Harper's Weekly 1863 Lee & Jackson Article

 

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Robert E. Lee Portrait

On March 14, 1863 Harper's Weekly ran portraits and biographies on both General Robert E. Lee and General Stonewall Jackson.  I have acquired an original issue of this newspaper, and have posted the three pages dealing with Jackson and Lee on this site.  Each thumbnail below will take you to a complete and readable version of that page in Harper's Weekly.  The thumbnail on the left takes you to the page containing the portraits of Jackson and Lee.  The thumbnail in the middle takes you to the page containing their biographies.  

 

This page also has a fascinating story on Civil War Buffalo Soldiers, and their gallant exploits in the Union Army. The thumbnail on the right takes you to the final paragraph of the Jackson Biography, as well as a page full of Civil War Advertisements from Harper's Weekly. (Scroll Down to See Full Page)

 

 

 

THE REBEL GENERAL STONEWALL JACKSON.—FROM A LATE DRAWING BY MR. VIZETELLY.—[SEE PAGE 174.]

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  HARPER'S WEEKLY

 MARCH 14, 1863.] 

THE REBEL GENERAL R. E. LEE.—FROM A LATE DRAWING BY MR. VIZETELLY.—[SEE PAGE 174.]

THE WRATH OF MISTRESS
ELIZABETH GWYNNE.

IN the days when King George III. was still a blooming young prince, the family of the Gwynnes, after growing less and less numerous for several generations, came to be represented by two brothers. The elder ruled, as his ancestors ruled be-fore him, in the ancestral manor. The younger adopted the traditionary career of the cadets of his house, and served in the army. Both married very suitable helpmates. The soldier lived long enough to speed the last. sigh of his wife, and welcome the first smile of his son, and was then killed by a fall from his horse. The Squire's lady presented him with an heir, and five years afterward with a daughter, and then died. The widower was left in his home to train and teach his own children and the child of his dead brother.

The Squire was haughty and passionate, but withal a just man. He clung to his opinions with all the tenacity of an Englishman, and, above all, of an English Tory. He hated a Whig, and he bated a Frenchman. With these exceptions, it might be said that he loved his neighbor. He was condescendingly affable to my Lord Marquess of the adjoining acres, as it became a Gwynne to be to a man who dated his rank not even from the comparatively ancient period of Hastings, but merely from the more recent invasion of Torbay. He was very friendly to the Vicar, and loved the toast of " Church and King." He was equitable in his dealings with his tenants, and " ne'er forgot the poor." He swore at his grooms, but they none of them left him. He was as fond of his nephew as of his own son and daughter, and children have rarely had a fonder father.

So matters went on quietly at Gwynne, till gray hairs began to grow on the head of the Squire (though it is almost an anachronism to talk of gray hairs in days of powder) and down to sprout on the cheeks of his boys. His own son Horace went to Christchurch, and was then sent to Paris. The young Squire was committed to the care of a great lady who had known the old Squire at St. James's. It was hoped that under the auspices of Madame la Duchesse de Hautenbas Mr. Horace Gwynne would receive that mysterious coat of French polish which could only be administered at the Court of Maria Theresa's beautiful daughter. For a time the Squire had nothing to complain of. The Duchess wrote that the young Englishman had the true air. He had been noticed at the Trianon. He had made a success. Mr. Horace himself thought

Paris a charming place. He had performed in a private play as a Milord Anglais, in which in Royal Personage had appeared as a Grisette Francaise. He was very well seen. Nevertheless this was not altogether pleasant to the Squire. He had the notions of a Roman on the subject of the stage, and would never have acknowledged the celebrated comedian of his name as a kinswoman, even if she had honestly raised herself to fame by her acting, and not by—by other means. He did not like the idea of his boy's capering before an audience of grinning Frenchmen, though a Queen had capered at his side. Indeed, was it well for the queen so to occupy her most Christian Majesty's leisure? All this was not quite satisfactory. But worse news followed. Mr. Horace was seen no more at the little Trianon. Madame de Hautenbas was compelled to ignore him. He had imbibed the strangest ideas, and was associating with the most unnoticeable people. He openly professed sympathy with the third estate. Less openly he became skeptical as to the advantages of monarchy, and, so far from preserving the principles of the paternal toast in a strange land, he was suspected of being acquainted with men who thought as little of Church as of King. At last a letter arrived front him in which he avowed himself an Atheist. It was a bitter trial to the Squire, but he did not flinch from his duty. He forbade the name of his son to be mentioned in his hearing. The estates of Gwynne would descend to the male heir, only in default of direct testamentary disposition on the part of the head of the house. The Squire could leave the property away from his unworthy son if he so willed. No Gwynne had made a will for many generations. Whether the Squire had broken the custom no one knew.

The Squire had lost his heir, but he was not childless. Ho had still his nephew to ride with him to cover, and discuss the stirring history of the times over his not immoderate cups. And Harry Gwynne was a bold and merry lad, frank and outspoken, modest and true, and in all respects such as might comfort a fatherly old uncle's heart. Harry and his uncle were great friends, but. not such friends as were the Squire and his daughter.

Mistress Elizabeth Gwynne, at nineteen years of age, was said to have been particularly beautiful. I have described the features of the woman, and from them may be guessed the loveliness of the girl. She was very beautiful, and very clever; but her temper was high and passionate. The visitor, who should see her unruffled and serene, might deem it impossible for so gentle a being to transcend (next page)

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