hide Matching Documents

Browsing named entities in The Photographic History of The Civil War: in ten volumes, Thousands of Scenes Photographed 1861-65, with Text by many Special Authorities, Volume 9: Poetry and Eloquence. (ed. Francis Trevelyan Miller). You can also browse the collection for February or search for February in all documents.

Your search returned 3 results in 3 document sections:

o the spirit of Holmes' poem. The officers' quarters where the fire started The shattered flagstaff (to the right) Separation and reunion: brother Jonathan's lament for sister Caroline Both a record and a prophecy are contained in these lines by the New England poet, Oliver Wendell Holmes. A state convention meeting in Charleston had on December 20, 1860, unanimously passed an ordinance of secession, and during January and February six other States had followed. Early in February the Confederate Government had been organized at Montgomery, Alabama, with Jefferson Davis as President. Holmes dated this poem March 25, 1861. four days later the New President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, ordered relief to be sent to Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor. On April 12th the attack on Sumter was made, and the war begun. How fully the sentiment of brotherhood here expressed by Holmes has been realized among the American people it has been the purpose of the Introduct
hase of the great contest Lincoln in June, 1860—two months after Volk made the life mask Gilder, whose poem opposite was inspired by the mask, was always particulary attracted to it, and kept a copy of it in his editorial sanctum at the Century Magazine offices. In 1860, Lincoln had been a national figure only two years, since his campaign against Stephen A. Douglas for the Senate in Illinois. Indeed, his name meant little in the East till the early months of this very year. In February, he had appeared before a New York audience at Cooper Union to explain the purposes of the recently organized Republican party. The larger part of those present expected something wild and woolly—certainly nothing of much moment for the cultivated citizens of the East. When they saw the gaunt figure, six feet four inches tall, the large feet and clumsy hands, the jutting eyebrows and small blue eyes, the narrow forehead surmounted by the shock of unkempt hair—in a word, the man of the pho<
y slave, That lived for many a year; But now he's dead, and in his grave, No master does he fear. Chorus— The poor old slave has gone to rest, We know that he is free; Disturb him not but let him rest, Way down in Tennessee. When this cruel war is over With the quaint style of hair-dressing that ruled in 1864, in flowered skirt and ‘Garibaldi blouse,’ this beautiful woman, the wife of a Federal army officer, was photographed in front of the winter quarters of Captain John R. Coxe, in February, at the headquarters of the Army of the Potomac, Brandy Station. She was even then looking at her soldier husband, who sat near her in his ‘suit of blue,’ or perhaps thinking of the three years of terrific fighting that had passed. Shiloh, Chickamauga, Chattanooga, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg-all of these had been fought and the toll of the ‘cruel war’ was not yet complete. Negro spirituals Some of the negro chants or spirituals are particularly interesting