Image from www.wsbt.com

Winter Coming

A week or so since, we were forcibly reminded of the following, by Hood:

Summer’s gone and over!
Fogs are falling down;
And with russet tinges,
Autumn’s doing brown.

Boughs are daily rifled
By the gusty thieves,
And the Book of Nature
Getteth short of leaves.

Round the tops of houses,
Swallows, as they flit,
Give, like yearly tenants,
Notices to quit.

Skies, of fickle temper,
Weep by turns and laugh –
Night and Day together,
Taking half and half.

So September endeth –
Cold and most perverse;
But the months that follow,
Sure will pinch us worse!

Republican Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Nov 17, 1845

Image from http://abwatercolors.blogspot.com

THE RED BIRD IN WINTER
A.S. McDonald.

Athwart the skies
The red bird flies
Through snow flakes light,
In soft disguise
The landscape lies
Serenely white.

What gorgeous dyes
Delight the eyes
When, flecked with white
Athwart the skies,
The red bird flies
Through fields of light.

Cambridge Jeffersonian (Cambridge, Ohio) Jan 8, 1885

A WINTER’S NIGHT

COLD! — bitterly cold!
The moon is bright
And the snow is white
Beautiful to behold.
But the wind is howling
Like hungry prowling
Wolves on the wintry wold!
Cold! — bitterly cold!

My shawl is ragged and old –
The hearth deserted and dark,
Gladdened by never a spark;
And my only light
Is the pitiless white,
That the moonbeams spill
Silvery chill,
Cruelly — splendidly bright,
This frosty winter’s night –
Cold! — bitterly cold!

Babe, more precious than gold,
Rest, little one, rest!
Sleep my own one,
Slumber, thou lone one,
Clasped to thy mother’s breast,
Though thin and wasted her form,
Her arms shall cufold
And shield thee from cold,
For the love in her breast
For the love in her breast is warm
Though the chill night breeze
May the life-blood freeze –
Cold! — bitterly cold!

Cold! — bitterly cold!
My eyes are dim,
And my senses swim,
And racking pains are in every limb, –
I am prematurely old!
Foodless and tireless,
Almost attireless,
Weapt in rags so scanty and thin
With bones that stare through the colorless skin,
Weary and worn
Tattered and torn,
If I should wish I had ne’er been born –
Tell me, is it a sin?
Cold world! — bitterly cold!

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Dec 16, 1871

Image from http://meredithhopson.blogspot.com/

RURAL POEM,
ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER.

NOW Autumn’s variegated scenes
Are hast’ning to a close’
And soon the farmer will enjoy
The Winter’s calm repose.
No more he’ll turn the verdant globe
‘Till Spring renews the plain,
Nor plant with care the swelling corn,
Nor sow the yellow grain.

The Summer’s bright and scorching sun,
And sultry breeze are past,
Follow’d by autumn’s feeble rays,
And Winter’s chilling blast.
The various fruits of summer months
And sober autumn’s reign,
Now meet no more the wand’ring eye
Or variegate the plain.

From thinking on the winter’s blast,
The Farmer’s mind recoils
Back on these pleasing scenes, now past,
His various summer toils.
How in the pleasant month of June,
When nature all is gay,
He mow’d with care the curling grass,
And made the fragrant hay.

Or when the yellow waving grain
Proclaim’d the harvest near,
When blythsome steps he paced the plain,
And view’d each golden ear;
Which, when matur’d, by sturdy swains,
A sickle each in hand,
With rushing noise, and clamorour mirth,
Was reap’d and bound in bands.

Then to the barn was safe convey’d,
The Winter’s den supply,
Secure from near approaching rain
That threatened in the sky.
Now harvest’s o’er and Phoebus’ beams
With lessen’d ardour shine;
Autumn steals in with grave approach
On summer’s slow decline.

To plow the spacious fallow-field
And break the stubborn soil,
He yokes the patient, sturdy team,
And whistles as he toils.
Thus whistling o’er the furrow’d field,
His though  with pleasure dwells
On the next harvest’s plentious yield,
‘Till hope his bosom swells.

Now noon-day’s glimmering, gloomy sun,
And evening’s chilling air,
And yellow fading nature’s face,
Proclaim the autumn here.
The spacious fields where lowing herds,
In richest pasture stray’d
In summer months, are now forsook;
Their verdure all decay’d.

The butter-firkin, long ‘ere this,
By careful house-wife fill’d,
For winter’s store, shall rich supplies
Or yellow treasure yield.
Matured by genial summer suns,
And tinged with gold around,
The apple from the bended bough,
Comes rattling to the ground:

Which roguish lads and lasses coy,
Trigg’d up so neat and spry,
Collected into evening clubs,
Now peel and cut, to dry,
Or to extract their precious juice,
The mill and press are plied;
Which soon or late in earthen mug,
Shall cheer the bright fire-side.

Or else condens’d to whiskey’s form –
That wonder-working drink,
Which drowns dull care in frantick mirth,
And e’en makes numb-heads think –
It sparkles in the shining glass;
Here reader take a thought:
[Sip you too oft this poisonous draught?
If so -- you'll come to nought.]

The grey-clad cornfield’s rustling noise,
Declares the husking near;
Depending from the loaded stalks,
Are seen the numerous ears.
The husker now, (with peg in hand)
Stalk slowly through the field;
Asunder cleft each stubborn husk
Its yellow treasure yields.

Then sounds the axe among forest oaks,
Fit winter’s fire-wood deem’d;
Homeward the loaded wagon hies,
Drawn by the sturdy team.
Surrounded thus, with bounteous store,
John would not wish to roam;
Content, he with his wife and friends,
Enjoys the sweet of HOME.

PIONEER
Dec. 1814

Ohio Repository, The (Canton, Ohio)Nov 21,> 1816

Image from www.greenmountainhookedrugs.com

WOODS IN WINTER.

BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW

When winter winds are piercing chill,
And through the white-thorn blows the gale,
With solemn feet I tread the hill
That overbrows the lonely vale.

O’er the bare upland, and away
Through the long reach of desert woods
The embracing sunbeams chastely play,
And gladdens these deep solitudes.

On the gray maple’s crusted bark,
Its tender shoots the hoar-frost nips;
Whilst in the frozen fountain — hark! –
His piercing  beak the bittern dips.

Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
And summer winds the stillness broke –
The chrystal icicle is hung.

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river’s gradual tide,
Shully the skater’s iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland side.

Alas! how changed from the fair scene,
When birds sang out the mellow lay;
And winds were soft, and woods were green,
And the song ceased not with the day!

But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods, within your crowd;
And gathered winds, in hoarse accord,
Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.

Chill airs and wintry winds, my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year –
I listen, and it cheers me long.

Republican Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Feb 17,  1845

Image from www.sonofthesouth.net

WHILE SNOWS ARE FALLING.

The springtime came — the springtime went
With shimmering cloud and shiny weather,
The golden glory of June was spent,
On hills and fields we roamed together,
We walked through autumn’s purple haze,
The future’s dream of bliss forestalling,
And shuddering thought of winter days,
With snows a falling.

For earth was all so wondrous fair,
And heaven smiled down so blue above it,
Each wandering breath of balmy air
But bade us learn anew to love it.
What wonder if with all so bright,
And wild birds through the woodland calling,
We sighed to think of a winter’s night,
And snow a falling.

But when at last the world was dressed
In shining robes of ice-maid gleaming,
And calm white silence lulled to rest
The pale, dead flowers beneath it dreaming,
Behold we woke to find made true
The hope our hearts had been forestalling,
And life grew fairer than we knew
While snows were falling.

Ah, well! the days of youth fly fast,
Their suns grow dim, their blossoms wither,
And all the dreams that made our past
Fly fast and far, we know not wither;
But when we tread life’s wintry slope,
We hear again their voices calling,
And Memory clasps the hand of Hope,
While snows are falling.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 13, 1872

LIVRARIA PORTO DAS LETRAS acesse: www.estantevirtual.com.br/acervo/livrariaportodasletras

ANOTAÇÕES FINAIS (dia 25.11.09, as anteriores encontram-se abaixo):

“Já era tempo de botar para funcionar aquela massa cinzenta de que tanto me orgulhava e de que até então fizera tão pouco uso”.        (Alexis Lecaye, SHERLOCK HOLMES & MARX)

   Holmes e Laura Lafargue, née Marx, iniciam um ardente romance em plena Paris sitiada.  Um dia ela desaparece misteriosamente. Em busca da mulher amada, ele  vai a Bordeaux, na qual  casal Lafargue reside, e descobre que teve em seus braços uma falsa Laura, pois conhece a verdadeira filha de Marx: “Era falsa a carta de Marx à sua filha que eu lera em Paris, falsas as boas novas. mais terrível ainda: falsa, a identidade da mulher que eu adorava e cuja doçura e entega haviam adormecido em mim todas as desconfianças, atenção e vigilãncia. Falso,  o rapto! Falsidade! Falsidade! Falsidade! Era tudo uma mistificação. Mas então quem era aquela mulher? O que ela pretendia? Quais eram seus motivos, seus interesses? “

      Na verdade, a falsa Laura é o verdadeiro X, é ela quem pretende assassinar Marx (não vou revelar os motivos aqui). Para chegar a Londres e impedi-la (o que acontecerá, com Holmes assumindo a identidade do autor de O capital, numa demonstração das suas habilidades no disfarce), Holmes, voltando a Paris, tem de sobreviver (e seus amigos também, e mais o pobre Rupelski, que era inocente) à invasão bárbara que a cidade sofre, e ao massacre dos seus habitantes, narrados de uma forma ao mesmo tempo concisa e eficiente por Lecaye. Na figura de X, a falsa Laura, vemos também uma alusão àquelas formidáveis e atraentes mentes criminosas femininas que tanto obsedaram o Holmes de Conan Doyle, embora nenhuma delas chegasse a ser tão destrutiva.

ANOTAÇÕES DO DIA 24.11.09

“A diferença entre criminosos e inocntos não está na concepção, mas no poder e na força de transformação de um pensamento em ato. Se tivesse respeitado essa verdade eterna, infelizmente inacessível a um espírito de 23 anos, inexperiente, ainda imbuído de princípios rígidos, incapaz de imaginar uma passagem, uma passarela entre o mundo do Bem e o do Mal, a seqüência de minhas aventuras teria, uma vez mais, sido outra” (Alexis Lecaye, SHERLOCK HOLMES & MARX, mas aí na esteira dessas reflexões, precisaria ter uma pitada de Freud na perspicácia sherloquiana).

(para o leitor se orientar: estou comentando o livro SHERLOCK HOLMES & MARX, de Alexis Lecaye, mas utilizando como apoio dois textos de Marx da época da comuna de Paris de 1871: A guerra civil na França & Cartas a Kugelmann; veja as anotações do dia anterior logo abaixo)

“É um fato estranho. Apesar de tudo o que se falou e se escreveu, com tamanha profusão, durante os últimos 60 anos, a respeito da emancipação do trabalho, mal os operários, não importa onde, tomam o problema em suas mãos, logo recomeça a ressoar toda a fraseologia apologética dos porta-vozes da sociedade atual, com os seus dois pólos, o capital e a escravidão assalariada… como se a sociedade capitalista se achasse ainda em seu mais puro estado de inocência virginal, com seus antagonismos ainda em germe, com suas ilusões ainda encobertas, com suas prostituídas realidades ainda não desnudadas. A comuna, exclamam, pretende abolir a propriedade, base de toda civilização! Sim, cavalheiros, a comuna pretendia abolir essa propriedade de classe que converte o trabalho de muitos na dos expropriadores.  Queria fazr da propriedade individual e o capital, que hoje são fundamentalmente meios de escravização e exploração do trabalho, em simples instrumentos de trabalho livre e associado. Mas isso é comunismo, o irrealizável comunismo! … Se a produção cooperativa for algo mais que uma impostura e um ardil, se há de substituir o sistema capitalista; se as sociedades cooperativas unidas regularem a produção nacional segundo um plano comum, tomando-a sob seu controle e pondo fim à anarquia constante e às convulsões periódicas,  conseqüências inevitáveis da produçao capitalista, que será isso, cavalheiros, senão counismo, comunismo realizável?

      A classe operário não esperava da comuna nenhum milagre. Os operários não têm nenhuma utopia já pronta para introduzir, por vontade popular… Eles não têm que realizar nenhum ideal, mas simplesmente libertar os elementos da nova sociedade que a velha sociedade burguesa agonizante traz em seu bojo…”

                      (Karl Marx, A guerra civil na França)

     Ontem, contei que no romance de Lecaye, Marx marca um encontro com o jovem Sherlock Holmes em 13 de abril de 1871. Querendo contratar os seus serviços, o informa de que, sob as ordens de Bismarck, um anarquista russo, “com status de desertor, um homem estranho, aristocrata arruinado, anti-semita e xenófobo” se prepara para assassiná-lo. Seu nome: Rupelski: “O que eu quero lhe pedir… procurar o assassino, desmascará-lo sem que ele suspeite de nada e fazê-lo desaparecer… Quando digo ´desaparecer´, entendo com isso esconder, dissimular, raptar se quiser, subtrair  à atenção e colocá-lo fora de circulação… O senhor o guardará durante algumas semanas, o tempo necessário para eu concluir um trabalho que me é caríssimo. Depois poderia soltá-lo…o importante é ele não me matar agora, o que representaria um golpe fatal para o movimento.” Que movimento? A Internacional dos trabalhadores. Marx fica espantado com o desinteresse e ignorância políticos de Holmes:  “Vocês, britânicos, são incríveis! Concedem asilo, quase irrefletidamene, ao cérebro de uma organização que, com ou sem razão, faz tremerem todos os burgueses e governos do continente, e não sabem sequer da sua existência…O senhor, jovem burguês briânico, inteligente e culto, não apenas não têm medo, o que concebo perfeitamente, como sequer tem conhecimento da nossa existência!” Numa carta de 27 de julho do mesmo ano a Kugelmann, Marx diz: “O trabalho da Internacional é imenso, e além disso Londres está abarrotada de refugiados, pelos quais tenho de olhar. Mas estou sobrecarregado por outras pessoas, jornalistas e gente de toda espécie, que querem ver o monstro com os próprios olhos. Acreditou-se até agora que o crescimento dos mitos cristãos durante o Império romano foí possível apenas porque a imprensa ainda não fora inventada. É precisamene o contrário. A imprensa diária e o telégrafo, que em um instante difundem invenções por todo o mundo fabricam mais mitos (o gado burguês acredita neles e aumenta com base neles) em um dia do que antes se fazia em um século.”. Numa preciosíssima  carta anterior (de 18 de junho), ele escreve: “Você sabe que durante o período da última revolução de Paris fui denunciado continuamente como o grand chef da Internacional, pelos jornais de Versalhes, e por extensão, pela imprensa aqui da Inglaterra… tenho a honra nesse momento de ser o mais bem caluniado e ameaçado homem de Londres. Isso faz um sujeito sentir-se bem, depois de um idílio entediante de 20 anos em seu antro…”

      Voltando ao romance, após algumas peripécias londrinas (inclusive, um atentado contra sua vida), Holmes aceita a proposta de Marx, que é a de viajar para Paris, onde Rupelski, ou X (porque não há certeza firme da sua identidade) está camuflado, nos meios anarquistas, “em pleno coração da Paris revolucionária. Hoje em dia é o melhor lugar para se esconder e se urdir complôs, no meio da desordem e da efervescência populares”. Holmes vai para o continente com um colaborador francês da Internacional,  Philibert Longuet, e depois de algumas aventuras pelo interior da França (há até um duelo, mas deixo os detalhes para o leitor do romance), entra disfarçado em Paris, através de túneis subterrâneos antiquíssimos. acompanhado pelo desdenhoso e intrigante Vigot. Entre os comparsas da viagem de Holmes está a família Gottlieb, e madame Gottlieb, contrariando o marido, diz a seguinte frase, que vem a propósito, quando pensamos na missão do detetive e nas palavras que Marx escreveu em suas missivas a Kugelmann: “Se perguntar aos operários parisienses, não encontrará muitos que sequer conheçam o nome do senhor Karl Marx”.

       Em Paris, Holmes refugia-se no apartamento de Vigot, conhecendo a irmã dele, Isabelle, uma pintora passional (e aqui podia-se temer que houvesse uma convencionalíssima aproximação amorosa, mas Lecaye se mostrou muito mais hábil do que se podia esperar, fazendo com que haja uma fixação por parte dele, enquanto os interesses dele irão por outros caminhos; ele a deixa indignado com sua “inocência” inglesa, não “entendendo” o que ela quer dele, e mantendo-se fleumático e racional: “Aquela desordem dos sentimentos, que nada seria capaz de explicar, bem diferente da apaixonante desordem de uma investigação criminal que esconde de fato elos secretos e encadeamentos rigorosos… O que há de mais fascinante que isolar o fio vermelho do crime da meada incolor da vida?”; mais adiante, numa daquelas considerações que são típicas das narrativas retrospectivas, ele se auto-congratula pelas decisões que moldaram sua existência: “felicito-me a cada instante por ter sido capaz, à minha revelia talvez, mas é o resultado que conta, de evitar os escolhos da paixão para me ater ao conforto de uma sólida e viril amizade“, referindo-se aqui, é claro, à sua relação com o doutor Watson).

       Enquanto conhece melhor os irmãos (chega a posar para quadros de Isabelle, entre um e outro arrufo), ele perambula por Paris, tentando estabelecer contatos (que Marx forneceu) e localizar X/Rupelski. E ele consegue se introduzir num círculo de niilistas (“o senhor viu a cidade que se diverte, vai descobrir a cidade que pensa”), que se reúnem nas catacumbas da Igreja Santo Eustáquio,  e ouvir o discurso inflamado, visando diretamente a figura de Marx, do tal Rupelski, um exemplo cabal dos eternos derrotistas, daqueles que teorizam para não agir e para impedir os outros de agir: “Entre esses homens, há um particularmente cuja ação e palavra devem ser imperativamente refreadas, tal é a astúcia diabólica que mostra na apresentação de seu programa e de suas idéias: trata-se de Karl Marx, gênio mau de todos os que aspiram ao movimento livre e espontâneo da revolta… Seguia-se então uma longa enumeração dos vícios imperdoáveis do pensamento e da ação de Karl Marx, um catálogo em que se misturava confusamente tudo o que Rupelski podia recriminar ao revolucionário alemão, inclusive sua origem judaica e seua pretensa lascívia (…) Apesar do tom virulento de Rupelski, a despeito do silêncio religioso que acolhia cada palavra sua, tive a estranha impressão de ter assistido a um sermão dominical, em que o fato de estar presente e escutar bastava para garantir a consciência limpa e sustentar a fé de todos os participantes. Decerto não era ali que se elaboravam os complôs e as decisões irrevogáveis.”

      E Holmes consegue capturar Rupelski e mantê-lo preso num porão abandonado do edifício em que moram os irmãos (Isabelle até se torna uma amiga do niilista russo). A missão estava completa? Holmes tem a sensaçao que não, sua intuição lhe diz que não aprisionou um tigre, mas um reles chacalzinho, astuto e escorregadio, porém inofensivo. Por isso, decide esperar instruções do próprio Marx…

      Holmes recebe, então, uma carta de Laura, a filha de Marx casada com o jornalista e colaborador da Internacional Paul Lafargue, dizendo que está em Paris e deseja encontrá-lo no Hotel de Bordeaux. Lá, ele sofre um “coup de foudre”: é amor à primeira vista, fica idiotizado, desajeitado, completamente tomado por aquela mulher (e a coisa pelo visto é recíproca): “sou incapaz de achar as palavras adequadas para explicar as razões daquela súbita e vergonhosa perda de autocontrole”). Mesmo embasbacado, há assuntos urgentes:  ela traz uma carta do pai, escrita no seu estilo característico (pitoresco e misturando palavras de vários línguas, uma das várias coisas que me fazem aproximar na minha cabeça, às vezes, as figuras de Marx e James Joyce). Nessa carta, ele diz que a missão realmente pode ser encerrada, pois ele não corre mais riscos. Holmes informa à Laura que capturou Rupelski (ela até chega a vê-lo no porão onde está trancafiado, embora tenha ficado desconfiada e mesmo em pânico quando Holmes a encaminhou até ali). De qualquer forma, Holmes está apaixonado, citando Werther e completamente indeciso quanto a voltar para a Inglaterra…

ANOTAÇÕES DO DIA 23.11.09

“O que há de mais mortal, mais destruidor que a ordem para o espírito curioso, para o olhar esquadrinhador, que encadeia elos aparentemente disparatados, mas na realidade profundamente complexos?” (Alexis Decaye, SHERLOCK HOLMES & MARX).

       Em 1974, Nicholas Meyer engenhosamente imaginou um encontro entre Sherlock Holmes e Freud, em razão do vício do primeiro em cocaína, em Uma solução sete por cento (A seven per-cent solution, um dos três livros em que ele reinventou o detetive de Conan Doyle) , que depois seria, infelizmente,  adaptado por Herbert Ross, com sua habitual preguiça de criar qualquer coisa de pessoal ou marcante, num desperdício da inteligência do texto e também do maravilhoso elenco (Nicol Williamson, Robert Duvall, Alan Arkin, Laurence  Olivier, etc). O  filme virou por aqui Visões de Sherlock Holmes e lhe faz falta a  mistura da pena da galhofa & da tinta da melancolia que o mestre Billy Wilder imprimiu a um filme contemporâneo: A vida íntima de Sherlock Holmes.

        Em 1981, fo a vez de Marx. O autor francês Alexis Lecaye escreveu o imaginativo SHERLOCK HOLMES & MARX, traduzido há alguns anos por André Telles e publicado numa interessante série da Zahar,  “Creme do Crime” (há outra aventura lecayana de Homes, Sherlock Holmes & Einstein).

        Lecaye imagina Marx (que morou em Londres boa parte da sua vida) contratando os serviços de um muito jovem Holmes (aliás, ele comete uma ousadia: faz do detetive o próprio narrador das suas aventuras: “É a primeira vez, e muito provavelmente a última, que pego da pena, pelo menos no que se refere à redação de um capítulo das minhas Memórias. Outros se encarregaram disso por mim. Por que, então, esse súbito prurido de escrever, esta necessidade irreprimível de traçar eu próprio os contornos esmaecidos de um passado irrevogavelmente morto?… O caso que vou recordar aqui… exerceu, mais que qualquer outro, grande influência em minha mocidade. Essa influência chegou inclusive a se estender para além da minha pessoa. O episódio talvez tenha alterado toda a história européia deste fim de se´culo. Será que o próximo também sentirá o seu peso?”), na época da eclosão da comuna de Paris (em 1871), quando a capital francesa ficou sitiada por meses, após a derrota francesa na guerra com a Alemanha. Um assassino, a soldo de uma potência estrangeira, pretende eliminar Marx, e este envia Holmes à França durante esses meses revolucionários que o autor de O Capital descreverá com uma retórica majestosa (às  vezes muito exagerada, porém como foi escrito no calor do momento) nos seus panfletos que consituirão A GUERRA CIVIL NA FRANÇA. Dessa mesma época temos as cartas que ele escreveu para seu admirador , o ginecologista L. Kugelmann, “que tomou parte em sua juventude no movimento revolucionário de 1848 e por toda a sua vida se considerou um ardente seguidor de Marx” (trecho do prefácio de Lênin a essa correspondência).

       Antes de mais nada: o romance de Lecaye é ótimo. Eu teria o maior prazer de indicá-lo (sem que isso represente uma diminuição ou visão paternalista) para jovens leitores: é uma aula de como abordar uma aventura histórica sem pedantismos e sem explicações inúteis, confiando apenas na narrativa e na curiosidade e inteligência do leitor.  Em 170 páginas consegue nos transmitir uma imagem perfeita da Londres vitoriana, dos dias da comuna, da paisagem francesa (que Holmes atravessa para poder chegar a Paris e cumprir sua missão), das querelas ideológicas daquele momento, e, sobretudo, da transformação de Holmes em.. Sherlock Holmes, com as características que o consagrara, através de um relato retrospectivo que é um pouco também um balanço de vida, uma espécie de “ilusões perdidas” ou “educação sentimental” do detetive inglês. Gostei muito e recomendo (depois teríamos um “jovem Sherlock Holmes” muito interessante, também, na visão de Chris Columbus que resultou no filme, para mim e para vários amigos, memorável, porém pouco apreciado pela crítica: O enigma da pirâmide, talvez por ter sido realizado por outro diretor tão bisonho e nulo quanto Herber Ross: Barry Levinson).

      E, por falar em “jovem” Sherlock Holmes, abaixo temos uma foto do “jovem” Marx, longe do estereótipo de velho barbudão, meio Jeová, consagrado pela posteridade:

      A GUERRA CIVIL NA FRANÇA, fixando definitivamente o conceito de “luta de classes” vai tentar interpretar, mesmo no calor da hora, como afirmou Engels (num texto escrito vinte anos mais tarde), a “significação histórica da Comuna de Paris”: “A 28 de maio os últimos combatentes da comuna sucumbiam ante a superioridade de forças do inimigo… O desarmamento dos operários era considerado o primeiro dever para os burgueses que se achavam na frente do Estado… Era a primeira vez que a burguesia mostrava a que extremo de crueldade e vingança é capaz de chegar sempre o que o proletariado se atreve a defrontar-se com ela como uma classe independente, que tem seus próprios interesses e reivindicações… O Segundo Império fora o apelo do chauvinismo francês: a reivindicação das fronteiras do Primeiro Império, perdidas em 1814… isso implicava a necessidade de guerras periódicas e de ampliação de fronteiras… não havia extensão territorial que tanto deslumbrasse a fantasia dos chauvinistas franceses como as terras alemãs da margem esquerda do Reno… Defraudado em suas esperanças de  ´compensações territoriais´ por Bismarck e por sua própria política demasiado astuta e vacilante, não restava a Napoleão [não o original, bem entendido, e sim o seu desprezível arremedo] outra saída a não ser a guerra, que se deflagrou em 1870… A consequência inevitável foi a revolução de Paris de 4 de setembro de 1870. O Império desmoronou-se como um castelo de cartas e foi novamente proclamada a República…. A 25 de março foi eleita, e a 28, proclamada, a comuna de Paris… Como os membros da comuna eram todos, quase sem exceção, operários, ou representantes reconhecidos, as suas resoluções se distinguiam por um caráter marcadamente proletário. Uma parte de seus decretos eram reformas que a burguesia republicana não se atrevera a implantar por vil covardia e que lançavam os fundamentos indispensáveis para a livre atuação da classe operária, como por exemplo, a implantação do princípio de que, com relação ao Estado, a religião não é senão um problema de foro íntimo; outros tinham o objetivo de salvaguardar diretamente os interesses da classe operária, algumas vezes mesmo abrindo profundas brechas na velha ordem social. Mas tudo isso, numa cidade sitiada, não podia ir além de um início de realização… Paris estava submetida a incessante bombardeio e pelas mesmas pessoas que haviam estigmatizado como um sacrilégio o bombardeio da capital pelos prussianos… E então atingiu o seu ponto culminante aquela matança de homens desarmados, mulheres e crianças… Logo quando se viu que era impossível matar a todos, vieram as detenções em massa, iniciaram-se os fuzilamentos de vítimas arbitrariamente escolhidas entre as fileiras de prisioneiros e a transferência dos demais para grandes campos de concentração, onde aguardavam o comparecimento diante dos conselhos de guerra.” (utilizo aqui o texto constante nas Obras Escolhidas, volume 2, de Karl Marx & Friedrich Engels, publicadas pela Alfa-Õmega; nã há indicação de tradutor).

         No primeiro dos onze capítulos de SHERLOCK HOLMES & MARX, o detetive novato recebe uma carta de alguém que ele ignora completamente quem seja: Marx, marcando uma reunião no dia 13 de abril de 1871. O indivíduo que se apresenta, com cerca de 55 anos,  tinha “estatura ligeiramente inferior à média, vestido com um casacão escuro, um pouco puído, e levemente folgado nos ombros, como se seu proprietário o tivesse pego emprestado de um amigo mais gordo, ou então subitamente emagrecido. Sua tez amarelada, doentia, e as olheiras roxas me fizeram inclinar pela segunda hipótese. Colarinho branco e botinas reluzentes, o restante do seu traje era irrepreensível. Uma grande barba precocemente grisalha, muito na moda em alguns círculos do continente, nele bastante crespa e encimada por um bigode basto e negro, engolia-lhe a parte inferior do rosto, sem conseguir dissimular uma grande boca, de expressão irônica”. Holmes fica admirado diante das “incrível vitalidade de sua expressão… Acima de espessas sobrancelhas, erguia-se uma testa imensa e ossuda, com pequenas entradas. O enorme cérebro escondido por trás daquela fronte devia encerrar uma inteligência prodigiosa. O que quer que tivesse vindo me propor, certamente eu não estaria perdendo meu tempo em escutar”.

     Em 12 de abril de 1871, Marx escrevia a seu amigo Kugelmann, a respeito da sua saúde: “atualmente estou submetido ao tratamento do Dr. Matheson, o qual diz que meus pulmões estão em excelente estado e que a tosse é relacionada com bronquite, e pode afetar o fígado.” Ele informa seu correspondente também que, embora  genro (Lafargue) esteja em Paris, sua filha, Laura (guardem esse nome, terá grande importância neste post) não o acompanhou. Nesta carta lemos ainda: “Que elasticidade, que iniciativa histórica, que capacidade de sacrifício desses parisienses! Depois de seis meses de fome e ruína, causada mais pela traição que pelo inimigo externo, eles levantam-se por sobre as baionetas prussianas, como se nunca houvera uma guerra entre a França e a Alemanha  e o inimigo não estivesse às portas de Paris. A história não tem exemplo semelhante de tamanha grandeza…” (utilizo a edição conjunta, publicada pela Paz & Terra de O 18 Brumário & Cartas a Kugelmann, estas últimas traduzidas por Renato Guimarães).

Little Johnny Clem

Image above can be found on Find-A-Grave (posted by Grave Tagr,) along with a biographical sketch and pictures of his gravestone.

The Youngest Soldier in the Army of the Cumberland.

Last evening, at the Caledonia supper, Gen. Rosecrans exhibited the photograph of a boy, who, he said, was the youngest soldier in the army of the Cumberland. — His name is Johnny Clem, twelve years of age, a member of company C, 22d, Michigan infantry. His home is at Newark, Ohio. He first attracted Rosecrans’ attention during a review at Nashville, where he was acting as marker for his regiment. His extreme youth (he is quite small for his age) and intelligent appearance interested the general, and calling him out, he questioned him as to his name, age, regiment, &c. Gen. Rosecrans spoke encouragingly to the young soldier and told him to come and see him whenever he came where he was.

He saw no more of Clem until Saturday last, when he went to his place of residence — the Burnett House — and found Johnny Clem sitting on his sofa, waiting to see him. Johnny had experienced some of the vicissitudes of war since they last met. He had been captured by Wheeler’s cavalry, near Bridgeport. His captors took him to Wheeler, who saluted him with –

“What are you doing here, you d—-d little Yankee acoundrel?”

Said Johnny Clem, stoutly — “General Wheeler, I am no more a d—–d scoundrel than you are, sir.”

Johnny said that the rebels stole about all that he had, including his pocket book, which contained only twenty-five cents.

“But I would not have cared for the rest,” he added, “if they hadn’t stole my hat, which had three bullet holes in it, received at Chickamauga.”

He was finally paroled and sent north. On Saturday he was on his way to camp Chase to join his regiment, having been exchanged. Gen. Rosecrans observed that the young soldier had chevrons on his arm, and asked the meaning of it. He said he was promoted to a corporal for shooting a rebel colonel at Chickamauga.

The colonel was mounted, and stopped Johnny on the fied, crying “stop you little Yankee devil.” Johnny halted bringing his Austrian rifle to an “order,” thus throwing the colonel off his guard, cocked his piece, (which he could easily do, being so short) and suddenly bringing it to his shoulder, fired, the colonel falling dead, with a bullet through his breast.

The little fellow told his story simply and modestly, and the general determined to honor his bravery. He gave him the badge of “roll of honor,” which Mrs. Saunders, the wife of the host of the Burnett House, sewed upon Johnny’s coat. His eyes glistened with pride as he looked upon his badge, and little Johnny seemed to have grown an inch or two taller, he stood so erect. He left his photograph with General Rosecrans, who exhibits it with pride. We may again hear from Johnny Clem, the youngest soldier in the Army of the Cumberland.

– Cincinnati Times.

The Daily Gazette (Janesville, Wisconsin) Dec 18, 1863

LITTLE JOHNNY CLEM.

Of course you remember the story of little Johnny Clem, the motherless atom of a drummer-boy, aged ten, who strayed away from Newark, Ohio; and the first we knew of him, though small enough to live in a drum, was beating the long roll for the 22d Michigan. At Chickamauga he filled the office of “marker,” carrying the guidon whereby they form the lines; a duty having its counterpart in the surveyor’s more peaceful calling, in the flagman who flutters the red signal along the metes and bounds. On the Sunday of the battle, the little fellow’s occupation gone, he picked up a gun that had fallen from some dying hand, provided himself with amunition, and began putting in the periods quite on his own account, blazing away close to the ground, like a fire-fly in the grass. Late in the waning day, the waif left almost alone in the whirl of battle, a rebel colonel dashed up, and looking down at him, ordered him to surrender.

“Surrender!” he shouted, “You little d—-d son of a —–!”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when Johnny brought his piece to “order arms,” and as his hand slipped down to the hammer, he pressed it back, swung up the gun to the position of “charge bayonet,” and as the officer raising his sabre to strike the gun aside, the glancing barrel lifted into range, and the proud colonel tumbled from his horse, his lips fresh-stained with the syllable of vile reproach that he had flung on a mother’s grave in the hearing of her child! A few swift moment’s ticked on by musket shots, and the tiny gunner was swept up at a rebel swoop and borne away a prisoner. Soldiers, bigger but not better, were taken with him only to be washed back again by a surge of federal troopers, and the prisoner of thirty minutes was again John Clem “of ours;” and Gen. Rosecrans made him segeant, and the stripes of rank covered him all over, like a mouse in a harness; and the daughter of Mr. Secretary Chase presented him a silver medal appropriately inscribed, which he worthily wears, a royal order of honor, upon his left breast; and all men conspired to spoil him; but, since few ladies can get at him here, perhaps he may be saved.

Well, like Flora McFlimsy, the sergeant ‘had nothing to wear,’ the clothing in the wardrobe of loyal livary was not at all like Desdemonia’s handkerchief, “too little,” but like the garments of the man who roomed a month over a baker’s over, a “world too wide;” and so Miss Babcock of the sanitary commission, suggested that a uniform for the little orderly would be acceptable. Mr. Waite and other gentlemen of the “Sherman House” ordered it, Messrs. A.D. Titsworth & Co., made it, Chaplain Raymond brought it, Miss Babcock presented it, and Johnny put it on. Chaplain Raymond, of the 51st Illinois — by the by, a most earnest and efficient officer — accompanied the gift with exceedingly appropriate suggestions and advice. I happened at headquarters just as the belted and armed sergeant was booted and spurred, and ready to ride. Resplendent in his elegant uniform, rigged cap-a-pie, modest, frank, with a clear and a manly face, he looked more like a fancy picture than a living thing. Said he to the chaplain; “you captured me by surprise yesterday.” Now, he is “going on” thirteen, as our grandmothers used to say; but he would be no monster if we called him only nine. Think of a sixty-three pound sergeant — fancy a handful of a hero, and then read the Arabian Nights, and believe them. Long live the little Orderly!

Rebellion Record.

CENTRALIA SENTINEL (Centralia, Marion Co., Illinois) Nov 16, 1865

THE BOY OF CHICKAMAUGA.

Little Johnny Clem’s Brave Work
(From the Cincinnati Gazette.)

There are but few persons who read the current events of the war for the Union as they were transpiring, who do not remembers, among the enduring record of brilliant achievements made by distinguished officers and the gallant rank and file of the army, the invincible spirit and soldierly qualities displayed by that remarkable child soldier known as “Little Johnny Clem, the drummer boy of Chickamauga.”

Various references from time to time respecting this infantile prodigy of the war have appeared in books and newspapers, yet all have failed to embody some of the most prominent incidents herein narrated connected with his army life. The “Rebellion Record,” by Frank Moore, and Lossing’s “History of the Civil War in America,” have each consigned to the pages of history the undaunted deed that has enrolled his name forever among the most gallant and devoted spirits that participated in the hard fought battle of Chickamauga, as well as other battles to the close of the war. Lossing speaks of little Clem as “probably the youngest person who ever bore arms in battle;” hence every incident connected with his entering the army, and while therein, possesses peculiar interest to those who watched the trembling balances of their country’s fate, and the valor of those to whose keeping they were confided.

John L. Clem, a motherless atom of a drummer boy, who might have been placed, in April, 1861, within a “regulation” drum, was born in Newark, Ohio, August 13, 1851, and in May, 1861, shortly after the war broke out, offered his infantile services as a drummer to Captain McDougal, of the 3d Ohio regiment, which was then passing through his native town, but on account of his size and tender age, not being yet ten years old, he was rejected, the regiment was on his way to the front, and having taken passage on the cars for Cincinnati, our little hero went down on the same train, where he offered himself to the 22d Michigan, who also declined to muster him in on account of his size and years, but owing to the persevering spirit with which he maintained his determination to follow the fortunes of his country upon the field, he was allowed to accompany the regiment in all its subsequent movements, until at length he was beating the “long roll” in front of Shiloh April, 1862, where his soldierly spirit so _on the confidence and admiration of the regiment that in June or July, 1862, he was enlisted at Covington, Ky., as a drummer, but serving afterward also as a marker.”

At Shiloh (known as Pittsburg Landing), his drum was smashed by a shell, which occurrence earned for him the appellation of “Johnny Shiloh,” as a title of distinction for the fearless manner in which he discharged his duty at that bloody battle; and at Chickamauga, of which we shall speak presently, that field of Thomas’ glory and renown, he received the title of “The Drummer Boy of Chickamauga,” under which he has already passed into story, where his name and title will live forever in connection with an act there performed by him, which for coolness and undaunted valor, is not equaled on the pages of ancient or modern warfare, in one so young, and which won for him the highest meed? of praise from Rosecrans and Thomas, and every other officer and man of the Army of the Cumberland.

Here little Johnny Clem, having just passed his twelfth year, exchanged the “long roll” of the drum for the “brisk fire” ___ the deadly musket; and on the 23d day of September, 1863, when the line of battle was about being formed, our little drummer boy, now acting as a “marker,” might have been seen with his trusty little musket, as it afterward proved — which had been shortened for his use — seated upon a __aisson side by side with artillerymen, going sto the front to form the line and face the coming storm of death in common with others. The line being formed, he now took his position in the ranks, and with his little musket began putting in the periods? quite on his own account, blazing away close to the ground like a firefly in the grass. At the close of hte day, when the army was retiring toward Chattanooga, the brigade to which little Johnny was attached was ordered to hold its position, but  ___ing afterward surrounded bythe rebels, demand for its surrender was made directly after its charge had been repulsed. When a rebel colonel rode up toward our little hero, who could not fall back as rapidly as the rest of the line, and made a special demand for him, exclaiming, “Halt! Surrender! you d–n little Yankee s-n of a b—h!” still coming with his sword drawn upon little Johnny, who had now brought his musket to an “order arms,” and in doing which he slipped his hand down the barrel and cocked it while at an “order,” when our little hero suddenly swung up his musket to the position of “charge bayonet” and fired! when lo! our little David brought down the proud Goliah! who fell from his saddle, his lips fresh stained with the reproachful epithet he had just flung upon a mother grave in the hearing of her child! Simultaneous with the performance of this brilliant deed the regiment to which little Johnny belonged was fired into by the surrounding rebels, when he fell as though he had been shot, and laid there until darkness closed in, when he arose and made his way to Chattanooga, after the rest of the army. Now, all history may be searched in vain for an instance of such forethought, courage and self-reliance as this. A reference to this most daring act in the papers of the day was the first intimation his family had received of his whereabouts during his two years’ absence and upward.

Lossing’s History speaks of him as having received three balls through his cap during the fortunes of the day at Chickamauga, which statement has since been full confirmed, only that they were received directly after he had shot the rebel colonel. For his undaunted valor and heroic conduct he was made a sergeant by Rosecrans, who placed him on the roll of honor and attached him to the headquarters of the Army of the Cumberland; and a daughter of Secretary Chase presented him with a silver medal inscribed, “Sergeant Johnny Clem, 22d Michigan Vol. Inf., from N.M.C.,” which he worthily wears as a priceless badge of honor upon his left breast, in connection with his grand army medal.

In a few days after little Johnny’s arrival at Chattanooga, our tiny gunner was captured with others, while detailed to aid in bringing up the supply train from Bridgeport, Alabama, and held in captivity for sixty-three days, during which time he was kept on the move until he was at length paroled down near Tallahassee, Florida, and sent to Camp Chase for exchange, which was not complied with.

Having captured this gallant little prize, the rebels despoiled him of the companionship of his little bullet torn cap, which he endeavored in vain to retain as a reminscence in the future of the perils through which he had passed, taking also from him his jacket and shoes. Upon reaching our lines, he found General Thomas in command of the Army of the Cumberland, who received him with the warmest enthusiasm and made him an orderly sergeant and attached him on his staff.

In addition to the battles of Shiloh and Chickamauga, he was at Perryville, Stone River (sometimes called Murfresboro), Resaca, Kenesaw, Peach Tree Creek, Atlanta, Nashville and others, where the Army of the Cumberland covered itself with so much glory.

Besides the three balls that passed thro’ his little cap at Chickamauga, he was struck once with a fragment of shell upon his hip and twice by balls. Upon one of the latter occasions, he was in the act of delivering a dispatch from General Thomas to General Logan at Atlanta, when a ball struck his little pony obliquely near the top of his head, killing him, and wounding his fearless little rider in the shoulder. He is held in the highest estimation by all the officers and men of the Army of the Cumberland, and General Thomas was his fast friend and correspondent up to the time of his death. He served until the end of the war, when he was honorably mustered out, and at once directed his attention to qualifying himself for a cadetship at West Point, to which he has been appointed a cadet at large by President Grant, upon the recommendation of Generals Thomas and Logan, and other officers of the Army of the Cumberland, in recognition of his gallant services. Owing, however, to the limited opportunities previously afforded him, he was rather unsuccessful in passing his examination last fall in one branch only, having had as fair a general average in the other branches as the majority of those who did pass; but he is now diligently prosecuting his studies during the spare time he is not employed at his desk in the Census office at Washington, with confidence in his ultimate success when again before the board. He is still small in size, very youthful in appearance, and a consistent member of one of our prominent religious denominations; and his pleasant address and modest deportment win the confidence of all with whom he is brought into intercourse.

Decatur Review (Decatur, Illinois) May 4, 1871

Image and an article can be found at Edrumline Crossing the Line

JOHNNY CLEM

Some Interesting Facts of the “Drummer Boy of the Chicamauga” — His Parentage — Career Curing and Since the Late War.

(Special Correspondence to the Dispatch)
NEWARK, July 20, 1880.

A person passing through the markets any Wednesday or Saturday, can see a medium-sized man, with straggling gray hairs and a face that plainly indicates the possessor’s German extraction, standing behind a rudely constructed bench loaded down with vegetables and garden truck. Through rains and storms this silent and seemingly contented German market tender has stood at his allotted market space. He lives and has lived, for the last twenty years, in a small and comfortable house, about a mile from this city, on the Granville road. This is the father of Johnny Clem, whom everybody in the Army of the Cumberland knew as “the drummer boy of Chickamauga.”

At the breaking out of the war, Johnny was struck with the martial music of the troops recruiting in this city, and ran away from home, going into the army as a drummer boy. Everybody is familiar with the history of this daring lad, who was petted by the officers and soldiers on all sides. During the war he became a favorite Orderly of General George H. Thomas, who, at the close of the war, assumed a sort of guardianship over him, and took a special interest in his welfare.

Johnny was sent to school at West Point, where he graduated, and soon afterwards entered the regular army and was stationed at Texas. Here he met General Brown’s daughter, and soon after married her. It was not long after his marriage that he was promoted and stationed at Fort Brown, Texas, where he still remains on duty.

Every summer he visits his aged parents and renews old acquaintances with his school-mates and companions. Johnny’s brother Louis, entered the regular army some few years ago, and, during an engagement on the Western frontier with the Indians, was massacred. The death of the brave boy weighed heavily on his aged father, and he frequently relates his sorrows to attentive listeners.

‘Pap’ Thomas frequently wrote to his protege, and a paragraph from one dated at Nashville, June 27, 1866, has special interest at the present time. The following is an exact:

“DEAR JOHNNIE — Do you remember the story of General Garfield’s life? He worked on a canal, and educated himself by buying his text book, which he studied at every leisure moment, while the canal was not frozen up. Now he is one of the most distinguished of our Representatives in Congress. He was also greatly distinguished as a soldier during the late war.”

Johnny Clem acquired a national reputation, as the youngest and smallest soldier in the Union army, as well as for gallant conduct.

The Marion Daily Star (Marion, Ohio) Jul 30, 1880

Image from http://auction.igavel.com

CAPTAIN JOHN CLEM

Incidents of His Early Life Recalled by a Meeting with Mrs. Grant.

The many friends in Newark of Captain John Clem of the United States Army will be interested in the following taken from the Columbus Dispatch:

Columbus people will undoubtedly read with interest the details of a meeting between Mrs. U.S. Grant and Captain John Clem which occurred at Atlanta yesterday. Captain Clem, now Assistant Quartermaster General of the army, was for a long time stationed at the Garrison in this city and, departing, left a legion of friends. His meeting with the widow of General Grant occurred at a reception she was holding for Confederate veterans at Atlanta. This favor had been asked by the veterans and readily granted. Among other who called to pay their respects to Mrs. Grant was Captain Clem.

“Of course I know Captain Clem if it is Johnny Clem, the drummer boy,” said Mrs. Grant when introduced to him, “I remember so well hearing my husband tell of how he found you at Shiloh that day beating the long roll and telling you you were a brave boy, but ought to be home.”

Captain Clem received his appointment as a lieutenant at the hands of President Grant. Of the reception in general Mrs. Grant said, “I regard it as one of the most handsome compliments that has ever been paid to me.”

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Jan 31, 1895

Image from http://img.groundspeak.com

“JOHNNY” CLEM

To Be a Major — Honor Paid to a Newark Boy.

A dispatch from Atlanta conveys the intelligence that Captain John L. Clem, Assistant United States Quartermaster, stationed at Atlanta, has received work from Washington that he will be promoted to the next grade to which he is eligible, (Quartermaster with rank of Major) as soon as a vacancy occurs.

“Johnny Clem will be remembered as “The Drummer Boy of Shiloh.”
His many friends congratulate him on his prospective appointment.

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Feb 14, 1895

Image from www.pearcecollections.us

A Soldier at 11.

There are only 77 officers on the active list of the army below the grade of general who served in the Civil War. All of these with one exception will soon be retired. The exception is that of Col. John L Clem, of the quartermaster’s department, whose age limit will not be reached until 1915. This extended time is due to the fact that “Little Johnny Clem, the drummer boy of Chickamauga,” as he was familiarly known, was probably the youngest person who ever bore arms in battle.

Col. Clem was also known as “Johnny Shiloh,” from the fact that in the battle of Shiloh he rode to the firing line on a caisson by the side of a veteran artilleryman, and then performed an act of daring in such a brave and cool manner that it gave him a name in history. He drummed the charge at Shiloh when he was only 11 years old, and with his short musket he killed the Confederate colonel who demanded his surrender at Chickamuaga. He is a popular officer, not only with his fellows of the army, but in social circles as well, being as genial a man as he is chivalrous a soldier.

Col. Clem was born in Ohio on Aug. 13, 1851, and in May, 1861, before he was 10 years old, he offered his services to the Third Ohio Regiment as drummer, but the mustering officer declined to enlist him because of his size and his youth. Later he offered his services to the Twenty-second Michigan, and though enlistment was refused, he was permitted to accompany the regiment to the field and to beat the “long roll” in front of Shiloh in April 1862. His soldierly manner and conduct in that engagement so won the confidence and admiration of the officers of the regiment that in May, 1863, he was permitted to enlist as a drummer and was then known as “Johnny Shiloh.” But it was on Sept. 23, 1863, at the battle of Chickamauga, that he displayed especial bravery. He had just passed his 12th birthday anniversary and had laid aside his drum for a musket, the barrel of which had been cut down for his use; and after acting as a “marker” for a time he took his place in the ranks. As the day closed, and the army retired to Chattanooga, his brigade was ordered by the enemy to surrender, and “Little Johnny” was himself covered by the sword of a Confederate colonel. His regiment was then fired into, and, falling as if shot, the juvenile soldier lay close until dar, when he went to Chattanooga and joined his command. But as he fell to the ground he fired at the Confederate officer and killed him, and so demoralized the Confederate com???? in such a way that his own associates escaped capture.

For his bravery young Clem was made a sergeant by Gen. Rosecrans and detailed to the headquarters of the Department of the Cumberland. He also received a silver medal from the hands of Miss Kate Chase, daughter of Chief Justice Chase. He was afterward captured by the Confederates and held prisoner for 68 days, and after his release he was promoted to orderly sergeant by Gen. Thomas. He was discharged from the service in September, 1864, when he returned to his old home and attended school, being graduated from the Newark High School in 1870. President Grant, who had kept watch of “Little Johnny” after the war ended, appointed him a second lieutenant in the regular army in 1871. Three years later he went to the artillery school at Fortress Monroe for a course of instruction in military science, and a year later passed a most sucessful examination.

The Daily Herald (Delphos, Ohio) Nov 13, 1903

SOLDIER AT TEN, IS TO QUIT ARMY

Colonel Clem Last Civil War Veteran In Active Service.

FIRST WOND FAME AT SHILOH

Fought With Little Musket Which Men of His Regiment Fashioned For Him — His Memorable Encounter With a Confederate Colonel After Chickamauga — Youngest Sergeant.
[Excerpt]

Youngest Sergeant Army Has Had.

After the battle General Rosecrans made Clem a sergeant — the youngest of that rank who ever served in the United States army.

Following the battle of Chickamauga, when the Union army was retiring toward Chattanooga, the brigade to which Clem was attached had been ordered to hold its position. The position became untenable, and the brigade fell back and, in doing so, lost “Little Johnny” Clem.

Suddenly out of the woods he came like a scared rabbit and ran full tilt into a Confederate colonel.

“My but you are a little shaver to be in this business!” the Confederate officer said, “But war is war, so you had better drop that gun.”

Instead, the boy fired point blank. The colonel fell from his horse badly wounded, and Johnny darted into the bushes. Late that night he turned up at Chattanooga.

The Confederate colonel, who recovered, afterward said he would never get over the suprise “that kid gave him.”

Adams County News (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 4, 1914

“LITTLEST HERO OF CIVIL WAR” TO RETIRE FRIDAY THIRTEENTH

Brigadier General John L. Clem, “The Drummer Boy of Chickamauga,” and the Last Civil War Veteran in the U.S. Army, Will Go Out of Service On His “Lucky Day” — Gets a Job With His Son in San Antonio.

When Colonel John Lincoln Clem, officer in the Quartermaster Department at Washington and personal friend of hundreds of San Antonians, is retired from active service with the rank of brigadier general Friday, the thirteenth of August, this year, the last living link between the present United States army and the armies that participated in the civil war will be severed. Colonel Clem is the only veteran of that tremendous conflick still in active service with the United States Army.

After active service in the army for more than 45 years — he could have retired 15 years ago had he wanted to — “[the littlest hero] of the civil war,” and one of the most interesting figures in the army of the United States at the present time will quit active service and come to San Antonio to make his home as Brigadier General John L. Clem, U.S.A., retired.

He was born on Friday, the thirteenth of August, 1851; while he is not the least bit superstitious, the combination of Friday and the thirteenth day of the month, has marked the luckiest events of his life, and he will retire when that combination occurs in August on his sixty-fourth birthday. More than once in his lifetime has he remarked upon incidents which have turned out to his advantage occurring on the thirteenth of hte month and usually when that date fell on Friday. It is a strange coincidence that almost every time he was advised of promotion in the army, the notice came to him on the thirteenth day of the month.

Asks Son for a Job.

And when this combination occurs on the calendar next month he will retire from active service in the army, but not from active participation in affairs of the world. Brigadier General John Lincoln Clem, U.S.A., retired, hero of the civil war and late important figure in quartermasters affairs at Washington, will come to San Antonio to become automobile salesman in the regular employ of the Collins-Clem Automobile Company, one of the proprietors of which is his son, John L. Clem Jr.

Recently Colonel Clem wrote to his son: “I hereby make formal application for a position as automobile salesman with the Collins-Clem Automobile Company, distributers of Studebaker cars in the San Antonio district. Please advise me of your decision in the matter.” Then he wrote down at the bottom: “I am yet just as good a man as you are, son, and I can do just as much hard work in one day as you can, if I am a little old. I am going to buy a car from you, hire me a chauffeur to drive me on demonstrations, and I will sell as many cars as you will.”

This letter, as much as many other incidents in his life, brings out the quality in his character which have made him one of the most beloved of men among his associates.

“Invaded” Mexico.

One of these incidents, which forms the theme of a story many of his friends take great delight in relating about him, occurred on the Rio Grande frontier shortly after he entered the United States army as a second lieutenant. Lieutenant Clem was placed in charged of a squad of soldiers sent out to apprehend cattle thieves. The soldiers trailed the outlaws five days, but were unable to get closer than within a few miles of the rapidly fleeing band. The cattle thieves escaped across the Rio Grande and stood on the other side making motions at the soldiers, which Lieutenant Clem understood as essentially insulting. He resented their actions intensely, and at the head of his squad, crossed over the river into Mexico, gave chase to the desperadoes, and in an engagement the cattle thieves were killed to the last man.

Shortly after the incident, Lieutenant Clem received a letter from the commander of the department, General E.O.C. Ord. Lieutenant Clem was officially reprimanded. He was told that his conduct was unbecoming an officer of the United States army, he had been guilty of tremendous lack of judgement, he had violated the neutrality laws and his action might result in complications between two nations at peace. Such an escapade must never be repeated, on pain of serious consequences to the perpetrator.

The Heart of a Soldier.

The communication was officially signed in ink. A penciled inscription, in the department commander’s handwriting at the bottom of the page, read: “Good boy, Johnny, do it again.”

A newspaper correspondent in Washington asked Colonel Clem, on the occasion of the last memorial day, what memory was uppermost in his mind that day. And the famous old soldier, who, at the age of 12 years, was the twice-wounded veteran of one of the greatest campaigns of history, did not reply with a tale of sanguinary adventure.

“My memory pictures today what my kid eyes saw fifty-one years ago today,” he said gently, “a soldier in blue an a soldier in gray, shaking hands like two loving comrades between the trneches, swapping tobacco and coffee. In the morning they were to stab each other brutally with bayonets in a fierce hand-to-hand fight for those very trenches. Yet what I like to think of first on memorial day is not the bloody fight, but that tender scene preceding it, which showed me that after all, man to man, we soldiers of the north and of the south were friends and brothers always. We of the north hated that which they fought for, but we did not hate them personally, nor they us.

Was Impersonal War.

“And that is the most hallowed of my memories on this memorial day, for it brings back the thought that we who fought to kill each other were really never enemies. It was a war of cannon against fortress, of rifle against trench, but never of man against his brother man!

“It is the great tragedy of those bloody deaths we brought each other, but not because of hatred for each other, but for the sake of a principle, that we must think of on this sacred memorial day.”

Johnny Clem ran away from his home in Newark, O., when he was ten years old and attached himself to the Twenty-second Michigan regiment. The officers tried to chase him away, but the soldiers made him a pet and mascot and, finally, in May, 1862, the colonel enlisted him.

He was the hero of a brilliant scene at Chickamauga performed right under the eyes of his Union comrades, who were falling back rapidly. Johnny’s poor little legs were weary, and, so he lagged behind, a Confederate colonel galloped up to him, “Surrender, you damned little Yankee devil,” he cried.

Loved Life by Feigning Death.

Weak and tired though he was, his nerves never quivered. He pulled up his heavy musket — he had abandoned his drum — and fired. The colonel fell headlong from his horse, and a volley of bullets from the men behind him rained over Johnny Clem. Johnny’s comrades on the hill saw their heroic little soldier boy fall face downward. The battle raged four hours after that, and at dark the Union forces rested. Suddenly, into their bivouac crept Johnny Clem, unhurt, and displaying with tremendous pride his cap pierced by three bullet holes. He had saved his own life by shamming death.

General Thomas made the hero drummer boy a sergeant for that deed of bravery. And when the general advised him of promotion, the youngster answered: “General, is that all you’re going to make me?”

Later in his civil war careet, the 12-year-old soldier was hit on the hip by part of a shell, wounded in the ear while dispatch riding and once taken prisoner.
He is probably the only living man who voted legally at an age under 15. At the time Lincoln was elected the second time, all soldiers of the army were allowed to vote. Johnny Clem was a soldier in the army and he voted.

Johnny Clem went to high school when the war was over and then entered the army as second lieutenant. In his early service, he was the central figure in many exciting adventures on the Texas frontier. He is one of the very few infantry officers to graduate from the army artillary school and holds other distinctions for service in the army.

To Know Him Is To Love Him.

He was stationed at Fort Sam Houston for the first time in 1900 in the quartermaster department. He remained here four years, after which time he became chief of the quartermaster department of the Philippines, with headquarters in Manila. Two years later he was transferred to San Francisco and later returned to Fort Sam Houston as chief of hte quartermaster department of the Department of Texas. While stationed here, he probably made more friends among San Antonians than any other army officer who has ever been quartered at the army post.

Colonel Clem left Fort Sam Houston four years ago when he was transferred to the quartermaster department in Washington. He has been connected with the quartermaster department in Washington for the last two years.

After retiring from the army August 13, Colonel Clem will spend several months in the north and east,. At Dayton, O., a city-wide celebration, to be known as Clem day, has been arranged in his honor by Colonel Clem Garrison, Army and Navy Union, and the Grand Army of the Republic organization in that city.

He will come to San Antonio about December 1 to make his home.

THE SAN ANTONIO LIGHT (San Antonio, Texas) Jul 11, 1915

*****

Read more about Johnny Clem:

Ohio History Central: Johnny Klem – Johnny Clem

Learn Civil War History: A Civil War Blog of History and Stories:  Johnny Clem

O Reformatório Central de Lisboa Padre António de Oliveira está instalado no antigo Convento da Cartuxa de Laveiras-Caxias, desde 31 de Maio de 1903, data em que para aqui foi transferido do Convento das Mónicas, em Lisboa, onde vinha funcionando desde a sua fundação — 15 de Junho de 1871 — sob a superintendência da Procuradoria Régia. Com efeito, a Lei de 15 de Junho de 1871, referendada por D. Luís, criou, na comarca de Lisboa, uma cadeia civil denominada Casa de Detenção e Correcção, para menores do sexo masculino, com menos de 18 anos de idade. À falta de edifício próprio, a nova instituição foi instalada nas dependências do Convento das Mónicas, situado na encosta ocidental da Graça, devoluto desde a extinção das ordens religiosas, em 1834.

Foi este o primeiro estabelecimento instituído em Portugal, destinado à delinquência infantil, embora a Casa Pia, no início da sua actividade, em 1780, e por sugestão do fundador Pina Manique, tivesse a seu cargo, simultâneamente com a recolha dos orfãos e desamparados da cidade de Lisboa, uma secção especialmente destinada à correcção de indivíduos de ambos os sexos, no Castelo de S. Jorge, onde primitivamente estiveram instaladas as dependências daquele importante estabelecimento de assistência. A Casa da Força, destinada a receber a vagabundagem de Lisboa, dividia-se em três secções: Casas de Nossa Senhora do Carmo, de Santa Margarida de Cortona e de Nossa Senhora do Livramento. [excertos da página 3]

MONOGRAFIA DO REFORMATÓRIO CENTRAL DE LISBOA PADRE ANTÓNIO DE OLIVEIRA 1871-1958, com texto de José Maria de Almeida Fernandes e arranjo gráfico de Edmundo Tomé dos Reis, assinado pelo autor com dedicatória, muito ilustrado, grafismo cuidado, impresso em 1958 nas oficinas gráficas do reformatório situado em Caxias. /// Inclui várias fotografias das actividades da instituição, de antigos alunos, oficinas, instalações. /// 149 páginas. 18 x 24 cm. /// Preço: 15 euros.

Style yourself this winter with a couple of pieces from Commune De Paris, 1871 which has just previewed a series of pullovers, button-downs, and polos for ‘09. Peep more images after the jump.

From the TRIBUNE.

DIED — December 31st, 1870, Mrs. Martha Alford, re???? of Esquire R.B. Alford, late of Portsmouth. Mrs. Alford was born in Mason County, Kentucky, about the year 1797, the precise date not known. She came to Portsmouth in the spring of 1812, consequently she has resided in Portsmouth and vicinity nearly fifty-eight years.

Her father’s family emigrated from Maryland to Kentucky in 1793, while the Indians were yet prowling along the banks of the Ohio, watching for an opportunity to decoy boats within their power, so as to murder and scalp the defenceless emigrants and plunder their boats of whatever they contained. However, the boat containing the family of Griffith Jones ran the gauntlet in safety without any thing more serious happening to them than a false alarm or two and hearing an occasional war whoop or a yell from the infurate savages.

Mrs. Alford was born into the Methodist church and always lived a consistent member of that denomination, and was a truly exemplary christian mother in Israel. In order to have cicar conception of her christian character it is necessary to go back a little and see under what circumstances she became a christian.

Her father joined the Methodist church before the revolutionary war under the preaching of the first founders of Methodism in America. When such preachers as Freeborn, Garrettson and Abbott, and other of lesser note were carrying every thing before them with their powerful preaching. His house was always the preacher’s home.

A rude log cabin, perhaps it generally was, yet the weary “itinerant,” with his horse and saddle bags, always found a welcome home at the house of Griffith Jones. So that Martha, the youngest child of a large family, as was said above, was literally born into the Methodist church. As to how well she performed the duties of a christian, all those who were acquainted with her can testify.

She was twice married. The first time to a man by the name of Lodge, who died early with the consumption. She had three children by her first husband who inherited their father’s disease and all died soon after coming to maturity. She had no children by her last husband, consequently leaves no descendants.

She was the last survivor of a large family, who flourished here in the early settlement of Portsmouth. Some few of the Glovers and Joneses yet remain amongst us.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 7, 1871

Image from http://winmillfamily.com/riverboat_disaster.jpg

JIM BLUDSO
(Of the Praire Belle.)

BY JOHN HAY

Wall, no; I can’t tell where he lives,
Becase he don’t live, you see;
Leastways, he’s got out of the habit
Of livin’ like you and me.
Whar have you been for the last three year
That you haven’t heard folks tell
How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks,
The night of the Prairie Belle?

He wern’t no saint — them engineers
Is all pretty much alike –
One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill,
And another one here, in Pike.
A keerless man in his talk was Jim,
And an awkward man in a row –
But he never flunked, and he never lied,
I reckon he never knowed how.

And this was all the religion he had –
To treat his engine well;
Never be passed on the river;
To mind the Pilot’s bell;
And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire –
A thousand times he swore,
He’d hold her nozzle agin the bank
Till the last should got ashore.

All boats has their day on the Mississip,
And her day came at last –
The Movastar was a better boat,
But the Belle she wouldn’t be passed.
And so she came tearin’ along that night –
The oldest craft on the line –
With a nigger squat on her safety valve,
And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine.

The fire bust out as she clared the bar,
And burnt a hole in the night,
And quick as a flash she turned and made
For that willer-bank on the right.
There was running and cursing, but Jim yelled out,
Over all the infernal roar,
“I’ll hold her nozzel again the bank
Till the last galoot’s ashore.”

Through the hot, black breath of the burnin’ boat
Jim Bludso’s voice was heard,
And they all had trust in his cussedness,
And knowed he would keep his word.
And, sure’s you’re born, they all got off
Afore the smoke-stacks fell –
And Bludso’s ghost went up alone,
In the smoke of the Prairie Belle.

He wern’t no saint — but at jedgment
I’d run my chance with Jim,
Longside with some pious gentlemen
That wouldn’t shook hands with him.
He seen his duty, a dead sure thing –
And went for it thar and then;
And Christ ain’t a goin’ to  too hard
On a man that died for men.

Decatur Review (Decatur, Illinois) Feb 2, 1871

*****

Listen and watch at Encyclopedia.com:

John Hay “Jim Bludso of the Prairie Belle” Poem Animation

Plank Road Bridge ( Crawford Co., PA built 1895)

Image from Historic Bridges website. This is not the bridge mentioned in this post, but it is in the same county. The linked website has tons of historic bridges with lots of photos and information about them, including the one above.

A Man Shot Dead in Hydetown.

Shortly after six o’clock on Saturday night, a fight took place a few yards west of Fulmer’s bridge in Hydetown, between two teamsters named respectively George Turner and Rowland Kightlinger, which resulted in the latter being shot dead. The affair appears to have been the result of a family feud. It is stated that George Turner worked for William Kightlinger, the uncle of the deceased, last spring, and during that time William Kightlinger had a quarrel with his wife and deserted her. George took part with the wife, which so incensed the Kightlinger family that they persecuted and abused George whenever opportunity offered. On Saturday morning last, John Kightlinger, another uncle of the deceased, and Rowland Kightlinger (the deceased,) started for Titusville with separate teams, and stopped at Brawley’s hotel on Spring street. About the same time George Turner and William Turner, his uncle, together with Frank Brown, from started Hydetown to Titusville with another team; but before leaving the former place they stopped at Ridgeway’s tavern, where William Turner traded a watch for a rifle with John Gesellchager, the barkeeper. The stock being broken off the rifle, he brought it to Titusville and had it repaired. This party also stopped at the Brawley hotel. On the return trip it seems the two conflicting parties met, about half way on the road between this city and Hydetown. George Turner was at once attacked by Rowland Kightlinger, which resulted in the former having a new suit of clothes torn from his back, and Rowland receiving a gash on the left side of his face. The Kightlingers then drove on, as also the team in which George had been, and which contained Doctor Gage of Hydetown and Frank Brown; George Turner was left behind.

Meanwhile, William Turner, the uncle, and another William Turner, a younger brother of George, came up and found the latter in a pretty bad condition. They took him into their wagon and drove directly to Fulmer’s bridge, in Hydetown. The Kightlingers had stopped at Edgeway’s, some distance this side the bridge, where they gave an account of the fight. Rowland was drunk and abusive, and with oaths he threatened to whip George again as soon as he came past, but it appears George had gone another road to reach the bridge. After a while, Frank Brown came into the tavern, and Dr. Gage being intoxicated (according to report) drove forward to Sink’s hotel at the upper end of Hydetown. Brown started after him, and meeting George Turner at the bridge asked him to go with him for his (Brown’s) wagon. The two started off together, and William Turner, the uncle, followed, leaving William Turner, the younger brother of George, alone in the wagon near the bridge. In a few minutes the Kightlingers came to the bridge and asked William where his brother was, and were informed that he had gone up to Sink’s. Rowland said they would “wait for him and lick him, or that he should lick them.”

They then drove their horses across the creek and deliberately hitched them to two trees at the edge of the road. Rowland’s team was ahead, John Kightlinger’s team in the rear. After hitching the teams they took off their overcoats and engaged in conversation. In about half an hour after this, George Turner came down from Sink’s in Brown’s wagon. Brown was driving; nobody being in the wagon but Brown and Turner. They drove directly past Rowland’s team, when Rowland hailed them to stop. Brown got out and attempted to pacify Rowland, but received a black eye for his answer. Rowland then rushed towards George Turner and made several efforts to pull him out of the wagon, but George pushed him back with his rifle and refused to get out and fight. Rowland then put his foot on the fore wheel of the wagon and seized hold of the barrel of the gun. In the midst of the struggle he pulled the barrel from the stock which was in the hands of Turner, and the piece went off, the ball passing through Rowland’s heart, killing him instantly.

Justice Daniel Burgher, of Hydetown, was notified and proceeded to the place where the body lay. He also procured the services of Dr. Abraham Titus to examine the body. All the parties present at the affray had meanwhile disappeared, and nothing remained but the body and the wagon of deceased, his coat, hat and gloves, and the stock of the gun, which was found about four feet from his head. A jury of six men were impaneled, as follows: H.G. Swift, foreman; D.T. Titus, G. Spaulding, I.L. Hubbard, P.H. Powers, and I. Stetson.

The body was then removed from the mud to a grass plot a few yards distant, and the physician made a thorough examination, and ascertained that the ball had entered the left side just above the heart, but he could not detect that it had passed through the body. There being no witnesses present, the jury were requested to hold themselves in readiness to be called upon as soon as the former could be obtained and the body was sent home to the father of the deceased, Mr. Abraham Kightlinger, who resides about three miles from Hydetown. The father was also notified not to inter the remains without a proper permit. Mr. Curtis, of Titusville, coroner of Crawford county, notified Justice Burgher that he would hold an inquest this morning, and the case will probably be handed over to him.

Our reporter is greatly indebted to Justice Burgher for his valuable assistance in obtaining the above information. The deceased was a single man, 23 years of age, and weighed 170 pounds. The general impression appears to be that Hydetown has got rid of a notoriously bad character. No warrant has been issued for the arrest of George Turner. Policeman Giles Sanford and special James Haren endeavored to find him on Saturday night, but it was supposed by his relatives that he intended going to Meadville to surrender himself there, and had left for that purpose. He is only 23 years of age and a much lighter man than his adversary. He bears a good reputation among his neighbors. The barrel of the gun was found at John Turner’s house by the officers. The bullet is also said to have been found, having passed through the body. The vest of deceased bore evidence of having been scorched with powder. Our reporter obtained the above information from parties who claimed to have been eye-witnesses, and none of the statements appear to conflict, excepting that of John Kightlinger, who asserts that he did not see either of the parties fighting, although there are plenty of witnesses who heard John calling upon Rowland to kill Turner. The coroner’s investigation will probably elicit all the facts.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 5, 1870

CORONER’S INQUEST ON THE KILLING OF KIGHTLINGER

The inquest on the body of Rowland Kightlinger, who was shot in Hydetown last Saturday, was resumed on Monday morning by Coroner T.L. Curtis of this city, at the residence of Mr. Abraham Kightlinger, the father of the deceased. After viewing the body, a permit was granted for its interment. On repairing to the school-house at Hydetown, the testimony of a large number of witnesses was taken, developing substantially the same facts which have already been narrated in our published account of the catastrophe on Monday last. The following is an abstract of the extended verdict which was rendered last night at seven o’clock. That the death of Rowland Kightlinger resulted from an accidental gun shot wound; that one Geo. Turner is supposed to have used said weapon or gun in self defence while being attacked without just cause or provocation, and while traveling in his wagon in the public highway; that the firing of the gun by the said George Turner, and the accidental killing of Rowland Kightlinger was a justifiable homicide in self defence.

This is an extraordinary conclusion to arrive at, and seems to involve some confusion of ideas as to the force of language, and the signification of legal terms. If the killing was accidental, it could not have been in self defence it would have been excusable homicide not justifiable homicide, according to the accepted  definitions of criminal law.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 7, 1870

THE HYDETOWN HOMICIDE.

In our report of this case on Monday, it was stated that the general impression was that Hydetown had got rid of a notoriously bad character. We received a call yesterday from Mr. Abram Kightlinger, father of the deceased, who informs us that this statement does great injustice to the reputation which his son sustained in the community. Rowland Kightlinger (the deceased) was about twenty-two years of age. He had resided all his life in Troy township, with the exception of four months, last winter, while he was employed as teamster at Powers’ lumber mill. He was a steady and industrious workman, and always conducted himself in a proper manner, except when he visited Titusville or Hydetown, and fell to drinking with his associates, and such sprees wee very unfrequent. He had a good many personal friends, and was not of a quarrelsome disposition.

The funeral of deceased took place on Monday at 2 p.m., from the residence of Abram Kightlinger, in Troy township, two miles west of Hydetown. It was attended by a very large number of people from all parts of the country. Rev. Mr. Hoyt of the Diamond conducted the services, and preached a very impressive sermon. The Kightlinger family have been settled in this section nineteen years, and have a very extended connection, embracing fully seventy-five persons, who reside in Troy and Plum townships within an area of five or six miles. Nothing has been heard of George Turner since the homicide. The rifle with which he shot Kightlinger is the same implement with which Joel Ridgeway fractured an Irishman’s skull about a fortnight ago at Hydetown, during a little theological discussion in the bar-room.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 8, 1870

SURRENDER OF GEORGE TURNER.

We learn that George Turner, who shot Rowland Kightlinger at Hydetown on Saturday last, has surrendered himself to the custody of Sheriff Ellsworth, and is in jail at Meadville. It has been ascertained that Turner remained concealed for some time in the barn of Justice Green, in Troy township, and during the search for him by officers and Kightlinger’s friends, they visited the barn, but he escaped detection. He is said to have expressed a wish to the Sheriff that he would prefer to remain in custody till the Grand Jury have acted upon the case.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 10, 1870

THE HYDETOWN HOMICIDE.

We stated on Monday that a warrant had been issued by Justice Strouse for the arrest of George Turner, who shot Rowland Kightlinger at Hydetown. Turner had surrendered himself to the Sheriff at Meadville, and been released on his recognizance; but last evening telegraphed to Chief of Police Rouse that he would arrive here on this morning’s train. The examination will be held before Justice Strouse to-day at 2 o’clock, if a suitable room can be procured. Officer Miller was dispatched to Hydetown last evening to supoena witnesses.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 15, 1870

The Kightlinger Homicide.

The Kightlinger case kept the city yesterday in a lively ferment. Justice Strouse procured the use of a large room on the second floor of a building on Diamond street, in which to hold the examination. Frank Brown, who was arrested as an accessory, was on hand, together with the witnesses from Hydetown, but George Turner, who is accused of the murder, did not put in an appearance. A.B. Richmond, Esp., telegraphed that George Turner had started from Franklin for Titusville on Wednesday last. Some of his friends here entertain fears that he was been waylaid on the road; this, however, we can hardly credit under the circumstances. By others it is supposed, that being short of funds, he is footing it to Titusville, and may come to hand at any moment. A preliminary examination of Frank Brown was held by Esq. Strouse, yesterday afternoon, F.B. Guthrie appearing as attorney, for the Commonwealth, and Messrs. Barry and Johns for the defense. Owing to the latter gentleman not having time to attend the case, it was postponed until nine o’clock this morning. The following witnesses for the commonwealth were held to appear in the sum of $100 each: Robert Davidson, J.A. Reed, Deforest Ross, Benjamin Ross, James Arters, Patrick Griffin, Miles Griffin, Wm. Wilkinson, John Kightlinger, John Turner, Matt. Reddy, David Baugher, William H. Marsh and James Marsh. Frank Brown was placed in charge of officer Miller.

Below we present a communication from Frank Brown, giving his version of the transaction:

STATEMENT OF FRANCIS BROWN.

Editors Morning Herald: — Having been arrested upon a warrant issued at the instance of Abram Kightlinger (father of Rowland Kightlinger, deceased) upon a warrant charging me with “abetting and assisting George Turner in shooting Rowland Kightlinger,” I purpose to give your readers a full and unprejudiced statement of the affair, so far as my personal knowledge of it is concerned.

On the morning of Saturday, December 3d, I started for Titusville with a load of wood. On reaching Ridgeway’s tavern, I stopped a few moments, and found there Wm. Turner and his nephew, George Turner, bargaining with John Gelsinger, the bartender, for a rifle. The rifle was not loaded — at least Gelsinger said it was not — and the trade was effected by Wm. Turner giving a watch in exchange for it. William and George Turner then rode with me to Bucklin’s tavern, where we took a drink a piece and left the rifle “up the spout.” We then came on to Brawley’s tavern, where we stopped and I sold my wood. John and Rowland Kightlinger and George Turner seemed to exchange the time of day. No difficulty occurred between them. After unloading the wood, I drove into Titusville, hitched my team at the wood-yard on Martin street, and went about other business. The Turners also sent about private business.

About 3 o’clock p.m., I started for home. I met Dr. Gage near Brawley’s and persuaded him to ride home with me, as I wanted medicine for my family. We drove on to Bucklin’s tavern, and there stopped for a few minutes. While there, the Turners came along with Riley Fisher’s team which young Wm. Turner was driving. Wm. Turner, senior, and George were also in the wagon. George Turner asked if he could ride with me, as he wanted to go to Green’s, which is adjoining my farm. I consented, and he got into the wagon and we drove along. Shortly afterwards the Kightlingers overtook us, with their own team, and requested me to stop. After stopping, I looked around and saw Rowland Kightlinger clinched with George Turner, who was at the back of my wagon. Rowland tore off George’s coat, cap and vest, and left them lying in the road.

We drove on and left the Kightlingers behind. Soon afterwards, George Turner said he would go back and see if he could find his clothes. He got out of the wagon and started into the woods, as I supposed to avoid the Kightlingers; I then drove on with Gage to Ridgeway’s tavern, but before reaching there the Kightlings passed me on the road. I found them at the tavern and left them there; I then went to Ewing’s store and stopped there to get some resin; upon coming out I found that Gage had driven off my team; I started to look for the team and found William and George Turner riding in the Fisher wagon. I asked one of them to go with me, and George got out of the wagon. He then had the rifle in his hands, the first that I had seen of it since it was left at Bucklin’s in the morning. We found my team at Sink’s tavern, where I bought a glass of whiskey to apply to a cut on my horse’s hoof. After getting into the wagon we drove on, and upon reaching the forks of the road leading to Powers’ mill we saw a number of men and teams at the side of the road. One asked, “Is that you, Frank?” and I replied “Yes.” I think it was Rowland Kightlinger’s voice. He asked where George Turner was. I got out and replied that George was in the wagon. Rowland then came up and struck me twoice severly in the face. I said: “This in not George.” He then left me and started for the wagon. The next thing I heard was the report of the rifle. IT was then between six and seven o’clock, and quite dark. As soon as the rifle was discharged, the horses started at a rapid pace. I ran after them, jumped into the wagon, and found that George had the lines. I asked him to let me drive. He refused and I think he said he “had shot Rowl.” He rode with me perhaps a mile or more and then got out, and I have not seen him since.

This is a plain matter of fact statement of the whole affair, so far as my connection with it is concerned.

Respectfully yours,

FRANCIS BROWN.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 16, 1870

The Kightlinger Homicide.

The Kightlinger killing case was brought before Justice Strouse yesterday morning at nine o’clock. The examination was held on the second floor over J. Hoenig’s store on Diamond street, and a large crowd of spectators from the country and city were present. George Turner did not appear, as was expected, but A.B. Richmond, Esp., of Meadville, hs counsel, was present, and stated that he would probably have him there at one o’clock. The case was therefore adjourned till that hour, as also to give Mr. Richmond opportunity to consult with his other client, Frank Brown. George Turner did not come to hand at the hour indicated, and about half-past one o’clock Messrs. Richmond, Barry, and Johns appeared for Francis Brown, and Mr. F.B. Guthrie for the Commonwealth. Mr. Guthrie commenced by requesting the Justice to exclude the reporters of the press. as the evidence, if published, might injure the cause of the Commonwealth.

The opposite consel had no objection to the reporters remaining, but thought that the publication of the evidence might render it difficult to empannel an unprejudiced jury, when the case was tried at the Court of Sessions. Justice Strouse also coincided with this view, and requested that the evidence should not be published.

The case was then proceeded with, and eight witnesses were examined, as follows:

John Kightlinger, Robert Davidson, J.A. Ried, Deforest Ross, James Marsh, Wm. H. Marsh, Matt Ruddy, and John Turner.

No further evidence of importance was elicited, other than what was contained in our original statement of the affair. There was, however, some pretty hard and contradictory swearing, which will doubtless eventually recoil on the heads of those who rendered it. The examination was concluded about five o’clock, when the case was summed up on the part of the defense by A.B. Richmond, Esq., and on the part of the prosecution by Mr. Guthrie. The Justice committed the prisoner to await the action of the Grand Jury.

In the course of the examination, Mr. Hoenig, the proprietor of the room, sent for Mr. Van Ulrich, architect, as the building appeared to be settling from the immense weight on the floor above. Mr. Ulrich discovered that one side of the building had settled three inches, and there was considerable danger of the floor giving way. The Justice requested all the small boys and those who were not personally interested in the case to leave. The crowd rapidly dispersed and the room remained about half full until the close of the examination. George Turner may be expected here daily.

Francis Brown left here for Meadville last night in charge of officer Miller, and accompanied by a large number of his relatives and personal friends.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 17, 1870

Letter from George Turner — His Account of the Kightlinger Homicide.
TITUSVILLE, Dec. 17, 1870.

Editors Morning Herald:

I have seen a letter in the MORNING HERALD signed by Francis Brown, giving an account of the circumstances attending the death of Rowland Kightlinger, who was accidently shot on Saturday night, Dec. 8d, while committing a murderous assault upon me at Hydetown. I have been arrested upon a charge of murdering him, and as so much misrepresentaton has been made in regard to the case, I have been requested by some of my friends to give you a correct statement of the whole affair. I have referred to the statement published by Francis Brown, for the purpose of saying that it contains all the material facts relating to the occurance, excepting so far as the actual collision is concerned. The rifle with which Rowland Kightlinger was killed was purchased by my uncle, Wm. C. Turner, of the bartender at Ridgeway’s, on the morning of the tragedy. Mr. Titus Ridgeway was present at the time, and my uncle consulted him in regard to the rifle for the purpose of ascertaining what it was worth. Finally, my uncle traded a watch for the rifle and we both rode with Frank Brown to the city. We stopped at Bucklin’s as Brown states, and all took a drink, and my uncle left the rifle at the bar, intending to call for it on his return.

On reaching Brawley’s we stopped for a few moments, and there saw Rowland and John Kightlinger. Rowland spoke to me and I replied pleasantly; there were no harsh words between us. In the afternoon I started back from the city with my uncle and my brother William, who had come to town with Firsher’s team. On reaching Bucklin’s we found Frank Brown and asked if I could ride home with him, as he lived near Green’s, where I have been at work. My uncle took the rifle from the bar and put it in the Fisher wagon, and I drove on with Brown and Dr. Gage, leaving my uncle and brother with the Fisher team at Bucklin’s. When we reached Connelly’s farm we were overtaken by John and Rowland Kightlinger, who were driving their own team. The called upon Brown to stop, which he did. Both the Kightlingers then jumped out of their wagon and started for me. Rowland tried to jump into the wagon, but I kept him out. He seized me by the coat and tore it off, and then tore off my vest. I then struck him once or twice and knocked him back into the road. Brown then drove on, and after going a few rods I got out and started back for my clothes, going into the field to avoid meeting the Kightlingers. I found my coat, vest and cap scattered about the road, and just then my uncle and brother drove up, and I got into their wagon.

My uncle had the rifle. I had previously agreed to buy it of him, and he consented to let me take it home. We drove on to Hydetown, and saw the Kightlingers in Ridgeway’s tavern. We drove on to Fulmer’s bridge, where we saw Frank Brown in the road looking for his team. He said that Gage had driven off with it, and insisted on my going to help find it. I got out and started with him, taking the rifle with me. We found the team at Sink’s, and Dr. Gage in the bar-room. There we took a drink apiece, for which I paid, and Brown bought a glass of whisky to pour on his horse’s foot, which was corked. Then we started for home. On reaching the trees below Fulmer’s bridge, we saw three teams at the side of the road, and several men standing. Rowland Kightlinger asked if that was Frank Brown, and called on him to stop. He then asked if George Turner was in the wagon. Brown stopped the wagon and was immediately assaulted by Rowland Kightlinger.

The next thing I knew, Rowland and John Kightlinger attacked me in the wagon; John was urging Rowland on, telling him to pull me out and lick me. Rowland jumped on the wheel and I repulsed him with the rifle. He then called for a pistol to shoot me, and attempted to get into the wagon. I had the rifle in my hand; he seized it by the end of the barrel. I held it by the barrel and stock, the lock being under my right arm. We struggle for the posession of it, and in that way, I suppose, the cock was pulled back by catching my shirt sleeve in my armpit. Then the rifle was unexpectedly discharged. At the same moment I receive a blow on the neck from John Kightlinger with the butt of a heavy whil. It is proper to say that the lock of the rifle was so arranged that it would not [stay cocked' unless the trigger was set. Hence the accidental discharge.

I have very little to add. I went to Meadville and surrendered myself to the Sheriff, and was released on my own recognizance. I have since been visiting among my friends, holding myself in readiness to answer the charges against me whenever called upon by the authorities. I hear that threats have been made against me by some of the Kightlingers, and hence have considered it prudent to keep out of their way.

I go to Meadvilee on Monday next with Chief of Police Rouse, to await the finding of the Grand Jury, and feel very confident that I shall be promptly acquitted of the charges upon which I have been arrested.

Respectfully yours,

GEORGE TURNER

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Dec 19, 1870

Court of Quarter Sessons
MEADVILLE, Jan. 4, 1871.
[excerpt]

TRIAL OF TURNER.

The next case put on trial was that of the Commonwealth vs. George Turner, indicted for the murder of A.Rowland Kightlinger at Hydetown on the night of December 3rd, 1870. As the calling of a jury for a murder trial differs from any other and is peculiar, we will briefly describe the modusoperandi. Each juryman is called into the jury box separately, and interrogated as to his conscientious scruples regarding the death penalty. First, however, the prisoner is arraigned by the District Attorney reading to him the indictment, and asking if he is guilty or not guilty. Upon his reply “not guilty,” he is asked how he wishes to be tried. He replies, “By God and my country.” Then a juryman is called, and the Clerk say to him:

“Juror: Look upon the prisoner. Prisoner look upon the juror.” The clerk then say to the counsel, “Challenge or no challenge.” The District Attorney then asks the juror the following questions:

Are you related to the prisoner?

Have you any conscientious scruples, such as would prevent you from giving a verdict of guilty where the sentence of death would follow?

Have you formed and expressed and opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the prisoner?

If the juryman answers these questions negatively the prosecution may waive a challenge or may challenge peremtorily, and the juryman withdraws, or they may accept him and he is then sworn in by the Clerk of the Court.

After calling thirty jurymen, a jury of twelve was drawn as follows: E.J. Dailey, W.D. Johnson, William Mumford, John Hood, Charles Saeger, Thomas Clements, S. Boyd Espy, James Scowden,? William McCormick, R.H. Sturtevant, Sebastian Cahappotin, K. McArthur.

The District Attorney, J.W. Smith, Esq., then stated the case to the jury, and recited to them what the Commonwealth expected to be able to prove. The District Attorney is assisted by F.B. Gurthie and Pearson Church, Esqs., and the case is defended by A.B. Richmond, A.O. Barry, W.C. Johns, W.R. Bole, and others.

The trial will proceed immediately.

Yours, H_______.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Jan 6, 1871

The Kightlinger Homicide.

ACQUITTAL OF GEORGE TURNER AND FRANCIS BROWN.

The trial of George Turner and Francis Brown, indicted for the willful murder of Rowland Kightlinger at Hydetown, on the evening of the third of December last, was commenced at the Court of Oyer and Terminer at Meadville on Wednesday, and concluded on Friday evening. The incidents of this homicide, occurring so near this city, and involving parties well known in this section, are familiar in the recollection of our readers, as they have been presented in all their phases in these columns from time to time. The attendance at the Court House, during the progress of the trial was very large. We present in another column an abstract of the material testimony on both sides, accompanied with the theory of the prosecution and defense. The jury, it will be seen, returned a verdict of acquittal of both Turner and Brown, after a brief consultation, a result clearly justified by the evidence, and required by the law.

Great credit is due to the indefatigable and learned counsel for the defense, Messrs. Barry and Johns, of this city, for the preparation of the case for the defense, and the skillful conduct of the trial.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Jan 6, 1871

Aqui, breves informações sobre a Lei do Ventre Livre.

© Cartas de Tiro

Petroleum Centre - Washington St. - 1868 (Image from www.petroleumhistory.org)

Destructive Fire at Petroleum Centre — The Upper Half of the Town in Ashes.

Shortly before midnight Thursday night, the citizens of Petroleum Centre were startled by the cry of fire, and upon going to the stree, flames were seen upon the north side of Washington street, in the vicinity of the Buffalo House, an hotel building, but unoccupied. A pretty stiff breeze was blowing, and before the fire engines, or even many citizens had assembled, the Buffalo House (which was the place at which the conflagration originated) was one sheet of flame, which was swiftly and surely creeping towards the upper end of the town. Those who supposed the fire would be confined to the locality where it started, were soon undeceived, for the wind, which was varying, suddenly changed, and in a few moments the buildings upon the opposite side of the street were in flames, which spread rapidly in a westerly direction.

It then became apparent that nearly the entire western portion of the town would be destroyed, though fortunately the progress of the devouring element was stayed near the place of starting by the efforts of the citizens, who tore down one building, and by hard work prevented any further destruction down the street, or towards the more densely populated portion of the town.

The scene that ensued during the three hours was fearful and baffles description, and though this was the fourth time that the same locality has been burned over, those who have witnessed the previous destruction of property in this vicinity, say that never before was there so little property saved, nor so complete a sweep of everything that would burn, combined with desperate attempts to save at least something from the flames, as upon the present occasion.

The buildings which were of wood, were nearly all old, and of a highly combustible nature and it was but a few moments after the flames had caught before the entire structure was a blaze of flame, from which it was impossible to save anything. Furniture and property of every description was brought out into the street only to be shortly after consumed by the flames from which it was a moment saved.

Several of the buildings were occupied as concert saloons or brothels, and the “soiled doves” were seen fluttering about in the lurid light of the flames, in [dishabille] or resembling Wilke Collins’ “Woman in White,” though their only anxiety seemed to be to save their wardrobes and trunks which was through the kindness of acquaintances generally effected.

The American hotel which stands near the western end of Washington street, )and which has twice before narrowly escaped destruction), was fortunately saved by the aid of wet blankets, and the wind which at this juncture shifted sufficiently to carry the flame across the street and in an opposite direction, and shortly afterwards the fire was arrested near the upper end of town and near Second street.

The following list comprises the names of property owners and the loss, together with insurance, so far as could be ascertained:

W.B. Davis, Petroleum Centre House and furniture, loss $3,500; no insurance.
E.W. Bailey, building, loss $500.
J.W. Thompson, building, loss $1,400; insured for $600.
H.C. Machter, building and stock of groceries, loss $4,100; insured for $2,000.
Delia Yorrick, building and groceries, loss $1,000.
G.R. Kemp, building, loss $800.
Owen Gaffney, building and stock of liquor, loss $5,000; insured for $1,000.
Nellie Robinson, Queen City Hotel and [Maison de Joi(jot?), loss $1,800; no insurance.
J. & M. Barrett, building and liquors, loss unknown.
Sweeney & Collins, liquor store, loss unknown.
Ellen Donnegan, furniture store and pawnbroker's shop, loss $3,000; insured for $1,800.
M. Souble, building, loss $600.
George King, meat market, loss $1,600; insured for $600.
David Ham's building, loss $1500; insured for $1,000.
J.M. Schultz & Co., grocers, building and stock, loss $1,400; insured for $300.
Michael McGee, building and fish market, loss $900.
John Glenn, building and shoe shop, loss $700.
Wm. Lee, building and news room, loss $400.
Mrs. T. Maloney, building, loss $1,000; insured for $500.
Johanna Collins, building, loss $400.
F.W. Barker & Co., stock of groceries, loss $1,700.
Mary Beck, building, loss $300.
W.H. Casey, building, loss $450.
Eliza Jane Riel, building, loss $500.
Mary A. Sargent, building, loss unknown.
Adam Fisher, building, loss $250.
Lizzie Brown, building, loss $300.
Ellen Donnegan, building, loss $400.
E.P. Sweeney, building, loss $600.
L.M. Sternberg, building, loss $1,200.
John Freel, building, loss $600.
Mary M. Smith, two buildings and saloon, loss $1,000.
Michael Freel, building and grocery, loss $500.
W.J. Bennett, building and stock of groceries, loss $900.
Ellen Donnegan, building, loss unknown. [did she have two, or is this a repeat?]
J.F. Hanna, machine shop, loss $4,000; no insurance.
John Ulmer, building, loss $700.
John Marvin, tenant, loss $700 on furniture.
L.A. Davis, building and billiard rooms, loss $1,000; insured for $300.
L.A. Hughes, building and billiard parlors, loss $2,500; insured for $1,200.
H.B. Aldrick, Buffalo House, not occupied.
Louis Riel, bowling alley, loss, $400.
Benj. Sabins, concert hall, loss $900.
E.W. Bailey, building, loss $400.
James Rutherford, hardware store, loss $9,000; insured for $3,000 in Williamsport and Cumberland Valley Companies.
Deckert & Evans, bulding torn down.

In addition to the above list of several small buildings and barn were also destroyed, making a total of about sixty buildings, including one that was pulled down to prevent the spread of the flames. There was comparatively little insurance upon the property destroyed, as will be seen by reference of the value of the property destroyed is $65,000.

SCENES AND INCIDENTS.

Never before in the history of all the towns in the oil region that have suffered at times from the fire fiend, was there so complete destruction as that which marked this last burning. An eye witness says that, when the fire was at its height, the scene was terrible, yet interesting; the roar of the flames, the showers of sparks, the crowd of people trying to save property, the “scarlet women” and their followers dusting out, made, altogether, a scene worthy of Dore’s pencil.

Many of the buildings that were saved were covered with mud, which is about the only good use this peculiar product has ever been put to in the oil region.

The morning after the fire the upper end of Washington street presented a gloomy and desolate appearance, a space of several acres in extent, being covered with burnt and smoking ruins, with charred timbers protruding at short distances, like blackened tombstones. The stoves in most of the buildings were but little injured by the fire, and were seen in every direction upright and apparently ready for use. A safe in Owen Graffney’s liquor store was found in the cellar the following morning and opened but the contents, including seven hundred dollars in greenbacks, was badly burned, though the money has been sent to Washington, where perhaps under the skillful manipulation of the “Government money members” it may yet be made redeemable.

There was a general rush from Titusville yesterday, to the Centre to view the scene of the fire, and upon the return of the four o’clock train one-hundred and  twenty tickets were taken up from the Centre alone, to points up the creek. The fire originated in the Buffalo House, which as previously stated, was unoccupied. It is supposed to have been the work of incendiaries, and strenuous efforts are being made to ferret out the guilty parties. Had the wind been in an opposite direction the best and most densely populated portions of the city would have been destroyed, as it is, however, with a few exceptions, the part “scorched” was of little benefit to the town.

We are indebted to the editors of The Daily Record, and Mr. McWalters of the Central Petroleum company for many facts and figures relating to the fire and losses.

TITUSVILLE MORNING HERALD (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Mar 11, 1871

Image from www.legendsofamerica.com

MR. C.M. MORSE, of Oil City, writes us an explanatory letter concerning his report that characterized Petroleum Centre as “Sodom and Gomorrah,” and conveyed the intimation that the inhabitants of that borough had been visited by a fire-fiend as a penalty for their transgressing.

The article was published in the leading editorial column of the other paper, but in the next issue the editor repudiated all responsibility for the libel on “the good people of Petroleum Centre,” and declared that the account was “sent to the office by a private hand, and at so late an hour as to preclude corrections. Mr. Morse asserts that he handed his manuscript to a reporter of the paper, with particular instructions to have it carefully revised (as it had been written hurriedly) and corrected.

This the reporter promised to see to, and fulfilled his pledge, for the article appeared the next morning with various alterations, but still retaining the obnoxious paragraph. Mr. Morse resents the attack upon himself as a very unworthy attempt of the editor to shift the responsibility from his own shoulders by unjustly throwing it upon the reporter. The communication was received at too late an hour for publication, but we have given the material points as a matter of justice to the young gentleman, who has no other medium for his vindication.

TITUSVILLE MORNING HERALD, (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Mar 15, 1871

*****

Here is an interesting link referencing the seedier parts of the Pennsylvania oil region from Petroleum History.org.

La Commune de Paris trouve sa source dans un élan républicain se référant à la Première République et au gouvernement révolutionnaire de la Commune de Paris (1792), ainsi qu’à l’insurrection populaire de juin 1848 sous la Deuxième République et qui avait été réprimée de façon sanglante par le gouvernement instauré par la Révolution de février 1848. C’est d’ailleurs depuis cette date que le drapeau rouge rallie les insurrectionnalistes et barricadiers, parce qu’il symbolise le sang du peuple ouvrier, le drapeau tricolore étant synonyme de répression (le drapeau rouge était à l’origine, sous la Révolution, le drapeau symbolisant la loi martiale ; le peuple a repris ce symbole pour se moquer des monarques et des soldats).

De 1804 à 1871, la France ayant vécu principalement sous des régimes monarchiques ou impériaux (Premier Empire, Restauration, Monarchie de Juillet, Second Empire), le régime républicain n’avait fonctionné que très peu d’années. En juillet 1870, Napoléon III entreprend une guerre mal préparée contre la Prusse qui le conduit rapidement à la défaite. Le 4 septembre 1870, à la suite d’une journée d’émeute, l’Empire est renversé et un Gouvernement de la Défense nationale s’installe à l’Hôtel de ville de Paris pour poursuivre la guerre contre les États allemands. Paris est assiégé et connaît une grave famine au cours de l’hiver 1870-71. Jules Favre, ministre des Affaires étrangères du gouvernement de la Défense nationale, signe un armistice avec Bismarck. Celui-ci prévoit, outre la fin des hostilités pour une période de quinze jours renouvelables, la convocation d’une Assemblée nationale, chargée de décider de la poursuite de la guerre ou de la paix. Les élections du 8 février, organisées dans la précipitation pour signer au plus vite l’armistice, envoient une forte proportion de monarchistes, candidats des listes “pour la paix”, à l’Assemblée nationale. La plus grande partie des élus de Paris sont des républicains, des listes “pour la guerre”, souvent extrémistes. En effet le peuple parisien pense s’être correctement défendu et ne se considère pas comme vaincu. Il existe un fossé grandissant entre les provinces et la capitale, confinant parfois à l’exaspération, la guerre ayant été déclenchée en grande partie sous la pression de la rue parisienne.

L’Assemblée se réunit d’abord à Bordeaux, puis à Versailles, pour ne pas tomber sous les révoltes parisiennes comme cela a failli se produire pendant le gouvernement de la Défense nationale (31 octobre notamment).

Depuis le 17 février, le gouvernement de la République est dirigé par Adolphe Thiers “chef du pouvoir exécutif” ; il cherche à conclure un traité de paix avec la Prusse. Les Parisiens, qui ont supporté un siège très dur, et sous le coup d’une fièvre obsidionale ( “la folie du siège” ), veulent protéger Paris des Prussiens et ouvrir une nouvelle ère politique et sociale^[2]. Ils refusent que les troupes françaises récupèrent les canons de Paris et craignent que les Prussiens, entrés dans la ville, ne s’en emparent. C’est donc l’épreuve de force entre les royalistes, grands bourgeois et conservateurs provinciaux, tous favorables à une paix rapide avec l’Allemagne, retirés à Versailles et la population parisienne (essentiellement celle des quartiers de l’est parisien soumise aux très dures conditions salariales et sociales de l’époque et principale victime de la famine due au siège de Paris par les Allemands).

À Paris, la mixité sociale dans les quartiers, de règle depuis le Moyen Âge, a presque disparu avec les transformations urbanistiques du Second Empire. Les quartiers de l’ouest (VII^e, VIII^e, XVI^e et XVII^e arrondissements) concentrent les plus riches des Parisiens (avec leur domesticité). Les quartiers centraux conservent encore des personnes aisées. Mais les classes populaires ont été regroupées à l’Est (XI^e, XII^e, XIII^e, X^e, XVIII^e, XIX^e et XX^e arrondissements). Les ouvriers sont très nombreux : 442 000 sur 1,8 million d’habitants selon le recensement de 1866. S’y ajoutent de très nombreux artisans (près de 70 000, la plupart travaillant seuls ou avec un unique ouvrier) et de très petits commerçants dont la situation sociale est assez proche de celle des ouvriers. Ces classes populaires ont commencé à s’organiser. Le droit de grève qui a été accordé en 1864, a été très utilisé dans les dernières années du Second Empire. À l’occasion d’élections législatives de février 1864, des ouvriers publient le manifeste des Soixante, qui réclame la liberté du travail, l’accès au crédit et la solidarité. Depuis septembre 1864, il existe une Internationale ouvrière, qui a des représentants à Paris (en 1868, le gouvernement impérial dissout la section française de l’Internationale dont les membres ont participé à des manifestations républicaines). La loi sur la liberté de la presse de 1868, permet l’émergence publique de revendications économiques anti-capitalistes : la « nationalisation » des banques, des assurances, des mines, des chemins de fer (programme de Malon et Varlin pour les élections législatives de 1869)… Les blanquistes, qui prônent l’insurrection, se manifestent de plus en plus.

Les classes populaires parisiennes craignent de se voir une nouvelle fois frustrées des bénéfices de « leur » révolution de septembre 1870 (renversement du Second empire). Déjà, après les journées révolutionnaires parisiennes de juillet 1830 et après celle de février 1848, et les élections de mai 1848, les classes aisées avaient confisqué le pouvoir politique à leur profit, en installant la Monarchie de juillet et le Second Empire. En 1871, les Parisiens sont méfiants envers l’assemblée nouvellement élue en février 1871, où les deux tiers des députés sont des monarchistes de diverses tendances ou des bonapartistes. L’assemblée, méfiante du Paris populaire toujours prêt à s’enflammer, décide, le 10 mars, de siéger à Versailles (ville sous contrôle des Allemands et symbole de la monarchie absolue). L’assemblée mène une politique sociale qui va mettre en difficultés une partie des Parisiens, déjà éprouvés par le siège de la ville par l’armée prussienne (durant cette période, la consommation d’absinthe est multipliée par cinq)^{[citation nécessaire]}. Le 10 mars, elle décide la suppression du moratoire des effets de commerce, des loyers et des dettes, désormais ce sont trois termes qui deviennent exigibles. De nombreux ouvriers, artisans et commerçants se voient menacés dans leurs moyens de vivre (on estime à près de 150 000 les personnes ainsi menacées de faillite ou de poursuites judiciaires). De plus, l’assemblée supprime la solde quotidienne de 1,50 franc des soldats de la Garde nationale, privant ainsi une partie des classes pauvres de Paris d’une source de revenus. Cette politique rappelle, aux plus vieux des Parisiens, celle menée au printemps 1848, par l’Assemblée dominée par le Parti de l’Ordre dont un des chefs était Thiers. Quand le gouvernement décide de désarmer les Parisiens ceux-ci se sentent directement menacés. Il s’agit de soustraire aux Parisiens les 227 canons entreposés à Belleville et à Montmartre. Les Parisiens considèrent ces canons comme leur propriété, qu’ils ont eux-mêmes payés lors de la guerre contre la Prusse par le biais de la souscription. Ils se voient sans défense vis-à-vis d’éventuelles attaques des troupes gouvernementales (comme en juin 1848). Cependant les Parisiens disposent de près de 500 000 fusils.

Source:  http://fr.wikipedia.org

Bien des choses nous son occulté dans nos écoles la commune de paris sujet important de notre histoire pré-contemporaine, nous est cachés.

VOIRE AUSSI LE DOCUMENT  le film de Peter Watkins “La commune”

Tahoe House - Virginia City, Nevada

The jury in the case of Laura D. Fair, murderer of A.P. Crittenden, remained out forty minutes, when a verdict of murder in the first degree was rendered. The prisoner appeared somewhat paler than usual when taken from the court room, otherwise she was unmoved. It may not be improper to say now of this verdict that until within last week no one generally believed it possible, as nearly everybody was expecting the trial to prove a perfect farce, ending in the acquittal of the prisoner, or a disagreement of the jury. Nine-tenths of the community regard the verdict as a just and proper vindication of the law, and a rebuke of the doctrines put forth in the defense.

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Apr 27, 1871

The testimony of Mrs. Crittenden in the trial of Laura Fair deserves to be particularly pondered by the advocates of easy divorces. Mrs. Crittenden appears in it, as she does throughout all the testimony which refers to her in the case, as a noble and self-sacrificing woman, whose whole desire was to do her duty by her husband and her children. The natural impulse of a scorned woman for revenge she had gained a complete and admirable victory over. It was not, as she testifies, and as the whole history of the case shows, for herself, but for her children, that she pleaded with the woman Fair; and she declared that even if her husband abandoned her she would not put upon them the stigma of a divorce. IF she had chosen to take the course which the law in all States opened to her, or if Crittenden had been able to avail himself of the “incompatibility” which the law in some States allows as a cause for divorce, there is no doubt that he would have foresaken his wife for a woman in every way immeasurably inferior to her. The contrast between the modest and broken hearted lady and the brazen adventuress who succeeded in supplanting her was pointed upon the trial by the insolent interruption with which a prostitute and a murderess marked her hatred of a true and virtuous woman. In the state of things which easy divorce would bring about, the infatuation of Crittenden was so great that the woman who is the refuse of the earth would have won a complete and legal triumph over one of the women who are the salt of it. The woman who is now a widow would have been worse than a widow, and the children who are now fatherless would have been worse than orphans. It is in behalf of women like Mrs. Crittenden, and in despite of women like Mrs. Fair, that the divorce laws are kept stringent. Choose ye. — N.Y. World.

We have but little in common with those journalistic ghouls who have made the debasing details of this trial the daily dessert of their literary meal.

The facts are that Mr. Crittenden was a gentleman, high-toned, honorable and noble; wise in the great affairs of life; foolish as a child in all that concerned a woman. The world has many such men, who are among its greatest and best. They live, die, and are followed to the grave by weeping multitudes, because Providence preserves them from the wiles of wicked and fascinating women. That Mr. Crittenden was such a man, his long life of honorable usefulness, his many years of faithful fidelity to the love of his youth, abundantly proves. That Mrs. Fair was and is an incarnate fiend, all-powerful for evil, and constantly accomplishing it, her life of untiring mischief plainly demonstrates. She ruined Mr. Crittenden just as she would have ruined the judge and the jury that tried and convicted her, and just as she will probably ruin the counsel that defended her should she escape the gallows she so richly deserves. In the hands of a beautiful and wicked woman, men are children, and foolish in proportion as they are noble and generous.

Had Mr. Crittenden been a stolid, money loving, unintellectual, gross debauchee he would have laughed at her charms and thrown off her fascinations with the wine that he quaffed. The white wings of a dove are easily soiled, while smut does no harm on the black plumes of a foul raven.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Apr 30, 1871

Mrs. LAURA D. FAIR, for murdering Mr. Crittenden, will be hanged at San Francisco, on the 28th of July.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jun 10, 1871

Laura D. Fair.

The fate of this beautiful murderess is yet in the balance, and if the Supreme Court of California does not grant her a new trial, she will as certainly be hung as that her hair is blonde, and her voice winning and musical. It is a sad thing at all times to hang a beautiful woman. Beauty is nature’s protest against the rigorous letter of the law, and the executioner who destroys it, or the judge ________ such destruction obligatory, violates that which is too rare to be banished from the midst of men. In Mexico there grows a tree, called the mara mujere? or bad Woman. It is always in the tropics and bears one crimson blossom., symbolizing a drop of human blood. It is hot overhead, the undergrowth is a wilderness, birds of beautiful plumage dart in and out among the vines, created by the ____, the traveler in one _____ moment lays hand on the Red Woman. [A thousand ______ _____ than ??????? unreadable sentence.]the hand is poisoned, dreadful pain follows, and afterward paralysis and death. If he had not touched the tree, however, the songs of the birds would still be sweet for

Daily Democrat (Sedalia, Missouri) Dec 20, 1871

The report of the death in prison at San Francisco of Mrs. Laura D. Fair, which was said to have occurred on the 30th ult, was a mistake. A San Francisco dispatch of the 5th says, “Mrs. Laura D. Fair is in excellent health and confident that she will never be hanged. Elisha Cook, her principal counsel, died the last hour of the year.

Edwardsville Intelligencer (Edwardsville, Illinois) Jan 18, 1872

*****

Some Gallows Humor:

Laura D. Fair, who was put in prison at San Francisco, California, under sentence of death, for the murder of Crittenden, is dead. She was a remarkable woman. — Brenham Times.

Remarkable, indeed, since at present she is alive and well, and snugly immured in San Francisco jail.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Feb 7, 1872

*****

It is insinuated by San Francisco journals that Mrs. Laura D. Fair cannot, in accordance with law, be hung for several months to come because of an impending event.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Jan 31, 1872

THE WOMAN IN BLACK.
The Second Trial of Laura D. Fair — How She Looks in Court.

After months of delay, the second trial of Laura D. Fair, for the murder of A.P. Crittenden, began yesterday in the Fifteenth district court, Judge T.B. Reardon presiding. As is usual whenever this case is called, an immense crowd was gathered in the court-room, which shows that public interest in the result is in no wise abated.

Mrs. Fair entered the court-room at 10 o’clock, under escort of a deputy sheriff, and took a seat by her counsel N. Greene Curtis and Judge Quaint, by both of whom she was cordially greeted. As she came in, the crowd made a passage way through which she walked with a firm step.

She was dressed, as usual, in deep black — black silk dress, black hat and veil, and black gloves. Everything was black except her face, which was as white as Parian marble. Her golden curls trailed down through the folds of her sombre veil, and seemed like rays of sunlight streaming through a blackened cloud. She seated herself at the lawyer’s table, and resting her head on her hand, seemed lost in sad, sad reverie. In the opening proceedings she took no interest whatever. She sat with her eyes on the floor, and only lifted them when her counsel turned to her to make some remark. Her veil was kept down closely over her face, and her features were almost entirely hidden from the eager, curious gaze of the crowd. Later in the day, when the names of the jurors were called, she manifested a slight degree of interest, but when, one after another, they entertained opinions, she seemed to gather from the circumstance a knowledge of how little sympathy there was in the cold, hard faces about her. For a while she listened, but soon sank back in her chair, evidently disheartened and depressed. Once she smiled, when listening to the questioning of an idiot who was on the stand under examination as to his qualifications to sit on the jury, but it was a sickly mournful smile and passed away as quickly as it came.

Sitting apart from the prominent actress in the scene was another older lady. She too, was attired in black and looked sad and sorrowful. This was the mother of Mrs. Fair. She had come into the court before Mrs. Fair, but when the latter entered she did not notice her. Neither spoke to the other, and both sat apart and alone. In the afternoon Mrs. Lane again entered the court, but Judge Quint went up to her and whispered something, after which she left and was seen no more. After this Mrs. Fair was left entirely alone with her counsel. — San Francisco Chronicle.

Daily Democrat (Sedalia, Missouri) Sep 23, 1872

ACQUITTAL OF LAURA FAIR.

The acquittal of Mrs. Laura D. Fair makes good the boast that in California no woman had been or ever would be executed for murder. The killing of Crittenden was not a disputed fact. It was not brought home to her on the strength of circumstantial evidence. IT was admitted. Infuriated by the sight of the wife of her paramour and the kiss with which the unfaithful husband welcomed her return to the Pacific Coast, Mrs. Fair drew a pistol, which apparently she had deliberately provided for the purpose, and shot him dead. The verdict of the jury which first found her guilty of murder was approved by every intelligent reader of the testimony. If murder ever stained the annals of human history, then Mrs. Fair was guilty of it. Her acquittal rests, if it has any basis beyond the sympathy of the jurors for a woman upon the plea of temporary insanity — a plea which may be resorted to in almost any case of killing, and in California with manifest success.

Mrs. Fair goes unhung for her crime, but she will not go unpunished. In all civilized society where she may appear hereafter, she will be avoided as one whose hand is stained with the same stain which reddened the hand of Lady Macbeth. If the legal penalty of her crime is not exacted, the moral law will be avenged upon her in such a way that she will be likely to regret her release from the walls of a friendly prison, and wish for death as a release from the scorn and contempt of mankind. — Cincinnati COMMERCIAL.

The Coshocton Democrat (Coshocton, Ohio) Oct 8, 1872

More “Humor” From the Press:

Laura Fair, just acquitted of the murder of Colonel Crittenden in California is called the “pretty bully in bombazine” by a Western paper. The “pretty bullet” would come nearer the mark.

Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Oct 9, 1872

*****

The St. Louis Democrat says that Laura D. Fair, who shot Mr. Crittenden, has made “a quarter of a million in Yellow Jacket,” and thinks that now “she had better kill somebody else — say a brutal witness who inhumanly witnessed the shooting.”

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Oct 18, 1872

*****

HAVING escaped the gallows, Miss Laura D. Fair is now making a determined effort to save her money, and has repudiated Judge Quint’s little bill of $8,075 for legal services.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Nov 9, 1872

Image from www.all-about-agatha-christie.com

The following telegram tells why the notorious Laura D. Fair failed to fulfill her first lecture appointment in the Golden City:

“At the hour that Mrs. Fair was t o appear and lecture upon ‘Wolves in the Fold,’ about 2,000 people congregated in front of Platt’s Hall, on Montgomery street, and as many before her residence on Kearney street. The crowds at both places were boisterous and threatening.

At 8 o’clock Mrs. Fair demanded of the Chief of Police an escort of officers to the lecture hall. The Chief advised her that it was dangerous for her to appear on the street or at the hall, and would not furnish an escort, but sent men to keep the streets clear and preserve the peace.

The carriage came for Mrs. Fair, but she kept close in her room with a dozen friends. The crowd hooted and yelled, and men tried to force their way up the stairs, but were driven back. In about tow hours but few remained and all was quiet.”

The question of calling a convention to form a State Constitution for Washington Territory has been voted down ….. A tremendous sensation has been caused in San Francisco by the publication of the particulars of an alleged plot by Laura D. Fair and a restaurant waiter named Frank to poison Judge Dwinelle and the counsel for the people, Alex. Campbell. The plot was formed before the second trial, and was revealed by Frank. He said that Mrs. Fair tried to induce him to put poison in a decanter at Dwinelle’s house or a milk can at the door. A plan of Judge Dwinelle’s house was found in the possession of Frank.

The Dixon Telegraph (Dixon, Illinois) Dec 4, 1872

*****

Laura Fair cocktails, recently sold in San Francisco saloons, have been discontinued since the rumored attempt of that lady to poison Judge Dwinelle.

New York Herald (New York, New York) Dec 4, 1872

*****

THE notorious Laura D. Fair has had J. Thistleton arrested in San Francisco for caricaturing her during her late trial for murder.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Jan 11, 1873

*****

Laura D. Fair lectured, on Wednesday night at Hamilton Hall, Sacramento, Cal., upon “Wolves in the Fold.” She was exceedingly bitter upon the San Francisco Press, clergy, attorneys, and the jury which first tried her.

The New York Times (New York, New York) Jan 31, 1873

*****

The shot with which Laura Fair killed Crittenden almost as suddenly turned white the hair of a daughter of the deceased, it is said. The young lady, who is but twenty years old is described as beautiful and intelligent, but overcast with a cloud of melancholy that will embitter her future life. Being asked recently by an intrepid interviewer how came her hair so white and she so young, she answered “sorrow,” and immediately left the room.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Apr 2, 1873

It is reported that Laura D. Fair has married a lawyer in San Francisco.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Dec 28, 1873

More Gallows Humor From the Press:

AN exchange says that Laura Fair is said to make a model housekeeper, and her husband is one of the happiest men in California. This is the best argument we have yet seen against hanging. A reprieved murderess and so on makes the best wife. Still, it looks as though Laura’s fortieth husband may be a man not hard to please.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Apr 9, 1874

*****

Laura Fair visited Cincinnati in cog. last week. She was detected by a hotel clerk, who observed a name on a pistol which she was examining to see if the charges were all right. The hotel charges?

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Apr 29, 1874

*****

Laura Fair has gone to Japan to shoot the Mikado.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Jul 14, 1874

*****

Laura D. Fair, San Francisco murderess, was spared the gallows that she might appear in a police court as the victimized purchaser of 6,666 shares of a silver mine which couldn’t boast a bonansa.

Bismarck Daily Tribune (Bismarck, North Dakota) Feb 24, 1875

*****

Laura Fair, in a card, denies that she advised Mrs. Loomis, another terrible woman of San Francisco, to shoot Col. Barnes.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Jun 18, 1875

Laura D. Fair was before the Probate Court at San Francisco, the other day, to get an order authorizing the sale of some real estate standing in the name of her little daughter. She got it.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Aug 5, 1875

The Press Just Isn’t Going To Let it Die:

“Laura Fair,” says The Detroit Free Press,” has settled down into a quiet, peaceful body, who wouldn’t step on a cat’s tail if she could just as well not. She says she wouldn’t shoot another man for thirty dollars.”

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Mar 11, 1876

Laura D. Fair has invented a baby carriage and sold the patent to an eastern firm for $14,000.

Reno Weekly Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jun 26, 1879

*****

Laura D. Fair has written a lecture entitled “Chips from California,” the initial delivery of which will be at Chickering Hall New York to-night. The lecture is understood to contain much that is dramatic of the unmasked and practical side of life as seen in the Golden State. It is said to also treat of public men, politics, notable women, of the requisites to the inner circles of the California elite, at the operators on “the street,” of Henry Ward Beecher’s visit to California, and something about the Chinese, the Bonanza Kings, and the domestic virtues of California hospitality.

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Sep 23, 1879

Miss Hollis at Auditorium.

The Lorraine Hollis company produced Dumas’ great masterpiece, “La Dame aux Camellias” at the Auditorium Saturday evening to a large and critical audience. It is enough to say that no one in the house was in the least dissatisfied with the work of Miss Hollis in the leading role and of Orme Caldara as Armand Duval, they having to respond to a curtain call.

Miss Hollis’ work is equal t that of Lillian Lewis in her palmiest days in the role of Camille. The scene between Camille and Armand’s father, in which the latter besecaes? her to abandon Armand for his honor’s sake, is especially well done, and not a criticism could be offered on Miss Hollis’ work in this exceedingly difficult part. The end of Camille’s life of sacrifice, her reconcilation with Armand, and her death in his arms, surrounded by a few friends who have remained true to her, is exquisitely pathetic, and the fine touches of art which Miss Hollis bestows on her work in this scene may well be mistaken for reality. Miss Hollis is a clever actress, a charming woman, and undoubtedly has a great future before her.

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Jan 15, 1900

FAMOUS BEAUTY FOUND DEAD IN ROOM
Death of Actress Recalls Old Crittenden Murder of Years Ago.

NEW YORK, Feb. 7. — Many actors and actresses stood with bowed heads on the sidewalk in front of an Eighth avenue undertaking establishment yesterday as the coffin containing the body of Lillian Lorraine Hollis, known as “the child of tragedy,” was borne out to the hearse which conveyed it to a crematory.

“Here ends the career of a girl whom California proclaimed twenty-two years ago as its most beautiful product,” soliloquized Albert Curtis, an old-time stock company actor. “In a voting contest conducted by several California newspapers in 1892 Miss Hollis was proclaimed the prettiest woman on the Pacific coast.”

When her body was found in a little furnished room at 223 West Forty-ninth street it seemed drawn and sallow. The beauty of twenty years ago had faded. A score of cats were slinking about the room. Among them was Charley, known to every theater almost throughout the United States, because Miss Hollis always insisted on this big, ugly cat accompanying her.

How long Miss Hollis had been dead is not known. She was ill last Friday, the last time a friend had called upon her. The physician said it was inanimation and lack of nourishment. Others used the plain word starvation.

The mother of Lillian Lorraine Hollis was Laura D. Fair, and she was known forty years ago as one of the most beautiful women in San Francisco. On November 3, 1870, soon after the birth of the woman who was cremated yesterday, Laura Fair followed Judge A.P. Crittenden on board a ferry boat going from San Francisco to Oakland, where he was to meet his wife, returning from the East, and shot and killed him.

Laura Fair, famed for her beauty, had left a baby in her rooms, and just as Judge Crittenden was stepping from the boat to meet his wife she demanded that he abandon his wife and live with her and acknowledge the parentage of the girl who died alone in privation here a few days ago. He spurned her, and, in proof that “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” she killed him.

After a sensational trial, in which many of hte early families of California were involved, Laura Fair was convicted of murder and sentenced to be hanged. She was the first woman to be so sentenced. Popular sentiment was aroused and Laura Fair had another trial and was acquitted.

Returning to her baby, she established a little home and supported herself by singing in the mining camp dance halls. Growing up in this environment, the daughter became an actress at an early age, and for the last twenty-five years she has been with many companies. Her greatest affluence was attained when she owned a company of her own, but this soon failed. Her last marriage is said to have been to a man named Andrew Hines.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Feb 7, 1913

*****

Suicide Prompted by Death
Woman Seeks to End Life
Old Tragedy Now Recalled

SAN FRANCISCO, Feb. 8 — Mrs. Laura D. Snyder, mother of Lillian Lorraine Hollis, who recently died in poverty in New York, attempted to kill herself by cutting her throat at her home in Richmond today. Physicians said tonight she probably would recover.

Grieved over the death of her daughter, friends say, has affected Mrs. Snyder’s mind.

Mrs. Snyder, whose maiden name was Fair, figured more than 40 years ago in a famous criminal case. On a ferry boat en route from San Francisco to Oakland, she shot and killed Judge A.P. Crittenden, who the woman claimed was the father of her child, Lillian.

Laura Fair was sentenced to be hanged for the murder, but a new trial was granted her and she was acquitted. Afterwards she went into mining camps and made a living for herself and child.

The daughter became noted for her beauty and in 1892 won a newspaper voting contest as the most beautiful woman on the Pacific coast. She became an actress and went east.

The news of her death in destitute circumstances at New York was the first word Mrs. Snyder had received of her daughter in many years.

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Feb 9,  1913

Killed Judge Crittenden on Ferryboat in 1870 Because of Unwelcome Attentions

RICHMOND, Feb. 11. — Believing herself to be nearing the grave, but wishing first to clear the name of her dead daughter, Lillian Lorraine Hollis, the once famous actress, Lillian Fair, Mrs. L.D. Snyder of this city, who, in 1870 shot and killed Judge A.P. Crittenden on the ferryboat El Capitan, yesterday told the story of her own tragic career since the birth of her daughter, Lillian, in Siskiyou county in 1860.

Mrs. Snyder refutes the stories that have been current to the effect that her daughter, once known as one of the most beautiful women in the United States, died in a tenement house alone and in poverty.

HUSBAND FOUND DEAD.

Mrs. Snyder, who is 75 years old, was formerly Mrs. Laura D. Fair, wife of Colonel William D. Fair, a famous attorney of the early days of California and Nevada. Fair was found dead with a bullet in his brain in the offices of Dr. Murphy in San Francisco. The autopsy showed that two shots had been fired, one of which had killed Fair. The mystery as to whether or not Fair had committed suicide or was the victim of a pistol duel was never cleared.

In later years Mrs. Fair became engaged to Crittenden, but on learning that he was a married man, she married Snyder, and since 1906 has lived in Richmond.

The tragic events in her life have broken her heart and her health. When the news of her daughter’s death reached her she tried to kill herslef.

TIRED OF STRUGGLE.

“It is no use keeping up the struggle longer,” she said. “I am so weary of it all and there is nothing else now for me to live for. Lillian is gone, my Babie Fair. I am 75 and I can’t last very much longer anyhow.

“Who says she was alone, and poverty stricken? Who dares attack her legitimacy of birth? She was the daughter of my husband, Colonel William D. Fair, and was born in Yreka, Siskiyou county, in August, 1860.

STORY UNTRUE.

“She did not die alone, but was under the care of kind friends and the treatment of Dr. Thomas R. English, 65 Central Park West, New York. For a long time she had been ill with a complication of lung troubles and a weak heart, but despite that she has earned her own living by teaching music. She left the stage some years ago.”

Mrs. Leonora S. Smith, landlady of the flat occupied by Mrs. Hollis at 133 East Ninty-fourth street, writes to Mrs. Snyder under date of February 3, telling her of the affairs of her daughter. “And this letter from my Lillian herself will prove that those sensational reports sent out from the East are false,” said Mrs. Snyder, referring to the following letter from Miss Hollis:

SENDS LETTER.

New York, Jan. 26. ‘13.
Dear Mamma: It may be possible for me to get pupils again soon, only I must first get more strength. You letter has caused me to make a renewed honest fight. I write in haste to keep my work and send love to Mamma mine. The children I have been teaching music will come to see me again before Easter.
Write soon please.
Mary Mother guard you.
Lovingly, BABIE FAIR.“

“I presume the only thing left for me to do is to review the whole terrible story,” said Mrs. Snyder. “My husband, Colonel Fair, died a year and half after Lillian was born, leaving me in excellent financial circumstances. I went to Virginia City, Nevada, where I bought a large rooming house and it was there when my daughter was four years old that I first met Crittenden.

TELLS OWN STORY.

“At that time Crittenden represented himself as a single man and when I left Virginia City he still paid me attentions, saying that his wife had died a number of years before. I believed him, but later I found out that it was not so.

“I married Snyder and Crittenden again pestered me with attentions. I had told Snyder before my marriage of the Crittenden incident and he said that if he should bother me after my marriage he would shoot him.

“Crittenden kept up his attentions and was even so bold as to enter my house. I feared that if my husband should see him there would be murder. Shortly afterward Crittenden sent me a note saying my husband was paying attention to another woman and offered to hire detectives to shadow my husband. He asked if I had any objection and I said no. One night the detective, McDougal, came to my house and told me that he was ready with evidence. Accompanied by two witnesses and the detective, I found my husband with another woman.

SUED FOR DIVORCE.

“I sued for divorce and was granted a decree in three weeks. After it was all over I learned that Snyder had been paid by Crittenden to aid in furnishing evidence by which I would be persuaded to sue for divorce. After the trial I accused Crittenden to his face of having been responsible and he neither denied nor admitted that my accusation was just.

“I told him then that if I ever met him again I would shoot him and I did. I was acquitted and many of my closest friends told me that I should have shot him a lot sooner. Immediately after the trial I took a flat at the corner of Gough and Hayes streets in San Francisco, where I lived until my daughter was 13 years of age.

DAUGHTER MARRIED.

“Between the ages of 18 and 19 she married Andrew W. Haynes.
“She had $10,000 at the time of her marriage in her own name. Her marriage was not a happy one, and after living with Haynes for about six years she secured a divorce. She was never married again.

“Afterward she went on the stage, playing at the old Alcazar Theater, and never going on the vaudeville stage. She later showed great ability in dramatic work, and went East, where she continued her dramatic work until 1902. Since then she had devoted her time to writing. She was the author of a number of plays, some of which she staged with success.

LOVED THE WEST.

“She enjoyed great success until the past few years, when she had been in ill heath. I have heard from her from time to time, and a year or so ago wrote to her that I would try to join her in New York. She replied that she would try to come to California, as she would rather live in the bricks and ashes of San Francisco than in a palace in New York.”

” I realize now that it will not be long before I will join her. I am a woman 75 years of age, and have not a great many years before me. It is for this reason that I desire to set the facts in the case aright.”

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Feb 11, 1913

DEATH RECALLS FERRY TRAGEDY

With the filing in San Francisco yesterday of a report of the public administrator, there was disclosed the fact that Laura A. Snyder, formerly Laura Fair, who figured in one of the historic sensations of California is dead. Also there was written probably the last chapter of a story, of an angered woman and the shooting at her hands of the man she contended had wronged her, Alexander Crittenden. The shooting took place in 1870, when Crittenden and his wife who had come from the east to join him, were crossing from Oakland to San Francisco on a ferry boat. Laura Fair also was on the boat for a purpose and that was to seek the life of Crittenden.

On her first trial she was convicted, but subsequently obtained a verdict in acquittal. Now it seems that for years she had been living in a little place at 2143 Market street, San Francisco, where on Monday she died of heart failure. She was 82 years old. Public Administrator Hynes found that she had left $1100 in the Bank of Italy, and that there are two heirs in Salt Lake.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Oct 15, 1919

*****

THEY ARE FORGOTTEN

THE TRIAL of Public Defender Frank Egan in San Francisco and his associate, one Tinnin, a former penitentiary inmate, in which both were convicted of murder, is being spoken of in the bay cities as “historic,” but as an Oakland paper editorially remarks, “In a few days it will be forgotten.” This is quite likely, as other trials that attracted great attention at the time have long since passed from public memory.

One of the most famous criminal cases in the history of the coast was the killing of Alexander Crittenden, noted lawyer of Nevada and California and a graduate of West Point, by Laura D. Fair, widow of Sheriff Fair of Shasta county, California. In 1862 she conducted the Tahoe House in Virginia City. In November, 1870, when Crittenden was with his wife and children on board a ferry steamer, Mrs. Fair stepped up to him and suddenly shot him. He died two days later. She was convicted on her first trial but acquitted on her second on the ground of insanity. Owing to the prominence of the woman and Crittenden, it was literally years before the killing ceased to be a theme of conversation. Now few recall it.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Sep 9, 1932

*****

The Gentle Tamers on Google Books has a good summary of Laura D. Fair and the murder of Alexander Crittenden.

Another summary in History of California By Theodore Henry Hittell, also on Google Books.

The Franco Prussian War in 1870-1871, revolutionized the balanced of power that erupted before the war began.  The North German Confederation longed to unite the other German states and with the ego of Napolean III, war was declared July 18, 1870. Prussia, the strongest of the German States, managed to organize a powerful and well trained military force, while the French Army fought long and hard, but were in disarray due to poor preparations. The lack of leadership from the French government led to the end of the war and the Germans occupied Paris. A brief parade in Paris ensued, while the French negotiated for peace. When the Germans occupied France, the German States wanted to unify the German States and the Kaiser was soon crowned the head of the new Imperial Germany. France’s surrender led to a territorial change because Alsace was part of the newly formed Germany, this would soon lead to a bitter resentment that would haunt France and Germany until the outbreak of the First World War. With the leadership of Otto von Bismarck, Kaiser Wilhem I was crowned German Emperor, and the Third French Republic was founded and an economic uprise flourished Germany after the German States were united. This conflict had a tremendous impact in the power shift the European countries held. But, I view this conflict as a lesson learned for the balance of power, a lesson that would bring attention after two world wars. And, may God bless the soldiers that served and died in that war…

                        Listen Lord

                        A Prayer

                        O Lord, we come this morning
                         Knee-bowed and body-bent
                         Before thy throne of grace.
                         O Lord — this morning –
                         Bow our hearts beneath our knees,
                         And our knees in some lonesome valley.
                         We come this morning –
                         Like empty pitchers to a full fountain,
                         With no merits of our own.
                         O Lord — open up a window of heaven,
                         And lean out far over the battlements of glory,
                         And listen this morning.
                         Lord, have mercy on proud and dying sinners –
                         Sinners hanging over the mouth of hell,
                         Who seem to love their distance well.
                         Lord — ride by this morning –
                         Mount your milk-white horse,

                        And ride-a this morning –
                         And in your ride, ride by old hell,
                         Ride by the dingy gates of hell,
                         And stop poor sinners in their headlong plunge.
                         And now, O Lord, this man of God,
                         Who breaks the bread of life this morning –
                         Shadow him in the hollow of thy hand,
                         And keep him out of the gunshot of the devil.
                         Take him, Lord — this morning –
                         Wash him with hyssop inside and out,
                         Hang him up and drain him dry of sin.
                         Pin his ear to the wisdom-post,
                         And make his words sledge hammers of truth –
                         Beating on the iron heart of sin.
                         Lord God, this morning –
                         Put his eye to the telescope of eternity,
                         And let him look upon the paper walls of time.
                         Lord, turpentine his imagination,
                         Put perpetual motion in his arms,
                         Fill him full of the dynamite of thy power,
                         Anoint him all over with the oil of thy salvation,
                         And set his tongue on fire.
                         And now, O Lord –
                         When I’ve done drunk my last cup of sorrow –
                         When I’ve been called everything but a child of God –
                         When I’m done travelling up the rough side of the mountain –
                         O — Mary’s Baby –

                         When I start down the steep and slippery steps of death –
                         When this old world begins to rock beneath my feet –
                         Lower me to my dusty grave in peace
                         To wait for that great gittin’ up morning — Amen.

James Wendell Johnson was born this date (6/17/1871) in Jacksonville, FL.  He wrote God’s Trombones, the above it from it.

Ivers Whitney Adams knew a very good thing when he saw it. He was very interested in professional base ball. He had seen the Cincinnati Red Stockings and what professional players could do. Cincinnati had won the first 89 games they played. Imagine that!!!

So on January 20, 1871 he invested $15,000 to create the Boston Red Stockings (now the Atlanta Braves). They joined the National Association. Mr. Adams becam the first President of the club. It started at Boston’s Parker House. Harry Wright and his younger brother George were at that meeting. They had played for Cincinnati. They would both play for Boston.

And so … it began. That is all it took. They still play today. They are the Atlanta Braves.

by Ian Birchall

Most politicians and journalists talk as though the only possible sort of democracy is parliament, so all we can do is patch up a decrepit system. The history of the socialist movement shows that there is a different tradition of democracy.

Parliaments were originally assemblies of property owners. Gradually, under pressure, they let the rest of us in.

Working class democracy was forged in struggle – it was based on the experience of oppressed people asserting their right to control a society that had failed them.

In France in 1870 the regime collapsed after a disastrous war fought on a fraudulent pretext. Previous governments had been based on corruption and abuse of power.

Sound familiar? The working people of Paris declared an independent state in the Spring of 1871–the Paris Commune.

They wanted the new government to be as different as possible from what they had suffered under. So they proclaimed two fundamental principles.

Firstly, all elected representatives were to get skilled workers’ wages. They faced the same problems of feeding, clothing and housing themselves and their children as those they represented.

I recently heard a Tory MP on Question Time justifying his well-paid second job on the grounds that MPs should have experience of business. I wondered how many MPs have experience of poverty and how they would govern differently if they did?

Secondly, all representatives could be recalled if the voters demanded it. No more getting elected with a display of radical rhetoric and then spending years doing what the whips tell you to.

Those principles were revived in Russia in 1905. A group of printers went on strike and set up a strike committee. As the strike spread more committees were set up, with a body to coordinate them. The Russian workers had given the world a new word – soviet – which simply means a council.

They established another basic principle. For us the basic unit of democracy is not the geographical constituency but the workplace.

I know very little about those who live a couple of miles away at the “nice” end of my parliamentary constituency. In the workplace I see people’s behaviour day by day, and I know who I can trust to represent me.

Of course all democracy cannot be based on the workplace. There has to be representation for young people, casual workers, the unemployed, carers and pensioners.

But a structure of workers’ councils would begin with where people worked, not where they happened to live. Soviets grew up again in Russia in 1917.

Briefly they provided a new model of democracy, one which responded rapidly to the demands and experiences of working people.

An example is given by the US journalist John Reed, who visited Russia during the Revolution: “During the first week of December 1917, there were parades and demonstrations in favour of the Constituent Assembly – that is to say, against the Soviet power. One of these parades was fired on by some irresponsible Red Guards, and several people killed.

“The reaction to this stupid violence was immediate. Within twelve hours the complexion of the Petrograd Soviet changed. More than a dozen Bolshevik deputies were withdrawn, and replaced by Mensheviks.

“And it was three weeks before public sentiment subsided – before the Mensheviks were one by one retired and the Bolsheviks sent back.”

The democracy of the soviets died with the invasion of Russia by foreign armies and the rise of Stalin.

But again and again, when corrupt regimes collapse, workers’ democracy has reasserted itself. In Spain in 1936, for example, George Orwell reported from Barcelona that “it was the first time that I had ever been in a town where the working class was in the saddle”.

Crushing

In Hungary in 1956 workers set up councils in opposition to a repressive regime that called itself “socialist”.

In Portugal in 1974 a dictatorship was overthrown and within six months 4,000 workers’ commissions were formed. In Iran in 1979 the Shah fled and shoras (committees) were set up to defend workers’ interests.

When MPs bleat about “transparency” we should remember the example of Polish strikers at Gdansk in 1980, who elected delegates to negotiate with the state – but then listened to the negotiations on the shipyard tannoy system. No exemption from freedom of information for them.

These examples of genuine workers’ democracy were short-lived because their enemies – Winston Churchill, General Franco, Nikita Khrushchev to name just three – were ruthless in crushing them.

But the memory has survived and, as parliamentary rule crumbles, more people will be inspired by the vision of what real democracy could look like.

The following should be read alongside this article:
» Democratic deficit: parliament and democracy
» Paul Foot: How capitalism corrupts Labour politicians

http://www.socialistworker.co.uk/art.php?id=17976

© Socialist Worker (unless otherwise stated). You may republish if you include an active link to the original.

Representation; the word itself conjures up images of men in powdered wigs gathered together, stamping out constitutions and forging mighty democracies.  The concept of representation is the very bedrock, the very embodiment of any democracy worthy of the name, or so it is said.  But representation today has become a byword, something to not be taken seriously, almost a joke.  Surely, the current political climate has not helped make the case for solid representation of the people with great angst coming from these same people directed towards the democratic systems that seem to fail them over and over again.  But we in the here and now can learn from history in this situation.  Not that we can repeat history but we can take from it.  The historical moment in time we can learn some lessons from is the Paris Commune.   

The Paris Commune of March to May, 1871, was in effect a governing body made up of the people of Paris; the workers of the city.  This experiment of workers self management was established after the Parisian government abandoned the city as it was besieged by the invading Prussians.  As the government was traveling to Versailles for transplant, the workers took advantage of the opportunity that was made available and rose to immediate action, thus the commune was born.  Eventually and sadly, this great time of history was eradicated by the French government through barbarian acts of bloodshed.  Despite its disappearance, this commune of the mid seventeenth century left a radical example that is far ahead of our modern time of superior technology and culture. 

Now I will point out and discuss a few of these radical examples.  I warn you; these seemingly simple yet incredibly revolutionary ideals might be too much for the person accustomed to the way things are done in an Americanized political system. 

We will begin with the intricacies of such a system.  The democratic system consists of several levels of tiers, with the highest office being the executive office of president or prime minister.  Below the executive office one will find the judicial level which sole purpose is enforce the good law of the land.  The judicial level has judges, who in theory are unbiased in their upholding of the law and also included in this level are other officials attached to the office of law.  Then there are parliaments and congresses, the creation of laws and statutes are the tasks for which these bodies are intended for.  Generally speaking, you then have below this tier what we would call, at least in the United States, the federal level of government, the state or regional government body.  These state apparatuses are in a sense, duplicate or replicas of the federal government on a smaller scale.  Then this mode of government continues along the line to the community level where you have councils and council men.  This is a very general outline of a much more complex system of politics, bylaws, machinations, administrations and bureaucracies.  The majority of officials who make up such a system are called representatives.  These representatives, from the lowest councilman to the highest office of president are placed in their respective positions through elections, which occur after a span of several years depending on the system.

The problem with this kind of representation is that the elected representative, who, again in theory, is supposed to be an advocate and arbiter of the people, the champion of their needs and wants, turns out to be the exact opposite.  The political representative in essence is a servant while the people are this servant’s master; meaning that the representative’s sole reason for existence is to work on behalf of the master, to please the master at all costs.  If the servant fails to do his job adequately he will experience serious repercussions.  The modern representatives are not true representatives or servants; they do not serve, they lead and the interests of the people whose vote was used for their office are not their interests.  The representatives engage in a game in which favors are thrown back and forth between the elected official and those special interests in which both benefit.  The one who loses in this game of high stakes are the very people the official has sworn to serve, who at best receive crumbs off the servant’s table.  Corporations, lobbyists, industries and the highest bidders are the ones the representatives of the people have sworn to serve, albeit in indiscreet ways.  Political representatives, these servants, make certain to see their needs, their personal agendas, are fulfilled first.  This is where earmarks and pork barrels come into play.  As pure as their intentions might be, no political official, from the most important office to the most insignificant, is immune and it would be naïve to think otherwise.  But what is the flaw, what is the malfunction in a system of representatives that is supposed to work, a system in which some proponents say work despite the discontent of many who live under these systems? 

A major issue is that the average representative is not from the people.  The average politician, who comprises a large majority of these systems, is usually groomed for the arena of politics; they are from lives of privilege or from families which reside on the upper crust of society, far, very far from the common family of society. 
                                        
Is it not foolish to think that a politician not from the people, disconnected from the people and their experiences, with interests separate from the people, can wholeheartedly represent the people? 

How many democratically elected representatives are wealthy; how many live in luxurious houses in relative comfort and ease while the common working man resides in cramped housing in overpopulated neighborhoods?

Yet, this democracy continues on unchallenged, with the unwavering support of people who decide to not think deeply on these matters.  Talk about the blind leading the blind.

Returning to the subject of the flaw, when a representative lives beyond the means of livelihood of the people they are chosen to represent, one cannot have the expectation that these same people will be their immediate priority.  With the common allowance of perks, extra benefits and royalties elected political representatives receive , again, the people do not share in this bounty, the gap between official and constituent widen more and more and eventually become chasms.  Electoral promises never materialize, yet the lies keep pace and the working man and woman continue to believe in hope that maybe this time it will be different.  Some things are beyond comprehension.

This is where the Paris Commune becomes relevant.  First, the representative elected by the commune was truly a representative in every sense of the word.  They came directly from the body of working class Parisians.  They were from the people and of the people unlike many of today’s political representatives with their condescending false empathy.  A representative of the commune’s caliber understands the people, their experiences, their struggles, their needs, their perspectives and their minds since this representative is one the people.  Because of this qualification, a once voiceless people can now have voice. 

Also of equal importance, a representative in the commune did not receive pay above the average rate of his fellow workers.  Today, this radical ideal is not in existence as many politicians and higher up representatives, apart from perks and generous benefit packages, is financially worth or receives in salary much more then the average working class family.  The commune, in its criteria for its representatives, corrected the grievous mistakes that the democratic system is still guilty of committing.  A representative that is fully of the people; a representative that receives no special benefit, no preferential treatment and higher pay than his peers is a representative that will have the interests of the people first and foremost without the temptations that perks bring.  This elected official will have no incentive in duty apart from meeting the needs of the people.  What an amazing concept for us, is it not?  Equally amazing is the job security of the representative of the Paris commune – if the public trust is broken or responsibilities are not executed competently the representative would be liable for recall at a moment’s notice.  This was to ensure job completion and accountability.  In the United States alone, how many professional politicians would be out of a job if Paris Commune type regulations were in effect today?  Rather, the question should be how many professional politicians, without the security of guaranteed terms and with the prospect of facing real accountability from the people would actually keep to their job description and serve the public good first?       

Some words concerning the aforementioned paragraph.  One is led to believe that term limits is a way of dismissing a representative through the usage of the voting booth.  This is indeed a fallacy as many a bad politician, both republican and democrat, has been re-elected by influence, connections, capital and preying on the ignorance of the voting public.  A recent example is former President of the U.S, George W. Bush.  Despite administration corruption, lies, scandal, an unpopular war in the Middle East and approval ratings constantly sinking, Mr. Bush served two full terms (8 years) without even the threat of impeachment from congress.  Another recent example is Michael Bloomberg, currently mayor of New York City.  Some unpopular actions of his are the West Side Stadium, his pet project for the sports team the N.Y Jets, which ultimately failed, his idea to charge already strugglers workers a fee to ride into sections of Manhattan during certain hours, his insistence that social services do more with less funding due to immense budget cuts and his virtual silence in the face of the private owned MTA’s constant increasing of fare for public transportation to name a few.  Mayor Bloomberg sought to extend his tenure as mayor by seeking a third term, which by the way was approved by the city council without public input or consideration.  With an endless well of capital at his disposal as a multi billionaire which cannot be matched by any prospective mayoral candidate, New Yorkers will most likely see Michael Bloomberg as mayor for a third term.  When politicians manipulate term limits, buy elections with massive capital and influence the outcome of elections despite poor performance this goes far in proving the fallacy correct.  Paris Commune, we need you back!

Cotton Mill Workers (image from http://thepointofpittsburgh.vox.com)

The proprietor of a cotton factory put this notice on the gates: “No cigars or good looking men admitted.” In explanation he said, “The one will set a flame agoing among my cotton and the other among my girls. I won’t admit such dangerous things into my establishment. The risk is too great.”

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Mar 10, 1871

The Point of Pittsburgh (where I found the picture) looks like a great blog, lots of interesting pictures and historical information.

The North Otago Times, reported “A body of over over 29 natives were being put through their facings in July 20 ( 1871), by Lieutenant Woods and the fact of discplining them in the white man fashion caused much indignation”.

1871 image?  This unsourced image shows about 29 soldiers at a place that looks like Levuka. It was published by Jane Resture (see links at left).  The two men at the right are perhaps Woods (later Prime Minister), and Hennings or Sagar.

Public meeting at Levuka: In the evening a public meeting was held in the (Levuka) Reading room, presided over by Dr Ryley. Opinion were expressed and resolutions passed to the effect that training them to act in concert was a dangerous and impolitic measure, and fraught with great danger to the white residents of Fiji. A delegation, consisting of Dr Ryley, Messers E. S. Smith, Cussake, Sumner, Jackson, Ross and Nicholls, was appointed to wait upon Mr Woods and protest against his action. The proceeded for the purposed of interviewing him, but he was “out;” and, expressing their determination to see him in the morning, they departed.
Office of Fiji “Government”  not recognised: Accordingly the next morning they waited upon him. Mr Burt as “Premier” wished to meet them; but stating they did not not recognise the “Ministry” they insisted on seeing Mr Woods, who appeared, Messrs Hennings and Sagar entered soon after and took part in the conversation. Mr Woods threw to onus of his action on the government, and stated that it was intended to drill some men for the purpose of acting against the Ba Mountaineers.

NZ war example – ‘natives with guns‘: The deputation argued the drilling of the natives was dangerous in the extreme and instanced New Zealand. It was replied the Ministry intended to subjugate the mountaineer and did not recoginise the right of a public meeting to control their actions If any were dissatisfied with the actions of the Government they could leave the country. The deputation again urging the discontinuance of the drill, then withdrew.
Large meeting assembled in the Reading-room: In the course of the day a letter was despatched to the chairman of the committee, stating that the object the Government had in view of drilling the natives was to get their cooperation in the expedition to capture the Ba murderers. In the evening a large meeting assembled in the Reading-room to the hear the report of the deputation, Dr Ryley in the chair. The letter was read, after which Mr Manton proposed, seconded by Mr Rogalsky, “That this meeting still is off opinion that drilling the natives is highly injudicious, but at the same time, while desiring Mr Woods to desist, wishes to express a hope that nothing done at this meeting should in aany way delay active measures being taken against the Ba murderers”.

North Otago Times, 1871

Augustus De Morgan (1806-1871) embora tenha nascido na Índia era de família e formação inglesas. Juntamente com George Boole (inglês, 1815-1864) é considerado o iniciador da lógica moderna.

Was soll man da noch sagen, wenn eine der renommiertesten Zeitungen der USA in ihrem Überblicksartikel über Deutschland behaupten, das Jahr der Unabhängigkeit wäre 1871 gewesen? Man lacht ein wenig genüsslich, das schon, aber etwa im selben Moment fragt man sich, wie kommt man überhaupt darauf?

Es muss wohl in der Natur der amerikanischen Geschichte und des eigenen Selbstbildes liegen, die Staatsgründung mit dem Datum einer Unabhängigkeit zu assoziieren – wenngleich beides nicht sehr sinnvoll erscheint; zum einen muss nicht jede Unabhängigkeitserklärung gleich eine neue Staatsgründung bedeuten, zum anderen war es in der US-Geschichte ja gerade die Unabhängigkeit vom alten Europa, nach dem hier die Koordinaten abgesteckt sind. Das taten die 13 Gründerstaaten einen Tick vor den Europäern, und wenn man so will, standen die USA den Franzosen bei ihrer Revolution Pate. Das waren jedoch zwei grundverschiedene Vorgänge: Die Kolonien in der neuen Welt mauserten sich von abhängigen Satelliten zu einem eigenen Staat, die Europäer aber schlugen sich mit realitätsfremden Perrückenträgern herum, um es mal freundlich auszudrücken.

Auch ist es skurril, das bismarcksche Kaiserreich als Ergebnis einer wie auch immer gearteten Unabhängigkeit zu verstehen: Von was hat man sich denn da bitte emanzipiert? Wilhelm I.  hätte Bismarck am liebsten die Leviten gelesen, anstatt sich als Kaiser ausrufen zu lassen; sein Preußen war ihm da dann doch viel lieber und dazu noch bodenständiger, als dieses hochtrabende Staatsgefasel. Nunja, wenigstens Kleindeutsch war es damals.

Eigentlich hat die New York Times ja damit doch irgendwie Recht: Es war die geglückte Gründung eines deutschen Nationalstaates, und, heute mag man das kaum noch glauben, ein paar Jahre vorher war der Nationalismus wirklich noch in Teilen so etwas wie eine emanzipatorische Kraft, wenn man nicht gerade auf der Wartburg Bücher verbrannte und gegen die Juden hetzte.

Update:

Die CIA weiß es  genauer:

Und im Glossar findet sich dann:

Na, dann ist ja alles klar.

The Fifth Horseman - TARP Fund Distribution

On some level, I understand why the management at AIG took their bonuses. If it was part of their contract, why shouldn’t they? If their pay was part of the balance sheet that the rescue package was meant to help pay for the negative side of the sheet, why shouldn’t they collect? After all, the laws requires the company to pay its debts. Are we then to decide which of these debts take priority? Is it then not a fiction that we are rescuing these institutions when in fact we are just paying out to companies owed by AIG who in turn have their own contractual bonus obligations to meet. Why must the AIG boys hang and not the people about to collect on insurance floated by AIG.

It begs the question: is it wrong to be rich?

The Plaza Hotel

It’s a question that comes starkly to me as I wandered around ground zero of this pickle. I got to visit Southampton on Long Island and stayed in a luxury building on Central Park South. I ate Chinese a stone’s throw from Wall Street, and meandered past the half empty emporia of the vilified wealthy.

I noticed that among the well heeled, they never feel all that wealthy and they envy, resent, or at least are aware of someone wealthier than they. It is human nature to feel inadequate and to want. It is easy to live in the myopic view of the world in front of one’s face and not see the wider world around.

We notice only this world of the nearby and can be disassociated from images of suffering around the globe. Its that most people living near the median never actually see the lives of the people living one or two grades above them. The talk has always been about the invisible poor, the hungry and the homeless, but reveal the invisible rich, and it’s “to the barricades.” The French had these spasms of violence against the rich. Most recently in 1871, where mobs ransacked, butchered, and raped (in random order, usually all three) the wealthy and privileged of Paris. We are coming close to this when we vent rage at the managers of AIG.

View from Central Park South

The culture of the past twenty years has degenerated to a worship of things and their acquisition. By putting credit in front of people not used to wealth, the earnings of many years and even generations were made available to people who could not manage this kind of wealth. The packaging and selling of these loans and the skimming of fees as they were passed around, the leveraging of fractions of this debt, and the insuring of the particles thereof produced great wealth for a time, but it all came due. 

Everybody is at fault. This is a national vice issue where  there were pimps, whores, and johns, and no victims, but lots of perpetrators. If you’ve ever carried credit card debt beyond a month, you have been a party to this. If you bought lots of stuff borrowed from the value of your home, you have been a party to this. Right now, though, we’re concentrating on destroying the narrow class of Ivy-League educated ruling class living in smart enclaves in Connecticut and Manhattan, with their retreats in isolated burgs and islands.

Atlas -aka as President Obama

I have to say, it is a terrible injustice to point the finger at a few and say, these people did it, and by burning them at the stake, we’ll be free. Everyone carries some of the blame. 

For the so-called middle class, this comes in the form of giant homes made of pressed wood fiber and synthetic petroleum byproduct, filled with unused exercise equipment, scattered and broken toys, and flat screen televisions. An anodyne futuristic lifestyle made available by the floating of a couple of years worth of disposable income.

The whole country’s occupation for the past generation had become the building of far-flung exurbs reachable by SUV, with no town center but a giant parking lot attached to a WalMart or a Costco. This was our wealth, to build these pressboard homes and borrow future earnings against their ever inflating values to accumulate jet skis and recreational vehicles, and Praise the Lord in colossal arena churches with concert level sound systems, sermons delivered in Powerpoint, and self-justification assured in the liturgy of accumulation and consumption.

The poor managers of AIG, the ones with death threats and private security guards, are merely the sacrificial scapegoats, the fools thrown out to the zombie mob in hopes that its attention will be distracted. What we aren’t seeing is a concerted message that the old ways are done. International commerce is done for a while, especially after we wash our hands of the accumulated debt by devaluation and nationalization.

What to do? Think about what it was that sustained life in the area around you. There is no reason why millions should live in the desert when the original population density was a few people per square mile. These areas should be abandoned. The general population should get used to working for and creating food. Our treasure and work should be spent creating sustainable economies, healthy strong communities, and planning for the future  rather than consuming and destroying and breeding with the hope of some end of the world bringing salvation. Or worse, go to Greenwich, Connecticut, to burn it down, and turn eastern Long Island into Rwanda.

The President gets it when he and his family started a garden. Say hello to your neighbor and wake up to the fact that he is really your fellow tribesman, and not the guy relocated there last year from Charlotte by his multinational now going belly up. The people around you and your relationship to them are the most important tools to survival. Humans were evolved to live in bands and tribes. The idea of holing up in some mountain redoubt with a lot of guns is a failure to recognize the lessons of zombie movies. 

We have to see these times as transformational, and that in fact we need a new contract that returns to the basic framework of the Constitution but acknowledges the challenges of the modern economy -too many people, not enough resources, inefficient ways of distributing them. 

For myself, the ethos of golf applied to life out of the bounds of the fairway, the application of the USGA rules of Golf to life, makes perfect sense. It is the need to create a new concept of the citizen and player in this country.

The Mast at the Empire State Building