the watchers by
him was right, and by all means would I have you discharge
what on such occasions is both a duty and a privilege, in sharing
the cares of the family and soothing the sufferer's pains. ". . . To-day, in looking over the letters which have accumulated
in my absence, I find yours of the 5th, which I have read,
and also the sermon,—and the most extraordinary sermon it is,
in some respects, that I have ever read. But for the implication
of a particular congregation,—which would not be right, and with
which the public should not interfere,—I should like to see it
stereotyped, so that it could be had in any quantity, everywhere,
for the edification of the many who need. Certainly it would
tend to 'Edification;' for I perceive the temple in Frederick is to
be built, though, like David, you will not build it; but, like him,
you will be remembered for having laid up abundantly for some
future Solomon. ". . . Yesterday afternoon and to-day I have been very busy
attending at the Sunday-School Union and calling on the leading
clergy in regard to my work. They are very kind and favorable
thus far, though it is not the season for presenting the subject,
as most of them are just on the eve of having confirmations. I
may possibly preach two or three times to-morrow, though I am
only positively engaged to Mr. Suddards. "My dear Son,—On the other page I have put the problems,
simplified as well as I could manage in the little time I have had.
I hope you can understand them without much trouble. And I
do not care about your giving any considerable time to them, or
to any of these lessons at present. As the weather may permit,
busy yourself out-of-doors, with the hot-bed and other work in
the garden. Nor do I mean that either to interfere with your play. ". . . You will be anxious to hear from me as soon as possible.
But before I say anything about myself or things around
me I must speak of you all. I cannot hear how you are for some
days, and am unavoidably anxious, though I intrust you all to
God in the hope that grace, mercy, and peace may keep you. My
main fear is about Martha" (a servant); "her headache may prove
incipient typhoid; still, as Lucy did not have it she may escape.
. . . To go on about myself, etc. The cars travelled very fast
between New York and New Haven, gradually emptying themselves
in the towns and villages along the route. It is almost a
continuous village street the whole way. Country in the main
rugged, and perhaps less productively cultivated than I expected,
yet pervaded by a pleasant air of enterprise and thrift, as we have
always thought of New England. As long as light lasted I lived
by my eyes; afterwards a pleasant-looking gentleman took the
seat by me and we entered into conversation, soon getting on the
Northern and Southern question. He was very earnest antislavery,
though quite as earnest against the radical abolitionists.
I, however, set the case before him according to my own convictions,
and apparently succeeded in modifying his ideas; and when
we reached Boston he thanked me for the pleasant chat, begged
to know my name, and gave his own as Mr. Edmund Dwight,
son of the Rev. Dr. Dwight, of one of the American Missionary
Boards. "My dear little Girl,—As I have not written to you yet, a
half-hour shall be spent this morning in writing what you may
claim as your own letter, though it will have to be read to you by
your mamma. You see by the heading of the page where I am.
A letter to your mamma from Cleveland, Ohio, will have let you
know that I was to come on here Monday. I did so, and got to
my room about eight o'clock in the evening. At night the moon
was shining very brightly, and I walked out with a party whom
I accidentally met, and we got a tolerable moonlight view of the
wonderful Falls. But it was two hours after, when everybody
else was asleep, that I got a view by myself that was altogether
the most wonderful thing that I ever expect to see. My rough
sketch will help you to understand something of it. I stood on
the American side, when all living things were as still as death.
Before me was the great, dashing cataract, gleaming in the beams
of the moon; below, the gulf into which the waters are poured,
sending up its ever-ascending cloud of spray; under and around
me the trembling earth, whose very rocks are made to vibrate by
the mighty power of the fall; in my ear the thunder of its roar;
and above me the vast arch of heaven, clear, quiet, and solemn,
with three objects of surpassing beauty conspicuous,—the silvery
moon, the planet Jupiter, and, I think, Saturn. Your mamma
will tell you about these, and all the hard words I use. And you
can form some notion, young as you are, how all that I saw and
heard made me feel at such a time. It was, I suppose, something
as the Jews felt when they saw and heard the wonderful things in
God's presence at Mount Sinai. Something as the disciples felt
when our Saviour said to the winds and waves, 'Peace, be still;
and there was a great calm.' Something as we shall feel when,
as I trust we shall, we enter heaven, and look upon the glorious
throne, and listen to the songs of praise." "My dear Daughter,—You are to be in Baltimore on Monday,
I think, and it will be pleasant to you to find there a letter
from us. That this may be it should go to-morrow morning, and
I therefore indulge myself by beginning to-night. You will be a
little surprised to see that I am at home, whereas my purpose
was to have gone to-day, on my way to Orange Court-House.
A threatening change in the weather this morning, superadded to
the fact that I was not quite as well as usual, owing, perhaps, to
the regret, dissipation, etc., all combined, connected with giving
you up, satisfied me that my duty lay here rather than away,
under the circumstances. I therefore wrote to Mr. Davis excusing
myself, and sending apologies to the kind friends who had
solicited the visit. "My dear Doctor,—I write a line to yourself, as I am doing
to other friends in the Northern States, to beg that you will
say and do what you can towards such expression and action
in your section of the country as may restore to our people
the friendly spirit which mad abolitionism has so sorely revolutionized. "My dear Daughter,—It has been nearly a month since you
wrote to me on the recurrence of my birthday, and I have not before
been well able to reply. First, I was using up as much writing-time
as possible during the absence of the boys on account of
small—pox, getting ready my first volume for the press; and when
that was achieved, Sandie gave me quite a tug at another important
work,—viz., to meet some serious questions in his mind in
regard to his own spiritual progress and on certain issues respecting
the great baptismal controversy. He has so much to do "Reverend and dear Sir,—Your daughter and her husband
reached here yesterday, and brought with them your book, which
I have devoured with a good appetite, though not chewing, after
English fashion, so as to digest it well. Having read so much on
the subjects treated of in the last few years, a cursory glance was
sufficient for much of it. I am much pleased with it,—more than
I expected,—and consider it a valuable addition to our religious
literature. Dr. Cabell's book on the 'Unity of the Human Race'
will be much strengthened by one of your articles. Your article
on the 'Monuments of Lost Races' is very interesting. That on
the age of the human race will occasion some diversity of opinion,
and will frighten some good, pious, and sensible persons. Though
I think you have, with your views, managed it with great propriety
and ability, yet I could wish that you had spoken in stronger
terms of doubt about Bunsen's views of Egyptian chronology.
You seem to assume, in one or two passages, the truth of his
extension of the post-diluvian period to nearly four thousand
years before Christ. The difference of several hundred years
between the chronologies of the Pentateuchs—the Samaritan and
Hebrew versions—is as much as most of us are prepared to bear.
Nevertheless, you may be right, and I would not have you burnt
as a heretic for leaving it an undecided question. It becomes us
to be very cautious and modest in this age of theological daring.
. . . In going over your book I have turned down many pages,
to which I wish to refer in completing my own book and in order
to impress some things more deeply on my mind. I wish, therefore,
you would send another copy to Mr. Lee, with his name
written in it by yourself, and charge the same to me, with some
others,—viz., one to my son Richard, one to Bishop Lee, of Delaware,
one to Bishop Burgess, one to Slaughter, and to such
others as you may choose, to the amount of twenty dollars, including
postage, charging them to me, I paying you when we
meet. I shall send a few lines to the Protestant Churchman
about the book. "One of my objects, my darling, is that we may know exactly
whether there is any risk to your health from over-study and confinement.
Mary G—insists that yon task yourself too closely,
and Mrs. G—thinks that both Mary and yourself had lost flesh,
strength, and complexion when she saw you ten days ago. I
am very much afraid of this. Your system is, I fear, rather too
much like a prison-life at the Institute. That you should all
reasonably improve the time and cultivate your minds with suitable
studies is right enough. But it is equally right, certainly,
that you should have a fair proportion of freedom and exercise.
And although I like you, my dear, to get pretty well the lessons
you undertake, I do not want you to have so many things as to
worry you. If you find that your time is too much cut up, or
that you feel tired, fagged, worn down, day after day, speak freely
about it to Mrs. Phillips, and to him, if you can get an opportunity.
It is an oversight, I am sure, which they will take pains
to have corrected when attention is called to it. At all events,
never give any of your recreation hours to books. Rather let
the lessons go. Laugh, run, skip about, amuse yourself just as
much as you can, in all the time allowed for it. Snuff all the
fresh air possible. See how much enjoyment you can get and
give, and remember, I regard it as not a whit more your duty to
acquire Latin, French, etc., than it is to improve in strength,
weight, and color. I had rather a thousand times see you moderately
supplied with tongues, and active, cheerful, healthy, than
to find you learned as Cromwell's 'Latin secretary,' and able to
parlez vous with the savants of Paris, but pale, shrivelled, wasted,
feeble, and broken down for life. "My dear Papa,—For two letters I am now indebted to you,
and have intended answering them for several days. The former
I am peculiarly obliged to you for, and trust the advice you gave
has been of real service to me. I felt that perhaps there was
some measure of apathy growing up within me in reference to
my spiritual state, and that letter with its kind and affectionate
warning came just in time to arouse me to redoubled diligence
and prayerfulness, and now I hope that I have again drawn
nearer to my Saviour. Though there is some danger, as there is
and ever will be in all situations of spiritual declension, that
danger is far less here than might be supposed. The weekly
prayer-meetings, in which we all participate, the regular intercourse
of the Christian Association, and, above all, the active
work in which we engage, these, in connection with the moral and
religious tone pervading all here, tend to diminish in a great
degree the force of the temptations lying in every young man's
path, and render it comparatively easier to pursue an outwardly
correct course, and be consistent, than to be otherwise. And my
association with Jim Howard and Randolph McKim, and others
of the most earnest type of Christians, and all looking forward
to the same ultimate work in life, is of such a character as to act
as a safeguard against letting the mere intellectual development
usurp the first place. And I trust that, by the blessing of God,
although, of course, more time must be devoted to the pursuit of
secular knowledge, I am now seeking and shall ever be enabled
to 'seek first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness.' "My dear Son,—As I may miss you, I leave this letter.
Serious as is the state of things in the country, and imperative as
may be the call of duty to brave everything in repelling wrong,—
at a day not far distant,—I am very clear that your duty now is
to quiet your mind to the utmost, and to finish your course at the
University. God, my dear son, indicates this for you in the circumstances
of the case. It is all-important that you secure the
advantages of the A.M. And I express it with all the emphasis
of my judgment, and of my own concern alike for your happiness
and for the interest we all have in your career, as my decided expectation
that you will brace yourself for the full measure of effort
that may be needed for your degree. Say not, my son, that you
cannot command your faculties under the excitements of the
time. Why, if you cannot bring mental agitation into subjection
for so important a purpose when God directs, as I am sure He
does, will you not be too much flurried for calm endurance in a
hundred ways for the trying times we expect? "I think it right to record the considerations which influence
me to accept as duty the command of the artillery company at
this place, tendered me this morning. "My Beloved Wife,—I write you again a hurried line.
You see we have changed our camp to a better place. I am
perfectly well, never in better health, and in all respects comfortable.
We have to be very vigilant, surrounded as we are by enemies,
—traitors in Virginia and others across the Potomac. . . .
My great motive is to do my duty, honor God, and do what good
service I can in the double capacity of soldier and minister of
Christ. I have arranged for general prayer in camp every evening
under the open sky in good weather. Edwin Lee has his
commission to-day, and is summoned to Harper's Ferry. The
other half of my company, with Bowyer Brockenborough, is, I
hear, sent to Shepherdstown." ". . . Early in the morning, after a delightful rest on the grass
under some trees in a grove by the road-side, with Sandie lying
next me, I write you a hasty line. On Saturday morning, 15th,
we evacuated Harper's Ferry, everything valuable having been
removed and those articles destroyed that might serve the enemy.
That night we encamped two miles west of Charlestown. Next
morning we marched towards Martinsburg. My own prayers
and those with the company the only notice of the Sabbath, so
far as I know. This army is divided into brigades: Jackson has
command of the Virginia brigade, and my battery belongs to it.
Of course we have the post of danger, of defence, and of honorable
duty in general. The college company is in Winchester.
They will join our brigade. Sandie and Edwin Lee are both
well; the former drills at the guns with the privates. Edwin, as
Jackson's aide, has much to do." ". . . It is now just six, and I have had reveille roll-call and
prayers, have shaved, dressed, etc., and had breakfast! Pretty
good, is it not? Sandie is asked for by Jackson to attend to the
ammunition of this brigade, so that he will not remain with the
battery." ". . . I had hardly given my letter of Tuesday into the hands of
the messenger when Colonel Jackson rode up to my quasi shelter
and desired me to have the battery immediately ready to advance.
Within fifteen minutes one regiment, Colonel Harper's, and our
battery were marching forward. Information had reached Colonel
Jackson that the enemy had forded the Potomac within the neck,
two miles below Williamsport, and were advancing on us in great
force. We proceeded some three miles to meet them; Colonel
Jackson wishing, however, rather to feel how strong they were and
to give them a little check than to give them battle in full. For
the latter we were much too far from the main body under General
Johnston. To prevent our risking too much, three of the guns
were halted on the road two miles below our encampment and
only one taken on a mile farther. There the enemy were seen.
Colonel Harper's regiment immediately deployed in the field on
the right of the turnpike, to engage the skirmishers spread out
there by the enemy. Colonel Jackson, with his staff, rode back
to the point in the road occupied by my gun, and directed me to
withdraw it farther to the rear, to a point better situated. Meantime
the enemy began to ply their artillery with great vigor, firing
around our little force a number of balls and shells. We, however,
quietly took our position and awaited the best moment for
opening fire with our single gun. That moment arrived when I
saw a body of horse, which seemed to be a squadron of cavalry
about to charge, on the turnpike about a half-mile in front of our
position. At that body I instantly had the gun directed, with
careful instructions how it should be aimed. In another instant
the messenger of death was speeding on its way. The effect was
obvious and decided. Not a man or a horse remained standing
in the road, nor did we see them again. . . . Our next shot was
aimed with equal care at one of their cannon in a field on the left
of the road. The effect was scarcely less. The gunners scattered,
and I am sure that gun fired no more. Meanwhile the balls
whizzed by us with tremendous force and startling music. . . .
In the fight of the day we were all graciously preserved. Two
men only were killed and some eight or ten wounded. On the
other side we hear of a good many killed, besides fifty-five prisoners
taken by Colonel Stuart with his cavalry. "The commanding general directs the regiments to be informed,
immediately after they have left the city, that General
Beauregard is being attacked by overwhelming forces. He has
been ordered by the government to his assistance, and is now
marching across the Blue Ridge upon the enemy. ". . . Ere this reaches you you will, of course, have heard of
our great victory on Sunday. But whether you will have heard
that none of yours were killed or hurt is another matter. It is true
that pa and Ned Lee and myself are all safe and sound. General
Jackson's finger was broken. The only injury I sustained was a
slight wound in the leg while in a charge of Colonel Cummings's
regiment on a battery of rifled guns, which it took. Army of the Shenandoah,—Batteries of Colonel Pendleton, Imboden, Alburtis,
Stanard, Beckham, p. 569. "Sir,—You will please proceed to Richmond without delay,
and there be governed by the verbal instructions you have
received. "Colonel,—I received duly your note in relation to additional
artillery for this army, and asking if you should continue to
attend to that service or return. Our cannon ammunition is all exhausted except six-pounder. . . . Most of the very small stock of ammunition on hand when you left has been
issued, and, in fact, I may say that the stock is entirely exhausted. . . . If the army
had to take the field just now the scarcity of ammunition would be alarming. Send eight hundred James's shot as soon as possible. We are unable to fill requisitions for fixed twelve-pounder howitzers, shrapnel and
shell, or cartridges for James's or Archer's projectiles. "Colonel,—The general commanding directs me to say that
he wishes you to get the men as well as the guns for Colonel
Stuart, as also the harness for the horses, and not to depend
upon the harness sent to Manassas. Men are wanted now for
several of the batteries, and Colonel Stuart has none to spare
for that purpose. ". . . Sandie and I came up to Manassas Saturday and on to
Fairfax Sunday morning. I could not preach that morning,
though it was allowed me to get to camp in time to attend the
closing service of a Methodist chaplain attached to Colonel
Cummings's regiment. In the afternoon I preached at General
Jackson's head-quarters. . . . I am here now to take command
of the artillery camp. It will be close to General Johnston's
head-quarters,—about a mile and a half from General Jackson's
brigade,—and I shall be very busy getting things in order. . . .
Camp-life is getting more trying as it becomes cold. These
nights are very sharp in an open tent. The order now is to have
a large fire before the tent and to leave the front open all night.
The poor fellows who have but one blanket must find it chilly
enough. I sleep in General Jackson's tent on a camp-bed, which
is tolerably comfortable. ". . . I have now five artillery companies in the corps, encamped
just around my tent, having some six hundred men and
four hundred and fifty horses, with twenty-eight cannon. Several
more will be here in a few days. It makes a very busy
scene. The battle we are looking for seems drawing nearer.
Yesterday afternoon we saw in the distance among the clouds
the enemy's balloon taking observations of our camps, etc." ". . . Until two to-day I was in bed and really very sick, but it
was from the effect of medicine which I took early this morning.
Since dinner I have been more like my well self; had my horse
brought out and rode an hour and a half. The afternoon was
pleasant, the air delightful, and I felt like an uncaged bird.
The yellow has hardly abated any, but I feel so renovated I will
hope for certain relief within a few days. If to-morrow is bright,
I shall ride out early in the morning and be in the saddle most
of the day. It will do me a great deal of good I hope. My
camp needs my presence. Indeed, it is getting time to change
its position, and I mean in the morning to look for a good place
not far off." ". . . Last night I wrote a hurried note to your mamma, telling
her that I had been quite sick again. To-night I have to tell how
much better I am. Although it has been quite cold and very
windy, I have ridden on horseback many hours and been in camp
all the rest of the day. "Your letter was an acceptable Christmas gift. I have been
thinking for some time of writing to you about the very topics
of your letter. I fear much demoralization (in its proper sense)
from the war, though it may be that permanent good can only
result from a protracted struggle and much suffering on our part.
It is the Lord who is ordering all things for His glory, and we
must not only submit, but approve and prefer. . . . There is
a strong persuasion that our enemies will seek the possession of
our part of the valley, in order to build up the railroad and dams
which are so necessary to furnish supplies for Washington and
Baltimore. In order to do this they must occupy Winchester
and hold it during the war. Already they possess Romney with
an army of perhaps ten thousand troops. . . . May God preserve
you both in soul and body, and make you an instrument of much
good in your present position! ". . . We broke up at our cabins on Saturday morning, but
did not really set out on our march until Sunday morning.
Then, instead of the happy Communion Sabbath I had hoped,
we moved off on the turnpike towards Gainesville, thence to
Warrenton. And all hands arrived there by ten P.M. I had all
arrangements made for forage, adjusted all the artillery, had
guards posted, made the men comfortable, and then went in to
Mr. Barten's.*
* The Episcopal rector in Warrenton.
They were exceedingly kind, gave us a good
supper, and afterwards a most delightful bed. Monday morning
it was quite rainy, but after a very early breakfast I sallied out,
and got all things ready for an early start. By eight we were
off towards Culpeper Court-House. The troops with us were
General G. W. Smith's division and General Longstreet's, with
several regiments of cavalry. At Warrenton General Longstreet
branched off for Culpeper Court-House, whither, as the first
point of rendezvous, we are all bound. General Hill had left
Leesburg two days before, and is also en route to join us via
Warrenton. Jackson takes the track towards Staunton or comes
this way, I don't know which. Monday we made only eight
miles, coming by the Fauquier Warm Sulphur Springs,—the
delay occurred at a weak bridge across the north branch of the
Rappahannock. General Smith feared it would not bear our
artillery. My judgment was different. I believed it strong
enough. We tried it, and got over safely, but with the loss of
several hours. "My dear General,—I hoped to find you at my room on
my return, that I might have the pleasure to hand you the
enclosed commission as brigadier-general. Allow me to congratulate
you, and wish you great good fortune and success." Sir,—Congress has provided by law for the appointment of field-officers of artillery
in the provisional army in proportion to the number of guns in each command. You
are respectfully requested to report as early as convenient the number of guns in each
of the three armies under your command, and a list of the artillery officers in each
army in the order of their merit, so as to assist the President in doing justice to your
meritorious subordinates by proper promotion. It would be agreeable to us to have a
like list prepared separately by the commanders of each of the three armies in relation
to the officers under his command, so as to compare the estimates made of their
respective merits, and thus increase the probability of doing exact justice to all. The Congress of the Confederate States of America do enact, That the President be,
and is hereby authorized to appoint, by and with the advice and consent of Congress,
in the provisional army and in the volunteer corps, officers of artillery, above the rank
of captain, without reference to the number of batteries under the actual command of
the officers so appointed, not to exceed in number, however, one brigadier-general for
every eighty guns, one colonel for forty guns, one lieutenant-colonel for every twenty-four
guns, and one major for every sixteen guns. ". . . Under request from General Johnston, I visited York
yesterday for the purpose of judging what artillery arrangements
should be made there, in addition to those already provided.
General Hill, formerly of Washington College, is in command
there. My instructions were to confer with him and learn his
views as well as form my own. We went together round the
works, and examined the locality in general. It is wholly
changed from what you knew in childhood: cut all to pieces
with ditches, embankments, rifle-pits, etc., etc., and with heavy
cannon bristling all over,—the old redoubts, etc., almost entirely
obliterated. The old house*
* General Nelson's house, Mrs. Pendleton's birthplace.
still stands,—used as hospital for
the post. This morning I am going again to General Johnston,
whose head-quarters are about a mile from my camp, to report
the result of my observations yesterday, and afterwards shall
visit some other parts of our line to see what else may be done
in my department. As a general thing, there is little or no opportunity
for artillery in this region. Still, we must look out for
what we can do in an emergency." ". . . Friday we began to fall back, a general evacuation of
that line being determined on,—very wisely, as I think. I was
sent to Williamsburg with my command, and reached there by
sunset that day. We were to have moved on for New Kent Court-House
next morning, but unlooked-for delays occurred in some
movements, so that the general operation by the army was deferred
till Friday night, and we remained in Williamsburg all day
Saturday. Sunday morning General Johnston reached there,
and most of the troops were on the way. He therefore directed
me to proceed some twelve or fourteen miles. I did so, and by
the evening, when we encamped at Hickory Neck church, we
heard that the enemy had come upon the rear-guard left in
Williamsburg, and had been gallantly repulsed. Monday morning
a division of the army reached me, and again under orders I
moved on through a drenching rain and terrible roads, reaching
a little place called Barhamsville. There we learned of a fight
again, all day Monday, between a pretty strong force of ours
under General Longstreet and a large body of the enemy at
Williamsburg,—the enemy being again driven off, and losing to us
some ten pieces of artillery and several hundred prisoners. Our
own loss, too, was heavy. Williams Wickham was painfully, we
hope not fatally, wounded. Of course General Johnston that
night carried on his plan of withdrawing his forces. And, as the
roads did not admit of hauling the wounded, he was obliged to
leave most of them in Williamsburg. ". . . We have been striving to get out of the Peninsula trap,
and have so far succeeded. All the army is near here." . . . ". . . I trust my letters reach you more regularly than yours
do me. None from home of later date than April 26. I fear it
is owing to hinderance on the mail line towards Staunton;
though, thank God, Jackson has been favored with a victory
beyond the valley, which will, I hope, compel the Yankee force
between Staunton and Winchester to take the back track. For
ourselves, we are all the time under arms expecting a battle.
But thus far, as to the army in general, the fight comes not.
The affairs which have occurred between portions of it and
various bodies of McClellan's host have resulted in defeat to the
latter, and must, I suppose, tend to depress the spirit of his
troops. . . . Day before yesterday I was requested to march
from my camp near Chickahominy bridge, a few miles down, so
as to be within supporting distance where a fight might take
place. We accordingly came to this point, and kept line-of-battle
order all that afternoon, the enemy being understood to be
advancing. Nothing, however, came of it. We lodged quietly
that night and kept the Sabbath rest yesterday. I had, moreover,
the privilege of preaching at eleven to the largest congregation
beyond comparison I ever addressed,—perhaps the largest
I ever saw,—on the fact mentioned in Acts v., near the close,
that the apostles, when beaten, etc., 'rejoiced that they were
counted worthy to suffer shame for the name of Christ.' I
never saw a more attentive congregation. The Lord was with
us, I trust, and the services not in vain. The day passed happily,
and was closed by a sort of family worship for my staff. . .
Dear Sandie and Edwin Lee I have not mentioned in connection
with. Jackson's late fight, but from the published lists of killed
and wounded I am encouraged to hope they are both uninjured,
and for this my thanks have gone up to heaven. John is promoted,
—made major. I have asked for his late place for W'm
Meade." ". . . Rainy and disagreeable as it was yesterday, I had to
be out most of the day substituting my own energy for somebody
else's that ought to have been exercised in getting ready
for action the redoubts around Richmond. These are very well
made and strong, but they are not ready, needing a good deal
of work in adjusting platforms, mounting guns, etc. Generals
Johnston and Smith asked me to take the supervision, because,
as they said, I have the energetic industry requisite. You ask
about my duties as brigadier-general of artillery. Besides all I
had as colonel, I have now general responsibilities as the chief
artillery officer of the Confederacy. This matter of the redoubts
is an instance; then there are questions from the whole artillery
referred to me, so that I have pretty full employment. . . . Nine
more batteries have reported to me, so that I have now nineteen
with some eighty-odd guns. They will make some noise in a
battle if nothing more. Things look towards a great fight in a
day or two." "I liked very much General Lee's tone and bearing in the conference
I had with him evening before last. His head seems
clear and his heart strong. Few men have ever borne a greater
weight than that which now rests upon his shoulders. Of course
we must contemplate the possibility of our eventually failing in
the difficult task here. It may not prove practicable for our
army to accomplish the double object of protecting Richmond
and beating McClellan. If this be concluded, and we have to
make choice between giving up Richmond and giving McClellan
great advantage over us, perhaps it may be the dictate of wisdom
to give up the capital for a while, that we may secure a good
chance for whipping the Yankee army and striking some other
heavy blows. You must not, therefore, lose heart should anything
of this kind happen. I have not the slightest intimation
that it is meditated by anybody; it is the suggestion of my own
mind. Looking at the conditions of the case as I do, I cannot
close my eyes to the possibilities. "Our own movements and those of the enemy here are to a
great extent hindered by the extreme wet. More water on the
earth I have hardly ever seen than now, and the soil around
Richmond is of a character rendered peculiarly miry after such
rains. Horses and riders are often in danger of becoming involved
in some slough beyond extrication in the fields and swamps
all around the city, and as for carriages of any kind, only here
and there can they get along. Artillery is with difficulty moved
at all, and by no possibility can it be manœuvred to any extent
on a battle-field anywhere near. Still, more or less firing goes
on every day between some batteries the enemy have in position
and certain of ours also placed where they may occasionally pop
at the enemy. In this sort of random skirmishing I take no part.
My work is superintending such preparations of the general artillery
force as may make it most effective in an extended fight and
commanding my own reserve corps. I am under more than usual
anxiety for our gallant general and army near Winchester, and for
our dear ones with them. Their exploits have really been glorious.
With breathless eagerness shall I await the next tidings
from them. . . . "You know, I suppose, much more of Jackson's continued
successes against Fremont, Shields, etc., than I do. I almost
dread to hear lest grief should come with the particulars of
victory. Still, look up and commit all to infinite wisdom and
goodness. . . . Everything is getting enormously high in Richmond,
—bacon sixty cents a pound! butter from one dollar
to three dollars a pound! etc. If we don't fight soon the people
will have to decamp for subsistence. The army seems to
be pretty well fed. . . . On Sunday I had service three several
times,—at nine, with Cutts's battalion of my corps, near my
head-quarters; at half-past ten, with William Nelson's, more than
a mile north of this; at twelve, with Major Richardson's, a mile
and a half west of William Nelson's. How about our church in
Lexington? Any chance for services at any time? How I
would delight to discharge my proper duties there again! And
how I long for you, and home, and all there!" "Early this Tuesday morning I write, after having finished my
devotions, but before the rest are ready for breakfast. Three of
your letters have reached me. Thanks to our Heavenly Father
for all the comforts you still enjoy. Dear Sandie and Edwin
Lee and Everard Meade and Mr. Allen are also safe thus far
through all the conflicts. Sandie, I learned last night, had a
narrow escape in one of the battles, a shell passing so close as to
stun him for a few moments. This should remind us more distinctly
of the exposure and the special protection. . . . You ask
me to tell you all I do. This is scarcely possible where there
are so many things to be attended to. I rise very near sunrise,
having first spent a good long while in silent meditation and
prayer in bed. I then dress as quickly as possible, fix my bed,
and arrange such little personal matters for the day; then read
my psalms and chapters, and by that time breakfast is ready.
Immediately after, I sign side-leaves, discharges, passes, etc., and
issue such orders as are then needed for the day. Such duties
being attended to, I ride in some direction, seeing that the batteries
are rightly adjusted or calling to confer with some one or
other of the generals about matters pertaining to my special
service. After dinner one kind of business, then another, claims
attention, and so night finds me pretty tired. Soon after nine I
have prayers, and we all get to bed and are asleep in a marvellously
short time. I have a nice military family,—not very small. ". . . The tedious duty to which I referred just now was inspecting
a number of heavy-artillery companies in the different
redoubts around Richmond, to ascertain which of them ought to
be retained in commission and which broken up, their officers
reduced to the ranks, and their men distributed among other
companies. The Secretary of War requested me to preside in
the needful but thankless work, and I have been at it all day.
To-morrow I have to be engaged in a similar duty with some
raw light-artillery companies. If I can break up four or five of
these light-artillery companies, men enough will be distributable
to fill up most of the veteran companies whose ranks have been
thinned by the severities of long and arduous service. . . . It is
now, my daughter, five o'clock in the morning. I am refreshed
with sleep and have spent a good while—ever since early dawn—
in meditation and prayer. Instead of getting up to write, I prefer
for this time sitting up in my camp-cot and finishing my letter.
. . . I had a laborious day yesterday. After needful public duty
in the early morning, I held service and preached to a part of
my command, half a mile off, from nine to half-past ten; congregation
large and attentive. That service over, I rode to the Old
Church, on Church Hill, and preached for Dr. Norwood. There,
too, freedom was given me, and the people were very attentive.
After dinner I rode to William Nelson's camp and officiated for
that battalion, bringing the day to near sunset. Hardly anybody
in the State preached to more people than it was my privilege to
do. It is good for me,—I trust it is for others,—for me thus to
exercise my sacred calling while occupying this strange position.
Soldiers come to hear me much more freely than they seem to do
the chaplains. "Before setting out for the duties of the day I take a moment
to let you know that I am still safe and sound, and that our
cause is also thus far in good condition. The contest begun
about three o'clock Thursday afternoon, raged fiercely then and
yesterday. The enemy, where attacked, retreating many miles,
but now and then contending vigorously. Most of the fighting
is on the northeast side of the Chickahominy, where my immediate
duties do not lie. There is, so far as we can yet see, a
fair prospect of breaking up the invading host. Jackson is, we
learn, far behind them. I was out on the lines in saddle yesterday
from six A.M. to ten P.M. The battle spectacle which I witnessed
several miles on our left, across the river, was awfully
impressive as well as greatly exciting. The President was by me
witnessing the same for hours." "Being laid up for the day by a little fever, etc., consequent
upon the immense labor and exposure through which I have
passed during the past week, I can take occasion to write you a
brief notice of the fact that McClellan is whipped and his whole
army in full retreat. Poor Julia*
* Hib niece, wife of Colonel James Allen, of the Second Virginia Infantry.
is a widow. Mr. Allen was
killed at his post of duty, at the head of his regiment, shot
through the head. She has at least that consolation, that he
suffered no lingering pain. How many other homes are left in
like manner desolate! God has in mercy spared us. General
Lee told me late last night that he had seen Sandie safe and
sound since the terrific battle. 'A fine young man,' added the
general. Mr. Lee is, I have good reason to hope, also safe.
The main fight was, as I wrote you, on the northern side of the
Chickahominy, my special post of duty being on the southern
side. On this side we had a good deal of cannonading, and
some very sharp infantry skirmishing, but no general battle. I
was, however, as everybody was, exposed to cannon-shot and
shells again and again. William Nelson was in several hot
artillery fights on this side, and acquitted himself most handsomely,
exhibiting as cool, calm gallantry as any man in the
army. From a commanding position I witnessed the awfully
sublime spectacle of a terrific battle about four miles off. "My dear Son,—Your last letter to your mamma was handed
me just now. She has gone in consequence of my taking part
in an expedition on the other side of James River against the
enemy's shipping. We attacked them terribly night before the
last,—opening forty guns by surprise at midnight. They were
profoundly still in sleep, and were waked up at a rate rarely
experienced even in war. I never witnessed anything more terribly
grand than that cannonade in the pitchy dark. How much
damage was done we cannot say; it must have been serious.
One hundred and fifty ships of all sorts, and the Yankee camp
beyond them, lay stretched before us at from eight hundred
yards to two and a half miles, and by aid of some sight-lines we
had adjusted in the day we knew pretty well how to fire in the
dark. ". . . We came over Tuesday evening, the I2th. My mission
on the other side being accomplished and my duties here needing
attention exceedingly. That night I stayed at Peterkin's
John and Dudley were in to see me before breakfast. I soon
rode to see General Lee, and then had to go to work for certain
preparations of batteries to be sent General Jackson. All that
day and the two following was pushed exceedingly. ". . . This is the last time this season I shall write to you from
here. We are under orders for Gordonsville, and set out this
afternoon. It is now two P.M., and I have been hard at work
since dawn. Yesterday, among other things, I attended General
Winder's funeral. The procession was not very large. Peterkin
read the service. It excited serious reflection, no doubt, in many
who are likely to be exposed to sudden summons. I go now,
not knowing what is to be experienced in the new sphere. But
this I do know, all things work together for good to them that
love God, and with confidence I hope I may say, this I do." ". . . Before we left Richmond I wrote you word we were
under orders for Gordonsville. Information, however, received
respecting certain Yankee movements caused a modification in
our orders. General Lee telegraphed to Richmond that a
column of the enemy was reported to him as advancing on the
direct road from Fredericksburg towards Richmond. Hence a
division and my artillery were ordered to the neighborhood of
the Junction to take post on the south side of the North Anna
River. Yesterday Generals Garland, Cobbs, and myself, with a
number of colonels and majors, rode over the country a great
deal reconnoitring, so as to make sure what to do if the Yankees
come. But we hear nothing of them, and my belief is they are
not going to attempt any aggressive movement now." ". . . We have here now a considerable force awaiting orders
from General Lee. McLaws is here with his division, and D. H.
Hill will be here this afternoon to command the portion of his
division also here,—a part of it having, before we were stopped
here, gone on to Orange Court-House; that part is for the time
commanded by General Ripley. I have to-day your letter of the
20th, telling me of Sue's and Sandie's sickness. I infer from the
incidental way in which you speak of Sandie's being at home, and
of the sickness of both, that a previous letter telling me of the
beginning of their sickness and of Sandie's getting home has not
reached me. It will not, I trust, be serious with either of them.
Sandie will, I know, regret being detained from his post at this
stirring time. Mr. Stringfellow came to see me, and asked me
to preach at Trinity to-morrow. I will do so if no military hindrance
occur and the weather permit. It will be a great treat to
me to see dear Aunt Judy and all at Oakland." ". . . Here, after a march of twenty miles to-day, and waiting
for the cars to take me on to General Lee, meanwhile taking a
loll to rest myself, I write you in a new position, flat on my back.
Your letters since the one of the 20th, telling me of Sue's and
Sandie's sickness, have failed. I am in consequence ignorant
of their condition now, not only so, but uneasy by learning
yesterday that a letter had been received at Oakland saying that
Sandie was doing well, but that Sue was very sick with what was
thought typhoid fever. I trust she may soon be better. It will
not be practicable for me to hear now for some time, as I am
going where letters are not easily transmitted. How we come
to be moving this way I will describe. "My Darling Wife,—Again I am writing to you from a bed,
and this time I am in it as an invalid. Not much, I hope, only
the crisis of a diarrhœa of some two weeks' duration, rendered
worse by hard effort to catch up with General Lee. This I did
yesterday about three o'clock on another bloody battle-field.
After delivering the messages sent by the President and tendering
my services for whatever I could do, disordered and jaded as
I was, I was urged by the general in the kindest manner to find
some comfortable place, rest, and get well. We then remained,—
Randolph Page, Dudley, and myself,—interested in the battle,
though liable to shells every moment, till after five, when we
rode back to our friends, the Jordans, in Haymarket, and they
directed us to these admirable people about two miles north.
They have suffered much, but are still wealthy, and as whole-souled
as any people I ever met. "By a direct opportunity to Richmond I write you a hurried
line. Here we are to cross into Maryland. Most of the army
crossed last night and this morning; we go to-morrow morning.
I am still unwell, but will try to take care of myself. Randolph
blistered my right side to act on the liver; it has been very sore
riding, but a quiet day has relieved it greatly. When shall I
hear from you? It is long, long since I had a line; still, I hope
for the best. There will be a great deal of warm work in the
operations now entered upon. May God guide, strengthen, and
direct us in them!" "Early in the morning, after all arrangements made for setting
out on another march, I employ a few moments in writing to you.
On Sunday last we left Leesburg. I could not spend the day
there, nor even attend church, because so much severer duty
needed my care. About twelve that night we reached the Arcadia
farm, which you remember. There we have since been
encamped on the banks of a nice stream. After reporting to
General Lee, Monday morning, I spent the day in calling on my
old friends in Frederick. Greater kindness no one ever received.
. . . The parsonage and church both closed. . . . Frederick has
improved a good deal. The cemetery quite an ornament, and
several new churches. . . . To-day we go farther inward; I
must not indicate where lest my letter fail and give some clue
where I would not have information gotten. Suffice it that General
Lee seems well to understand what he is about. Yankeedom
seems a good deal stirred up." "About to send Captain Barnwell to Winchester for some
long-range guns, I have an opportunity of writing to you again
a few hurried lines. We left Frederick Wednesday afternoon,
10th, and arrived here yesterday afternoon. Of course we could
travel faster, but a considerable force had to be detached by Harper's
Ferry to break up the Yankees there, and we move leisurely
to let those troops get up again. "Great pressure of work has prevented my writing you for a
whole week. Yesterday week I hoped for a quiet Sabbath near
Hagerstown, but orders came just after breakfast to march. That
evening a battle was fought,*
* At Braddock's Gap, between Longstreet's corps and part of McClellan's army.
but my assigned place was only
near, not in it. At midnight I was summoned to General Lee.
He directed me to detach some batteries for a point to which he
intended taking the army, and to conduct the rest by Williamsport
to the Virginia side of the Potomac and make arrangements for
defending the several fords. This gave us a long march day and
night, and brought me to Shepherdstown on Tuesday morning.
There I had much labor in locating batteries, etc., and doing a great
deal towards rendering roads to and from the ford somewhat safe.
The work had to be done day and night. Wednesday a great
battle was fought partly in our sight, with immense slaughter on
each side. The Yankees were too much shattered to renew the
attack next day, so that Thursday was a day of comparative quiet.
My work, however, went on, for I had to look to several fords,
keep roads in order, forward long-range guns, have stragglers
caught, etc., and despatches were coming to me all night, so that I
could scarcely steal a nap. That night General Lee determined to
recross the Potomac to the Virginia side, it being too hazardous
as well as too laborious to get all his supplies so far across so difficult
a river. I had again to work like a beaver, as did all my
officers and men, promoting the safe passage of the army, with
its immense trains of artillery and wagons, hence no rest again
that night. By nine Friday morning all had safely crossed and
McClellan's army had hardly found out the move. Now came
my great responsibility. I planted some forty or more guns on
the heights this side the river, and had assigned me some six
hundred infantry to protect the rear of our army and keep the
enemy back. They planted on the more commanding heights
on the other side a number of powerful batteries, compared with
which ours were but as pop-guns, and commenced upon us a
furious cannonade. Under cover of this they sent down to the
river's edge a strong force of sharp-shooters, and with the double
fire of the tremendous cannon and longest-range rifles used by
an immensely more numerous body of men we had to contend
all day. General—I have the honor to report the part performed by my command and by
myself in the recent operations of our army, and especially as to service rendered in
defending the Potomac ford at Shepherdstown, in connection with General Jackson's
capture of Harper's Ferry and the battle of Sharpsburg. General—The commanding general wishes you to have constructed immediately
a wide bridge over the canal opposite the ford. You can either do it by making a
bridge on a level with the tow-path or by digging the banks on either side so as
to pass down and up easily, causewaying the bottom so as to make the crossing
easy. General—I desire you to keep some artillery guarding each of the fords at Williamsport,
Falling Waters, and Shepherdstown, and have some infantry with it if
possible. General—If you have fifteen or twenty guns suitable for our purpose which you
can spare, the general desires you to send them, with a sufficiency of ammunition.
You must not take them from the fords, if essential to their safety. Send up the
stragglers. Take any cavalry about there and send up at the point of the sword.
We want ammunition, guns, and provisions. General,—The commanding general says that if the enemy is in force in your
front you must retire to-night. If not in force, being merely an artillery force, withdraw
the infantry forces, directing them to join their respective divisions on the march
to morrow, a few guns and a small cavalry force being sufficient to guard the fords. ". . . For the last few days I have been too unwell to write,—
with my complaint of long standing. To-day I am better. . . .
Randolph insists I must get a leave of three or four weeks or I
will not get well. I begin to think so myself, but must wait a
little longer. A good deal to be done that I wish to accomplish
before leaving the army, and then it will depend upon the prospect
before us and how I feel whether I shall consider myself at
liberty to take a brief respite. ". . . I have another opportunity of writing a few lines. This
holy day has been too busy for a Sabbath, yet mentally to me a
sacred day. I am resting for an hour or two. The enemy seems
concentrating at Harper's Ferry, so that this army must move to
head them off. This active movement, with the likelihood of battle,
prevents my thinking just now of the furlough I had contemplated.
Indeed, Randolph had given me a certificate that it was essential
for me to leave camp for thirty days, but there is a good deal to do
in my department which no one else can do as well, under the circumstances,
and I would not go when a great conflict may be near. ". . . I have only time this morning for a line to tell you how
much better I am. I was very sick and beginning to despair of
getting well in camp, but got one of the boys to bring me a piece
of pickle from a nice house near by, and extracting and swallowing
the juice helped me at once. I am now taking nitro-muriatic
acid, and have been living mainly on acid food. It has all helped
me wonderfully, and I am really beginning to feel like myself.
You may, therefore, rest easy on my account thus far." ". . . It grieves me that you were all so disappointed about my
not going home, but it was better for me to stay. I hope to get
home later if there is not much active campaigning. I am really
well, with a fine appetite, and full of vigor. It is dreadfully dry.
I never saw so much dust. ". . . Here we are still, you see. Under General Lee's direction,
I have had the routes over the mountains explored, and the
capacity of Fauquier, Loudoun, etc., for maintaining an army
ascertained and reported to him. . . . My great work of reorganizing
the artillery has been accomplished, and if there is to be
no more active campaigning I can be better spared from camp
now than at most other times. ". . . I am, as usual, hurried. Have ridden to see General Lee
to-day about various matters; took occasion to hint about recruiting
my strength. He says I mustn't want recruiting; he can't
spare me. I suppose it will not do for me to think of leaving till
winter puts a veto on active movements. I wish we had known
a month ago the army would be here so long, I would have had
you and Rose here at 'Mountain View.'" General,—General Longstreet's corps will be put in march to Culpeper. General
Jackson's will remain in the valley for the present. His head-quarters are on the
Charlestown and Berryville Turnpike near Long Marsh Run. As soon as Longstreet's
corps passes you, I wish you to follow it with your reserve artillery at a convenient
distance to Culpeper, encamping on your arrival at a suitable distance from
his command, where you can procure shelter, fuel, and subsistence. You must make
arrangements to provide forage, etc., at your camping-grounds on your march. The
reserve ammunition-train will accompany you. ". . . On Thursday, 30th of October, I received notice to
march Saturday, 1st of November, and at one P.M. of that day
set the column in motion, the road not being clear till then.
That evening, crossing the two branches of the Shenandoah, we
reached and encamped near Front Royal. Tuesday, soon after
mid-day, we arrived here,—are encamped about a mile from the
village, where streams furnish water for our horses and woods
shelter them and ourselves," . . . ". . . Yesterday I was again permitted to preach acceptably
to a large and attractive congregation in Rev. Mr. Cole's church.
There were a great many officers and soldiers. General Lee and
staff among others. They tell me the army seems in motion. I
have for a day or two anticipated the breaking up of our camp here. ". . . After a rough march during four or five days of the
past week we arrived here to-day about twelve. Since then have
been busy fixing camps, seeing General Lee, etc. It has been
very little like God's holy day. I have tried to have my own
mind exercised in harmony with the day. I was struck this
evening by a reply made to John by old George. The latter
had been away for an hour or two, no one knew where. On
being reproved, he said he had just learned it was Sunday and
had gone into the bushes to pray. ". . . At present the burden of defence here falls necessarily
on the artillery, and hence I have to be very active and busy. No
gun yet fired, but the Yankees on the other side in full force, and
working like beavers planting batteries. We are, of course, energetic
in the same way getting guns in position to keep them
back. To do this systematically requires exact care on my part
to have all the batteries, guns, etc., classified, so that every man
may know his place, and every gun be rendered fully available at
the right point and at the requisite moment. All day Monday I
was out reconnoitring, riding some thirty miles, and yesterday
the same. The Yankees in full view, and we get not only within
cannon-range, but within musket-shot. Just across from Fredericksburg
they have guns planted to rake the streets. If the
enemy makes a serious effort to cross, it will be a hot time. The
artillery fire will be tremendous on both sides. Burnside has a
serious task before him; and, as General Lee said to me pleasantly
this morning, he hopes Burnside will eat his turkey and
plum-pudding elsewhere than in Richmond. I am perfectly well,
although in the woods, and sometimes with only one meal a day.
. . . When I contemplate my own part in the struggle here my
feelings are solemn, yet trustful and hopeful. He who notes the
fall of every sparrow holds in His hands my life on the battlefield
as everywhere else. And I desire, harder though it then be,
to realize this when the shells crash and the bullets whiz within a
hair's-breadth as when all is quiet and peace around me. It is a
strange position for a servant of the Prince of Peace and a minister
of the Gospel of Peace. But as I do not delight in war, and
would not hurt the hair of the head of any human being save under
conviction of public duty; as by prayer, pleadings, and expostulation
I have earnestly tried for peace, so I trust the blessing of the
peace-maker will not be denied me, though as a soldier of the
Cross I follow the example of old Abraham in endeavoring to defend
my kindred against cruel outrage. As with that instance of
generous indignation and just courage conspicuously in view, the
pattern patriarch is—in the New Testament as well as in the Old
—honored as the father of the faithful and the friend of God, so,
even under the pacific dispensation of the Gospel, the Lord's
faithful servants and children, though they may not individually
avenge themselves, may, with His approval and by His sanction,
wield the sword of society against public wrong-doers seeking to
subvert social right by iniquitous force. He knows how truly I
mourn over the wrongs which have compelled the best people of
the South to resolve on resistance unto death, and how painful to
me the alternative of seeing all that I most value on earth desolated,
or of taking myself an humble part in the endeavor, at whatever
cost, to resist oppression. He sees that I desire in all sincerity
to be a faithful soldier of the Cross, while trying also to be a useful
soldier of a much-wronged country. And He graciously accepts,
I trust, my unworthy services, whatever error, whatever sin be
chargeable against me in this as in other portions of my life. The
blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin. All this, my daughter, not
for you only I write, but for all at home, and as an expression of
my mind when perhaps such utterance may be of value." ". . . This bright, frosty morning, just after our camp breakfast
of fried middling and corn-bread and water, with the addition
of a little butter, the first for ten days, I seat myself to write.
By the way, bacon of any kind in our fare is a great rarity.
The army is fed by beef, beef, beef, all the time. It is so easy to
get along. A great thing for the eatables of an army to transport
themselves. ". . . To-day has been pretty wintry all day, forming ice, I believe,
in the shade every hour, and to-night it is still more pinching;
yet in my tent we are pretty comfortable, thin as are cotton
walls. Very different is it, however, with many of the poor fellows
in camp. There are still a few unprovided with shoes, more with
inadequate clothing, and all without tents. They manage to eke
out some kind of a shelter, either with oil-cloths or a blanket over
poles, or brushwood covered with leaves. Nor is the exposure
in such weather all. Camp-fare in our fix is an item of life not
without significance. Our breakfast this morning was a piece of
cold boiled fat middling and corn-bread, washed down with cold
water. It went astonishingly well, tired as we are of interminable
beef. For dinner I preferred a little 'hard bread' and water.
To-night we had the treat of a cup of coffee and some fat cornbread. "My dear Mother,—If the good people of Lexington ever
did hear any cannonading,*
* The firing round Richmond in July, 1862, had been distinctly heard—or perhaps
felt—in Lexington.
their acoustic nerves have surely
been shocked this morning. At any rate there has not been
wanting occasion. This morning the Yankees opposite Fredericksburg
opened a tremendous fire, which woke us all, and
started us out to see what had broken loose. About eight came
a despatch from General Lee stating that the enemy had attempted
to cross at Fredericksburg, and that Barksdale's brigade
was opposing them. It is now twelve M. and we have heard
nothing further from General Lee. I have been amused at the
various comments of the negroes as to the cause and probable
results of the firing. And it is a fact that we have been so long
without a fight, that our army begins to desire another tilt with
the Yankees. The prestige is on our side here. Yesterday
General D. H. Hill (Raw-Hide Hill as he is called from having
moccasins for his men) drove off five gunboats from Port Royal
with his Whitworth gun and Poague's twenty-pounder Parrotts.
This is the second time he has done the same thing." "Here I am a major within two months after my twenty-second
year is completed. I am proud of it and glad that the
promotion has come from recognized merit, and accept it as a
good omen for future success. . . . Sunday the whole party
turned out and went to Grace Church. The ladies here having a
carriage, but no horses, harness, nor driver, I furnished all
three in Buck and our ambulance-team, and they went in fine
style. Mr. Friend preached a good sermon, and I raised the
tunes. Judge of my surprise on leaving the church at seeing pa,
Dudley, and Wash Nelson. Pa and Dudley came over and
spent the night here. . . . We are working as busily as beavers
along our front, not in anticipation of the Yankees crossing, but
lest they may. It is raining to-night furiously, and has been
blowing, but that has ceased, and I hear only the incessant rattle
of the rain in streams upon the tent." ". . . The mud is so intense that no one ever thinks of moving
from camp except under the pressure of duty. Its depth is
appalling to us uncivilized beings from the mountains. The
whole bottom of the earth seems to have sunk about three feet.
The people here say that there is no possible chance of our
being able to move for six weeks more. . . . Friday we had
a visit from a young Englishman, who has been through the
Indian Sepoy War under Havelock, and who has come over to
take another lesson in the art of war in the West. From the
Old World to the New; from the horrors of heathen warfare
to the barbarities of Yankee heroes. These last he abhors quite
enthusiastically enough to please the most fastidious Southerner.
He says the English quite admire General Jackson, as they class
him along with Havelock.". . . ". . . It is snowing, sleeting, and raining all at the same time.
The most serious objection to it is that it keeps the roads bad,
interferes with military operations, and renders it impossible to
recruit or even keep up our animals. The Yankee pickets along
the river say Hooker is coming across 'the first fair day.' ". . . Yesterday afternoon George Peterkin and I rode over to
Mr. Wortham's, and I baptized Colonel Alexander's little daughter.
He wrote to ask me to do it, and requested I would take a
Prayer-Book, as there was none in the house,—Mr. Wortham and
his wife being Baptists and he and his wife Presbyterians. The
father and mother made the responses; old Mr. and Mrs. Wortham
present, and devout. . . . I am, D. V., to go up to General
Jackson's to address the chaplains on Saturday. Sandie wrote
me Mrs. Jackson and child were with the general. How I should
rejoice to have you here again! But feel better satisfied you are
at home. It is, I feel, more in the way of duty. They needed
you there, and we may be summoned off any day. They have
put at the lowest point baggage, tents, etc., to be taken by
officers. "While I wait for my horse to be shod I can write to let you know I am still alive
and safe after the terrible danger of yesterday and to-day. "Where is General Hooker? Where is Sedgwick? Where is Stoneman? ". . . To-day, I suppose, General Jackson's remains reach
Lexington for interment, and Sandie will see you all. I could
not write after I knew he was going. On Tuesday I met the
chaplains and addressed them. Good will, I hope, result. After
the services Mr. Lacy took occasion to speak to the meeting of
General Jackson's last days. The facts are striking and may
well be preserved. At certain steps of the disease he was delirious,
and in such states of mind his thoughts seemed filled
with military duty. At one time he would exclaim, 'I must find
out whether there is high ground between Chancellorsville and
the river;' at another, 'Push up the columns! Hasten the columns!
Pendleton (Sandie), you take charge of that. Where's
Pendleton? Tell him to push up the columns!' When rational,
as he generally was, he was all composure and contentment.
Soon after he was wounded, when General Lee, fearing he might
fall into the enemy's hands, directed that he should be removed
to a safer position, he charged Dr. McGuire not to remove him
if there was danger to his life from the wounds under the motion,
saying, 'I'm not afraid of the Yankees; if they get me,
they'll not injure me.' When his wounds had been dressed and
friends saw him, he expressed entire contentment, saying, 'God
loves me, I know. I love Him, I believe, and He has pledged all
things to work together for good to them that love Him. I am
sure this is for my good, and if I am not permitted to see how
now, I am content to await the full explanation in heaven.' 'You
never saw me in a more contented frame of mind than now,' said
he to Mr. Lacy; and when asked, 'if it be best for you, how is it
with the country?' he replied, 'It is no doubt best for the country
also, and that will, by and by, be seen.' Mr. Lacy intended to
go with him, when it was hoped he would be able to travel to
Richmond and Lexington, and at first he seemed pleased; but
after a night he called Mr. Lacy to him and said, 'It would be
setting an example of self-gratification to the troops, and you
had better stay at your post of duty. I have always tried to set
the troops a good example.' His end was perfect peace. A
glorious Christian! A noble man! I thank God for intimate
friendship with him, and that Sandie so long enjoyed companionship
with so pure, so grand a character. Who will fill his place
we do not yet know. Ewell is much talked off. If he can get
about with sufficient ease he will no doubt do well. At any
rate, Jackson's example will be mighty in animating alike commanders
and men. . . . All quiet in our front. The enemy reorganizing,
—probably for another great effort. We, too, engaged
in refitting. It will in all likelihood be the bloodiest campaign
of the war. . . . Our food hard but wholesome,—a little bacon,
sugar, biscuits, and water, morning, mid-day, and evening. Our
horses, however, feasting on fine clover-fields." ". . . You ask how I did during the heavy rains. Very tolerably.
Was out in about the hardest I ever saw, yet did not get
wet. My old great-coat absorbed all and kept me dry. Our
wagons, tents, etc., had all been sent to the rear, and I had not
even a blanket Did with only one or two hours' sleep in the
twenty-four for several days at the time of the fight, and with
hardly any food. But this is too common in our army to be
thought of." ". . . I have been exceedingly busy trying to distribute justly,
and according to the necessities of the service, the captured
guns; also equalizing, as far as practicable, the armaments of the
several artillery battalions of this army, and securing to the utmost
from our means the complete fitness for duty—in the most
efficient manner—of all the artillery. It is much the most complex
branch of service, and requires ceaseless care and untiring
labor. Few men have worked these two years as I have. And
yet poor were the reward if the applause of men were my
motive! Of this, however, no matter. I am trying to serve
God in manifold ways and through some trials. He gives me a
large measure of peace of mind, and will enable me, I trust, to
do some good to the country, and promote His glory in the
upholding of His cause and in the salvation of souls. ". . . I feel better to-day. I suppose because I am sure now
of my status, and though not content, yet intend to make the
best of it. I went yesterday to General Lee's head-quarters to
ask to be relieved. But he will not hear of any such thing.
He disapproves entirely of any change in the general staff, as
officers have to become acquainted with the duties and with the
command, and change almost necessarily produces confusion and
injury to the service. ". . . Sandie is quite sick with dysentery. I saw him yesterday
flat on his back in his tent. Have tried to get him in a
house near by, but cannot. He may have to go away for a few
days. I regret it, as General Ewell has come, and needs Sandie
in the position he has so long filled. Three corps now,—Longstreet's
First, Ewell's Second, A. P. Hill's Third. I have to adjust
the artillery to suit. This is part of my work to-day. In
rearranging for these three corps I break up the general reserve,
and assign Colonel William Nelson's battalion to General Ewell's
corps and Colonel Cutts's to General A. P. Hill's; also make a
new battalion, so as to give five battalions to each corps,—making
fifteen in all, besides the horse-artillery with Stuart's cavalry. We
have about two hundred and seventy pieces with this army, including
Stuart's. . . . I had last week a long and pleasing talk
with General Lee on the great question of religion. I visited
him on duty. He was alone and introduced the subject He is
in earnest. Wept a good deal as we talked of Jackson. He is
deeply concerned for the spiritual welfare of the soldiers. Bishop
Johns is to be up (D. V.) day after to-morrow. If a move occurs
of course it will mar his usefulness. The general wants me to
aid in rendering the bishop's visit as useful and pleasant as
possible." "Sandie came up in an ambulance yesterday afternoon, and I
tried to get him in at old Mrs. Alsop's, who lives within a hundred
and fifty yards. But she would not consent. I had a good
bed made in my tent, and rendered him as comfortable as could
be. Gave him a good cup of coffee this morning, and then he
went in the ambulance to Dr. Chandler's, where General Jackson
died. I hope he was better this morning, but he is right sick
and very weak." "Your letter of the 1st, which I got yesterday as I lay on a sickbed
at Guinnea's, cheered me so that I feel bound to answer it
this last evening of our stay around Fredericksburg. In the last
week I have been very sick. The excitement of the news of a
move, together with the kind nursing of Mrs. Chandler in the
same room and on the same bed on which General Jackson died,
brought me out, so that I was able to ride in an ambulance up to
camp last night. Am to-day right sharp again, though very
weak. "You see by the heading of this where we are. . . . Evening
before last the enemy began a furious cannonade just below
Fredericksburg. They succeeded in driving off our sharpshooters,
laid down their bridge, and crossed. This kept me up
till late that night hard at work preparing for them. So Saturday
morning by dawn I was at it again, having guns in right
position, etc. Having by nine traversed the most important
parts of our line, I met with General Lee. We remained till
about one. Then it being pretty certain that the move was a
sham, General Lee concluded to move himself on his original
plan, and desired me to do the same. I broke up camp about
three P.M. and started. Got near twenty miles by dark, to the
farm of Mr. Lacy. Then encamped. Not a soul of the family
there,—only fields and houses and a few cattle. (I was so sleepy
last night I stopped, and am now writing just at sunrise, Monday,
the 8th.) We got good rest Saturday night, started early
Sunday morning, and reached Culpeper by half-past one. I
went to Mr. Cole's and got dinner. General Ewell, Sandie, etc.,
have arrived. I have not seen them. . . . Having assigned the
reserve artillery battalions, I have now no special charge, but
superintend all the artillery, and direct in battle such portions as
may most need my personal attention. This is a better arrangement,
I think. My work will be much as it has been, but freer,
as none of the petty details of one or two battalions will require
my care. We had a pleasant rain on the march Saturday. Hope
you have been similarly refreshed. It is singularly cool since,—
a fire would hardly be amiss." ". . . We reached here Sunday morning, and a day less Sabbath-like
I have never seen. . . . A despatch has just come from
Stuart that a large body of Yankee cavalry has crossed the Rappahannock
at Beverly's Ford in our front. An 'armed reconnoissance
in force,' I presume. I hope it will soon be over and let
us move on. I am anxious to get over into the valley and thence
to Maryland. Yesterday there was a grand cavalry review of
about eight thousand by Stuart and Longstreet, General Lee
and all the other generals. A grand show it was. General
Ewell is in fine health and fine spirits,—rides on horseback as
well as any one need to. The more I see of him the more I am
pleased with him. In some of his traits of character he is very
much like General Jackson, especially in his total disregard of
his own comfort and safety, and his inflexibility of purpose. He
is so thoroughly honest, too, and has only the one desire, to
conquer the Yankees. I look for great things from him, and am
glad to say that our troops have for him a good deal of the same
feeling they had towards General Jackson." ". . . It seemed yesterday as if we were to have a battle here.
But it proved only a partial engagement. Stuart and his cavalry
were approached by a force of the enemy and had a sharp conflict.
Our troops suffered seriously, but repulsed the enemy
with considerable loss to the invaders. The day before Stuart
had a grand review of the cavalry. General Lee asked me to
accompany him to it, and I did, and had a ride of it,—some six
miles at full run for our horses, down the line and up again, and
then had to sit on our horses in the dust half the day for the
squadrons to march in display backward and forward near us.
This pageant one day and the next a bloody fight, and many of
the poor fellows laid in their graves or groaning with wounds!" "You are before this aware of our being in this part of the
world, as I wrote of our proceedings since we left Culpeper. . . .
They have done well with Ewell's corps, and are now all in
Maryland. The rest of us are for the present in this region. . . .
Yesterday I preached for Mr. Sutor,—a good and attentive congregation.
Generals Lee and Longstreet present. After church
I rode to Brother Hugh's. They are well. I gave Gurdon one
hundred dollars to lay out in dry goods for you if he goes into
Maryland, as he expects to. Made a memorandum from your
last letter,—a piece or two of cotton, ditto of calico, ditto of
mousseline, assortments of spools, skeins, etc., of cotton, silk, and
thread, pins, needles, tapes, buttons, hooks and eyes, etc., etc. I
don't know what he will be able to do, and if he gets the things
how I can get them to you, but will try." . . . "Having received orders to march in the morning, I write tonight.
I have been privileged to see most of our friends. . . .
This afternoon I sent a servant on horseback to Brother Hugh's,
and got a supply of the finest cherries you ever saw. Sent some
to General Lee and staff, with two nice lemons out of five sent
me by an unknown lady near our camp. Major Taylor sent a
note of thanks for the present, which arrived, he said, most
opportunely, as they were just finishing dinner. . . . We move
on towards the Potomac to-morrow. Yankeedom is greatly
stirred. May the Lord go with us to restrain from evil, uphold
in duty, strengthen for efficient service, protect from injury, and
guide to victory, justice, and peace!" "Day before yesterday we marched from Berryville and
camped that night at Darkesville,—just where General Jackson
had his head-quarters two years ago when we were in line of
battle expecting Patterson. Yesterday morning we started at
four and proceeded through Martinsburg. Crossed the Potomac
at Williamsport last evening and camped half a mile north of
the river. This morning we came on through a most disagreeable
rain all day, first to Hagerstown, where General Lee got me
to see some good Southerner to learn about roads, etc. I went
with George Peterkin to see a Dr. Magill. Very much of a
gentleman and not less earnest than the most thorough-going
among ourselves. He has been fourteen months in Fort Warren,
and has met a Yankee mob of five thousand so resolutely with
his shot-gun as to prevent their tearing down his house as they
threatened. They were all very kind. A number of ladies
walked through the mud and rain half a mile to see General
Lee. . . . After remaining near Hagerstown some two hours, we
marched on and camped, where we now are, in Pennsylvania.
Ewell and the cavalry ahead of him have swept along before us,
so that we do not see the full harvest of Yankee alarm, etc.
Houses are generally shut, and horses, cattle, etc., are missing. "My dear Mother,—As I have spent all the money I have
in the world—seventy-five dollars—in buying dry-goods for you
and the girls, and expect to send them back to Winchester to
Dr. McGuire's this afternoon, I write to let you know the facts
and to enclose the bill. Whether my selection is good as to
taste I don't know. I think the black one for yourself pretty.
Should have bought a silk, but couldn't find any. There are no
shoes or gloves in the place, nor, I expect, will any be found on
our route. The people along the railroad north of our position
run off everything as we advance. But we are collecting large
supplies of all sorts, mostly commissary stores, and sending
them to Virginia. No violence of any sort has been done to
any citizen. No women insulted, or anything done in any way
to emulate the behavior of the Yankees in our country. We
have passed through a most beautiful and highly-cultivated
region, but so orderly has been our march that no damage of
any kind has been done, and you would not know that an army
had passed at all, much less one which had suffered such provocations
to retaliation and the wreaking of private revenge as
ours. There is no straggling and the men are in elegant spirits.
. . . In Pennsylvania! Rather a pleasant feeling to know that
you have a country at your mercy and are magnanimous. The
Yankees must feel rascally after their behavior in our country.
. . . I am in such a state of excitement that I can't write. I
think of you often and wish you were along. We live elegantly.
I have gotten nothing for myself except what Milroy furnished,
and don't expect to. I send by the same mail one Harper's
Weekly—June 20—for the picture of the burning of Jackson,
Mississippi. A marked contrast to our occupancy here." "My dear Mrs. Lee,—In reply to your letter of April 20, asking
for my recollections of the evening of the 1st and the morning
of the 2d of July at Gettysburg, I write briefly. Of course
one occupying a subordinate position, as I did, was not at all behind
the scenes. Still, as I stood in a very close relationship to
your dear father as his aide-de-camp, and, more than that, owing
no doubt in large measure to the general's long friendship for my
father, I always thought that he admitted me to much more intimate
relations than my mere official position would seem to call
for. At all events, I may very properly say that I was his constant
companion during the three years of my service on his staff,
and that he talked very freely to me of all things connected with
the army and the conduct of the campaign as far as such things
came under his observation. June 3.—I visited the army on the Rappahannock to make such arrangements as
might be found expedient to enable my brethren of the clergy to render most effectively
such missionary services as were contemplated by the resolution of the last Council.
When I arrived the several divisions had received marching orders, and before many
hours had elapsed all—with the exception of those brought up in front of Fredericksburg
to resist a demonstration of the enemy at that point—had moved for active service
elsewhere. . . . On my arrival at Hamilton's Crossing I was met by the Rev. J.
McGill, chaplain in the Fifty-second Virginia Regiment, who informed me that in the
Rockbridge Artillery company—then encamped in the vicinity, but under orders to
march in a few hours—there were several persons anxious to receive confirmation.
The necessary arrangements were soon made, and at five P.M., in front of the residence
of Mr. Marye, I preached to the members of that brave band, baptized one and confirmed
six of their number. Before the next dawn their tents had disappeared, and
they were moving to share in the terrible conflicts of the campaign. "This rainy Monday morning, while we are waiting in expectation
of an attack from the enemy, I employ a half-hour in
writing. Saturday and yesterday I was laboriously occupied in
posting batteries on our lines, giving minute directions to officers,
etc. Our army is well posted, and if attacked will, I think,
prove victorious. . . . We have had so much rain, it has not
been practicable for us to recross the river had it been ever so
desirable. And now, although the water has fallen a good deal
and a little fording is done, cannon can hardly be driven across
without spoiling the ammunition. . . . We are grieved at the fall
of Vicksburg, but no less firmly resolved to resist Northern
aggression to the end. . . . My health continues very good. By
care I manage to discharge a great deal of duty without breaking
myself down, and by proper management generally get good
rest at night, so that I am, most of the time, fresh for the hard
and protracted service incident to my position. By awaking
very early I get a good—time for prayer and Scripture reading
every morning, and have my staff stirring betimes. George
Peterkin is my trusty aide,—at all times ready for any work or
any danger. One of the truest human beings I ever knew. "My last was from near Williamsport, where we were expecting
another great battle. The weather being very uncomfortable,
the river likely to rise higher, and the Yankees exhibiting
an intention of fortifying, so as to hold a small force in our front
while they operated elsewhere, General Lee concluded to recross
to the Virginia side. This he did on the afternoon and night of
Monday, the 13th, and morning of Tuesday, the 14th. The labors
of all in responsible positions were great. Mine were herculean.
At General Lee's request I started on horseback round
our lines about one P.M., Monday, the 13th, and was virtually
in the saddle until five P.M., Tuesday, the 14th. In the hardest
rain all night, posting batteries and fighting them on the hills
our side the Potomac, when our army was nearly across, and an
advance of the enemy came imprudently near, about twelve on
the 14th, and having all guns and ammunition secured. I had to
do everything alone during the last ten hours of the time, as
every member of my staff was either broken down himself or
disabled by having a broken-down horse. My horse and myself
were all this while—twenty-eight hours—without food, and I got
no rest for about forty hours. Still, my strength kept up in
good measure, though my horse could scarcely walk when I
reached camp. This recrossing was a great success on General
Lee's part. The army is recruiting after a very severe campaign.
. . . We have moved up gradually to this point and are awaiting
developments. Our cause is, undoubtedly, at serious disadvantage
just now. The loss of Vicksburg is in itself not very injurious;
but Grant's army being set free to co-operate with
Rosecrans is a serious evil. Our failure at Gettysburg and these
events on the Mississippi will give us a vast deal of trouble. It
is a case in which resort to God for help becomes doubly urgent,
while we brace ourselves to the stern duties of the occasion. . . .
William Nelson lost all his clothes and his servant William when
the Yankee cavalry caught part of Ewell's train. I have given
him an old shirt, drawers, socks, towels, handkerchiefs, and
collars out of my scant store." "Still at Bunker Hill, I write again. . . . I have often thought
how anxious you must all be about us. And indeed you have
had reason. For besides one of the bloodiest battles in history,
—certainly, I suppose, the most tremendous artillery conflict
ever known thus far on earth,—we have been exposed to a
continuance of weather almost unsurpassed in inclemency again
and again, marching day and night through drenching rain and
mud interminable; our food, too, has been necessarily most
irregular, and sometimes so unattractive as to be turned from by
even very hungry men. Only dry bread, such as camp affords,
and a little poor meat, without condiment of any sort save a little
salt, and no vegetables. This, morning, noon, and night, so
wearies the appetite that the organs well-nigh refuse to perform
their office. Still, by God's helping, we get along cheerfully
and in very tolerable health. I am myself quite well. Lizzie
sent me two days ago a loaf of bread and two or three makings
of tea with sugar enough for it. It is very refreshing. But after
all, what of all these little trials if God be pleased to bless us in
frustrating the wicked purposes of Lincoln and the Yankees. . . .
By this time the bundles sent have, I hope, reached you. I have
amused myself imagining the looks of horror and merriment
with which the girls held up the odd pairs of shoes, and one
or two of the dress-patterns sent, not knowing my idea in
sending them,—viz., that if they could not be used in our household,
they could be exchanged somewhere for things more suitable.
The truth is, that amid the solemnities of so much blood
and death I hardly felt that it was right to be bestowing much
effort upon any earthly vanities or even comforts." "From the hour you see I have only a moment to write,
having had hard marching and little rest since leaving Bunker
Hill on Tuesday. By five P.M. were four miles southeast of Front
Royal,—forty-one or forty-two miles. Next day, yesterday, we
reached a point eight or nine miles from here, not camping till
past twelve at night. No dinner, no supper. This morning about
ten arrived here with one corps. The others pressing on. We
are pushing on to head the Yankees stirring again for Richmond." "The probabilities now seem that we shall be for some time
somewhere between this place and Gordonsville. . . . You are
all well, I trust, and comfortable in reliance on God notwithstanding
the unfavorable turn in our national affairs. It is undoubtedly
a time to try our faith and fortitude. But God has
not vacated His throne, nor will He, except for wise purposes,
permit iniquity to triumph ultimately. And if, for such purposes,
although impenetrable by us, He see fit to allow our enemies
to triumph, we can, I hope, submit to Him even therein, as
did our Saviour under the hands of his enemies,—'Not my will,
but thine, be done.'" "Last night I rode a few miles to Alexander's battalion and
preached for them. It was a very interesting time. Captain
Parker, a good Methodist, is much concerned for the religious
condition of his men. There is unusual interest among them,
and the meeting was large, attentive, and interesting. ". . . What do you think of my sitting up the entire night,
night before last, reading 'Aurora Floyd'? Sitting with my back
to the front of my tent, I was surprised to find, on finishing the
book and turning round, that it was broad day. I went to bed
and slept soundly about three hours, and got up fresh as a lark
for my usual work. . . . How do you find the quiet life of home
after the stir of army associations? A little dull, I fear. I was
at the chaplains' meeting day before yesterday, and gave them a
few words of counsel and exhortation." "Last night I officiated to a very large congregation—the
scene very striking—in the grand woods, the deepest darkness
around. Several light-wood torches raised on platforms glaring
on the dense mass of soldiers seated in orderly arrangement on
rough seats prepared for the purpose, and a candle or two on the
primitive stand where I was. My ride home was rough, extremely
dark, partly through dense woods, and quite lonely. It
was eleven when I got to my tent. But I had great peace of
mind and a sense of God's approving goodness." "Part of this army has moved. General Lee had a grand
review of the Second Corps day before yesterday. A. P. Hill's
corps is to be reviewed to-day. . . . Mr. Hansbrough has asked
me to assist in the services on Sunday, when Bishop Johns is
expected." "I can send you but a line this morning, having to move forward
and post artillery on the Rapidan. The enemy advancing.
I preached in church yesterday and administered the communion,
the bishop too unwell to come and Mr. Hansbrough sick. Some
two hundred and fifty persons communed, several generals among
them. General Lee was not there; detained by news from the
front." ". . . The enemy's cavalry came on in large force and drove
Stuart back to the Rapidan, capturing three pieces of artillery.
Our cavalry suffered smartly, but did good execution. Our infantry
moved out at daylight yesterday, our corps moving down
to watch Summerville's and Raccoon Fords. The enemy
showed no infantry, but only cavalry and artillery." "Last Saturday we moved down here from Orange Court-House
to Steam's place, formerly the property of Jeremiah
Morton. The house is entirely empty, and I am now writing in
one of the fine parlors,—a magnificent room twenty-six feet square,
with deep bay-windows, pier-glasses, and marble mantel-pieces,
but no furniture except my camp-table and chair. . . . Our corps
guards the river to the east of Orange Court-House, Early
being at Summerville's and Raccoon Fords, and Rodes and Johnson
at Morton's and Germanna Fords, fords west to east in the
order named, the first being some eight miles below Rapidan
Station and the last near the mouth of the river." "You see by the superscription that we have come back from
Bristow Station. The Yankees have so entirely desolated the
region that there is nothing left on which men or animals can
subsist. On Saturday, the 17th, besides riding round the lines
giving directions to the artillery, I went forward to old Manassas,
Randolph Page, George Peterkin, and Charles Hatcher accompanying
me. The only house of any kind left there is a dilapidated
shanty, occupied by a poor Irishwoman with her children. ". . . Here we are again, having gotten back here exactly one
month from the time we left, and are minus about four thousand
men and nine pieces of artillery which we had when we started,
October 9. just before sunrise and before starting out on our lines. General,—In obedience to your instructions, I have carefully reconsidered all the
recommendations for promotion in the artillery service with this army, availing myself
of the matured counsels of General Long, chief of artillery of Second Corps, and
Colonel Walker, chief of artillery of Third Corps, and of General Stuart, for the
batteries serving with the cavalry. The result I have now the honor to report. "Here I am, snug again in my winter's tent, and about as
doleful in the exchange from home and its blessings as a wise
man need be. Resolutely have I gone to work, and this in some
measure relieves the shock of so great a transfer. Our camp is
a pretty good one, and my own tent thoroughly comfortable,—so
much so, indeed, that, if the worst comes to the worst, for your
accommodation with me, I can readily shield you both from
rude blasts within these canvas walls. This, however, I do not
anticipate. "Here I am, just a week after leaving my head-quarters at
Louisa Court-House, Virginia, with my work of inspection, etc.,
here fairly begun. ". . . Saturday I attended Generals Hardee and Hood in re
viewing the artillery of their corps. Yesterday I stayed in-doors,
intending to be present at Methodist worship, but was misin
formed as to the hour. I therefore improved the time with Bible
and Prayer-Book, Bradley's Sermons, and my little practical com
mentaries. . . . To-day I employed in inspecting minutely all
the artillery of Hardee's corps,—batteries, transportation, horses,
camps, etc. To-morrow I shall give for similar work to Hood's
corps. This will get me through the actual inspection. Then
I have to get in the written replies to my inquiries addressed
to commanding officers, and from the whole make up my mind
as to things needed for best efficiency. One or two thorough
officers are the chief requisite." ". . . We are still kindly entertained at General Johnston's
head-quarters. I yesterday finished all my field-work of actual
inspection, and am waiting partly for reports from commanders
before I can systematize my own suggestions, and also to hear
the results of our application for Tom Carter to be sent here as
brigadier-general and chief of artillery for this army. ". . . General Johnston was informed last night from Richmond
that Brigadier-General Shoup had been ordered to him to
be his chief of artillery. I am sorry they did not promote Tom
Carter and send him, as he has been so thoroughly tried and
found so efficient. Still, General Shoup has the reputation of
being a good officer, and will, I hope, do well. He is a West
Point graduate of somewhere about Fitz Lee's time, was at
Vicksburg, and is now at Mobile. His coming simplifies my
operations. I shall be at liberty now to leave in a few days." ". . . I have been privileged to-day to preach to an immense
congregation of officers and soldiers and a few ladies. It was on
our Saviour's agony in the garden. I trust it was a profitable
occasion. I felt it so myself. Was aided to considerable freedom
of thought and feeling, and the congregation was thoroughly
attentive to the end. Since service I have been mostly in my
room reading and resting. ". . . How are you and N this morning after your
thrice-trying ride yesterday? I was anxious about you all
day, and could only commit you to the care of our Almighty
Father and hope that you might find the stage tolerably close
against the driving snow. . . . Sandie and I duly reached
Orange Court-House. His horse was ready for him; he therefore
mounted and rode to the quartermaster's and got a horse
for me. Meanwhile I walked through mud and rain to Mr.
R—'s, meeting Sandie on the way. He went with me, and
our kind cousin soon gave us a delightful snack. We then rode
on towards General Lee's head-quarters. There we parted.
Sandie rode on to his own head-quarters and I proceeded to
the general's. They all seemed glad to see me, and General Lee
was particularly cordial. With him I had a conference of two
or three hours, and having concluded I moved to leave. He
urged me to stay, and promised to make me comfortable. But
I had arranged with Cousin R to return to their house that
night, and knew it would incommode the general and his staff
to extemporize another bed in camp. Besides, I had Major John
Rogers's horse, and thought it best to return it. Excusing myself
on these accounts, I rode through the extreme darkness and
reached Dr. R—'s some time after nine. I could hardly have
found my way but for a courier who was sent to guide me through
the woods. "All this time—since Sunday—I have been unable to write to
you. Tuesday I tried to come down from camp in the accommodation
train. The running off the track of a freight-train delayed
us, and it was past nine when I got to Sue's. Since then
my time has been almost incessantly occupied with General
Bragg and the President. Now I can inform you as to my proceedings,
as the matter has been arranged this evening. I therefore
write to-night, hoping to be industrious enough to take my
letter to the Central train to go in the mail starting at six. "You will be surprised to get from here my first letter written
since our detention in Danville on our way south. But I felt
sure I would get back before a letter from Dalton would be this
far on its way to you. I only stayed there two days, as I intended,
and started back Saturday afternoon, having accomplished
all I could with General Johnston, Got here last evening
about sunset. I have had interviews to-day with the President and
General Bragg with respect to the report of my conference with
General Johnston and the facts important for them to know.
My report will probably be the basis of some early movement
on the part of our army in that quarter, as the proposal of General
Johnston thus communicated is recognized by the President
and General Bragg as now perhaps the best that can be done.
It would have been better if General Johnston could have agreed
to move some time ago, before the enemy had so far made his
arrangements. . . . I had some faint hope of running up to see
you for a day or two, but the indications of Grant's operations
are too significant of immediate work to render it strictly proper
for me to enjoy that privilege. I shall therefore hasten to my
post, only staying here one more day to make some arrangements
I wish to accomplish." "Before sunrise I scratch you a hasty line to let you know
God has thus far spared Sandie and myself and those nearest to
us. We have had hard fighting and an important success. But
there is nothing yet really decisive. Important movements on
foot to-day. . . . I have gotten through my devotions this
morning,—remembering it is Whitsunday. May the Blessed
Spirit be with us all and abundantly given to our people, and,
indeed, throughout all the earth!" ". . . We found yesterday that General Grant had slipped off
from our front at Spottsylvania Court-House, and under cover of
woods, etc., had travelled a considerable distance towards Bowling
Green. In this state of facts General Lee concluded that if
he attempted to head Grant off at some point more distant from
Richmond than this he might not be in time, and the force which
might slip by could possibly surprise them in Richmond on the
north side, while Beauregard is attending to Butler on the south
side. We therefore headed yesterday morning for the front,
marched till half-past two this morning, then rested a couple of
hours, and came on here this morning, getting here by about nine
o'clock. Under one of General Breckenridge's staff tents I have,
through the kind hospitality of two or three of his officers, enjoyed
a refreshing lunch and delightful nap. Now I am sitting
on the ground, in the shade, at Sandie's tent, with my back
against a pine stump, and writing this on my knee. The particular
encouragement for writing now is that Sandie expects to run
down to Richmond to see Kate, and he can get a letter for me
in the post-office so as to insure your getting it before very long.
Whether you have received any of my numerous letters during
this busy campaign I really cannot tell, as I do not at all hear
from you. . . Our whole army is just arriving and bivouacking
about here. The sun is hot, but there is a pleasant breeze. . . .
Oh, how I do long for relief from this uncongenial life! though I
am willing to endure to the end at the call of duty for so just a
cause. I was asked to preach on this line to a part of Longstreet's
corps for this morning, and engaged to do so, provided
no military hinderance prevented. But the hinderance, as you
see, occurred, so I have to spend the Sunday very differently.
It has been as much as I could do to lift up my heart heavenward,
from time to time, during the morning. . . . General Lee
told me this morning he had just heard from Mrs. Lee that Mrs.
Hill Carter died about a fortnight ago of pneumonia." ". . . During a lull in fighting I employ time now in writing
again. It is now three P.M., and I am sitting on the ground in
the yard of an humble dwelling a hundred or so yards from the
railroad depot,—a score or two of officers and their attendants
being loungers near. As I wrote you we headed off Grant here.
He came after, and we have had some sharp skirmishing; but as
we have taken a good line and fortified it strongly, he does not
attack. His men seem to have vastly less fight in them than
when they first encountered us in the Wilderness. . . . General
Lee is quite unwell to-day. A little rest and good diet will soon
restore his usual vigor, we trust. He is unceasing in his care
and labors, and is animated by a most cheering Christian trust.
I think he has grown most perceptibly in grace and in the
knowledge of God during the past year, and is altogether a most
superior character. He expresses full assurance that the Judge
of all the earth will do right, and entire submission to His holy
will, or rather to His appointments, for himself or the country.
This is my strong conviction. The Lord may not see fit to deliver
us as we pray, but if not, He will cause the wrath of man
to praise Him, its remainder He will restrain, and through sorrow
or joy He will make it ultimately work for good to all who love
Him, and among them ourselves, if such be our hearts. . . . We
have had a serious time as before. Night before last I was
out the entire night, aiding in choosing our line and adjusting
positions. And all of every day it is the same thing, with occasional
experience of cannon- and musket-balls very close.
Through all, however, the good hand of God carries me safely
thus far and my health is very good." . . . ". . . We came here from the Junction yesterday,—the enemy
having slipped off again and having turned up, according to report,
down in this direction. We have not come squarely upon
his force to-day, but felt part of it with skirmishing. He crosses
at Hanover Town and gets nearly on McClellan's track. . . . I
have some anxiety about the Yankees getting to Lexington
while the troops are all here defending the capital and crushing
Grant. But committing you all, as well as myself, to God's covenant
goodness, I am strongly hopeful. . . . Can one of the
girls manage for me a pair of summer gloves? These are in
shreds." . . . ". . . I visited a house or two after the Yankees left, near the
Junction, which had been in their hands. Such destruction you
never saw. May the Lord forbid them ever reaching your home
or any other large portion of our land!" . . . ". . . Feeling not quite so well this morning, I do not start
out as early as usual, and have an opportunity of writing a few
lines. . . . On the whole Grant has shown great tenacity of purpose,
but he has only reached, with a loss of half his army, the
very position he might have started with without the loss of a
man. . . . I spoke of not feeling quite well,—a little languor
from fatigue, in part, and in part from sameness of rather indigestible
diet. I shall keep more quiet to-day in the shade, and
do my work chiefly through the members of my staff. General
Lee is nearly well again. He rides along the lines in a little
carriage. I trust, my darling, you are all comfortable. Send
letters for me now to Sue's care,—Box 1118. I can send in to
her every day. For myself, I cannot think of going in yet, even
for an hour. No letters from you to myself since that by Ed.
Moore." . . . "My Darling Daughters, Sue and Kate,—I write a hasty
line this morning to relieve your anxieties about my recent indisposition.
By God's mercy I am entirely relieved. Two days of
considerable fever gave me proportionate trouble, but prompt
medical treatment and a quiet day on my camp-bed were rendered
effectual to the removal of disease, and I am now fresher
than before, have recovered my appetite, and feel quite strong
again. Indeed, I was able yesterday to ride twenty miles without
half the feeling of weariness I have experienced before. Last
night I slept well, and this morning, after taking the liberty of
rising later than usual, I have eaten a hearty breakfast. There
was heavy fighting yesterday, resulting greatly in our favor.
The enemy lost immensely. We miraculously little in proportion.
In one or two instances a battery or so of ours suffered
very severely. Lieutenant-Colonel Poague's battery had such
experience. He himself seriously wounded, I fear. . . . But on
the whole the day was wonderfully in our favor." "My dear Mother,—After the most terrific fight of the war
we, pa and all, are still safe. . . . Though I had two horses
killed under me I am still unhurt, I thank God." . . . "Although I have no idea how a letter can now be conveyed
to you, I prepare one. Language cannot express the concern I
have felt for you all since it became known that the Yankees
were likely to reach Staunton and Lexington. My trust is
strong in the overruling care of the Almighty that He will not
permit you all to be cruelly injured. . . . Here matters are more
quiet. Grant has been so shaken in the nerves of his army, if
not in his own, that apparently he must get some rest. We are
waiting to see what he will try next. . . . When am I to hear
from you again? And how can you hear from us? Sue writes
me that she has communicated with you through private hands.
That will be a comfort to you." ". . . For a week past we have been wholly uncertain as to
the fate of Lexington, and you may suppose how deeply anxious
I have been. To wait upon God, committing you all to His supreme
care, was all my resource. . . . Brother Hugh made his
appearance with Bob Nelson most unexpectedly day before yesterday
morning. They arrived in time for breakfast. All being
quiet on the lines, I was a little later than usual, and so met
them. Brother Hugh gave me your letter,—a real treat,—and
told me right fully about you all. . . . About five in the evening
of that day Sandie, John, George Peterkin, Charlie Hatcher, and
myself rode into the city. Sandie and I spent the night at Sue's,
Brother Hugh and myself lodging together. Sue had her couch
in the parlor. John and Betsy stayed at Dr. Williams's. . . . Things
with us remain much the same. Both armies entirely quiet, except
sharp-shooting and a few cannon-shots every day. . . . I
have never been more in prayer than during this campaign.
Generally, indeed, during the storm of battle my mind is earnestly
engaged in supplicating God's mercy upon our army, country,
and cause, with special mention of our dearest ones. It is
an immense relief to the spirit amid the perils and anxieties of
such critical scenes thus to lay hold of unerring wisdom, infinite
power, and unfailing goodness. I marvel how rational creatures
can forego so great a privilege. Indeed, there are very few who
have not been impressed during the war by the support which
praying men derive from their intercourse with heaven. I hope
to be privileged to attend worship somewhere this morning. . . .
You would hardly know me. I had my hair and beard trimmed
the other day in Richmond. A great relief, and I don't look
quite so old." "Remote as is the prospect of getting a letter to you, I cannot
longer refrain from at least writing, in the hope that some way
may be found by which it may be conveyed to Lexington. Day
before yesterday I received a brief telegram from Sandie, dated
Lynchburg, 18th, saying he had just heard from you,—'all well,'
—but no particulars of how you fared from the Yankees. I
have been all the while as deeply anxious about you all as my
trust in our all-faithful Divine Father and Saviour admitted.
Sue wrote me a few days ago she had seen General Lee's family,
a friend of whom had been in Lexington seeing about their silver
at the time the Yankees approached; that he was at our house
several times, and, indeed, saw you just before the Yankees
arrived, and that you were all wonderfully calm and unterrified.
Thankful I hope I am for so much encouraging intelligence from
you. Still, I am anxious to learn how you are now provided,—
whether they left you subsistence or whether they took your
meat and flour, killed your cows, destroyed your garden, etc.
The atrocious villany with which they thus war upon defenceless
households would be incredible were it not so universal with
them; and even with the constant recurrence of such outrages,
they so falsify in their reports, and the outside world so receives
their statements, that it will be difficult to have the truth recorded
in history, or to make mankind believe that a people calling itself
Christian could perpetrate such enormities. In Prince George
they have let loose their negro soldiers to indulge at pleasure,
their brutal passions, and the result beggars description. Rev.
Mr. Platt and his mother-in-law, Mrs. Meade, who had there
a happy home, have stated to me some of the facts. . . .
My duties have been engrossing, yet you have been constantly
in my thoughts. Waking and sleeping my heart is with you.
Since we came over here on the 18th, Sue has not been able to
communicate with me so regularly. There we passed notes
every day. I am going to send a courier over to-day. . . . We
are all well. Amid all the exposure of every kind God has
graciously preserved me, and my health is good. We have also
rations sufficient and are reasonably comfortable. I am camped
on the north side of the Appomattox, as are Generals Lee and
Beauregard, though most of the troops are on the south side.
The enemy's chief effort is from the Appomattox, on the southeast,
round beyond old Blanford Church, towards the Weldon
Railroad. . . . On Sunday I was able to get late to church.
Platt preached. He came to me afterwards and begged me to
preach for him at night. I did so,—on the text from the second
lesson in Titus, 'That blessed hope.' The gracious Spirit helped
me, I believe. Monday and yesterday I was all day on the lines,
adjusting batteries, etc. At times all is quiet as if no armies
were here, then again the whole air is filled with noise of strife,
and the earth fairly trembles under the thunder of battle." "Hoping there may be now communication open with Lexington,
I indulge myself in writing to you again, intending to send a
courier to Richmond early in the morning with this letter accompanying
one to Sue. He goes by the early train,—three or four
A.M.; will return in the afternoon, when I hope for tidings from
you. Indeed, I cannot rest until I know what your condition is
since the ravages of the Yankees. . . . We are in all this interruption
and anxiety bearing a portion of our share in the great
public distress resulting from the war. I have not expected, nor
can I say I would, as a matter of principle, desire, too much exemption
from the common experience of trouble connected with
our great resistance of wrong. Anxiety, sympathy, privation,
etc., disturb me as they do others. But if they come as incidents
in the path of duty, surely I ought not to wish to be without my
share of them. Only I would suffer alone, if I could, and spare
all of you, my beloved ones. You, however, would hardly consent
to that. . . . If no military hinderance prevent, I am to
preach for Gibson to-morrow morning. General Wise expressed
himself very warmly to me about my sermon last Sunday night.
He said the text did him good: 'That blessed hope.' He
thanked me, and spoke at length of sins, struggles, and faith.
Said he 'would not give up his faith in Jesus for all the world
besides.' Yet says the devil makes him kuss sometimes. A
strange but interesting man. The war has greatly humbled him,
he says. He finds himself a poor creature, whereas he thought
a good deal of himself before." ". . . The Yankees have come and gone. The stand made on
Saturday, June 11, by McCausland and the cadets and the burning
of the bridge delayed them until four P.M. Then they came
in by Mulberry Hill, crossing the river near Leyburn's mill,—
crowds, crowds, crowds! I had often wished, if a battle was to be
fought, that I might be near to hear. And I did hear! McCausland
fired, and the wretches shelled the town for hours. Shells
fell everywhere in town,—in Colonel Williamson's yard, into Mr.
John Campbell's house, into Miss Baxter's house. One struck
Colonel Reid's front door and almost struck his daughter A—;
one fell in the garden here; one struck somewhere near us, as
several small bullets were found in the upper porch here and at
Captain Moore's. ". . . To our great delight Colonel Edwin drove up about
two P.M. yesterday. To know how glad we were to see him you
must be a defenceless woman and have been subjected to what
we were. My horror of the American Yankees is great, but of
the African Yankees! it is impossible to express it. One came
into the kitchen Sunday morning and introduced himself as
'colored gentleman from head-quarters.' I ordered him out, and
after about the third resolute assurance that he could not and
should not stay there, he went away, saying, 'Them's coming, and
of my color too, that will go where they please.' "Rose's letter to Sue, giving an account of your experience
under Yankee insolence, reached me yesterday. I am indeed
thankful that you were so providentially guarded from injury.
He who hears and answers prayer has not been unmindful of the
petitions constantly urged in your behalf. I hardly dared to
hope you would come off so easily. That you are not rendered
uncertain about subsistence from day to day is to me matter of
deep thankfulness. You will, I suppose, have bread enough
until the new wheat can be rendered into flour, and then your
supply will, I hope, be ample. Your meat will hold out some
time. The garden will yield a good deal, even though the
drought, which is parching the fields here, should shorten your
growth of vegetables. Your cows will give you milk and butter
enough to add materially to your comfort, and the sugar, which
you will get with Sue and Kate, or soon after, will help you with
a daily cup of tea and occasionally in other ways. Should the
molasses and other things get on from Augusta,*
* When in the South, General Pendleton had made arrangements to purchase for his
family one hundred pounds of Georgia sugar, a half-barrel of molasses, and some
cotton cloth. These things could not be had in Virginia, and this small quantity cost
fourteen hundred dollars,—more than a third part of his pay. The difficulty of transportation
was so great that the sugar reached Richmond only just before this time,—
the molasses and cotton did not arrive until midsummer.
as they may
when we can repress these raiders, you will have additional comfortable
food. On the whole I am very grateful to God that you
are in proportion so well provided for." "On Friday morning, 1st, I ran over by railroad to Richmond
and saw them all. Sue was so sick that I deemed it a duty to
get to see her, especially as I had all things in readiness in my
department and there was general quiet on the lines. It was
delightful to meet them all. After a pleasant night, oven-like
though the heat was, I came off early Saturday morning. I
hope they got off to-day and will soon be with you. . . . I feel
very much for the people of Petersburg. They are obliged to
leave homes through which shells are crashing, and encampments
of them in the neighboring woods are not infrequent." "The armies are simply hurling defiance at each other night
and day from their trenches, and receiving from each other
missiles of all sorts, from a Minié bullet to a seventy-pound
mortar-shell, so that there is a continual sense of insecurity to life,
especially when any one approaches or leaves the trenches. At
the same time the heat is stifling, the drought extreme, water not
easy to get, even on our side, and the weariness of continual
watching most trying indeed. . . . A drier, more terribly dusty,
season I think I have hardly ever known. The very earth seems
parched. This is particularly trying to our horses. . . . At one
of my batteries there were some casualties yesterday, one of
which I feel very sensibly. Lieutenant Reese, of Ross's company,
Cutts's battalion, a fine young man, who was with us the
first winter at Centreville and whom I have seen a good deal of,
was struck by a thirty-pound Parrott shell and instantly killed.
. . . I send you a small package of turnip-seed for which I gave
only two dollars and a half! . . . I hope to attend Gibson's
church to-morrow. Two shells have struck it, so there will not
be many people." ". . . Our food is very costly, though sufficiently rough. The
ration furnished is not half enough, and what is purchased costs
somewhere about one hundred dollars a month for each. Coffee
has now given out, and we are like the old woman who lived
upon 'victuals and drink,'—bread, bacon, and cold water our
support. But to beat the Yankees and gain our independence I
would submit to vastly more." "Your letter of the 15th reached me yesterday. I wrote that
day, too, to Mary. It did not occur to me that it was the anniversary
of our wedding-day or I would have addressed the letter
to you, in thankfulness for the ten thousand blessings which
through heaven's mercy you have been instrumental in conferring
on me these thirty-three years. The singular concurrence of
day of week and month in this anniversary, occurring as it does
only at intervals, and so few people choosing to be married on
Friday, might have reminded me. But I suppose the peculiarities
of my situation interfered with those associations which
might have called to mind an event the most important and the
happiest of my life. Next to the unmerited visitations of grace,
which have given me hope of heaven, and possibly to the sacred
influences of my early home, ought I to value you, my wife, as
God's gift for my eternal good, as well as for my earthly happiness.
Indeed, I have abundant reason to feel assured that, much
as I owe to that early home, and wonderful as have been the
gracious movements of the Spirit on my mind, you have been
made the instrument to enable me to profit by them to the moderate
extent I have done. . . . The long separations caused by
this war are indeed a sore trial,—hardly an hour passes but I
long for you and home." "The enemy is unusually silent. Two days ago I passed
along our lines within very short musket range of thousands of
Yankees and yet not a shot was fired, although our men and the
Yankees, too, were walking about with indifference all along the
respective lines of breastworks. After my observations had been
made, and Charlie Hatcher and myself were riding away, some
cannon-shots were fired, and one or two passed over our heads.
I was shocked to notice two ladies in a carriage, which passed
along a road just back of a very exposed front of our line. For
the last five weeks it has been worth any man's life to ride there
on horseback,—almost to appear on foot. Yet these girls seemed
to have no more idea of danger than if there were no war in the
world. We all repeated the saw, 'Where ignorance is bliss.'
Happily, no cannon, mortar, or musket was fired at them." ". . . Grant, as you may see by the papers, is beginning a new
manœuvre,—sending a large part of his force to the north side
of James River. He seems to have surprised the troops over
there supporting my old battery day before yesterday, or those
troops did not behave as well as usual.*
* Four guns of the Rockbridge battery were captured.
. . . My idea is that
Grant does not intend a bona fide attempt on Richmond at this
juncture; but as he has, by means of his pontoon-bridge near
Bermuda Hundred, defended by his gunboats, a shorter line to
and fro than we have via Drewry's Bluff, he will try to draw
General Lee over there, and then suddenly recross all his force
to the neighborhood of Petersburg, and make a concentrated
attack either on the line near the town or on that across the
peninsula between the James and the Appomattox. . . . I was
out till midnight last night getting off some artillery to accompany
the troops to the north side. We have all along had a
good deal there, but General Lee wanted more, and sent for me
to advise about it near bedtime. The Yankees were throwing
mortar shells at the time, and causing thereby quite an imposing
scene, as luminous curves would appear in the sky, terminating
in a lurid flash with loud report. One of these burst near Lieutenant-Colonel
Poague's tent, a short distance behind the lines,
and sent a fragment through the tent, though injuring nobody.
As I rode back alone, having sent George Peterkin and the
courier who attended me to carry orders to some batteries, I
perceived one of these comet-like missiles advancing apparently
with precise direction to the spot I occupied in the road. A
ready spur sent my horse twenty steps beyond the line of danger,
and I was as safe for that time as you were in Lexington. So
easy is it, when one is on the alert, to avoid one of these projectiles.
Of course when many of them are flying at the same
time it is not so easy. We have on the lines a number of bomb-proofs,
—square pits dug in the ground and covered over with
logs and earth. Under these the men lie when mortar shells are
flying and no other fighting is going on. The day before I was
last out on a part of our lines some men were lying under one
of these not sufficiently strong, when a large shell fell on it,
broke through, exploded, and killed three men and wounded
four. The next morning when I visited the place I found it
perfectly easy to step out of the way of a similar shell." "Again this Sunday afternoon I delight myself in writing to
you, and the more so because of a peculiar joy we all feel at a
most important success here yesterday, and because also of a
feeling of thankful satisfaction which I experienced from the
services of this morning. The success of yesterday will prove, I
believe, one of the most important of the campaign. You have
seen intimations in the papers about Grant's undermining our
lines. It has been suspected, and we have had countermines
made to try to ascertain the fact and foil the Yankees if it were
so. Nothing of the kind was discovered. Notwithstanding, at
daylight yesterday the enemy sprung a mine on a projecting
point of our line, blew up a battery of four guns, and engulfed a
number of men, how many is not yet exactly known,—perhaps
over a hundred. Of course they were on the qui vive, while our
men were still dreaming out their last nap for the night. The
Yankees, therefore, had it all their own way for a little while, and
rushed into the gap by hundreds. Before a great while, however,
General Elliot, of Fort Sumter fame, who commanded the brigade
there stationed, formed his men and held the Yankees at bay. I
did not hear of the occurrence till breakfast-time. Immediately
after breakfast I mounted my horse and, accompanied by George
Peterkin and a courier, rode to the field near the scene. There
we met General Lee and staff, also lately arrived. Dispositions
were promptly made for a charge upon the Yankees to drive
them back. This brought on a furious cannonade from, I suppose,
a hundred guns on their side. Under this fire Peterkin and
I walked to the front along a covered way,—that is, a ditch with
earth thrown up on both sides to protect persons walking in it.
At a certain point we had to leave this and cross an open space
swept by cannon-shot of every kind, from ten-pound rifle to sixty-pound
mortars, shells, etc. In the battery to which we went it was
the same. Two of those sixty-pound shells fell and burst within
ten feet of us, but we were preserved then, as later under bullets
and all the multiplied dangers of battle. Our men behaved most
gallantly, and drove back the Yankees at a run, killing a large
number, capturing over four hundred, and recovering all of our
line except the chasm, which could not be at once approached,
and was filled with crowds of the enemy, negroes as well as
whites. A pause now ensued, and arrangements were made on
our side for another charge, to kill, capture, and drive back all
the other adventurous Yankees and regain the remainder of our
works they held. I came out, therefore, to examine another
battery, some three or four hundred yards to the left of where I
had been, and sent George Peterkin with a message to Colonel
Walker about certain guns in an important position. On the
way I met Colonel Weisiger, who had commanded Mahone's
brigade in the charge and been wounded. I got him to mount
my courier's horse and thus get to a hospital or his quarters.
This left me entirely alone, and I felt, liable as I was to be shot,
I might lie on the field and no one know where I was. Returning,
I met Lieutenant-Colonel Huger, just from a battery nearest
the chasm. He was just visiting a gallant artillery officer—
Major Gibbs, of South Carolina, a brother-in-law of General
Alexander—brought an hour before from the field dangerously
wounded. I accompanied Huger, and found poor Gibbs had received
a Minié ball just below the neck, breaking the collar-bone,
etc. I hoped it was not dangerous, but on full examination the
surgeons found an important artery cut and deemed the wound
almost fatal. His wife was expected in Richmond yesterday, on
a visit to him from the South. I hear to-day he is doing well, as
is General Elliot, who was shot a little lower, through the upper
part of the lungs. ". . . You will have seen mention in the papers of General
Meade's having sent a flag of truce to get permission to bury his
dead near our lines. It was granted, and from five A.M. yesterday
till nine there was no firing anywhere along the works. You
would all have taken interest in visiting the scene of the explosion
and fight, as hundreds did. The chasm made by the mine is
enormous, and the masses of earth hurled out scores of yards are
almost as large as houses. Some of these masses are almost as
hard as rock. One cannon, carriage and all, was thrown nearly, if
not quite, a hundred yards. Dead negroes and Yankees lay literally
in piles in and around the chasm, all slaughtered by our cannon
and by the infantry in their impetuous charges. Lying in the hot
sun Saturday and Sunday, they were disgustingly decomposing
when the work of burial was undertaken yesterday morning; and
it was instructive to notice the loathing with which the Yankees
took up and bore to the ditches prepared the offensive remains
of their African soldiers, while the living negroes would half lift,
half drag, their putrid brethren. Altogether it was, indeed, a
sickening scene. . . . My good soldier, Major Gibbs, is doing
well. His wife is expected from South Carolina this evening.
His father is already with him. General Elliot was suffering
much this morning, though they have hope for him." "Sandie, who came in poorly Friday in advance of Early's
army, leaves us this afternoon for Staunton, and thinks he may
be able to get a letter to you. Yesterday I was comforted by
the batch of notes you had written Sue and Kate up to the 17th.
Your letter written this day fortnight also reached me yesterday.
I thank God for the peace you feel, and trust it may be His holy
will to keep you from all evil of body and soul. "We are encamped just where we lay after the battle of Sharpsburg.
It is too terrifically hot for active operations, and both
sides have to keep comparatively quiet. Life must be almost
unbearable where you are, and I expect, though we get no accounts
of it, that there is much sickness. How did the ration
of fresh beef we sent down taste? I wish we had more to send.
. . . We punished the Yankees soundly at Snicker's Ferry, and
again at Winchester last Sunday, the 26th. We went on down
to Martinsburg and stayed there a couple of days, and then proceeded
to Williamsport and crossed a party of cavalry, which
went to Hagerstown and burned a large quantity of stores. At
the same time (Thursday) we sent two brigades of cavalry,—
two thousand one hundred strong,—under McCausland and
Bradley Johnson, to Chambersburg with orders to return via
Cumberland, bringing out all the cattle, etc., possible. They
were also to collect one hundred thousand dollars in gold or five
hundred thousand dollars in greenbacks to reimburse Alexander
Boteler, Andrew Hunter, and Ed. I. Lee for the burning of their
houses, and in default of the payment their instructions were to
burn the town. The wantonness of burning those three houses
was perfectly diabolical, and I trust we may have the opportunity
to repay Hunter for it. His men hardly suffered enough at
Winchester the other day,—they ran too easily. The rout was
as utter as that of Banks. Our demonstration this time has
brought the Sixth and Nineteenth Corps to Harper's Ferry." ". . . You see by the papers, if you get them, that Grant is
trying another dodge, making a real effort below Chaffin's Bluff.
General Lee has been over there all the week; others of us have to
remain here to secure these lines, and artillery is of the first importance
for the purpose. To-day the enemy made a little move
again on the Weldon Railroad and tore up a small portion.
Hearing the firing, I rode in that direction. It was only a few
regiments, easily met and driven back. Heavy rain did not allow
them to burn the cross-ties. . . . We are living roughly now, but
it keeps us all in good health. Only two meals a day, and they
such at times as you could not help laughing at: a few scraps of
the fattest bacon, fried, some fried apples, and bread,—corn or
wheat Corn and tomatoes we sometimes get for dinner. Yesterday
and to-day we have had a little of the valley beef. How
do you all fare? Hardly well enough, I fear, to keep your bones
covered" ". . . I was quite unwell Saturday and yesterday, lying in bed
at Mr. Lynch's, whose house is only a hundred yards or so from
my camp. It was a slight attack, brought on by indigestible
food, attended, however, with fever. Mr. Lynch had kindly invited
me, in case I should be sick, to come directly to his house,
and accordingly early Saturday morning, having been right sick
all night, I walked over and soon went to bed. They have been
very kind, and now I am relieved of all disease, though am hardly
strong enough to be out on the field to-day, as I otherwise would
be, for arrangements are in progress for more severe work. The
movement of the enemy towards our right, briefly mentioned in
my last, turns out more serious than then seemed. We have
punished them seriously, but with some loss to ourselves, and yet
they hold the Weldon Railroad in force and strongly intrenched.
. . . We had rather the enemy should not hold that road, as it is
our most convenient route for obtaining Southern corn and other
supplies. His effort on the north side of the James was a complete
failure. . . . ". . . A good success here again yesterday evening. Two
thousand prisoners and eight pieces of artillery captured on the
Weldon Railroad some miles south of the city." ". . . My ride to-day is to be to the heavy battery at—on
James River. From some facts mentioned to me yesterday by
Colonel Baldwin, our chief of ordnance, I think it necessary to examine
at once into the state of things there. The chief difficulty
is ague and fever prostrating the men. I was yesterday along the
lines where we have reason to believe that the enemy is mining
again with a view to another blow up. We are tunnelling also,
and can, I think, foil them. . . . You would be interested to witness
the mortar shelling sometimes at night. The shells with their
fuses burning appear like small stars moving through the sky, and
some of them are thrown to such prodigious height that they seem
as if aimed at the very stars. When exploding high in the air the
noise of their disruption is deafening. The Yankees throw some
as large as thirteen inches in diameter, weighing when filled about
two hundred and fifty pounds. These make a report like thunder
when they burst. Frequently they strike the ground without
bursting, and then the depth to which they penetrate into the
hardest soil is astonishing. I had measured day before yesterday
several of the enormous cavities they had made and they
were eleven feet deep. One of them falling on a man would
literally, in Scripture language, 'grind him to powder.'" "Matters quiet here now. . . . I had yesterday fine congregations
and most attentive. There seemed to be a good spirit prevailing.
What a privilege it is thus to minister to men in things
pertaining to God! Saturday, George Peterkin and I were
shielded again by the Almighty arm. Visiting an exposed point
near the enemy's canal across Dutch Gap, we escaped a shell by
perhaps the sixth part of a second. It exploded just behind us
and very close. A moment later for us, or earlier for it, and we
must have been struck. I desire to be daily more grateful and
devoted." "My beloved Wife and Children all,—It has pleased God
to permit a heavy grief to fall upon us. Our dear Sandie, so
severely wounded and far away, where we not only cannot minister
to his comfort, but cannot learn of his actual condition. "I wrote you a hurried letter yesterday morning giving a brief
account of my journey and arrival at camp. After sending it I
rode out to examine into the condition of the artillery on the lines
here. My ride was long. Everything appeared well. The enemy
has extended his lines several miles west, and ours have been correspondingly
stretched in that direction. They are well adjusted.
. . . This morning I devoted to preparing my sermon, and just before
ten started with Barnwell, Cooke, and Dandridge for Pegram's
quarters, five miles off. A large congregation was assembled.
They seemed devout and attentive, and God's blessing, I trust,
was granted. As agreed yesterday, we stayed to dinner. On
returning I found notes from George Peterkin and Dudley taking
it for granted I would move over to the north side of the James,
but one also from General Lee saying he thought it advisable for
me to remain in charge of the artillery on our lines around Petersburg.
This, therefore, I shall do; but as everything seems quiet
just here at present, I must ride over in the morning and see
General Lee, there being some matters in which it will be well for
me to consult him. "Although it is late, and I have had a busy day, I must indulge
myself in writing. I got back this evening from the north side
of the James. Yesterday I rode along our line to the river;
crossed at Chaffin's; dined at General Lee's head-quarters. Today
we examined the lines over there; very safe, I think. My
staff all back here with me. It is now some time past ten, and
mortar shelling is making the region re-echo." "My dear General,—I have been so disturbed by an omission
which occurred when I had the privilege of dining with you day
before yesterday that I feel bound to write a brief note of apology,
if it were, as is not unlikely, a misunderstanding of my own. It
was the failure on my part to ask a blessing at the table. I expected
to do so, and awaited your request to that effect, but did not
notice one by sign or word. I may, however, have overlooked
such intimation from you, or you may have taken for granted I
would without it say grace. Or you may have for the time forgotten
my sacred office under the military relations in which we
commonly meet. In such case, however, you would, I suppose,
have officiated yourself. At any rate, there was, I infer, some misunderstanding;
and although not one of the more important
matters of life, I would not have it pass on my own part unexplained. "My dear General,—I have received your note of the 19th.
I had expected you to ask a blessing on our table, and turned to
you with that view. It was my fault, I think, in not making a
more pointed request, which I should have done. Finding you
apparently preparing to take your seat I failed to request your
office, and, as is very frequently the case with me at our informal
camp meals, offered a silent petition of thanks. "This day has, if possible, brought our dear child and you all
more vividly and constantly before me. It was this day four
weeks that he received his death-wound. . . . Our fallen nature
finds it hard to realize how blessed they are whom God prepares
and takes to Himself, and how peacefully we may walk
with Him even in sorrow while waiting all the days of our appointed
time. . . . To dwell on the loss and on the trying circumstances
of his removal, as there is some natural tendency in my
mind, would so accumulate grief as to render it painful beyond
expression and unfit me for duty. Such indulgence, therefore, I
know is not right. . . . It seems to me you may, as I try to realize
myself, find pleasing solaces in many natural scenes. The sweet
blue heavens speak of where the beloved of our hearts is now
rejoicing; the lovely landscape, with its varied beauties, tells of
scenes far more exquisite in which his ransomed spirit from
henceforth delights, and where we may hope to join him in
sacred joy." . . . "The movements of the enemy here on Thursday and Friday
prevented my making the engagement for service with some
troops as I intended. . . . The satisfaction of having our dear
son's remains suitably disposed where they will be likely to remain
undisturbed, and where ourselves and others who valued him can
visit his honored grave, is a cause for thankfulness. But the
incidents connected with that removal and reinterment could not
but be to you all a reopening of the sources of sorrow, while the
denial to myself of the privilege of sharing with you this sad
tribute to our beloved has been to me a hard sacrifice of domestic
to public duty." . . . "About our dear child's memoirs you must all do just what
you severally feel able and inclined to do. Among my vast piles
of papers left with Cousin Mildred Taylor at Orange Court-House,
when we marched on this campaign the 1st of May, there
are all the letters he wrote me from time to time for the last two
or three years up to the present campaign. I wish to have all
those packages taken home as soon as I can, and then the dear
child's letters all gathered out, examined, and used as may be
best." . . . "I am rejoiced that you have arranged for a supply of wood.
It is very wise, costly though it be. Wood for our poor fellows
on the lines is a great problem. No wagon can approach them,
and yet it takes a vast deal. Think of men wet and cold, with
precarious fire, without good shelter, and liable to be shot at any
hour day or night! Yet they get along surprisingly. I was
both pleased and pained in my walk along the trenches yesterday.
Am off again presently. . . . How my heart does cling to
you all! Our dear Sandie seems as much in my thoughts as the
first week of our mourning, and with an inexpressible sense of
loss. He comes before me in many different scenes: as in his
boyhood, student life, and in the army; when he and I went to
Moss Neck; as he stood before me with his beloved bride; as
we were at home together last winter. But I must try to think
more of him as rejoicing in the Master's likeness and presence,
and awaiting us all there. These habitual thoughts of him are
directly connected with you all. My life is, as it were, a double
one,—with you in spirit, here in necessary business and bodily
presence." "I occupy a little time to-night in writing. I had to be so
hurried this morning because General Lee had sent for me. I
went over, and learned from him of certain movements of the
enemy which required corresponding arrangements on our part.
My share in them kept me out all day. Part of the time was
under pretty severe mortar shelling. . . . Must tell you of my
trip to Richmond to meet Sue and General Edwin. Her letter
did not reach me, but yours of Friday came in time to enable me
to take the cars at 2.30 P.M. on Monday. I thus reached Richmond
some time before them. From Mrs. Bransford's, where I
promised to stay, I went to the train and met the travellers.
The next day we were a good deal together, though each had
something special to do. I saw the President and Secretary of
War. The President quite sick with neuralgia. Tuesday night
I stayed at Dr. Williams's. The travellers had to be off yesterday
morning at seven,—so we had breakfast at 6.30. I accompanied
them to the cars, and took leave as the train started,
commending them to God's gracious care. . . . The President
talked with me about our dear son. Said what a loss he was to
the country as well as to us. If this world were all, or chief,
what a strange dispensation would be the removal of one every
way so superior! But in view of the heavenly world to which he
is exalted, it is no longer perplexing. That fine disposition,
those noble endowments and attainments, and the consecrating
grace which rendered him through the Mediator acceptable to
God, find freer and happier scope in the blessed sphere to which
he is advanced. Sure of this, we can combat the sadness, and
find more than comfort in the certainty for him and the hope for
ourselves." "The movements to which I have alluded in my recent letters
have pretty much subsided, without much result on either side.
The enemy made a great effort to destroy the Weldon Railroad,
but were so pressed by our forces that they did but little damage,
—tearing up some ten miles of the track, though burning no
important bridge. We hoped A. P. Hill might destroy the column
thus engaged, but either we were too slow or the inclement
weather rendered it impossible. The enemy returned and so did
our troops. There is still, however, some excitement along the
lines and everybody kept on the alert." "I send Mary Williams's note, giving the joyful intelligence
that Sue and General Edwin got out from Wilmington safely."*
* General Edwin Lee had been sent to Canada to carry out some instructions privately
given him with regard to matters believed to be of much importance to the
Southern Confederacy. Feeble health prevented his doing active work in the field or
the trenches, but it was believed that his sagacity and prudence, combined with his
readiness of resource and absolute fearlessness, rendered him capable for the work
assigned him. He was therefore given a sick furlough, and directed to proceed to
Montreal and obey the verbal orders received in Richmond. He was permitted to
take his wife, if the officers and crew on one of the blockade-running vessels would
let her go,—some of them being superstitiously averse to having a woman on board.
"At present everything looks quiet here, although there is
random cannonading every day and picket skirmishing day and
night. On Friday, while George Peterkin and myself were on
the lines examining an important point, a severe cannonade broke
out, and though no shots came very near us, one of our artillery
officers, Lieutenant-Colonel Moseley, was instantly killed by a
shell, which took off his head, and several soldiers were wounded
at the same time. "You will all be grievously disappointed, as I am, that I cannot
get home. General Lee says the enemy is so active everywhere
that he deems my absence inexpedient. Language cannot
describe my feelings of distress under the privation, and especially
that I am debarred the privilege of formally dedicating that
dear little Sandie to God in His own ordinance of baptism. . . .
I had saddle-bags packed and everything ready to start, only
awaiting the furlough from General Lee on his return from
Richmond, where he had been for a couple of days, when his
note came desiring to see me. I went. He wishes me to inspect
to-morrow the heavy batteries at Chaffin's Bluff. So I
have before me that cold ride, for it has turned very cold. That,
however, is a trifle. As I cannot get to you, duty here is best,
no matter how uncomfortable." "Having written yesterday I should not do so again, but as
this is a day of special significance to me in my highest relations,
I feel drawn to a special communication with you. I am to-day
fifty-five years old, and the remembrance brings up the past with
its privileges and its sins, its joys and its sorrows, and points to
the future with its trials and mercies, its uncertainty and end.
The most amazing fact that strikes me in the retrospect is that
so much favor has been granted to one so unworthy." "A happy New Year to you all in a spiritual sense, if under
affliction it cannot be so in an earthly sense. We cannot expect
to retain our earthly blessings, and may well find our chief happiness
in those which are spiritual and unfailing. . . . It is very
cold, but my tent is comfortable. As I listen to the picket-firing
at night, and sometimes at all hours of the night, I deeply feel
for the poor fellows there meeting death in one of its most distressing
forms. Several have been found frozen to death at their
posts when comrades went to relieve them,—one reason, no
doubt, insufficiency of nourishing food." ". . . We have had here last night and to-day an extraordinary
rain. Such an outpouring from the skies has not occurred,
I think, for two years. You have probably had your share in
Lexington. I have thought of you and of the leaks in the roof.
How do you get along with them? Yesterday brought me a
letter from Walker's daughter Nannie, of the 2d. They had not
heard from him, and had no expectation of his being released." "Your letter from Nassau of December 16 reached me last
week, and gave me great pleasure from the assurance that General
Edwin and yourself were thus far safe. I had not suffered
much from anxiety on your account, as somehow I had the
feeling you would be taken care of. Still, it is a comfort to hear
that you are so far at least safe from Yankee outrage. The
perils of the sea are, in my estimation, as nothing in comparison
with even a moderate risk of falling into their hands. . . . You
must try, my daughter, and enjoy your foreign sojourn, so far, at
least, as not to lose the benefits of it intellectually as well as
physically. The sadness we all feel at the untimely removal of
dear Sandie, although natural, ought not to be indulged, because
it is too far a selfish condition of thought and feeling. We are
almost as sure of his being, through the all-sufficiency of his
Saviour and ours, in heaven as we are that so blessed an abode
has been prepared for God's servants. And this assurance, rightly
cherished, may well authorize the most cheerful state of heart we
can cultivate. "My Darling Lel,—Although I have time this morning for
only a hurried letter, I must write and address it to you, as your
proper turn. Yesterday I went to General Lee's on business,
and although nothing was said about my getting home at this
time, I become satisfied that it is best for me not now to think
more of it. The burden on him is so heavy that those on whom
he at all leans ought to help him to bear it as well as they can. "Before this reaches Lexington you will have seen the report
of another disaster to our cause in the fall of Fort Fisher.
Whether Wilmington will fall remains to be seen. By looking
at the map you will see that Wilmington is some distance from
the sea, while Fort Fisher is on a point of the beach jutting out
at the mouth of Cape Fear River, which is said to be obstructed
and pretty strongly defended. The chief advantage of the town
to us, now that blockade-running from it is cut off, consists in its
being the point of junction of one or two of our railroads. But we
still have an interior line. This interior line from the South by
which we get corn, especially for our army, passes through Danville
and Greensborough and Charlotte, North Carolina, and Columbia,
South Carolina, to Kingsville, and thence to Branchville,
South Carolina, where it meets the railroad between Charleston
and Augusta; and it is this point, Branchville, towards which it
seems Sherman is directing his steps. His getting it will cut us
off from railroad communication with Georgia and the States beyond
and give us still more trouble. . . . All this, my daughter,
I write that you may see on the map what is going on." Dear Sir,—Circumstances with us are so favorable now that I would be very glad
to have you come and preach for us, if the nature of your duties will permit. We
have a commodious church, a large congregation, and a ripe state of religious interest.
I would be glad that you would address us twice, if convenient, and once, at least,
use the ritual of the Episcopal Church. I would be glad that you would consider
yourself my guest. May we expect you next Sabbath, if the weather is favorable? "Our hearts were inexpressibly cheered this evening by the receipt
of your letter of May 11, which is the only intelligence we
have had direct from you since that written March 3, by Mr. West.
Your mother writes that she has sent us all of your letters, but not
one of them has ever reached us except E—'s, giving the description
of your first journey. We embrace every opportunity of
sending letters to points where they can be mailed. You would be
more than surprised to see how quiet and comfortable we are here.
The enemy has paid us but one short visit, of which mamma
wrote you this week. There were three hundred, and they stayed
only two or three hours, their sole errand being to arrest Mr.
Letcher,—on what plea no one knows. There are as yet no
'Freedmen' here, and our 'servants' are still in statu quo. Mr.
Slow was permitted to go with Henry Douglass to Jefferson, to
visit his family, some time ago. Mrs. P—'s Harriet had to be
notified to leave three days ago, as she seemed inclined to assert
her equality. Their benefactors tell them in proclamations that,
though 'free', they do not share their masters' property, and will
have to work to support themselves even harder than they have
done heretofore. We have an armed patrol which keeps perfect
order and makes them stand in some fear. Dudley has been with
us since Tuesday. We never hear a word from Richmond, though
papa has received forty dollars of the one hundred dollars.*
* Before leaving Richmond, General Edwin Lee had felt it necessary to make some
provision for his wife, in case he should be captured by the blockading fleet and she
forced to return home. He therefore sold all their household and personal effects, and
brought a hundred dollars in gold, which he committed to safe-keeping in Richmond;
and after the surrender, this money, with twenty dollars sent them by Bishop Johns,
was all the family in Lexington had for several months. It is curious to remember
that the articles which brought the highest price were General Lee's wedding suit
and some bridal finery of his wife.
We
could not live without it. Papa has gotten both gardens in fine
order, and the rain, which has been falling all day, will help all of
his pets. The big lot which we planted in corn seems to bid fair
to repay our labors, and I hope our patches of watermelons and
muskmelons will flourish too. The whole atmosphere here is
redolent with the sweet perfume of the thousand roses which
delight our eyes. The bushes were much killed by the severe
winter, but the bloom, though not so profuse as I have seen it,
is very beautiful. We have had three little dishes of strawberries
for our tea, and sugar with them too. But the baby
grows beyond everything here. He is devoted to both of his
grandparents, and it is amusing to see their efforts to entice
him to leave the arms of one and go to the other. The little
monkey has had so little experience of the good things of this
life that he refuses both sugar and strawberries. We got the
four dresses by Mr. Charles Lee, and we cannot express our
gratitude and thanks for them. Nancy and Rose took the calicoes,
mamma the chally de laine, and the other is put by for
Lella. . . . Papa is sleepy and tired by the setting out of several
hundred cabbage-plants, so we must leave him the privilege of
retiring. We are afraid to look into the future, and can only
trust ourselves in the hands of our all-seeing and all-merciful
Father, who doeth all things well." "My dear Child,—Your letter of May 25 reached us yesterday
in a bundle, sent by Mrs. Lee, containing two mousseline dresses
and a dozen beautiful handkerchiefs. . . . You ask how we get on.
Much as usual. The 'Freed' have not left yet, but will do almost
nothing. We have plenty of flour, but not a bit of meat, though
we have only been a few days with a dinner of herbs. This day
week we had dried apples, lettuce, and our Georgia molasses.
The next morning before breakfast Colonel Gilham sent me a
fore-quarter of nice mutton, which made us comfortable dinners
for four days. Yesterday and to-day we dine on herbs. True
to my resolution not to open the molasses until your papa's return,
we have it now in this our scantest time. We opened it on
the day you wrote last, Ascension Day. Dudley was here, so
Mary made a good pudding of the cherries we dried last summer,
and we thought it delightful. Lest you have not received
our letters, I must tell you again that your papa is at work frequently
from five in the morning until six in the evening. I
trust it may please Heaven to give us fruitful seasons and a
rich reward for all his labors. He has the garden in beautiful
order. . . . "My dear Daughter,—Your Cousin Bob, who came on a
brief visit last Friday, leaves us to-morrow morning, and as he
expects to take a trip on business as far as Washington, and
probably to New York, his going furnishes an opportunity not to
be lost of communicating with General Edwin and yourself.
Your last letter written on Ascension Day duly reached us,
greatly to the comfort of all the household, for hopeful as we
are that you will both continue safe and well where you are,
we are always anxious to hear freshly and definitely of your
well-being. "My dear Papa,—It was an unspeakable pleasure to me to receive
your long letter last night. It is our greatest comfort to be
able to communicate with our friends and loved ones, and to feel
that we need not dread the interruption of this precious intercourse
at any moment. I am so thankful, too, that you are safe
and comparatively so comfortable. I hope you will soon get the
rest of the money from Richmond, as I am sure it will contribute
to your comfort. For a while I was most anxious about your
personal safety, especially after the indictment of General Lee.
But now I begin to believe that your view of the case is the
correct one, and that General Grant means to have his parole
respected. The papers say that Stanton ordered him to be arrested,
but General Ord refused to do it, saying he would resign
first. Then Grant interfered and said it should not be done. This
has been a comfort to me, for, even if they do try and find him
guilty, it will be absurd to talk of punishing a man whom they
cannot even arrest. And safety for him will be safety for all his
army. I cannot think either that wholesale confiscation will take
place, for the Northern papers are beginning to be very earnest
upon the utter impoverishment of the South and the absolute
necessity of letting the people alone, and giving them securities
for their remnant of property to insure anything like recuperation
of the energy and prosperity of the country. I think that Northern
financiers will ere long take the alarm also, and—out of sheer
selfishness, the consciousness that Southern productiveness is the
necessary basis of Northern wealth—will influence the law-makers
and tax-voters to something more of justice towards Southern
property-holders. As to the papers, I don't wonder at your being
disgusted with them, and yet, situated as we are, we read them
eagerly, for through them only can we gain the least idea of the
conditions of the people and state of things at the South. And
the changes and phases of public feeling at the North are not
without importance to us. I am (D. V.) certainly coming home
as soon as I can get an escort, but you must not say a word
about it. I do trust most earnestly that matters may subside by
winter, so that Edwin can get a pardon and permission to return.
Do you think us utterly demoralized for talking of such a thing?
I assure you we don't feel so, and the dose will be a nauseating,
bitter one, take it when we may. But I don't think it will be so
bad as exile. None know the horrible dread of that but those
who have experienced it. There is not, I believe, the smallest
prospect of Southern independence until the final breaking up
into many governments of the overgrown United States power,
and if it is to become a republic, I for one don't want to see it.
They must all drift into anarchy or tyranny. There is nowhere
that the masses of people can go and be better off; and if we are
to live under the Yankee rule, hateful as it is, I cannot see dishonor
or perjury in promising to obey the laws. As for the
amnesty oath, as Dan Lucas says, you only swear to support the
Constitution and everything heretofore done in violation thereof.
But for the future don't bind yourself to anything but the Constitution.
I must confess Pierpont is a harder mouthful for me
than Johnson. But if he is not the governor of the State no
one else is, and I suppose bad rule is better than none. To do
the creature justice, I think he does in a measure desire to ameliorate
the condition and gain the approbation of his unwilling
subjects. And while I share your cordial contempt for the men
who have so quickly rushed forward to take him by the hand
and make what they can for themselves, still I am inconsistent
enough to be rather glad that they have done it. He is said to
be so immensely flattered at their notice as to have some dawning
aspirations after the name and manners of a 'Virginia gentleman.'
And low as their standard and influence is apt to be, it must be
better and more for the interest of the State and people than those
of the miserable creatures who surround him in Alexandria. Of
course this is the way matters look from outside to one disposed
to try and find the best in what is all so bad. "General,—As one of the commissioners for adjusting the
terms of surrender at Appomattox Court-House, April 10, 1865,
I address you a brief appeal in view of occurrences recently
reported. "Rev. and dear Brother,—Bishop Johns was here last week
and left one hundred dollars, which some one had given him
(I think) for any of our clergy. He directed me to send twenty
dollars each to five of our brethren, of whom you are one. I
have nothing to do but obey orders, and you will find the amount
enclosed. The other enclosure, a gold piece, ten dollars, I presume
George has written about. I think it came through Mrs.
Dr. Williams. I heard from 'E. G. Lee' under date June 5, Montreal,
Canada West. His health has greatly improved. It seems
the order of Providence that the North should overrun the South
in the New World as in the Old. But here, as there, the South
may impress the North with its civilization and religion, and be
the real conqueror in the end. I doubt not, however, that you
leave all in the hands of God. I have been greatly comforted by
four lines, the author of which I do not know,—viz.: "in reply to yours received I can only state that I was ordered here to relieve
Lt.-Col. McLeester and receive my instructions from him his instructions in your
case is that you are not to leave this county until I hear from him in case he neglects
to notify me until August the 1st." "You will be required to abide by the following. I. You are not to use any Treasonable
Language in the pulpit. II. You are not to use any disrespectable Language
against the U. S. Officials in any way. III. You will be required to pray for the
President of the U. S. & the Officials thereof. Any violation of the above will subject
you to immediate arrest & you will be sent to Hd. Qrts. for trial. "Your quibbling would be impertinent were it not contemptible. When you are
prepared to use the prescribed form of prayer—not a garbled quotation from another
part of the Prayer-Book—I will request the proper authorities to permit your church
to be opened. ". . . The papers will show you somewhat of what we have
done. I have participated in the return of the diocese, as on the
whole under the circumstances was the right thing. We will
talk it over. All friends thank me for my part. My conscience
is peaceful under it, though the necessity of the step grieves
me." "My dear Brother,—I propose to give a month to extra
preaching in the missionary field embraced in our Convocation,
but also going over into Amherst at the earnest solicitation of
Brother Smith; but it occurs to me that I may be intruding into
your bounds, of which I wish to be informed, though I am not
sure that the authority of 'Convocation' has come as yet to be
much respected. "Dear Brother Pendleton,—I received yours from Abingdon
to-day. I believe it is the plain duty of ministers in the
neighborhood of destitute places to give them at least one service
in the year. I have been in the habit of doing this for
years without asking any questions of vestries. Others, also, by
doing the same thing have kept these places alive, and some of
them growing. . . . Had I known that the Lees would not be at
home I should have arranged differently, but as everything is
fixed, suppose I shall adhere to the plan, unless you will come to
Staunton and spend the Sunday there, which I had intended for
you, and let us have a big meeting there, should Brother Latane
wish it, which, judging others by myself, I assume that he does.
He writes me very urgently to-day to meet him on the 11th and
12th at Aylett's, in King William, where there is the loudest call
for services and, he thinks, the greatest promise of usefulness.
If C—, who is spending the summer here, will preach for me,
I have half a mind to go. My tour up the valley I propose beginning
on the 20th, stopping at Middletown, and shall, I suppose,
have services once or twice a day from there on to Staunton.
Let me hear from you before you leave for Bath."*
* On a similar missionary tour.
"I got through all my appointments and hope some good was
done, especially in Amherst, which was the only point of expectation
in that line beyond our Convocation limits." . . . ". . . Much as I should enjoy a good long talk with you, and
still more a series of preachings, prayers, and exhortations, interspersed
with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, this pleasure
will not be mine shortly unless you will come down here, where,
if you will come, we will certainly have them with this difference
and additional satisfaction to me, that the preaching, etc., would
be in your hands." "Dear Brother,—I have a strong desire to send my son
George, a lad of eighteen years, to Washington College, Virginia,
and hence beg to be excused for troubling you with a note of
inquiry concerning the conditions under which a student is admitted
to that institution, and his probable annual expenses there. ". . . What a week to be remembered at 'Oakland' is this last
week of Bob's sojourn there with his family, under the roof with
his dear old mother, and amid the scenes consecrated by so many
precious memories! His departure on the great Christian errand,
for a heathen land so far away, while our beloved aunt is drawing
so near the term of a very protracted pilgrimage, is to me very
impressive as illustrating the supremacy of those great concerns
and those precious hopes which lie beyond this season of duty,
separation, and trial. "My dear Friend,—Permit me to introduce to your kind and
favorable consideration my young friend Melville Jackson,*
* The present assistant bishop of Alabama.
the
son of Dr. S. K. Jackson, now of Norfolk, and for many years
my family physician and friend. Young Jackson is a descendant
of that family of Jacksons that gave our Church five valuable
ministers; he is a grandson of Rev. Edward Jackson, long rector
of our congregation in Winchester. Melville is a communicant
of our Church, and, as far as my observation extends, consistent.
He is possessed of a mind far above mediocrity, amiable and sociable
in his disposition, and, with watchful care and judicious training,
I doubt not he will make 'his mark' in the world and most
probably in the Church. He will be necessarily exposed to many
temptations in Lexington, more so at this time than at any previous
period, from the extraordinarily large number of young
men congregated there, not only from Virginia, but from all the
Southern States. A safeguard against which he will find in your
pastoral care, to which I commend him. "My dear Friend,—Your note of the 5th instant was received
in due time, and gave great pleasure to Mrs. Johnston and myself,
although we cannot hope that she will be able to make such a
drive as that to Lexington for ten or fifteen days yet. She has
had a severe illness since your visit, and is just beginning to recover,
and is, of course, very feeble. Be assured, however, that
we will not let an opportunity to see Mrs. Pendleton and yourself
escape. "My dear little Girls,—I have received from your beloved
rector a check for one hundred and two dollars, to be distributed
among the sufferers in this State. I thank you very much for it,
and I thank God for having put it into your hearts, dear children,
to seek to do good to those who are in distress, for the sake of
your dear Saviour, who has done so much for you and for all of us. "My dear Brother,—Yours, containing a check for one
hundred dollars, reached me this morning, and I hasten, before
the mail closes, to tell you how much I was gratified by, and how
grateful I am for, your most kind remembrance of me and our
poor and troubled people. "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—Your letter of July 27 was duly
received. . . . More than a dozen additional ministers might well
be employed in the diocese to-day, but I do not know where
they are to be had or the means to support them. . . . All we
can hope to do, I am persuaded, in many places and under
present circumstances, is to keep alive the things that remain. I
am very glad you feel so much interested in this part of the
field. My sympathies were very much moved by what I saw in
Amherst. I trust you will never hesitate to write and suggest
anything you may think I can do for this or any other part of
the diocese." "My dear Mr.—,—You ought not thus to keep me in the
dark as to what you may be able to do. "REV. AND DEAR BROTHER,—Yours of 6th received. With
respect to your church, if I can do anything per aliam I shall
be very glad. . . . "Yours received. My friend Rev. Dr.—drinking whiskey
at a bar or such like place, as reported to me by a gentleman in
justification of his own views and practice, and suitably treated
by me in the abstract, turned out at next hand to have been at
his tent door, at the next inside of his tent, at the next the
whiskey was turned into wine, and that at his own table, and as
this must have been at his own expense, I am doubtful about
even that, not on account of his liberality, which is well known,
but because I am doubtful whether he had the money. Still,
your letter develops a considerable amount of heterodoxy, which
may give me some trouble in the future. . . . Will do what I can
for your church elsewhere." ". . . The New Year of your life and of time come in so near
together that for them both at once I can wish you many, many
returns, and all of heaven's best blessings, temporal and spiritual.
I was thinking this morning about your age. Can it be possible
that you have reached your sixtieth birthday, or have I added a
year to the days of your life? I could wish heartily that you
might be spared to see a hundred and sixty, to diffuse happiness
and kindliness and the blessings of Christian charity around you
as you always have done. But I think you would scarcely wish
to be kept out of heaven that long. So without looking farther
into the future than God intends us to see, I only pray Him that
your beloved and useful life may be spared to your family and
the Church just as long as His infinite love and mercy can grant
it, and that then an abundant entrance may be given you to the
fulness of joy amid the pleasures at His right hand." ". . . I am truly sorry to hear of Edwin Lee's death. He
was a true man, and if health had permitted would have been an
ornament, as well as a benefit, to his race. He was certainly a
great credit to the name." "Saturday I began operations, but saw only a few persons.
General Anderson subscribed for us three hundred dollars. Today
I am at it again, and have secured, I hope, two hundred
dollars more. Saturday I saw Dr. Minnegerode. He engaged
me to preach for him Sunday night, preferring the morning himself,
as Mr. Davis was expected, as he wished Mr. Davis to hear
him as his old pastor. But when we met yesterday at church he
thought the President had not come, and asked me to preach
then. I accordingly did so, and behold Mr. Davis was one of
the large congregation. I preached without manuscript from
part of 1 Cor. xiii. 12, 'Now we see through a glass, darkly; but
then face to face',—felt very free in speaking, and the congregation
seemed attentive and impressed. I went to Minnegerode's
to tea, and Mr. Davis was there. He looks well, but sad." "I have been so constantly going and am so tired out that I
feel like doing very little to-day except resting for the soldiers'
meeting to-night. Have done next to nothing about my special
mission since Monday, because the Fair matters and those pertaining
to this memorial soldiers' gathering, which could not be
put off, have really occupied me day and night. Last night and
the night before I was up till two o'clock concocting the best
programme towards harmonizing elements that threaten to be
conflicting in regard to monumental plans, and have earnestly
tried, in the most disinterested spirit, to contribute all that my
mind and conscience could suggest to the common fund of reasonable
plan for so commemorating General Lee as to do good
here and at Lexington, while holding forth to honor his character
in connection with the great cause which he represented.
We shall have a very large and significant assembly, and you
will be gratified to know that Mr. Davis is to preside. He is enthusiastically
received here. . . . The papers will have told you
of occurrences at the fair-grounds on Tuesday. I went out, and
being seen in the crowd by General Early, who, with President
Davis and others, was on the platform, was so beckoned up that
I could not with propriety decline. Mr. Davis was enthusiastically
cheered and called on to speak, which he did most gracefully
for two or three minutes. Early was then shouted for, and
said a few words. Then the crowd called on me, and I spoke
but a moment; and finally Colonel Withers was summoned, and
did as the rest had done. The whole scene gratifying and
inspiring. ". . . No letter here for me. It is a trying disappointment.
My whole heart is with you and my own people, and this wandering
about as a beggar, even for so important an object, is a
grief my good friends can hardly appreciate."*
* Not only were these wanderings and personal solicitations trying, but the mail
brought many letters full of unkind feeling and even of insult. One of these is given
as a specimen.
"(Stamp for return postage.)
"Cemetery Hill, Gettysburg, May 7, 1874.
"REV. MAJOR PENDLETON.
"DEAR SIR,—Enclosed you will find a small contribution for the church you are
erecting to commemorate the virtues of that truly good and loyal man, General Robert
E. Lee.
"May we ask you to aid us in a somewhat similar enterprise that we have in hand?
We are desirous that the South should co-operate with the North in the erection of a
suitable monument to commemorate the virtues of that great and good man, John
Brown, of Ossawatomie, of blessed memory. The inscription will record the fact
that the monument is erected by the combined efforts of those in the North and South
who sympathized with him in his noble efforts in the cause of human freedom.
"On one side will be inscribed two lines from that good old hymn,—
"'John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
But his soul goes marching on.'
"Please remit amount to B. F. Butler, Treasurer, Arlington Heights.
"Yours sincerely,
"Stevens Thaddeus."
"DEAR SIR,—Enclosed you will find a small contribution for the church you are
erecting to commemorate the virtues of that truly good and loyal man, General Robert
E. Lee. "This morning all the Episcopal churches united in Thanksgiving
services*
* The national Thanksgiving, that in Richmond being the Prayer-Book day.
at St. Paul's. I preached, after an hour or two
of meditation, and was grateful for the freedom of thought and
utterance I had and the solemnized appearance of the congregation.
Dr. Norton said in the vestry-room after it was over, 'I
don't often say anything about sermons, but that was the best
Thanksgiving sermon I ever heard.' It was God's blessing in
answer to prayer and a sincere purpose to honor Him and do
good." "To-morrow I expect to start for New Orleans. . . . By request
I last night made an address in Carmichael's remote little
church on General Lee's life and work since the war, with which
the people are much delighted. A long report of it appeared in
this morning's paper. By the bishop's request I made again tonight,
in another little church, an address on the same general
topic. He is to have collections taken up for us. . . . I have been
at this hotel all the while with Mr. and Mrs. Davis. He is working
very hard on his insurance company work. "My dear General,—According to promise, I send the
memorial address delivered by Hon. Daniel Clopton, of this
place. I have ventured to send an address delivered by myself
at Winchester, Virginia, about one month before General Lee's
death. I, of course, claim no merit or eloquence for the address,
and send it simply as one among a thousand things which show
how completely General Lee's example permeated through almost
every sentiment and relation of Southern life. There was no
gathering and entertainment nor custom in which the young
men of the South participated whose tendency to evil could not
be banished at once by a simple allusion to General Lee's example.
As far as regards the young men of the South who were
turned adrift at the end of the war, General Lee's life and example
were, if it were possible, more valuable to the country than
during the war. His determination to remain in the country restrained
hundreds of young men in every community from that
despairing search of honor and liberty in foreign lands which
often leads to death, always to misery. I well remember a brave
but dissolute young man here, who was wont to 'loaf' and whine
about what he had suffered and lost by the war, and complained
of want of appreciation of his services by the people and that he
could get no easy work. The day it was announced that General
Lee was going to Lexington to take charge of the college this
young man was around a drinking-saloon, when his elder brother,
who was very much like the younger, said, 'Bill, they say old
Marse Bob had a heap of soft places offered him, and now he is
going to teach a school. If he can go to work as a teacher from
being a general, I reckon you and I need not be ashamed to
work on the farm.' It acted like a charm, and to-day the two
brothers are thrifty farmers." "My dear Friend,—I enclose the check of Messrs. Ketchum
& Harbridge for one hundred dollars, drawn to your order, on
the Fourth National Bank of New York. . . . We were wishing
all day yesterday that you had stayed until to-day. And to-day
we are wishing that you were staying till to-morrow. And we
shall be always wishing and hoping that you will come again,—
Mrs. Pendleton with you. ". . . At 2.40 P.M. we left Baltimore per fast train for New
York. Dr. Minnegerode and Judge Parker, the first persons we
saw, made the trip agreeable. Came with them straight to this
hotel. Must probably stay here, costly as it is. A number of
friends here. Lella gone out, while I write, with Bishop and Mrs.
Whittle to the Church Congress for this evening. I concluded
not to face the rain, having taken last night a little cold in the
head. Saw the bishops, etc., in St. John's Chapel this morning.
Love to each one of you and to the young men and the boys." "My dear Love,—It is now a quarter to ten A.M., and by our
chamber fire, with breakfast done and things attended to and all
well, I scratch you off another note. . . . The day is pleasant
and you will have a comfortable ride, I hope. Your arrival at
' Oakland' will be a delight to all parties, and I enjoy it myself in
idea. The late pleasant weather is no doubt freshening up things
there as here. ". . . Dr. Madison asked me Saturday to administer to him
yesterday after the Holy Communion, and desired Dr. Barton
and Colonel Williamson to partake with Mrs. Madison and himself.
Accordingly, at five P.M., we had for him that sacred service.
He was sitting up, but coughed most distressingly. He
is in a calm frame of mind, with Christian trust decided and faculties
active and clear. The free play of his thoughts, the sweetness
of his disposition, and the freshness of his remarks, now
and then partaking of humor, and all pervaded by loving reliance
on the gracious Saviour, are most remarkable; indeed, not
less than beautiful and wonderful. . . . ". . . I am entirely well, and have been ever since you left.
My course of life day and night is precisely as you witness it,
except for missing you all the while. The girls take your place
in handing me the well-meant though disagreeable draughts, and
I am as comfortable as I can be without you. . . . If you meet
with any of the residents around give them my love. It is not
very likely that meeting between them and myself will occur
again till we are removed to a 'better home.'" ". . . Delighted shall we be to have you at home again. But
don't hurry, now you are one of the circle not likely to be all
together again soon, if ever, this side of Paradise. "Lell wrote yesterday, and therefore as I was busy on my
sermon I did not, and besides other duties I had to acknowledge
Mr. Davis's letter, and let him know I will do the best I can in
furnishing, as he requests, the names of artillery officers he
wishes to mention in his book. . . . They are shingling the
house, and making both a noise and a litter. Lella had the
parlor put in winter dress yesterday, and will go on fixing as she
can. They are busy with new carpets and old. The new one
bright and pretty. . . . "My dear Friend,—I am deeply grieved to hear of your recent
illness, and write at once earnestly to request you not to tax
your strength by efforts to comply with my late request for information
on military affairs. We are too old to disregard monitions,
and I love you too dearly to be willingly the cause of over-exertion
on your part. "My dear Friend,—It is true that I have not often written
to you. It is equally true that you have never been long absent
from my memory, and never removed from the high esteem and
tender affection with which I have for many years regarded you. "Rev. and dear Friend,—I received your note and subsequently
the fulfilment of the promise it contained of your letter
of the 24th instant. Did I not know that the labor you performed
in preparing the sketch was for a cause as near to your
heart as my own, I would apologize to you for the tax my
application imposed. "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—I have just read with deep
emotion the interesting account in The State of this afternoon of
your 'golden wedding.' Had I known in time that such an
anniversary would be celebrated on the 15th I would have sent
my hearty congratulations earlier. But now will you not permit
me to unite with your friends in Virginia and all over the country,
with Mrs. Preston, in saying,— "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—Please accept for Mrs. Pendleton
and yourself my sincere congratulations on your being permitted
to celebrate your golden wedding. "Dear General Pendleton,—I have this moment received
the invitation of yourself and Mrs. Pendleton to your golden
wedding on Friday next. "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—Many thanks for your touching
remembrance. All happiness to you and to Mrs. Pendleton for
many more years to come. "My dear Uncle and Aunt,—I had hoped to be with you on
the 15th, and give in person my congratulations and good
wishes for the past and the future. It is impossible, however, for
me to get away at this time, so I am forced to content myself
with a note. Although I may not be able to express myself so
satisfactorily in this manner as I could were I present, I am
sure that you have not now to learn that every good wish I can
find in my heart is yours. I find upon glancing back over my
own life that my single valuable possession—my education—is
due to your kindness, and the gratitude which I feel is not diminished
by the fact that two generations of my house are indebted
to you in the same way. Besides this, the kindness and love for
which I am indebted to you place me under an obligation which
I can never repay. So far, however, as good wishes go towards
paying it I give you all I have, for I hope that the remaining
years, during which you may be spared to each other and all of
us, may bring you as much happiness and enable you to do as
much good as all the half-century which you have just finished.
I cannot say more, but I send you my best love for now and
always, and am your affectionate nephew, "Dear General Pendleton,—I regret exceedingly that owing
to a recent attack of illness, from which I have not yet recovered,
it would be imprudent for me to be out in such threatening
weather, and I am therefore deprived of the pleasure of paying
my respects and tendering my congratulations to you on the return
of your seventy-second birthday. One who has filled so
large a sphere of usefulness as you have is well entitled to those
congratulations. Is not the man to be congratulated who at the
age of seventy-two years finds himself in relatively good health,
surrounded by appreciating friends, from whom he receives
honor, love, obedience, 'and all that should accompany old age,'
and can look back upon half a century of useful labor, spent in
the service of his Maker and of his fellow-men? . . . "Dear Sister Mildred,—If any one had told me, when I
got your letter in reply to mine, some six months or so ago, that
I should have let all this time pass without writing to you again,
I could not have believed a word of it, and should certainly have
set him down as no prophet, and might even have regarded his
suggestion as a sort of charge to call for denial. Yet so it has
occurred; and while much work to do, and being at times not
altogether well, constitute a sort of excuse for such delay in performing
a duty which is really pleasant when actually set about,
I have to confess that the tardiness is a fault for which you have
a right to blame me, and for which I must try to make amends
by guarding against it in the brief future before us. ". . . To learn of yourself and all of you, as you fully mentioned
in your last, was a satisfaction. That you were still able
to get to church, generally on Sunday and sometimes in the
week, called for my thanks to the Sustainer of your strength.
Approaching fourscore as you are, to be thus supported beyond
the threescore and ten term should awaken especial thankfulness. "My dear Sister,—You will be gratified to see my handwriting
after so long a time. For between two to three months I
have been kept from almost every kind of exertion of mind or
body by medical direction in consequence of a prostrating illness,
which in the earlier portion of that time was for days expected
every hour to end my earthly life. At length, however,
I am entering upon accustomed duties, and gladly, among them,
at once send you this Christmas greeting, having just directed to
you a Christmas card. "My dear Cousin,—It is in due course to begin by wishing
you and all your household not merely 'the compliments of the
season in the phrase, "A Happy New Year,"' but within this
outside wrapper are enclosed our heartiest and most sincere desire
that the best of the Father's blessings, and the richest of the
Saviour's love, and the most gracious gifts of the Spirit may
abound to you in the year on which we are permitted to enter.
To you two especially, my dear and venerable cousins, as compared
with whom, though past my threescore, I still feel but
a child, I tender my warm congratulations, with most earnest
wishes that at your eventide you may have light glowing." | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 3 | Author: | Carkin
Philena | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Reminiscences of Philena Carkin | | | | Published: | 2005 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | During the first and second
years of my work in Charlottesville
we had occasional visits from a Mr. Frost
who was, I think, located at Gordonsville.
I have no numbers of the Freedmens
Record for 1866, and do not remember
what position he held under the Society
in Boston, but I think he had some
kind of supervision over the schools in
that vicinity. I recall that our supplies
of books etc came through him. It
was only for a short time that he was in
any way connected with our schools. I never saw her but once. She was a tall,
finely formed, handsome woman — I think
a quadroon. The most noticeable feature
about her was the weary look of sadness
in her large brown eyes. My friend
who was with me when we had occasion
to meet her on a matter of business
knew her story which she related,
substantially as follows. Joanna was unlike Margaret. She
had so little of the negro blood in her veins
that no one would have suspected she was
not pure white. Her master was a wealthy
plantation owner, who had so many
slaves that half of them could pass him by
unrecognized — a not uncommon
circumstance on large plantations, I
imagine. As far as I know Joanna was
comfortable and happy enough in her life
on the plantation. She probably had
enough to eat, and was kindly treated
according to the code of slavery. But
one day she found herself in a new
position as regards the life of a slave
woman. She had become a mother.
She had heretofore felt but little anxiety
about herself and her own future, but what
about her child? She knew that little
children were often sold from their mothers
at a tender age. It was not uncommon on
her masters plantation. What should she do?
How prevent this dreadful possibility? For
weeks and months she was haunted by the
horrible fear that some day her child
would be taken from her until at last
her mind was made up to escape from
slavery by running away. I do not know
how she got away from her masters
plantation with her child unsuspected,
but she succeeded in reaching the
railway station some miles distant
without any trouble. There one of the
first persons she saw was her master.
He did not recognize her as his chattel
or even as a colored woman. He saw
in her He saw in her only a young
lady travelling without an attendant,
and encumbered with an infant, so he
kindly assisted her upon the train, found
her a seat, and performed such other
acts of courtesy as his chivalrous nature
suggested, then left her undisturbed to
pursue her journey North. Whether he
ever learned that he had assisted one
of his own slaves to escape I do not know. The following anecdote will serve to show
that chivalry, which the southern white
man has so long claimed as a trait peculiar
to himself, may sometimes be found among
the humblest of Gods children. She was a dressmaker — a quiet, hard working
woman, with a very small amount of negro
blood in her veins, being in fact so nearly white
that one would hardly suspect she had any. She
sent at different times all of her children to
my school — four boys and a girl. The father
of these children was a prominent white
citizen of the place, and none of the boys
showed any trace of color, having fair skins
and light, straight hair. The little girl was
somewhat darker with a slightly yellow tinge
in her complexion. This was all that hinted
of her African descent. Arriving in Charlottesville last
Friday I found your letter and now acknowledge
its receipt with many thanks. Although I
date my letters from this place Charlottesville
is still my home — Keswick is my express office. Words of mine cannot express
the obligations I am under to you for the letter
sent me in April. I have been tardy in answering,
as I wished I wished to gather some information
which I knew would interest you. I feel sure
you will do your best in the matter of the books
so I will proceed to give you an idea of the
changes in Charlottesville and its surroundings I am unable to find words to
express my gratitude for the letters you are so kind
as to write to me. Please to accept my thanks for
your interest in my school. I will endeavor to give
you a description of it. We are situated about 10
miles east of Charlottesville, on the old "Richmond
Turnpike," and have a neat house. The ground
(one acre) was furnished by the patrons, and the
School Board put up the house for us, after we had
got half the lumber and paid for hauling all the
materials used. We got the lumber by each patron
giving so many pine trees on the stump, and
so determined were they all to have the house that
a number of the larger boys would go into the
woods, and fell and cut up a tree preparatory
to sending it to the saw mill. Our white friends
aided us by lending teams etc. I am afraid you are being
annoyed by our constant expression of thanks
for what you have done for us. I assure you
it is no small thing, and we appreciate
it very highly. Since your wishes must be
respected the pupils have decided to call it
the "F. B. Sanborn Library" though they wished
very much to call it by your name. Now I wish
to ask your perusal of the accompanying
little letter, written, without my knowledge
by our little secretary who is only ten
years this coming June. Her father is a
prosperous blacksmith and is, apparantly
one of the latest importations from Africa
he is so very black and ignorant. This
child was in her "letters" as they say less
than four years ago (our school year consists
of seven months) and now reads in the 5th
Reader. I send you the childs letter
because it seems to be the outpouring of
of the heart. Hoping you will kindly think
of us and with kind wishes for your happiness
from many here. I will spend this pleasant
afternoon in writing to one I have never seen
but I have often heard my teacher speak of you
and read letters from you to us, and talk
of you as being his teacher. We are strangers
but that matters but a little. I can write to
you with just as much love as to any of
my friends. We received your box and all
were very proud of it indeed, and all my
schoolmates thank you and your friends
for your kindness. They are such nice books
and make such a respectable little Library
— just what we had talked about a long while
and O, if you could just see if now it looks so
beautiful! You said you didn't care to
have it named after you, but we had no other
name that we thought would suit so nicely as
yours, and the scholars all seem to love that
so well that we were compelled to name it
the P. Carkin Free Library My Dear Friend and Teacher. It
is a long, long time since you were here,
and I've been thinking for several years of
writing to see if you were still numbered
with the living, but have kept putting it
off from time to time until I've made it
very late, but I hope not too late. Your letter of the 10th inst was
duly received. It found us well, and indeed,
more than glad to hear from you. I am sorry
to know that your sight has gotten so poor, but my
prayer is that it may not grow much worse for
years to come. I was glad and thankful to
receive the picture of the "Minute Man" I
remember so distinctly about your telling, and
trying to have us understand about them years
ago. And not only that, but you told and read
to us so much that I recall and which has
since become real to me, that I have often
wished that I could see you, and make some
apology for my ignorance and ingratitude,
for then it was meaningless to me, and as
with me, so I presume it was to a greater or less
extent with the others. But much of the
ignorance, inexperience and darkness that
met you here, have disappeared, and it is
beginning to look like a real dispensation of
freedom in which every one has some sort of a
chance in the race of life. "The old building where you taught has
long since been torn away and all that part
of the town is laid out in streets and thickly
settled It would be hard for you to tell where the
old school house stood. The new school house is
farther down, near the Court House. If you
remember where the gas house was, it is on the
same street. x x x I should be glad if you
could see this place again and witness the strides
the colored people have made from barbarism
to civilization. I did not think to tell you in
my last, that they own and publish one
newspaper in Charlottesville x x x I will tell you
my age as well as I can. I call myself 54. The farm
house where I was born was burned in May 1865,
and
with it all the records. My mother, a short time
before her death, took me with her to the old place
to get our ages, and what they gave us was all
guess work. I was born in January 1855 or 1856
Mother knew it was three weeks after Christmas. That
was all she knew about it. I am still vigorous
and can do more work at almost anything
than the average man." I had sent Mr. Minor some pamphlets of the
Humane Society and asked him if there was
anything of the kind yet in Charlottesville. To
which he replied as follows.
"No, they
have nothing like a humane society any
where in Virginia that I ever heard of certainly
not in Charlottesville or in Albemarle County
I hope to see a "Red Acre Farm" here in our
state some day. At present worn out horses
as well as worn out men fare tolerably rough.
There is nothing like a "Rescue League" These
things have not been thought of yet x x x x
"No, they
have nothing like a humane society any
where in Virginia that I ever heard of certainly
not in Charlottesville or in Albemarle County
I hope to see a "Red Acre Farm" here in our
state some day. At present worn out horses
as well as worn out men fare tolerably rough.
There is nothing like a "Rescue League" These
things have not been thought of yet x x x x Your last letter of Sept 16th was
duly received. We were glad to hear from
you and to learn of the many helpful
Societies among you. I thank you very
much for the "horses prayer." Some horses
do need to say it daily, but I am thankful
to say mine have not said it this winter
though the winter has been long and
severe, interspersed with a day or two
of mild weather now and then. x x x x
I am quite busy preparing for
my crops, and at present the prospects before
me are quite bright. I have a great deal
more work than I can do but and cannot afford
to hire help but am doing very well alone,
and when school closes in April Mabel and
Irene will help me a little. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 4 | Author: | Penfeather
Amabel
pseud | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Had there been a predecessor of Mr. Downing in the
country, some five-and-twenty years since, to criticise Wyllys-Roof,
the home of our friend Elinor, his good taste would
no doubt have suggested many improvements, not only in the
house itself, but also in the grounds which surrounded it.
The building had been erected long before the first Tudor
cottage was transported, Loretto-like, across the Atlantic, and
was even anterior to the days of Grecian porticoes. It was a
comfortable, sensible-looking place, however, such as were
planned some eighty or a hundred years since, by men who
had fortune enough to do as they pleased, and education
enough to be quite superior to all pretension. The house
was a low, irregular, wooden building, of ample size for the
tastes and habits of its inmates, with broad piazzas, which not
only increased its dimensions, but added greatly to the comfort
and pleasure of the family by whom it was occupied. “You will be glad to hear that Jane passed the barriers,
this morning, with the Howards. She has just finished a
letter to Mrs. Graham; and, as she dislikes writing so much,
has given me leave to announce her arrival to all at Wyllys-Roof.
As Jane enters Paris on one side, I leave it in the
opposite direction, for, the day after to-morrow, I am off for
Constantinople; a movement which will, no doubt, astonish
you, though, I am sure, you will wish me joy of such pleasant
prospects. This letter will probably be the last you
will hear of me, for some time; not but what I shall write as
usual, but these long overland mails, through countries
where they suspect revolution or plague, in every letter,
often fail to do their duty. In fact, I delayed my journey a
week or two, expressly to see Jane, and have a good supply
of Longbridge news before setting out. Everybody tells me,
I must expect to lose more than half my letters, both ways.
This is bad enough, to be sure; but a journey to Greece and
Constantinople, would be too full of delights, without some
serious drawback. I believe Jane is more tired by answering
our questions, and hearing what we have to tell her, than
by her voyage. I cannot help wishing, my dear Elinor,
that it were you who had arrived in Paris, instead of our
pretty little cousin. How I should delight in showing you
my favourite view, the quais and the island, from the Pont
Royal—the Louvre, too, and the Madeleine. As for Jane,
she will, doubtless, find her chief pleasures at Delilles', and
the Tuileries — buying finery, and showing it off: it has
often puzzled me to find out which some ladies most enjoy. “You have been so kind to me, ever since we moved into
your neighbourhood, that I hope you will excuse me for
asking your assistance, this morning. I have been a good
deal plagued in my kitchen ever since we came into the
country this spring. My cook and chamber-maid, who are
sisters, are always finding some excuse for wanting to go to
the city; and last night they got a letter, or pretended to get
one from New York, saying that their father was very sick;
and as I didn't know but it might be true, I couldn't refuse
them, and they have gone for a week—though I won't be
sure it was not for a mere frolic. As it happened, Mr.
Taylor and Adeline came back from Saratoga, last night,
and brought a house-full of company with them; an old
friend of mine whom I had not seen for years, and some new
acquaintances of Adeline's. To make matters worse, my
nurse, a faithful, good girl, who has lived with me for years,
was taken sick this morning; and John, the waiter, had a
quarrel with the coachman, and went off in a huff. You
know such things always come together. So I have now
only the coachman and his daughter, a little girl of twelve,
in the house; happily they are both willing, and can do a
little of everything. If you know of anybody that I can
find to take the place of cook, or housemaid, I shall be truly
obliged to you for giving the coachman their names and
directions. “I feel unworthy of you, Elinor, and I cannot endure
longer to deceive so generous a temper as yours. You must
have remarked my emotion this morning—Miss Wyllys now
knows all; I refer you to her. I shall never cease to reproach
myself for my unpardonable ingratitude. But painful
as it is to confess it, it would have been intolerable to play
the hypocrite any longer, by continuing to receive proofs of
kindness which I no longer deserve. It is my hope, that in
time you will forgive me; though I shall never forgive myself. “I do not blame you—your conduct was but natural; one
more experienced, or more prudent than myself, would probably
have foreseen it. Had you left me in ignorance of the
truth until too late, I should then have been miserable indeed.
My aunt will take the first opportunity of letting our mutual
friends know the position in which it is best we should continue
for the future. May you be happy with Jane. “You will not receive this letter until you have reached
the age of womanhood, years after your mother has been
laid in her grave. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 5 | Author: | Penfeather
Amabel
pseud | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | It is to be feared the reader will find fault with this chapter.
But there is no remedy; he must submit quietly to a break
of three years in the narrative: having to choose between
the unities and the probabilities, we greatly preferred holding
to the last. The fault, indeed, of this hiatus, rests entirely
with the young folk of Longbridge, whose fortunes we have
undertaken to follow; had they remained together, we should,
of course, have been faithful to our duty as a chronicler; but
our task was not so easy. In the present state of the world,
people will move about—especially American people; and
making no claim to ubiquity, we were obliged to wait patiently
until time brought the wanderers back again, to the
neighbourhood where we first made their acquaintance.
Shortly after Jane's marriage, the whole party broke up;
Jane and her husband went to New-Orleans, where Tallman
Taylor was established as partner in a commercial house
connected with his father. Hazlehurst passed several years
in Mexico and South-America: an old friend of his father's,
a distinguished political man, received the appointment of
Envoy to Mexico, and offered Harry the post of Secretary
of Legation. Hazlehurst had long felt a strong desire to see
the southern countries of the continent, and was very glad
of so pleasant an arrangement; he left his friend Ellsworth
to practise law alone, and accompanied Mr. Henley, the
Minister, to Mexico; and from thence removed, after a time,
to Brazil. Charlie had been studying his profession in
France and Italy, during the same period. Even Elinor was
absent from home much more than usual; Miss Wyllys had
been out of health for the last year or two; and, on her account,
they passed their summers in travelling, and a winter
in the West-Indies. At length, however, the party met
again on the old ground; and we shall take up the thread of
our narrative, during the summer in which the circle was
re-united. It is to be hoped that this break in the movement
of our tale will be forgiven, when we declare, that the plot
is about to thicken; perplexities, troubles, and misfortunes
are gathering about our Longbridge friends; a piece of intelligence
which will probably cheer the reader's spirits.
We have it on the authority of a philosopher, that there is
something gratifying to human nature in the calamities of
our friends; an axiom which seems true, at least, of all acquaintances
made on paper. “It may appear presumptuous in one unknown to you, to
address you on a subject so important as that which is the
theme of this epistle; but not having the honour of your acquaintance,
I am compelled by dire necessity, and the ardent
feelings of my heart, to pour forth on paper the expression
of the strong admiration with which you have inspired me.
Lovely Miss Wyllys, you are but too well known to me,
although I scarcely dare to hope that your eye has rested for
a moment on the features of your humble adorer. I am a
European, one who has moved in the first circles of his
native land, and after commencing life as a military man,
was compelled by persecution to flee to the hospitable shores
of America. Chequered as my life has been, happy, thrice
happy shall I consider it, if you will but permit me to devote
its remaining years to your service! Without your smiles,
the last days of my career will be more gloomy than all that
have gone before. But I cannot believe you so cruel, so
hard-hearted, as to refuse to admit to your presence, one
connected with several families of the nobility and gentry in
the north of England, merely because the name of Horace
de Vere has been sullied by appearing on the stage. Let
me hope—” “If the new store, being erected on your lot in Market-Street,
between Fourth and Fifth, is not already leased, you
will confer an obligation if you will let us know to whom
we must apply for terms, &c., &c. The location and premises
being suitable, we should be glad to rent. The best
of references can be offered on our part. “When shall we see you at Bloomingdale? You are
quite too cruel, to disappoint us so often; we really do not
deserve such shabby treatment. Here is the month of June,
with its roses, and strawberries, and ten thousand other
sweets, and among them you must positively allow us to hope
for a visit from our very dear friends at Wyllys-Roof. Should
your venerable grandpapa, or my excellent friend, Miss
Wyllys be unhappily detained at home, as you feared, do
not let that be the means of depriving us of your visit. I
need not say that William would be only too happy to drive
you to Bloomingdale, at any time you might choose; but if
that plan, his plan, should frighten your propriety, I shall be
proud to take charge of you myself. Anne is not only
pining for your visit, but very tired of answering a dozen
times a day, her brother's questions, `When shall we see
Miss Wyllys?'—`Is Miss Wyllys never coming?' “My mother wishes me to thank you myself, for your
last act of goodness to us—but I can never tell you all we
feel on the subject. My dear mother cried with joy all the
evening, after she had received your letter. I am going to
school according to your wish, as soon as mother can spare
me, and I shall study very hard, which will be the best way
of thanking you. The music-master says he has no doubt
but I can play well enough to give lessons, if I go on as
well as I have in the last year; I practise regularly every
day. Mother bids me say, that now she feels sure of my
Vol. II. — 5
education for the next three years, one of her heaviest cares
has been taken away: she says too, that although many
friends in the parish have been very good to us, since my
dear father was taken away from us, yet `no act of kindness
has been so important to us, none so cheering to the heart of
the widow and the fatherless, as your generous goodness to
her eldest child;' these are her own words. Mother will
write to you herself to-morrow. I thank you again, dear
Miss Wyllys, for myself, and I remain, very respectfully and
very gratefully, “I have not the honour of being acquainted with you, as
my late father was not married to you when I went to sea,
not long before his death. But I make no doubt that you
will not refuse me my rights, now that I step forward to
demand them, after leaving others to enjoy them for nearly
eighteen years. Things look different to a man near forty,
and to a young chap of twenty; I have been thinking of
claiming my property for some time, but was told by lawyers
that there was too many difficulties in the way, owing partly
to my own fault, partly to the fault of others. As long as I
was a youngster, I didn't care for anything but having my
own way—I snapped my fingers at all the world; but now
I am tired of a sea-faring life, and have had hardships enough
for one man: since there is a handsome property mine, by
right, I am resolved to claim it, through thick and thin. I
have left off the bottle, and intend to do my best to be respectable
for the rest of my days. I make no doubt but we
shall be able to come to some agreement; nor would I object
to a compromise for the past, though my lawyers advise me
to make no such offer. I shall be pleased, Madam, to pay
my respects to you, that we may settle our affairs at a personal
meeting, if it suits you to do so. “I regret that I am compelled by the interests of my client,
William Stanley, Esquire, to address a lady I respect so
highly, upon a subject that must necessarily prove distressing
to her, in many different ways.” “The letters addressed by you to Mrs. Stanley, Mr.
Wyllys and myself, of the date of last Tuesday, have just
reached us. I shall not dwell on the amazement which we
naturally felt in receiving a communication so extraordinary,
which calls upon us to credit the existence of an individual,
whom we have every reason to believe has lain for nearly
eighteen years at the bottom of the deep: it will be sufficient
that I declare, what you are probably already prepared to
hear, that we see no cause for changing our past opinions on
this subject. We believe to-day, as we have believed for
years, that William Stanley was drowned in the wreck of
the Jefferson, during the winter of 181-. We can command
to-day, the same proofs which produced conviction at the
time when this question was first carefully examined. We
have learned no new fact to change the character of these
proofs. “I left home, as everybody knows, because I would have
my own way in everything. It was against my best interests
to be sure, but boys don't think at such times, about
anything but having their own will. I suppose that every
person connected with my deceased father knows, that my
first voyage was made to Russia, in the year 18—, in the ship
Dorothy Beck, Jonas Thomson, Master. I was only fourteen
years old at the time. My father had taken to heart my
going off, and when I came back from Russia he was on the
look-out, wrote to me and sent me money, and as soon as he
heard we were in port he came after me. Well, I went
back with the old gentleman; but we had a quarrel on the
road, and I put about again and went to New Bedford, where
I shipped in a whaler. We were out only eighteen months,
and brought in a full cargo. This time I went home of my
own accord, and I staid a great part of one summer. I did
think some of quitting the seas; but after a while things
didn't work well, and one of my old shipmates coming up
into the country to see me, I went off with him. This time
I shipped in the Thomas Jefferson, for China. This was in
the year 1814, during the last war, when I was about eighteen.
Most people, who know anything about William Stanley,
think that was the last of him, that he never set foot on
American ground again; but they are mistaken, as he himself
will take the pains to show. So far I have told nothing
but what everybody knows, but now I am going to give a
short account of what has happened, since my friends heard
from me. Well; the Jefferson sailed, on her voyage to
China, in October; she was wrecked on the coast of Africa
in December, and it was reported that all hands were lost:
so they were, all but one, and that one was William Stanley.
I was picked up by a Dutchman, the barque William, bound
to Batavia. I kept with the Dutchman for a while, until he
went back to Holland. After I had cut adrift from him, I
fell in with some Americans, and got some old papers; in
one of them I saw my father's second marriage. I knew
the name of the lady he had married, but I had never spoken
to her. The very next day, one of the men I was with, who
came from the same part of the country, told me of my
father's death, and said it was the common talk about the
neighbourhood, that I was disinherited. This made me very
angry; though I wasn't much surprised, after what had
passed. I was looking out for a homeward-bound American,
to go back, and see how matters stood, when one night that
I was drunk, I was carried off by an English officer, who
made out I was a runaway. For five years I was kept in
different English men-of-war, in the East Indies; at the end
of that time I was put on board the Ceres, sloop of war, and
I made out to desert from her at last, and got on board an
American. I then came home; and here, the first man that
I met on shore was Billings, the chap who first persuaded
me to go to sea: he knew all about my father's family, and
told me it was true I was cut off without a cent, and that
Harry Hazlehurst had been adopted by my father. This
made me so mad, that I went straight to New Bedford, and
shipped in the Sally Andrews, for a whaling voyage. Just
before we were to have come home, I exchanged into another
whaler, as second-mate, for a year longer. Then I sailed in
a Havre liner, as foremast hand, for a while. I found out
about this time, that the executors of my father's estate had
been advertising for me shortly after his death, while I was
in the East Indies; and I went to a lawyer in Baltimore,
where I happened to be, and consulted him about claiming
the property; but he wouldn't believe a word I said, because
I was half-drunk at the time, and told me that I should get
in trouble if I didn't keep my mouth shut. Well, I cruized
about for a while longer, when at last I went to Longbridge,
with some shipmates. I had been there often before, as a
lad, and I had some notion of having a talk with Mr. Wyllys,
my father's executor; I went to his house one day, but I
didn't see him. One of my shipmates, who knew something
of my story, and had been a client of Mr. Clapp's, advised
me to consult him. I went to his office, but he sent me off
like the Baltimore lawyer, because he thought I was drunk.
Three years after that I got back to Longbridge again, with
a shipmate; but it did me no good, for I got drinking, and
had a fit of the horrors. That fit sobered me, though, in the
end; it was the worst I had ever had; I should have hanged
myself, and there would have been an end of William
Stanley and his hard rubs, if it hadn't been for the doctor—
I never knew his name, but Mr. Clapp says it was Dr. Van
Horne. After this bad fit, they coaxed me into shipping in a
temperance whaler. While I was in the Pacific, in this ship,
nigh three years, and out of the reach of drink, I had time
to think what a fool I had been all my life, for wasting my
opportunities. I thought there must be some way of getting
back my father's property; Mr. Clapp had said, that if I was
really the man I pretended to be, I must have some papers
to make it out; but if I hadn't any papers, he couldn't help
me, even if I was William Stanley forty times over. It is
true, I couldn't show him any documents that time, for I
didn't have them with me at Longbridge; but I made up
my mind, while I was out on my last voyage, that as soon as
I got home, I would give up drinking, get my papers together,
and set about doing my best to get back my father's
property. We came home last February; I went to work,
I kept sober, got my things together, put money by for a
lawyer's fee, and then went straight to Longbridge again. I
went to Mr. Clapp's office, and first I handed him the money,
and then I gave him my papers. I went to him, because he
had treated me better than any other lawyer, and told me if
I was William Stanley, and could prove it, he could help
me better than any other man, for he knew all about my
father's will. Well, he hadn't expected ever to see me
again; but he heard my story all out this time, read the
documents, and at last believed me, and undertook the case.
The rest is known to the executors and legatee by this time;
and it is to be hoped, that after enjoying my father's estate
for nigh twenty years, they will now make it over to his son. “Our application to the family physician proves entirely
successful, my dear Hazlehurst; my physiological propensities
were not at fault. I had a letter last evening from Dr.
H—, who now lives in Baltimore, and he professes himself
ready to swear to the formation of young Stanley's hands
and feet, which he says resembled those of Mr. Stanley, the
father, and the three children, who died before William S.
grew up. His account agrees entirely with the portrait of
the boy, as it now exists at Wyllys-Roof; the arms and hands
are long, the fingers slender, nails elongated; as you well
know, Mr. Clapp's client is the very reverse of this—his
hands are short and thick, his fingers what, in common parlance,
would be called dumpy. I was struck with the fact
when I first saw him in the street. Now, what stronger
evidence could we have? A slender lad of seventeen may
become a heavy, corpulent man of forty, but to change the
formation of hands, fingers, and nails, is beyond the reach of
even Clapp's cunning. We are much obliged to the artist,
for his accuracy in representing the hands of the boy exactly
as they were. This testimony I look upon as quite conclusive.
As to the Rev. Mr. G—, whose pupil young Stanley
was for several years, we find that he is no longer living;
but I have obtained the names of several of the young man's
companions, who will be able to confirm the fact of his dullness;
several of the professors at the University are also
living, and will no doubt be able to assist us. I have written
a dozen letters on these points, but received no answers as
yet. So far so good; we shall succeed, I trust. Mr. Wyllys
bids you not forget to find out if Clapp has really been at
Greatwood, as we suspected. The ladies send you many
kind and encouraging messages. Josephine, as usual, sympathizes
in all our movements. She says: `Give Mr. Hazlehurst
all sorts of kind greetings from me; anything you
please short of my love, which would not be proper, I suppose.'
I had a charming row on the river last evening, with
the ladies. I never managed a law-suit in such agreeable
quarters before. We are greatly distressed by a
melancholy accident which befell us scarce an hour since.
The Petrel capsized; most of our party are safe; but two
of my friends are gone, Hazlehurst and Hubbard! You
will understand our grief; mine especially! We shall return
immediately. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 32 | Author: | Prince, Morton, editor | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Journal of Abnormal Psychology | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | THE progress in our understanding of hysteria has come largely
through the elaboration of the so-called mechanisms by which the
symptoms arise. These mechanisms have been declared to reside or to
have their origin in the subconsciousness or coconsciousness. The
mechanisms range all the way from the conception of Janet that the
personality is disintegrated owing to lowering of the psychical tension
to that of Freud, who conceives all hysterical symptoms as a result of
dissociation arising through conflicts between repressed sexual desires
and experiences and the various censors organized by the social life.
Without in any way intending to set up any other general mechanism or to
enter into the controversy raging concerning the Freudian mechanism,
which at present is the storm center, the writer reports a case in which
the origin of the symptoms can be traced to a more simple and fairly
familiar mechanism, one which, in its essence, is merely an
intensification of a normal reaction of many women to marital
difficulties. In other words, women frequently resort to measures which
bring about an acute discomfort upon the part of their mate, through his
pity, compassion and self-accusation. They resort to tears as their
proverbial weapon for gaining their point. In this case the hysterical
symptoms seem to have been the substitute for tears in a domestic
battle. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 41 | Author: | Peacock, Thomas Love | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Maid Marian | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | "THE abbot, in his alb arrayed," stood at the altar in the
abbey-chapel of Rubygill, with all his plump, sleek, rosy friars, in
goodly lines disposed, to solemnise the nuptials of the beautiful
Matilda Fitzwater, daughter of the Baron of Arlingford, with the noble
Robert Fitz-Ooth, Earl of Locksley and Huntingdon. The abbey of Rubygill
stood in a picturesque valley, at a little distance from the western
boundary of Sherwood Forest, in a spot which seemed adapted by nature to
be the retreat of monastic mortification, being on the banks of a fine
trout-stream, and in the midst of woodland coverts, abounding with
excellent game. The bride, with her father and attendant maidens,
entered the chapel;
but the earl had not arrived. The baron was amazed, and the bridemaidens
were disconcerted. Matilda feared that some evil had befallen her lover,
but felt no diminution of her confidence in his honour and love. Through
the open gates of the chapel she looked down the narrow road that wound
along the side of the hill; and her ear was the first that heard the
distant trampling of horses, and her eye was the first that caught the
glitter of snowy plumes, and the light of polished spears. "It is
strange," thought the baron, "that the earl should come in this martial
array to his wedding;" but he had not long to meditate on the
phenomenon, for the foaming steeds swept up to the gate like a
whirlwind, and the earl, breathless with speed, and followed by a few of
his yeomen, advanced to his smiling bride. It was then no time to ask
questions, for the organ was in full peal, and the choristers were in
full voice. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 43 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Painted Windows | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | YOUNG people believe very little that they hear about the
compensations of growing old, and of living over again in memory the
events of the past. Yet there really are these com-pensations and
pleasures, and although they are not so vivid and breathless as the
pleasures of youth, they have some-thing delicate and fine about them
that must be experienced to be appreciated. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 44 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Shape of Fear, and other ghostly tales | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | TIM O'CONNOR—who was descended from the O'Conors with one N—started
life as a poet and an enthusiast. His mother had designed him for the
priesthood, and at the age of fifteen, most of his verses had an
ecclesiastical tinge, but, somehow or other, he got into the newspaper
business instead, and became a pessimistic gentleman, with a literary
style of great beauty and an income of modest proportions. He fell in
with men who talked of art for art's sake,—though what right they had
to speak of art at all nobody knew,—and little by little his view of
life and love became more or less profane. He met a woman who sucked his
heart's blood, and he knew it and made no
protest; nay, to the great amusement of the fellows who talked of art
for art's sake, he went the length of marrying her. He could not in
decency explain that he had the traditions of fine gentlemen behind him
and so had to do as he did, because his friends might not have
understood. He laughed at the days when he had thought of the
priesthood, blushed when he ran across any of those tender and exquisite
old verses he had written in his youth, and became addicted to absinthe
and other less peculiar drinks, and to gaming a little to escape a
madness of ennui. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 46 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise, Volume I | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | THE child's dead," said Nora, the nurse. It was the
upstairs
sitting-room in one of the pretentious houses of Sutherland,
oldest and most charming of the towns on the Indiana bank of the
Ohio. The two big windows were open; their limp and listless
draperies showed that there was not the least motion in the
stifling humid air of the July afternoon. At the center of the
room stood an oblong table; over it were neatly spread several
thicknesses of white cotton cloth; naked upon them lay the body
of a newborn girl baby. At one side of the table nearer the
window stood Nora. Hers were the hard features and corrugated
skin popularly regarded as the result of a life of toil, but in
fact the result of a life of defiance to the laws of health. As
additional penalties for that same self-indulgence she had an
enormous bust and hips, thin face and arms, hollow,
sinew-striped neck. The young man, blond and smooth faced, at
the other side of the table and facing the light, was Doctor
Stevens, a recently graduated pupil of the famous Schulze of
Saint Christopher who as much as any other one man is
responsible for the rejection of hocus-pocus and the injection
of common sense into American medicine. For upwards of an hour
young Stevens, coat off and shirt sleeves rolled to his
shoulders, had been toiling with the lifeless form on the table.
He had tried everything his training, his reading and his
experience suggested—all the more or less familiar devices
similar to those indicated for cases of drowning. Nora had
watched him, at first with interest and hope, then with interest
alone, finally with swiftly deepening disapproval, as her
compressed lips and angry eyes plainly revealed. It seemed to
her his effort was degenerating into sacrilege, into defiance of
an obvious decree of the Almighty. However, she had not ventured
to speak until the young man, with a muttered ejaculation
suspiciously like an imprecation, straightened his stocky figure
and began to mop the sweat from his face, hands and bared arms. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 47 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise, Volume II | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | SUSAN'S impulse was toward the stage. It had become a
definite ambition with her, the stronger because Spenser's
jealousy and suspicion had forced her to keep it a secret, to
pretend to herself that she had no thought but going on
indefinitely as his obedient and devoted mistress. The
hardiest and best growths are the growths inward—where they
have sun and air from without. She had been at the theater
several times every week, and had studied the performances at
a point of view very different from that of the audience. It
was there to be amused; she was there to learn. Spenser and
such of his friends as he would let meet her talked plays and
acting most of the time. He had forbidden her to have women
friends. "Men don't demoralize women; women demoralize each
other," was one of his axioms. But such women as she had a
bowing acquaintance with were all on the stage—in comic
operas or musical farces. She was much alone; that meant many
hours every day which could not but be spent by a mind like
hers in reading and in thinking. Only those who have observed
the difference aloneness makes in mental development, where
there is a good mind, can appreciate how rapidly, how broadly,
Susan expanded. She read plays more than any other kind of
literature. She did not read them casually but was always
thinking how they would act. She was soon making in
imagination stage scenes out of dramatic chapters in novels as
she read. More and more clearly the characters of play and
novel took shape and substance before the eyes of her fancy.
But the stage was clearly out of the question. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 48 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Conflict | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Four years at Wellesley; two years about equally
divided among Paris, Dresden and Florence. And now
Jane Hastings was at home again. At home in the
unchanged house — spacious, old-fashioned — looking down
from its steeply sloping lawns and terraced gardens
upon the sooty, smoky activities of Remsen City,
looking out upon a charming panorama of hills and valleys
in the heart of South Central Indiana. Six years of
striving in the East and abroad to satisfy the restless
energy she inherited from her father; and here she was,
as restless as ever — yet with everything done that a
woman could do in the way of an active career. She
looked back upon her years of elaborate preparation;
she looked forward upon — nothing. That is, nothing
but marriage — dropping her name, dropping her
personality, disappearing in the personality of another.
She had never seen a man for whom she would make
such a sacrifice; she did not believe that such a man
existed. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 49 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Cost | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Pauline Gardiner joined us on the day that we,
the Second Reader class, moved from the basement
to the top story of the old Central Public
School. Her mother brought her and, leaving,
looked round at us, meeting for an instant each
pair of curious eyes with friendly appeal. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 51 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Grain of Dust. | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | INTO the offices of Lockyer, Sanders, Benchley,
Lockyer & Norman, corporation lawyers, there drifted
on a December afternoon a girl in search of work at
stenography and typewriting. The firm was about the
most important and most famous — radical orators often
said infamous — in New York. The girl seemed, at a
glance, about as unimportant and obscure an atom as
the city hid in its vast ferment. She was blonde — tawny
hair, fair skin, blue eyes. Aside from this hardly
conclusive mark of identity there was nothing positive,
nothing definite, about her. She was neither tall nor
short, neither fat nor thin, neither grave nor gay. She
gave the impression of a young person of the feminine
gender — that, and nothing more. She was plainly
dressed, like thousands of other girls, in darkish blue
jacket and skirt and white shirt waist. Her boots and
gloves were neat, her hair simply and well arranged.
Perhaps in these respects — in neatness and taste — she
did excel the average, which is depressingly low. But
in a city where more or less strikingly pretty women,
bent upon being seen, are as plentiful as the blackberries
of Kentucky's July — in New York no one would
have given her a second look, this quiet young woman
screened in an atmosphere of self-effacement. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 52 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Price She Paid. | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | HENRY GOWER was dead at sixty-one—the end of
a lifelong fraud which never had been suspected, and
never would be. With the world, with his acquaintances
and neighbors, with his wife and son and
daughter, he passed as a generous, warm-hearted,
good-natured man, ready at all times to do anything
to help anybody, incapable of envy or hatred or
meanness. In fact, not once in all his days had he ever
thought or done a single thing except for his own
comfort. Like all intensely selfish people who are wise,
he was cheerful and amiable, because that was the
way to be healthy and happy and to have those around
one agreeable and in the mood to do what one wished
them to do. He told people, not the truth, not the
unpleasant thing that might help them, but what they
wished to hear. His family lived in luxurious comfort
only because he himself was fond of luxurious comfort.
His wife and his daughter dressed fashionably and
went about and entertained in the fashionable,
expensive way only because that was the sort of life
that gratified his vanity. He lived to get what he
wanted; he got it every day and every hour of a life
into which no rain ever fell; he died, honored, respected,
beloved, and lamented. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 67 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | THE LANDSCAPE GARDEN | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | NO MORE remarkable man ever lived than my friend, the young Ellison.
He was remarkable in the entire and continuous profusion of good gifts
ever lavished upon him by fortune. From his cradle to his grave, a
gale of the blandest prosperity bore him along. Nor do I use the
word Prosperity in its mere wordly or external sense. I mean it as
synonymous with happiness. The person of whom I speak, seemed born for
the purpose of foreshadowing the wild doctrines of Turgot, Price,
Priestley, and Condorcet- of exemplifying, by individual instance,
what has been deemed the mere chimera of the perfectionists. In the
brief existence of Ellison, I fancy, that I have seen refuted the
dogma- that in man's physical and spiritual nature, lies some hidden
principle, the antagonist of Bliss. An intimate and anxious
examination
of his career, has taught me to understand that, in
general, from the violation of a few simple laws of Humanity, arises
the Wretchedness of mankind; that, as a species, we have in our
possession the as yet unwrought elements of Content,- and that even
now, in the present blindness and darkness of all idea on the great
question of the Social Condition, it is not impossible that Man, the
individual, under certain unusual and highly fortuitous conditions,
may be happy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 72 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | THE SYSTEM OF DOCTOR TARR AND PROFESSOR FETHER | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | southern provinces of France, my route led me within a few miles of
a certain Maison de Sante or private mad-house, about which I had
heard much in Paris from my medical friends. As I had never visited
a place of the kind, I thought the opportunity too good to be lost;
and so proposed to my travelling companion (a gentleman with whom I
had made casual acquaintance a few days before) that we should turn
aside, for an hour or so, and look through the establishment. To
this he objected- pleading haste in the first place, and, in the
second, a very usual horror at the sight of a lunatic. He begged me,
however, not to let any mere courtesy towards himself interfere with
the gratification of my curiosity, and said that he would ride on
leisurely, so that I might overtake him during the day, or, at all
events, during the next. As he bade me good-bye, I bethought me that
there might be some difficulty in obtaining access to the premises,
and mentioned my fears on this point. He replied that, in fact, unless
I had personal knowledge of the superintendent, Monsieur Maillard,
or some credential in the way of a letter, a difficulty
might be found
to exist, as the regulations of these private mad-houses were more
rigid than the public hospital laws. For himself, he added, he had,
some years since, made the acquaintance of Maillard, and would so
far assist me as to ride up to the door and introduce me; although his
feelings on the subject of lunacy would not permit of his entering the
house. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 74 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | OF COURSE I shall not pretend to consider it any matter for
wonder, that the extraordinary case of M. Valdemar has excited
discussion. It would have been a miracle had it not-especially under
the circumstances. Through the desire of all parties concerned, to
keep the affair from the public, at least for the present, or until we
had farther opportunities for investigation --through our endeavors to
effect this --a garbled or exaggerated account made its way into
society, and became the source of many unpleasant
misrepresentations, and, very naturally, of a great deal of disbelief. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 77 | Author: | Pokagon, Simon | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Simon Pokagon on Naming the Indians | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I have read with much interest the article
in the March number of your magazine on "Naming the Indians," which
I have regarded for many years as of vital importance to the future
of our race. The instructions therein given by T. J. Morgan,
Commissioner of Indian Affairs, to Indian agents and
superintendents of government Indian schools, I consider, in view
of our citizenship, of the utmost importance, and ought to have
been construed as obligatory upon teachers and superintendents in
government schools in naming their pupils, as to naming Indian
employees to be appointed as policemen, judges, teamsters,
laborers, etc. In looking over the names published in the article
referred to of pupils at the Crow Agency boarding school, Montana,
I really felt in my heart that most of their surnames, translated
from their language into English unexplained, might well be taken
for a menagerie of monstrosities. Think of it—such names for
girls as Olive Young-heifer, Lottie Grandmother's-knife, Kittie
Medicine-tail, Mary Old-jack-rabbit, Lena Old-bear, Louisa Three-wolves, and Ruth Bear-in-the-middle. And then such names for boys
as Walter Young-jack-rabbit, Homer Bull-tongue, Robert Yellow-tail,
Antoine No- hair-on-his-tail, Hugh Ten-bears, Harry White-bear, Levi Yellow-mule, etc. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 83 | Author: | Porter, Eleanor H. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Just David | | | | Published: | 2000 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Far up on the mountain-side stood alone in the clearing. It was
roughly yet warmly built. Behind it jagged cliffs broke the north
wind, and towered gray-white in the sunshine. Before it a tiny
expanse of green sloped gently away to a point where the mountain
dropped in another sharp descent, wooded with scrubby firs and
pines. At the left a footpath led into the cool depths of the
forest. But at the right the mountain fell away again and
disclosed to view the picture David loved the best of all: the
far-reaching valley; the silver pool of the lake with its ribbon
of a river flung far out; and above it the grays and greens and
purples of the mountains that climbed one upon another's
shoulders until the topmost thrust their heads into the wide dome
of the sky itself. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 85 | Author: | Porter, Eleanor H. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mary Marie | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Father calls me Mary. Mother calls me Marie. Everybody else
calls me Mary Marie. The rest of my name is Anderson. I'm thirteen
years old, and I'm a cross-current and a contradiction. That is, Sarah
says I'm that. (Sarah is my old nurse.) She says she read it once — that
the children of unlikes were always a cross-current and a contradiction.
And my father and mother are unlikes, and I'm the children. That is, I'm
the child. I'm all there is. And now I'm going to be a bigger
cross-current and contradiction than ever, for I'm going to live half the
time with Mother and the other half with Father. Mother will go to
Boston to live, and Father will stay here — a divorce, you know. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 86 | Author: | Porter, Eleanor H. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Pollyanna Grows Up | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | DELLA WETHERBY tripped up the somewhat imposing steps of her sister's
Commonwealth Avenue home and pressed an energetic finger against the
electric-bell button. From the tip of her wingtrimmed hat to the toe of
her low-heeled shoe she radiated health, capability, and alert decision.
Even her voice, as she greeted the maid that opened the door, vibrated
with the joy of living. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 106 | Author: | Prime, William C. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Tent Life in the Holy Land | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | [from Chapter 1, "Nunc Dimittis Domine!"]
To see the sun go down beyond the Sepulchre and rise over the mountain of the Ascension, to bare
my forehead to the cold dews of Gethsemane, and lave my dim eyes in the waters of Siloam, to sleep
in the company of the infinite host above the oaks of Mamre, and to lie in the starlight of Bethlehem
and catch, however faintly, some notes of the voices of the angels, to wash off the dust of life in the
Jordan, to cool my hot lips at the well of Samaria, to hear the murmur of Gennesareth, giving me
blessed sleep — was not all this worth dreaming of — worth living for — was it not worth dying
for? | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 107 | Author: | Pyle, Howard | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Men of Iron | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | MYLES FALWORTH was but eight years of age at
that time, and it was only afterwards, and when he
grew old enough to know more of the ins and outs
of the matter, that he could remember by bits and
pieces the things that afterwards happened; how
one evening a knight came clattering into the
court-yard upon a horse, red-nostrilled and
smeared with the sweat and foam of a desperate
ride—Sir John Dale, a dear friend of the blind
Lord. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 110 | Author: | Pyrnelle, Louise Clarke | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Diddi, Dumps, and Tot | | | | Published: | 2000 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | THEY were three little sisters, daughters of a Southern planter, and they
lived in a big white house on a cotton plantation in Mississippi. The house
stood in a grove of cedars and live-oaks, and on one side was a flower-garden,
with two summer-houses covered with climbing roses and honey-suckles, where
the little girls would often have tea-parties in the pleasant spring and
summer days. Back of the house was a long avenue of water-oaks leading to
the quarters where the negroes lived. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 113 | Author: | Pleasants, James | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Letter from James Pleasants to Frank Smith, Oct. 28, 1895 [a machine-readable
transcription] | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Description: | Yesterday was truly a
day of days; of sympathi-
zing sorrow & overwhelming
sadness with us all. Besides
the terrific blow that fell on
dear Robert Stiles in the
death of his daughter Lelia,
who died in the morning at
8 o'clock, there next came
upon us the crushing news that
the dear old University was
in flames and doubtless
doomed to destruction! I
need not attempt to describe
our misery and anxiety.
All day long was spent in
eagerness, & melancholy, about
the University's fate. I hardly
have ever known more excite-
ment in our Community, and
as the day wore on & the news
became sadder & sadder, we
felt as if the loss of the
beloved old Rotunda and
Public Hall, with its priceless
contents, would be felt as the
most irreparable of disasters,
and saddest of blows. I
thought of you very often
& those invaluable treasures;
and especially of your lecture-
room & its apparatus. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 116 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection:
Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to Hiram Haines, Esqr., 1844 August | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | Herewith I send you the August number
of the "Messenger" —
the best number, by far, yet issued.1
Can you oblige me so far as to look it over and
give your unbiassed opinion of its merits and
demerits in the "Constellation"? We need the
assistance of all our friends and count upon yourself
among the foremost. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 118 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to Thomas White, 1835 July 20 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I duly
recd:
both your letters (July 14
th & 16th) together with
the $20 dollars. I am indeed grieved to hear that your health has not
been
improved by your trip I agree with you in thinking that too close
attention to business has been instrumental in causing your
sickness: | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 119 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Autobiographical Fragment | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | Memo. Born January
1811. Family one of the
oldest and most respectable in Baltimore.
Genr
David Poe, my
paternal grandfather, was a quarter-master general, in the
Maryland
line, during the Revolution, and the inti-
mate friend of Lafayette,
who, during his visit to the
U.S., called
personally upon the Gen's widow and
tendered her his warmest acknowledgements for the services
rendered him by her husband. His father, John
Poe married, in England,
Jane
a daughter of Admiral James
McBride, noted in
British naval history, and claim-
ing kindred with many of the most illustrious houses
of Great Britain.
My father and mother died within
a few years of each other, of consumption, leaving me an orphan at 2
years of age. Mr. John Allan, a
very wealthy gentleman of
Richmond Va,
took a fancy to me, and persuaded
my grandfather, Gen.
Poe, to
suffer him to adopt me. Was brought up in
Mr. A's family, and
regarded always as his son and heir—
he having no other children.
In 1816 went with Mr.
A's family to G.
Britain—visited every portion of it—
went to school for 5 years to the
Rev. Doctor
Bransby, at Stoke
Newington, then 4 miles from
London.
Returned to America in 1822. In 1825 went to the Jefferson University at
Charlottesville,
Va, where in 3
years I led a very dissipated life— the college at
that period being shamefully dissolute—
Dr Dunglison
of Philadelphia, President.
Took the first honors, however, and
came home greatly in debt. Mr. A refused
to pay some of the debts of honor and I ran
away from home
without a dollar on a Quixotic expedition to
join the
Greeks, then struggling for liberty. Failed in reaching Greece, but
made my way to St
Petersburg, in
Russia. Got into many difficulties, but was extricated
by the kindness of Mr. H. Middleton, the Am-
erican consul at
St. P. Came
home safe in 1829, found Mrs. A. dead, and immediately went to
West Point
as a Cadet. In about 18 months afterwards
Mr. A. married a second time
(a Miss Patterson,
a near rela-
tive of Gen.
Winfield Scott)—he being then 65 years of age.
Mrs. A
and myself quarrelled, and he, siding
with her, wrote me an angry letter, to which I replied in the same
spirit. Soon afterwards he died, having
had a son by Mrs.
A.
and, although leaving a vast property, bequeathed
me nothing. The army does
not suit a poor man—so I left
W. Point
abruptly, and threw myself upon
literature as a resource.
I became first known to the literary world thus. A
Baltimore weekly paper
(The Visiter) offered two premiums—
one for best prose story, one for the best poem. The Committee awarded
both to me and took occasion
to insert in the journal a card, signed by themselves, in which I was
very highly flattered. The
Committee were John P. Kennedy
(author of Horse-Shoe Robinson),
J. H. B. Latrobe, and
Dr. J. H. Miller.
Soon after this I was invited by
Mr. T. W. White proprietor of the
South. Lit. Messenger, to edit
it.
Afterwards wrote for New York Review at the invitation of
Dr Hawks
and Professor Henry, its proprietors.
Lately have written articles continuously
for two British journals whose names I am not permitted to mention.
In my engagement with Burton, it was not my
design to let my name appear— but he tricked
me into it.2 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 120 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection:
Frances Sargent Osgood / Edgar Allan Poe | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | Mrs Osgood,
for the last three or four years, has been rapidly attain-
ing distinction; and this, evidently, with no effort at attaining it. She seems,
in fact, to have no object in view beyond that of giving voice to the fancies
or the feelings of the moment. "Necessity", says the proverb, "is the mother of
Invention"; and the invention of
Mrs O.
,
at least, springs plainly from ne-
cessity — from the necessity of invention.
Not to write poetry — not to act it,
think it, dream it, and be it, is entirely out of her power. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 123 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Leaf from "Siope" by Edgar Allan Poe | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | forest, and up higher at the rustling Heaven, and into the crimson
moon.
And I lay close within shelter of the lilies, and I observed the
actions of
the man. And the man trembled in the solitude — but the night wa—
-ned and he sat upon the rock. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 126 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to Frederick William Thomas, 1841, September 1 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | Griswold left a note for me at the office, the
other day, requesting me to furnish him with some memoranda
of your life; and it will, of course, give me great pleasure to
do so; but, upon sitting down to the task, I find that neither
myself, nor Mrs Clemm, upon whom I mainly depend for infor.
mation, can give all the necessary points with sufficient pre-
cision for G's purpose. Just send me a line, therefore, answering
the following queries, and I will put your responses into
shape. Most of the points we know, but not with full certainty.
What is your father's Christian name? Had your parents more
children than yourself, Lewis, Frances, Susan, Martha, Isabella &
Jackson? -if so, what were their names? When & where were
you born? With whom did you study law? What was (exactly) the
cause of your lameness? How did you first become known to the
literary world? Who were your most intimate associates in
Baltimore? When did you remove to Cincinnati? With what
papers have you been occasionally connected -if with any? Be-
sides answering these queries -give me a list of your writings
published & unpublished -and some memoranda respecting your
late lectures at Washington. Reply as soon as possible, as
the volume is in press. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 127 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to Dr. Thomas A. Chivers, 1842 July 6 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I fear you will have accused me of disrespect
in not replying to either of your three last letters -but if
so, you will have wronged me. Among all my
correspond-
ents there is not one whose good opinion I am more anxious
to retain than your own. A world of perplexing business has
led me to postpone, from day to day, a duty which it is
al-
ways a pleasure to perform. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 128 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849; Clemm, Maria, 1790-1871 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Maria Clemm to unknown correspondent, 1865 October 6 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I have just received your most
welcome letter for it has been so
very long since I have heard from you,
I am better again, and as soon as I am
able I will comply with request, now I
can scarcely write those few lines. No,
I have not heard from Mr Lewis or the
drep either. God help my poor soul
that is obliged to ask a favor, altho I
am just going to ask one of you, but I
feel so sure if it is in your power you
will grant it I want $5 or even three
more than I ever did in my whole
life, cannot you procure it for me
some
how, oh if you could only know how
much I am in need of it you would
try to send it to me, if possible write
by return of mail. I am very sad to
day for tomorrow is the anniversary
of my darling Eddies death. please
excuse this piece of paper I have no
other and have not the means of getting
it | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 129 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to L.J. Cist, 1844 June 3 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | Yours, dated April 30th, has
only this moment reached me; having been lying,
ever since, at Graham's office. I have removed
to New-York, where I intend residing for the
next year or two — and this will account, in part,
for my not receiving the package sooner. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 131 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849; Percival, Charles | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Charles Percival to Edgar Allan Poe, 1845 December 19 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | 9 56,
9
2
5,
9
2
196, 1,
9 2,
9
2
5 9
5,
4
9
8,
9,
4
9
991
9
8,
5,
15,
7
9
5
9,
1,
4, 3
9
3 1
3
5
5,
1,
9
2
5,
4
6
9
2
5
9,
6,
4,
1
5
8
6
8, 4
9,
8,
9
2
5, 9
5—
1,8
6
9
2,
1
5
8
6
8, 4
9
8
7
9
3 3
5 6,
1., 2 1
8, 61
8
7 1
7 3
5 8
9 6,
9 2
5, 4
9 991
9 3
5
1, 4
2 55,
9 2
5 2,4
95
9 56, 415
5, 9
2 5,
4 6
9 2
59, 6
4, 1
5 8
6 8,
8 91
9 2,
65
9 6,
2 1
4,
1
2 52,
291, 5
6, 415
6[2] | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 133 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 May 29 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I am now going to make a request
different from any I have ever yet made -
As I wrote you, sometime
since, I have been
several times to visit Mr. Wirt, who had
treated me with great kindness & attention.
I
sent him, for his opinion, a day or two ago,
a poem which I have written since I left
home -& in the letter
which I now enclose
you have his opinion upon its merits -From
such a man as Mr. Wirt the flattering
char-
acter he has given of the work, will surely be
to you a recommendation in its favor.
In the conclusion
of the letter you will see
that he advises me to
"get a personal intro-
duction to Mr. Walsh" the editor of the
Ame-
rican Quarterly Review & get his interest in
my favor -that interest, and his highest
encomiums on the poem are already obtained
as Editor of the Review he promises to notice it
which will assure it, if not of popularity,
of success. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 134 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 June 25 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I wrote you on the 10th of June in
reply to yours of the 8th in which I urged
my reasons in further support of my request
to be allowed to
publish a poem — & I did
intend, but forgot to say in conclusion, that
as I had submitted the question of its being
expedient to your decision — I should by
no means publish it without your appro-
-bation — I say this now, because I fear
from your silence that I have offended
you in pressing my request any farther. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 135 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 July 15 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I have written you twice
lately & have received no answer-
I would not trouble you so often with
my letters, but I am afraid that
being up at the Byrd you might
probably not have received them—
I am very anxious to return home
thro' Washington when I have every
hope of being appointed for Sep-r &
besides by being detained at Baltimore
I am incurring unecessary expense
as Grandmother is not in a situation
to give me any accomodation—
I sometimes am afraid that you are angry
& perhaps you have reason to be—but
if you will but put a little more confidence
in me—I will endeavor to deserve it—
I am sure no one can be more an
xious, or would do more towards
helping myself than I would—if
I had any means of doing it—
without your assistance, I have
none—I am anxious to abide by
your directions, if I knew what
they were. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 136 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 October 30 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I received your letter this evening
and am grieved that I can give you no
positive evidence of my industry & zeal as
regards the appt. at W. Point: unless you will
write to Mr. Eaton himself who well remembers
me & the earnest tones of my afflication.
But you are labouring under a mistake
which I beg you to correct by reference to all
my former letters — I stated that Mr. Eaton
told me that an appt. could be obtained by Sepr :
provided there were a sufficient number rejected
at the June examination & regretted that I had
not made an earlier application — that at all
events with the strong recommendations I had
brought that I should have an appt. at the
next term which is in June next —
So far from having any doubts of my
appt. at
that time, I am as certain of obtaining it
as I am of being alive — | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 138 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 November 18 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I duly received your letter enclosing a
check for $80. for which I am truly thankful.
This will be quite sufficient for all the expenditures
you mention but I am afraid if I purchase
a piece of linen which I am much in want
I shall have none left for pocket money, -&
if you could get me a piece or a 1/2 piece at
Mr. Galts & send it to me by the boat, I
could get it made up gratis by my Aunt
Maria _ | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 139 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to Samuel Graves, 1830 May 3 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I have just received your letter which
is the first I have ever got from you -
I suppose the reason of my not not getting
your other was that you directed
to
Washington -but I have not
been there for some time -As
to what you say about Downey
Mr. A very evidently misunderstood
me, and I wish you to understand
that I never sent any money by
Downey whatsoever-Mr.
A is
not very often sober -which accounts
for it -I mentioned to him that
I had seen Downey at
Balto. as
I did, & that I wished to send it
on by him, but he did not intend
going to the point. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 140 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1830 June 28 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I take the very first opportunity
which I have had since arriving here of
acknowledging the receipt of your letter of
the 21st May
inclosing a U. S. note for $20
I received it 3 days ago -it had been lying
some time in the W.P. food office where it
was forwarded from
Balto
by
Henry[1].
As to what you say about the books &c
I have taken nothing except what I
considered my own property. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 141 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1830 November 6 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I would have written you long before
but did not know my letters
would reach you. I was greatly in hopes
you would have come on to W. Point
while you were in H. York and was very
much discomfited when I heard you
had gone on home without letting me
hear from you. I have a very
excellent standing in my class. in
the first section in every thing and
have great hopes of doing well.
I have spent my time very pleasantly
hitherto but the study requisite is
incessant, and the discipline ex-
ceedingly rigid. I have seen Genl
Scott here since I came, and he
was very polite and attentive.
I am very much pleased with
Colonel Thayer, and indeed with
every thing at the institution.
If you would be so kind as to
send me on a Box of Mathematical
Instruments, and a copy of the
Cambridge Mathematics, you
would confer a great favor upon me
and render my situation much more
comfortable, or forward to Col. Thayer
the means of obtaining them; for
as I have no deposit, my more
necessary expenditures have run
me into debt. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 143 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1831 February 21 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | In spite of all my resolution to the con-
-trary I am obliged once more to recur to you
for assistance—It will however be the last
time that I ever trouble any human being—I
feel that I am on sick bed from which I never
shall get up. I now make an appeal
not to your affection because I have lost
that but to your sense of justice—I wrote
to you for permission to resign—because it was
impossible that I could stay—my
ear has been too
shocking for any description—I am wearing away
every
day—even if my last sickness had not com-
pleted it. I wrote to you as I
say for per-
mission to resign because without your permission
no resignation can be received. My reason for
doing so was that I should obtain my mileage am-
ounting to $30.35— according to the rules of the
in-
stitution. in my present circumstance a single
dollar is of more importance to me
than 10,000 are to you
and you deliberately
refused to answer my letter
—I, as I told you,
neglected my duty when I
found it impossible to attend to it, and
the consequences were inevitable—dismissal.
I have been dismissed—when a
single line from
you would have saved it—The whole aca-
demy have
interested themselves in my behalf
because my only crime was being
sick. but
it was of no use—I refer you to
Col Thayer
to the public records, for my standing and repu-
tation for talent—but it was all in vain
if you had granted me permission to resign—all
might have been avoided—I have not strength nor
energy left to write half what I feel—you
one day
or other will feel how you have
treated me. I left West Point two days
ago
and travelling to N. York without a cloak or
any
other clothing of importance. I have caught a
most violent cold and am confined to my
bed.
I have no money—no friends—I have
written to my brother—but he cannot
help me—I shall never rise from my
bed—besides a most violent cold on my lungs
my ear discharges blood and matter continually
and my headache is distracting—I hardly
know what I am writing—I will
write no more—Please send me a
little money—quickly—and forget
what I said about you— | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 144 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1831 October 16 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | It is a long time since I have
written to you unless with an application for
money or assistance. I am sorry that it
is so seldom that I hear from you or even
of you — for all communication seems to
be
at an end, and when I think of the long
twenty one years that I have called you
father, and you have called me son, I could
cry like a child to think that it should all
end in this. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 145 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1831 November 18 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I am in the greatest distress and have
no other friend on earth to apply to except yourself
if you refuse to help me I know not what
I shall do. I was arrested eleven days ago
for a debt which I never expected to have
to pay, and which was incurred as much
on Hy's. account as on my own about
two years ago. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 146 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1831 December 15 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I am sure you could not refuse to assist me
if you were well aware of the distress I am in. How often
have you relieved the distresses of a perfect stranger in circumstances less urgent than mine. and yet when I beg
and intreat you in the name of God to send me
succour you will still refuse to aid me. I know
that I have offended you past all forgiveness, and
I know that I have no longer any hopes of being again
received into your favour, but for the sake of Christ
do not let me perish for a sum of money which
you would never miss, and which would relieve
me from the greatest earthly misery — especially
as I promise by all that is sacred that I
will never under my circumstances apply to you
again. Oh! if you knew at this moment how
wretched I am you would never forgive yourself
for having refused me. You are enjoying yourself
in all the blessings that wealth & happiness can
bestow, and I am suffering every extremity of want
and misery without ever a chance of escape, or a
friend to whom I can look up to for assistance. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 147 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1831 December 29 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | Nothing but extreme misery and distress would make me venture to intrude myself again upon your notice— If you knew how wretched I am sure that you would believe me. No person in the world I am sure, could have undergone more wretchedness that I have done for some time past — and I have indeed no friend to look to but yourself — and no chance of extricating myself without your assis--stance. I know that I have no claim upon your generosity — and that what little share I had of your affection is long since forfeited, but, for the sake of what once was dear to you, for the sake of the love you bore me when I sat upon your knee and called you father do not forsake me this only time — and god will remember you accordingly— | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 148 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1833 April 12 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | It has now been more than two years[1] since you
have assisted me and more than three years since you have
spoken to me. I feel little hope that you will pay
any regard to this letter, but still I cannot refrain
from making one more attempt to interest you in
my behalf. If you will only consider in what a
situation I am placed you will surely pity me -
without friends, without any means, consequently
of obtaining employment, I am perishing -absolutely
perishing for want of aid. And yet I am not
idle -nor addicted to any vice -nor have I
committed any offence against society which would
render me deserving of so hard a fate. For
God's sake pity me, and save me from destruction. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 149 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, Esquire, 19 March 1827 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | After my treatment on yesterday and what
passed between us this morning, I can hardly think you
will be surprised at the contents of this letter. My determi-
nation is at length taken to leave your house and
endeavor to find some place in this wide world, where I
will be treated—not as you have treated me—
This is not a hurried determination, but one on
which I have long considered—and having so
considered my resolution is unalterable—
You may perhaps think that I have flown off
in a fashion, & that I am already wishing to
return; But not so—I will give you the
reasons which have actuated me, and then
judge— | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 150 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Letter, Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 20 March, 1827 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | Be so good as to send me my trunk
with my clothes—I wrote to you on yesterday explain
-ing my reasons for leaving—I suppose by my
not receiving either my trunk, or an answer to
my letter, that you did not receive it—I am
in the greatest necessity, not having tasted food
since yesterday morning. I have no where to
sleep at night, but roam about the streets—
I am nearly exhausted—I beseech you as you
wish not your prediction concerning me to
be fulfilled—to send me without delay my
trunk containing my clothes, and to lend if
you will not give me as much money as
will defray the expence of my passage to
Boston. ($12) and a little to support me there
untill I shall be enabled to engage in some
business. I sail on Saturday—A letter
will be received by me at the Court House
Tavern, where be so good as to send my trunk | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 151 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection:
Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, May [25], 1826 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I this morning recieved the clothes you sent me,
viz an uniform coat, six yards of striped cloth for pantaloons
& four pairs of socks — The coat is a beautiful one &
fits me exactly — I thought it best not to write 'till
I recieved the clothes — or I should have written
before this.
You have heard no doubt of the disturbances in College
Soon after you left here the Grand Jury met and put
the students in a terrible fright — so much so that
the lectures were unattended — and those whose
names were up
on the Sheriff's list —travelled off
into the woods & mountains — taking their beds
and provisions along with them —there were about
50 on the list — so you may suppose the College was
very well thinned
— this was the first day of the fright
the second day, "A proclamation was issued by the
faculty forbidding "any students under pain of a
major punishment to leave his dormitory between
the hours of 8 & 10 A M — (at which time the Sheriffs
would be about) or in any way to resist the lawful
authority of the Sheriffs"— This order however was
very little attended to — as the fear of the Faculty could
not counterbalance that of the Grand Jury — most
of the "indicted" ran off a second time into the woods
and upon an examination the next morning by the
Fa-
culty
— Some were reprimanded —some suspended
and one expelled— James Albert Clark
from Manchester.
(I went to school with him at Barke's)
was suspended for two months. Armstead Carter
from this neighbourhood, for the remainder of the
session —
And Thomas Barclay for ever—
There have been several fights since you were here—
One between Turner Dixon and
Blow from
Nor-
folk excited more interest than any I have seen,
for a common fight is so trifling an occurrence
that no notice is taken of it — Blow
got much
the advantage in the scuffle — but Dixon posted
him in very indecent terms— upon which the
whole
Norfolk
party rose in arms — & nothing was
talked off for a week, but
Dixon's charge &
Blow's
explanation — every pillar in the University was
white with
scratched paper — Dixon made an
a physical attack upon Arthur Smith one of
Blow's
Norfolk friends —
and a "very fine fellow".
he struck him with a large stone on one side of
his head — whereupon Smith
drew a pistol (which
are all the fashion here) and had it not miss-
fire— would have put an end to the controversy.
but so it was— it did miss fire —
and the matter
has since been more peaceably setled — as the
Proctor engaged a Magistrate
to bind the whole
forces on both sides — over to the peace —
Give my love to Ma & Miss Nancy -& all my friends — | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 152 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 July 26 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I received yours of the 19th on the 22d
ulto
& am truly thankful for the money which you sent
me, notwithstanding the taunt with which it was
given "that men of genius ought not to apply to your
aid"—It is too often their necessity to want that
little timely assistance which would prevent such
applications— | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 153 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 August 4 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I am unable to account for your not
answering—if you are offended with me—I repeat
that I have done nothing to deserve your displeasure
If you doubt what I say & think that I have ne—
glected to use any exertions in the procuring my
warrant—write yourself to Mr Eaton & he will
tell you that more exertions could not have
been—the appt might have been obtained for
June if the application had been made 2 months
sooner & you will remember that I was under
the impression that you were making exertions
to obtain the situation for me, while I was at
Old Point & so situated as to be unable to use
any exertions of my own—On returning home
nothing had been done—it is therefore unjust
to blame me for a failure, after using every
endeavour, when success was impossible
rendered so by your own delay— | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 154 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1829 August 10 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I received yours this morning which re—
leived me from more trouble than you can well
imagine—I was afraid that you were offended
& although I knew that I had done nothing to
deserve your anger, I was in a most uncom
-fortable situation—without one cent of money
—in a strange place & so quickly engaged in dif-
-ficulties after the serious misfortunes which
I have just escaped—My grandmother is ex-
-tremely poor & ill (paralytic) My aunt Maria
if possible still worse & Henry entirely given up
to drink & unable to help himself, much less
me— | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 155 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Letter, Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, September 21, 1826 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | The whole college1
has been put in great consternation
by the prospect of an examination—
There is to be a general
one on the first of December, which will occupy the time
of the students till the fifteenth —
the time for breaking up —
It has not yet been determined whether there
will be any diplomas, or doctor's degrees given — but
I should hardly think there will be any such thing,
as this is only the second year of the institution &
in other colleges three and four years are required
in order to take a degree — that is, that time is
supposed to be necessary —
altho they sometimes
confer them before — if the applicants are qualified. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 157 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Poe Collection: Letter from Edgar Allan Poe to John Allan, 1828 December 22 | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Description: | I wrote you shortly before leaving Fort
Moultrie & am much hurt at receiving no answer.
Perhaps my letter has not reached you & under that
supposition I will recapitulate its contents. It was chiefly
to sollicit your interest in freeing me from the Army of
the U.S. in which (as Mr. Lay's letter from
Lieut Howard
informed you) I am at present a soldier. I begged
that you would suspend any judgement you might
be inclined to form, upon many untoward circumstances,
until you heard of me again — & begged you to
give my dearest love to Ma & solicit her not to let
my wayward disposition wear away the affection
she used to have for me. I mentioned that all that
was necessary to obtain my discharge from the army
was your consent in a letter to Lieut J. Howard,
who has heard of you by report, & the high character
given you by Mr. Lay; this being all that I asked
at your hands, I was hurt at your declining to answer
my letter. Since arriving at Fort Moultrie
Lieut Howard has given me an introduction to
Col. James House of the 1st
Arty to whom I was
before personally known only as a soldier of his
regiment. He spoke kindly to me. told me that
he was personally acquainted with my Grandfather
Genl. Poe
[1], with yourself & family, &
reassured me
of my immediate discharge upon your consent.
It must have been a matter of regret to me, that
when those who were strangers took such deep interest
in my welfare, that you who called me your son
should refuse me even the common civility of
answering a letter. If it is your wish to forget
that I have been your son I am too proud to remind
you of it again. I only beg you to remember that
you yourself cherished the cause of my leaving your
family. Ambition. If it has not taken the channel
you wished it, it is not the less certain of its object.
Richmond & the U. States were too narrow a sphere &
the world shall be my theatre. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 160 | Author: | Pond, Major J. B. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mark Twain and George W. Cable [a machine-readable transcription] | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Description: | MARK TWAIN and GEORGE W. CABLE travelled together one season. Twain and Cable,
a
colossal attraction, a happy combination! Mark owned the show, and paid Mr. Cable $600 a week
and his travelling and hotel expenses. The manager took a percentage of the gross receipts for his
services, and was to be sole manager. If he consulted the proprietor at all during the term of the
agreement, said agreement became null and void. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 161 | Author: | Paine, Thomas | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Common Sense | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Some writers have so confounded society with government, as to
leave little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not
only different, but have different origins. Society is produced
by our wants, and government by our wickedness; the former
promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections, the
latter negatively by restraining our vices. The one encourages
intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first is a
patron, the last a punisher. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 163 | Author: | Parins, James W. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Genius of Sequoyah | | | | Published: | 2004 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Sequoyah, the much-honored creator of the Cherokee syllabary, the means by which
anyone speaking the Cherokee language could become literate, was an unlettered
man himself until he finished his system. Nonetheless, the Cherokee historian
Dr. Emmett Starr reported, written language held a particular fascination for
him. Seeing the written page used by white people, Sequoyah at first thought
that each letter stood for a word. Upon closer examination, however, he
concluded that this could not be true, and that a better explanation was that
each letter represented a sound. This idea, which came to him around 1809, was
the seed from which the Cherokee syllabary grew. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 164 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Artistic Side of Chicago | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | ONE who enters Chicago unacquainted with it, having no open
sesame to its hospitable doors, knowing the city only by its streets,
its hotels, and its theatres, is disturbed by an unpleasant emotion. If
he comes from some well-regulated, cultivated, and placid town of
the eastern part of this country, or from England or Germany, he
feels shaken out of poise and peace by a tremendous discord. He
sees a city ankle-deep in dirt, swathed in smoke, wild with noise,
and frantic with the stress of life. He sees confusion rampant, and
the fret and fume of the town rise and brood above it like hideous
Afrits. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 170 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mozart: A Fantasy | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | WHEN the winds of the morning were first loosed by God,
they leaped like hounds from the leash, harking through the spaces
between the worlds in search of the Things That Are. In their
adventurings they came upon All Things, — stars that were blue as
forged steel, those red as blood, the ringed worlds, the crimson and
the yellow suns in their solitudes, scintillant seas of star dust, the
reservoirs of man's knowledge; the amazing chaos of the Things
That Were Yet to Be. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 171 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Shehens` Houn` Dogs | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | EDWARD Berenson, the Washington correspondent for the New
York News, descended from the sleeping-car at Hardin,
Kentucky, and inquired for the stage to Ballington's Gap. But there
was, it appeared, no stage. Neither was a conveyance to be hired.
The community looked at Berenson and went by on the other side.
He had, indeed, as he recollected, with a too confiding candor,
registered himself from Washington, and there were reasons in
plenty why strangers should not be taken over to Ballington's Gap
promiscuously, so to speak, by the neighbors at Hardin. Berenson
had come down from Washington with a purpose, however, and he
was not to be frustrated. He wished to inquire — politely — why, for
four generations, the Shehens and the Babbs had been killing each
other. He meant to put the question calmly and in the interest of
scientific journalism, but he was quite determined to have it
answered. To this end he bought a lank mare for seventy-five
dollars — "an th' fixin's thrown in, sah" — and set out upon a red
road, bound for the Arcadian distance. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 174 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Their Dear Little Ghost | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | THE first time one looked at Elsbeth, one was not
prepossessed. She was thin and brown, her nose turned slightly
upward, her toes went in just a perceptible degree, and her hair was
perfectly straight. But when one looked longer, one perceived that
she was a charming little creature. The straight hair was as fine as
silk, and hung in funny little braids down her back; there was not a
flaw in her soft brown skin; and her mouth was tender and shapely.
But her particular charm lay in a look which she habitually had, of
seeming to know curious things — such as it is not allotted to
ordinary persons to know. One felt tempted to say to her: | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 175 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Thorkild Viborg | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | AT the north of the Ringkjobing Fjord, not far from Nysogn, a
wild, ragged-looking castle has dug its talons into the rocks, and
stands with a haggard defiance fronting the fjord, which is as
immobile and as chill as death. Here for centuries have dwelt the
Viborgs, a melancholy race of men born with a prescience of doom.
Reckless with their lives, mad in their loves, cursed with disease,
they are born for sorrow. And now, in the new time, out of this
comfortless home,—for it is never warm enough or light enough or
gay enough in Viborg Hold,—all save the eldest born are crowded.
Only for him does the jaded ground yield sufficient substance; only
for his needs can the work-worn peasants pay sufficient tax. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 178 | Author: | Penn, William | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Charter of Liberties (1682) | | | | Published: | 2002 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | To ALL PEOPLE to whom these presents shall come WHEREAS King Charles
the second by his Letters, Patents under the Great Seal of England for
the Considerations therein mentioned hath been graciously pleased to
give and grant unto me William Penn (By the name of William Penn Esq'r
son and heir of Sr. William Penn deceased) and to my heirs and assigns
forever ALL that tract of land or province called PENNSILVANIA in
America with divers Great Powers Preheminencies Royalties
Jurisdictions and Authorities necessary for the Well being and
Government thereof NOW KNOW YE That for the Welll Being and Government
of the said Province and for the Encouragement of all the Freeman and
Planters that may be therein concerned in pursuance of the powers
afore mentond I the said William Penn have declared Granted and
Confirmed and by these presents for me my heirs and Assigns do declare
grant and Confirm unto all the flreemen Planters and Adventurers of in
and to the said Province those Liberties Franchises and properties TO
Enjoyed and Kept by the Freemen Planters and Inhabitants of
and in the said province of Pennsilvania forever. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 185 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Assignation | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Ill-fated and mysterious man! — bewildered in the brilliancy
of thine own imagination, and fallen in the flames of thine own
youth! Again in fancy I behold thee! Once more thy form hath
risen before me! — not — oh not as thou art — in the cold valley and
shadow — but as thou shouldst be — squandering away a life of
magnificent meditation in that city of dim visions, thine own
Venice — which is a star-beloved Elysium of the sea, and the wide
windows of whose Palladian palaces look down with a deep and
bitter meaning upon the secrets of her silent waters. Yes! I
repeat it — as thou shouldst be. There are surely other worlds
than this — other thoughts than the thoughts of the multitude —
other speculations than the speculations of the sophist. Who
then shall call thy conduct into question? who blame thee for thy
visionary hours, or denounce those occupations as a
wasting away of life, which were but the overflowing of thine
everlasting energies? | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 188 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Black Cat | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about
to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be
to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own
evidence. Yet, mad am I not — and very surely do I not dream. But
to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburden my soul. My immediate
purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and
without comment, a series of mere household events. In their
consequences, these events have terrified — have tortured — have
destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they
have presented little but horror — to many they will seem less
terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may
be found which will reduce my phantasm to the commonplace — some
intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my
own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with
awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural
causes and effects. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 189 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Cask of Amontillado | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could;
but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who
so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that
I gave utterance to a threat. AT LENGTH I would be avenged; this was a
point definitively settled — but the very definitiveness with which it
was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but
punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution
overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger
fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 192 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Man of the Crowd | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | It was well said of a certain German book that 'es lasst
sich nicht lesen' — it does not permit itself to be read. There
are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men
die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly
confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes — die with
despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of the
hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be
revealed. Now and then, alas, the conscience of man takes
up a burthen so heavy in horror that it can be thrown down only
into the grave. And thus the essence of all crime is undivulged. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 194 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Domain of Arnheim | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | From his cradle to his grave a gale of prosperity bore my
friend Ellison along. Nor do I use the word prosperity in its
mere worldly sense. I mean it as synonymous with happiness. The
person of whom I speak seemed born for the purpose of
foreshadowing the doctrines of Turgot, Price, Priestley and
Condorcet — of exemplifying by individual instance what has been
deemed the chimera of the perfectionists. In the brief existence
of Ellison I fancy that I have seen refuted the dogma, that in
man's very nature lies some hidden principle, the antagonist of
bliss. An anxious examination of his career has given me to
understand that, in general, from the violation of a few simple
laws of humanity arises the wretchedness of mankind — that as a
species we have in our possession the as yet unwrought
elements of content — and that, even now, in the present darkness and
madness of all thought on the great question of the social
condition, it is not impossible that man, the individual, under
certain unusual and highly fortuitous conditions, may be happy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 195 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Eleonora | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I am come of a race noted for vigour of fancy and ardour of
passion. Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet
settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence —
whether much that is glorious — whether all that is profound — does
not spring from disease of thought — from moods of mind
exalted at the expense of the general intellect. They who dream
by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream
only by night. In their grey visions they obtain glimpses of
eternity, and thrill, in awaking, to find that they have been
upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn
something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere
knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however rudderless
or compassless, into the vast ocean of the
'light ineffable' and
again, like the adventurers of the Nubian geographer, '
aggressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi'. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 196 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Hop-Frog | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I never knew any one so keenly alive to a joke as the king
was. He seemed to live only for joking. To tell a good story of
the joke kind, and to tell it well, was the surest road to his
favour. Thus it happened that his seven ministers were all noted
for their accomplishments as jokers. They all took after the
king, too, in being large, corpulent, oily men, as well as
inimitable jokers. Whether people grow fat by joking, or whether
there is something in fat itself which predisposes to a joke, I
have never been quite able to determine; but certain it is that a
lean joker is a rara avis in terris. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 197 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Island of the Fay | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | 'La musique,' says Marmontel, in those 'Contes Moraux'
1
which, in all our translations, we have insisted upon calling
'Moral Tales' as if in mockery of their spirit — 'la musique est
le seul des talents qui jouissent de lui-même; tous les autres
veulent des témoins.' He here confounds the pleasure derivable
from sweet sounds with the capacity for creating them. No more
than any other talent, is that for music susceptible of complete
enjoyment, where there is no second party to appreciate its
exercise. And it is only in common
with other talents that it produces effects which may be fully
enjoyed in solitude. The idea which the raconteur has either
failed to entertain clearly, or has sacrificed in its expression
to his national love of point, is, doubtless, the very tenable
one that the higher order of music is the most thoroughly
estimated when we are exclusively alone. The proposition, in
this form, will be admitted at once
by those who love the lyre
for its sake, and for its spiritual uses. But there is one
pleasure still within the reach of fallen mortality — and perhaps
only one — which owes even more than does music to the accessory
sentiment of seclusion. I mean the happiness experienced in the
contemplation of natural scenery. In truth, the man who would
behold aright the glory of God upon earth must in solitude behold
that glory. To me, at least, the presence — not of human life
only, but of life in any other form than that of the green things
which grow upon the soil and are voiceless — is a stain upon the
landscape — is at war with the genius of the scene. I love,
indeed, to regard the dark valleys, and the grey rocks, and the
waters that silently smile, and the forests that sigh in uneasy
slumbers, and the proud watchful mountains that look down upon
all — I love to regard these as themselves but the colossal
members of one vast animate and sentient whole — a whole whose
form (that of the sphere) is the most perfect and most inclusive
of all; whose path is among associate planets; whose meek
handmaiden is the moon; whose mediate sovereign is the sun; whose
life is eternity; whose thought is that of a God; whose enjoyment
is knowledge; whose destinies are lost in immensity; whose
cognizance of ourselves is akin with our own cognizance of the
animalculae which infest the brain — a being which we, in
consequence, regard as purely inanimate and material, much in the
same manner as these animalculae must thus regard us. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 198 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | King Pest | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | About twelve o'clock, one night in the month of October, and
during the chivalrous reign of the third Edward, two seamen
belonging to the crew of the Free and Easy, a trading schooner
plying between Sluys and the Thames, and then at anchor in that
river, were much astonished to find themselves seated in the tap-room of an ale-house in the parish of St Andrews, London — which
ale-house bore for sign the portraiture of a 'Jolly Tar'. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 199 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Landor's Cottage | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | During a pedestrian tour last summer, through one or two of
the river counties of New York, I found myself, as the day
declined, somewhat embarrassed about the road I was pursuing.
The land undulated very remarkably; and my path, for the last
hour, had wound about and about so confusedly, in its effort to
keep in the valleys, that I no longer knew in what direction lay
the sweet village of B—, where I had determined to stop for
the night. The sun had scarcely shone — strictly speaking — during
the day, which, nevertheless, had been unpleasantly warm. A
smoky mist, resembling that of the Indian summer, enveloped all
things, and, of course, added to my uncertainty. Not that I
cared much about the matter. If I did not hit upon the village
before sunset, or even before dark, it was more than possible
that a little Dutch farmhouse, or something of that kind, would
soon make its appearance — although, in fact, the neighbourhood
(perhaps on account of being more picturesque than fertile) was
very sparsely inhabited. At all events, with my knapsack for a
pillow, and my hound as a sentry, a bivouac in the open air was
just the thing which would have amused me. I sauntered
on, therefore, quite at ease — Ponto taking charge of my gun — until at
length, just as I had begun to consider whether the numerous
little glades that led hither and thither were intended to be
paths at all, I was conducted by one of the most promising of
them into an unquestionable carriage-track. There could be no
mistaking it. The traces of light wheels were evident; and
although the tall shrubberies and overgrown undergrowth met
overhead, there was no obstruction whatever below, even to the
passage of a Virginian mountain wagon — the most aspiring vehicle,
I take it, of its kind. The road, however, except in being open
through the wood — if wood be not too weighty a name for such an
assemblage of light trees — and except in the particulars of
evident wheel-tracks — bore no resemblance to any road I had
before seen. The tracks of which I speak were but faintly
perceptible, having been impressed upon the firm, yet pleasantly
moist surface of — what looked more like green Genoese velvet than
anything else. It
was grass, clearly — but grass such as we
seldom see out of England — so short, so thick, so even, and so
vivid in colour. Not a single impediment lay in the wheel-route —
not even a chip or dead twig. The stones that once obstructed
the way had been carefully placed — not thrown — along the sides of
the lane, so as to define its boundaries at bottom with a kind of
half-precise, half-negligent, and wholly picturesque definition.
Clumps of wild flowers grew everywhere, luxuriantly, in the
interspaces. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 200 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mellonta Tauta | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Now, my dear friend — now, for your sins, you are to suffer the
infliction of a long gossiping letter. I tell you distinctly
that I am going to punish you for all your impertinences by being
as tedious, as discursive, as incoherent and as unsatisfactory as
possible. Besides, here I am, cooped up in a dirty balloon, with
some one or two hundred of the canaille, all bound on a
pleasure excursion (what a funny idea some people have of
pleasure!), and I have no prospect of touching terra firma
for a month at least. Nobody to talk to. Nothing to do. When
one has nothing to do, then is the time to correspond with one's
friends. You perceive, then, why it is that I write you this
letter — it is on account of my ennui and your sins. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 201 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | A Tale of the Ragged Mountains | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | During the fall of the year 1827, while residing near
Charlottesville, Virginia, I casually made the acquaintance of Mr
Augustus Bedloe. This young gentleman was remarkable in every
respect, and excited in me a profound interest and curiosity. I
found it impossible to comprehend him either in his moral or his
physical relations. Of his family I could obtain no satisfactory
account. Whence he came, I never ascertained. Even about his
age — although I call him a young gentleman — there was something
which perplexed me in no little degree. He certainly seemed
young — and he made a point of speaking about his youth — yet there
were moments when I should have had little trouble in imagining
him a hundred years of age. But in no regard was he more
peculiar than in his personal appearance. He was singularly tall
and thin. He stooped much. His limbs were exceedingly long and
emaciated. His forehead was broad and low. His complexion was
absolutely bloodless. His mouth was large and flexible, and his
teeth were more wildly uneven, although sound, than I had ever
before seen teeth in a human head. The expression of his smile,
however, was by no means unpleasing, as might be supposed: but it
had no variation whatever. It was one of profound melancholy — of
a phaseless and
unceasing gloom. His eyes were abnormally large,
and round like those of a cat. The pupils, too, upon any
accession or diminution of light, underwent contraction or
dilation, just such as is observed in the feline tribe. In
moments of excitement the orbs grew bright to a degree almost
inconceivable; seeming to emit luminous rays, not of a reflected
but of an intrinsic lustre, as does a candle or the sun; yet
their ordinary condition was to totally vapid, filmy, and dull,
as to convey the idea of the eyes of a long-interred corpse. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 202 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Murders in the Rue Morgue | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | The mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in
themselves, but little susceptible of analysis. We appreciate
them only in their effects. We know of them, among other things,
that they are always to their possessor, when inordinately
possessed, a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strong man
exults in his physical ability, delighting in such exercises as
call his muscles into action, so glories the analyst in that
moral activity which disentangles. He derives pleasure from even
the most trivial occupations bringing his talent into play. He is
fond of enigmas, of conundrums, hieroglyphics; exhibiting in his
solutions of each a degree of acumen which appears to the
ordinary apprehension praeternatural. His results, brought about
by the very soul and essence of method, have, in truth, the whole
air of intuition. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 203 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Mystery of Marie Roget | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | There are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who
have not occasionally been startled into a vague yet thrilling
half-credence in the supernatural, by coincidences of so
seemingly marvellous a character that, as mere coincidences,
the intellect has been unable to receive them. Such sentiments —
for the half-credences of which I speak have never the full force of
thought — such sentiments are seldom thoroughly stifled unless by
reference to the doctrine of chance, or, as it is technically
termed, the Calculus of Probabilities. Now this Calculus is, in
its essence, purely mathematical; and thus we have the anomaly of
the most rigidly exact in science applied to the shadow and
spirituality of the most intangible in speculation. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 204 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Pit and the Pendulum | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I was sick — sick unto death with that long agony; and when
they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that
my senses were leaving me. The sentence — the dread sentence of
death — was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears.
After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in
one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of
revolution — perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr
of a mill-wheel. This only for a brief period; for presently I
heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an
exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. They
appeared to me white — whiter than the sheet upon which I trace
these words — and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the
intensity of their expression
of firmness — of immoveable
resolution — of stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the
decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from those lips.
I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the
syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded.
I saw, too, for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and
nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which enwrapped
the walls of the apartment. And then my vision fell upon the seven
tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of
charity, and seemed white slender angels who would save me; but
then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit,
and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the
wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became
meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them
there would be no help. And there stole into my fancy, like a rich
musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the
grave. The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long
before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at
length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges
vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank
into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of
darkness supervened; all sensation appeared swallowed up in that
mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and
stillness, and night were the universe. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 205 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Imp of the Perverse | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | In the consideration of the faculties and impulses — of the
prima mobilia of the human soul, the phrenologists have failed to
make room for a propensity which, although obviously existing as a
radical, primitive, irreducible sentiment, has been equally
overlooked by all the moralists who have preceded them. In the
pure arrogance of the reason, we have all overlooked it. We have
suffered its existence to escape our senses solely through want of
belief — of faith; — whether it be faith in Revelation, or faith in
the Kabbala. The idea of it has never occurred to us, simply
because of its supererogation. We saw no need of impulse — for
the propensity. We could not perceive its necessity. We could not
understand, that is to say, we could not have understood, had the
notion of this primum mobile ever obtruded itself; — we could
not have understood in what manner it might be made to further the
objects of humanity, either temporal or eternal. It cannot be
denied that phrenology and, in great measure, all metaphysicianism
have been concocted a priori. The intellectual or logical man,
rather than the understanding or observant man, set himself to
imagine designs — to dictate purposes to God. Having thus fathomed,
to his satisfaction, the intentions of Jehovah, out of these
intentions he built his innumerable systems of mind. In the matter
of phrenology, for example, we first determined, naturally enough,
that it was
the design of the Deity that man should eat. We then
assigned to man an organ of alimentiveness, and this organ is the
scourge with which the Deity compels man, will-I nill-I, into
eating. Secondly, having settled it to be God's will that man
should continue his species, we discovered an organ of amativeness,
forthwith. And so with combativeness, with ideality, with
causality, with constructiveness, — so, in short, with every organ,
whether representing a propensity, a moral sentiment, or a faculty
of the pure intellect. And in these arrangements of the
principia of human action, the Spurzheimites, whether right or
wrong, in part, or upon the whole, have but followed, in principle,
the footsteps of their predecessors; deducing and establishing
everything from the preconceived destiny of man, and upon the
ground of the objects of this Creator. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 206 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Purloined Letter | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the autumn of
18—, I was enjoying the twofold luxury of meditation and a
meerschaum, in company with my friend, C. Auguste Dupin, in his
little back library, or book-closet, au troisième, No. 33 Rue
Dunôt, Faubourg St. Germain. For one hour at least we had
maintained a profound silence; while each, to any casual
observer, might have seemed intently and exclusively occupied
with the curling eddies of smoke that oppressed the atmosphere of
the chamber. For myself, however, I was mentally discussing
certain topics which had formed matter for conversation between
us at an earlier period of the evening; I mean the affair of the
Rue Morgue, and the mystery attending the murder of Marie Rogêt.
I looked upon it, therefore, as something of a coincidence, when
the door of our apartment was thrown open
and admitted our old
acquaintance, Monsieur G—, the Prefect of the Parisian police. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 207 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Spectacles | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Many years ago, it was the fashion to ridicule the idea of
'love at first sight'; but those who think, not less than those
who feel deeply, have always advocated its existence. Modern
discoveries, indeed, in what may be termed ethical magnetism or
magneto-aesthetics, render it probable that the most natural,
and, consequently, the truest and most intense of the human
affections are those which arise in the heart as if by electric
sympathy — in a word, that the brightest and most enduring of the
psychal fetters are those which are riveted by a glance. The
confession I am about to make will add another to the already
almost innumerable instances of the truth of the position. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 208 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Tell-Tale Heart | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous
I had been and am; but why WILL you say
that I am mad? The disease had sharpened
my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above
all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things
in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things
in hell. How then am I mad? Hearken! and observe
how healthily, how calmly, I can tell you the
whole story. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 209 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | "Thou Art the Man" | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I will now play the Oedipus to the Rattleborough enigma. I will
expound to you — as I alone can — the secret of the enginery that effected
the Rattleborough miracle — the one, the true, the admitted, the undisputed,
the indisputable miracle, which put a definite end to infidelity among the
Rattleburghers, and converted to the orthodoxy of the grandames all the
carnal-minded who had ventured to be sceptical before. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 210 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | William Wilson | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Let me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. The fair
page now lying before me need not be sullied with my real
appellation. This has been already too much an object for the
scorn — for the horror — for the detestation of my race. To the
uttermost regions of the globe have not the indignant winds bruited
its unparalleled infamy? Oh, outcast of all outcasts most
abandoned! — to the earth art thou not forever dead? to its honours,
to its flowers, to its golden aspirations? — and a cloud, dense,
dismal, and limitless, does it not hang eternally between thy hopes
and heaven? | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 211 | Author: | Pokagon, Simon | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Future of the Red Man | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | OFTEN in the stillness of the night, when all nature seems
asleep about me, there comes a gentle rapping at the door of my
heart. I open it; and a voice inquires, "Pokagon, what of your
people? What will their future be?" My answer is: "Mortal man has
not the power to draw aside the veil of unborn time to tell the
future of his race. That gift belongs to the Divine alone. But it
is given to him to closely judge the future by the present and the
past." Hence, in order to approximate the future of our race, we
must consider our natural capabilities and our environments, as
connected with the dominant race which outnumbers us — three hundred
to one — in this land of our fathers. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 213 | Author: | Pope, J. Worden | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | "The North American Indian—The Disappearance of the Race A
Popular Fallacy" | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | There undoubtedly exists a deeply-rooted conviction, supposed
to rest upon a firm historical basis, that the race of North
American Indians is rapidly disappearing before the advance of
civilization; and this conviction, coupled with the twin conception
that the noble red man has been the victim of the abuse of the
European conqueror, has long formed a theme for the writers of
poetry, romance, and history. For so many generations has this
theme formed part of the traditions of our race, and so firm a hold
has it taken upon the imagination, the sympathy, and the sentiments
of the populace, that any attempt to dislodge it would doubtless be
regarded with complete incredulity, and any data adduced to
disprove the belief would be disbelieved as absurd by the average
well-read American. To assert, therefore, that there is no proof
to sustain the popular belief, that on the contrary there is reason
to doubt that the Indian race has materially diminished, would be
considered by such persons simply as an iconoclastic attempt to
subvert the basal facts of history. It may therefore be startling,
but it is true, not only that there exists no substantial proof
that the red man is disappearing before the encroachments of
civilization, but that many solid facts indicate that there has
been no material diminution of the Indian population, or at least
in the quantity of Indian blood, within the historic period. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 220 | Author: | Prescott, Harriet E. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | In a Cellar | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | IT was the day of Madame de St. Cyr's dinner, an event I never
missed; for, the mistress of a mansion in the Faubourg St. Germain,
there still lingered about her the exquisite grace and good-breeding peculiar to the old regime, that insensibly
communicates itself to the guests till they move in an atmosphere
of ease that constitutes the charm of home. One was always sure of
meeting desirable and well-assorted people here, and a contre-temps was impossible. Moreover, the house was not at the command
of all; and Madame de St. Cyr, with the daring strength which, when
found in a woman at all, should, to be endurable, be combined with
a sweet but firm restraint, rode rough-shod over the parvenus
of the Empire, and was resolute enough to insulate herself even
among the old noblesse, who, as all the world knows, insulate
themselves from the rest of France. There were rare qualities in
this woman, and were I to have selected one who with an even hand
should carry a snuffy candle through a magazine of powder, my
choice would have devolved upon her; and she would have done it. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 221 | Author: | Prescott, Harriet E. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Dark Ways | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | WHEN God's curse forsook my country, it fell on me. I had
been young and heroic; I had fought well; what portion of the
clock-work of Fate had been allotted me I had utterly performed.
Twelve years ago I became a man and strove for my country's
freedom; now she has attained her heights without me, and I—what
am I? A shapeless hulk, that stays in the shadow, and that hates
the world and the people of the world, and verily the God above the
world! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 224 | Author: | Pullen, Clarence | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Pueblo of Acoma | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | PERHAPS the most interesting people among the aborigines of
the American continent are the Pueblo (town) Indians of New Mexico
and Arizona, who have an ethnological affinity, if not a direct
kinship, with the succession of different migratory peoples,
beginning with the Toltecs and ending with the Aztecs, who, between
the seventh and the twelfth centuries, passed southward from the
unknown region, Aztlan, to colonize the Valley of Mexico and its
environing vales and plains. The substantial and permanent
character of the houses composing the pueblos of these tribes, each
tiny town being an independent community; the primitive
civilization that still prevails among their inhabitants, unchanged
in centuries; the adherence of the people to pastoral,
horticultural, and agricultural pursuits; their gentleness,
hospitality, industry, and thrift; their bravery in defence of home
and liberty; their chastity; and the isolation that each existing
pueblo has maintained in the midst of surrounding tribes and the
settlements of the whites — are all noteworthy characteristics; and
in their social relations within each city these Indians afford as
nearly as has ever been attained an example of rational and
successful communism. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 227 | Author: | Page, Thomas Nelson | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Marse Chan; A Tale of Old Virginia | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | ONE afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, I was riding leisurely down the sandy road that
winds along the top of the water-shed between two of the smaller rivers of eastern
Virginia. The road I was travelling, following "the ridge" for miles, had just struck
me as most significant of the character of the race whose only avenue of
communication with the outside world it had formerly been. Their once splendid
mansions, now fast falling to decay, appeared to view from time to time, set back far
from the road, in proud seclusion, among groves of oak and hickory, now scarlet and
gold with the early frost. Distance was nothing to this people; time was of no
consequence to them. They desired but a level path in life, and that they had, though
the way was longer, and the outer world strode by them as they dreamed. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 230 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise, Volume I | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | THE child's dead," said Nora, the nurse. It was the upstairs sitting-room in one
of the pretentious houses of Sutherland, oldest and most charming of the towns
on the Indiana bank of the Ohio. The two big windows were open; their limp and
listless draperies showed that there was not the least motion in the stifling
humid air of the July afternoon. At the center of the room stood an oblong
table; over it were neatly spread several thicknesses of white cotton cloth;
naked upon them lay the body of a newborn girl baby. At one side of the table
nearer the window stood Nora. Hers were the hard features and corrugated skin
popularly regarded as the result of a life of toil, but in fact the result of a
life of defiance to the laws of health. As additional penalties for that same
self-indulgence she had an enormous bust and hips, thin face and arms, hollow,
sinew-striped neck. The young man, blond and smooth faced, at the other side of
the table and facing the light, was Doctor Stevens, a recently graduated pupil
of the famous Schulze of Saint Christopher who as much as any other one man is
responsible for the rejection of hocus-pocus and the injection of common sense
into American medicine. For upwards of an hour young Stevens, coat off and shirt sleeves rolled to his
shoulders, had been toiling with the lifeless form on the table. He had tried
everything his training, his reading and his experience suggested—all
the more or less familiar devices similar to those indicated for cases of
drowning. Nora had watched him, at first with interest and hope, then with
interest alone, finally with swiftly deepening disapproval, as her compressed
lips and angry eyes plainly revealed. It seemed to her his effort was
degenerating into sacrilege, into defiance of an obvious decree of the Almighty.
However, she had not ventured to speak until the young man, with a muttered
ejaculation suspiciously like an imprecation, straightened his stocky figure and
began to mop the sweat from his face, hands and bared arms. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 231 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise, Volume II | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | SUSAN'S impulse was toward the stage. It had become a definite ambition with her,
the stronger because Spenser's jealousy and suspicion had forced her to keep it
a secret, to pretend to herself that she had no thought but going on
indefinitely as his obedient and devoted mistress. The hardiest and best growths
are the growths inward—where they have sun and air from without. She
had been at the theater several times every week, and had studied the
performances at a point of view very different from that of the audience. It was
there to be amused; she was there to learn. Spenser and such of his friends as
he would let meet her talked plays and acting most of the time. He had forbidden
her to have women friends. "Men don't demoralize women; women demoralize each
other," was one of his axioms. But such women as she had a bowing acquaintance
with were all on the stage—in comic operas or musical farces. She was
much alone; that meant many hours every day which could not but be spent by a
mind like hers in reading and in thinking. Only those who have observed the
difference aloneness makes in mental development, where there is a good mind,
can appreciate how rapidly, how broadly, Susan expanded. She read plays more
than any other kind of literature.
She did not read them casually but was always
thinking how they would act. She was soon making in imagination stage scenes out
of dramatic chapters in novels as she read. More and more clearly the characters
of play and novel took shape and substance before the eyes of her fancy. But the
stage was clearly out of the question. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 233 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Grain of Dust. | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | INTO the offices of Lockyer, Sanders, Benchley,
Lockyer & Norman, corporation lawyers, there drifted
on a December afternoon a girl in search of work at
stenography and typewriting. The firm was about the
most important and most famous — radical orators often
said infamous — in New York. The girl seemed, at a
glance, about as unimportant and obscure an atom as
the city hid in its vast ferment. She was blonde — tawny
hair, fair skin, blue eyes. Aside from this hardly
conclusive mark of identity there was nothing positive,
nothing definite, about her. She was neither tall nor
short, neither fat nor thin, neither grave nor gay. She
gave the impression of a young person of the feminine
gender — that, and nothing more. She was plainly
dressed, like thousands of other girls, in darkish blue
jacket and skirt and white shirt waist. Her boots and
gloves were neat, her hair simply and well arranged.
Perhaps in these respects — in neatness and taste — she
did excel the average, which is depressingly low. But
in a city where more or less strikingly pretty women,
bent upon being seen, are as plentiful as the blackberries
of Kentucky's July — in New York no one would
have given her a second look, this quiet young woman
screened in an atmosphere of self-effacement. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 234 | Author: | Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Price She Paid. | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | HENRY GOWER was dead at sixty-one—the end of
a lifelong fraud which never had been suspected, and
never would be. With the world, with his acquaintances
and neighbors, with his wife and son and
daughter, he passed as a generous, warm-hearted,
good-natured man, ready at all times to do anything
to help anybody, incapable of envy or hatred or
meanness. In fact, not once in all his days had he ever
thought or done a single thing except for his own
comfort. Like all intensely selfish people who are wise,
he was cheerful and amiable, because that was the
way to be healthy and happy and to have those around
one agreeable and in the mood to do what one wished
them to do. He told people, not the truth, not the
unpleasant thing that might help them, but what they
wished to hear. His family lived in luxurious comfort
only because he himself was fond of luxurious comfort.
His wife and his daughter dressed fashionably and
went about and entertained in the fashionable,
expensive way only because that was the sort of life
that gratified his vanity. He lived to get what he
wanted; he got it every day and every hour of a life
into which no rain ever fell; he died, honored, respected,
beloved, and lamented. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 242 | Author: | Prime, William C. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Tent Life in the Holy Land | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | To see the sun go down beyond the Sepulchre and rise over the mountain of the Ascension, to
bare my forehead to the cold dews of Gethsemane, and lave my dim eyes in the
waters of Siloam, to sleep in the company of the infinite host above the oaks of
Mamre, and to lie in the starlight of Bethlehem and catch, however faintly, some
notes of the voices of the angels, to wash off the dust of life in the Jordan,
to cool my hot lips at the well of Samaria, to hear the murmur of Gennesareth,
giving me blessed sleep — was not all this worth dreaming of
— worth living for — was it not worth dying for? | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 243 | Author: | Pyle, Howard | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates : fiction, fact & fancy concerning the
buccaneers & marooners of the Spanish Main | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | JUST above the northwestern shore of the old island of Hispaniola—the Santo Domingo
of our day—and separated from it only by a narrow channel of some five or six miles
in width, lies a queer little hunch of an island, known, because of a distant resemblance to
that animal, as the Tortuga de Mar, or sea turtle. It is not more than twenty miles in length
by perhaps seven or eight in breadth; it is only a little spot of land, and as you look at it
upon the map a pin's head would almost cover it; yet from that spot, as from a center of
inflammation, a burning fire of human wickedness and ruthlessness and lust overran the world,
and spread terror and death throughout the Spanish
West Indies, from St. Augustine to the island of Trinidad, and from Panama to the coasts of
Peru. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
|
