The American Civil War caused upheaval and massive private bereavement, but the years 1861-1865 also defined a great nation. This book provides a concise introduction to events from the secession to the end of the war. It focuses on the military progress of the war Union and Confederate politics social change - particularly the emancipation of North American slaves The social history associated with the war is dealt with alongside the familiar military and political events. This inclusive approach allows the reader to consider equally the history of men and women, blacks and whites in the conflict. It deals with both the Union and the Confederacy, integrating the latest literature on the war and society into a clear account. The book concludes with an assessment of emancipation, the rebuilding of the economy, and the war's consequences. An array of primary documents supports the text, together with a chronology, glossary and Who's Who guide to key figures.

This is a concise and accessible introduction to the American Civil War

More than just a factual account of the war, this book provides a synthesis of a vast amount of writings about the Civil War. Although the military is covered, equal attention is given to the economy and society, including the role of women, and politics - both in the Union and the Confederacy. Emancipation, and its social consequences, and wartime reconstruction are also explored. The book includes a collection of documents, a chronology of the main events, and a guide to the main characters.

As a war correspondent, Wilbur Fisk was an amateur, yet his letters to the Montpelier Green Mountain Freeman comprise one of the finest collections of Civil War letters in existence. "Literary gems," historian Herman Hattaway calls them. "It would be believable that some expert novelist had created them."

But Fisk was no novelist. He was a rural school teacher from Vermont, primarily self-educated, who enlisted in the Union Army simply because he believed he would regret it later if he didn't.

Unlike professional war correspondents, Private Fisk had no access to rank or headquarters. Instead, he wrote of life as a private-as one of the foot soldiers who slept in the mud and obeyed orders no matter how incomprehensible. "As for the plans our superiors are laying out for us to execute," he wrote, "we know as little as a horse knows of his driver."

Between December 11, 1861 and July 26, 1865, Fisk wrote nearly 100 letters from the battlefield to the Green Mountain Freeman, all of them signed "Anti-Rebel." At the beginning of the war he was exuberant and eager for contact with the enemy. In his first letter he boasted, "This regiment would relish a fight now extremely well."

Two years later, after the battle of Gettysburg, Fisk was disillusioned and war weary. "The rebel dead and ours lay thickly together, their thirst for blood forever quenched. Their bodies were swollen, black, and hideously unnatural. Their eyes glared from their sockets, their tongues protruded from their mouths, and in almost every case, clots of blood and mangled flesh showed how they had died, and rendered a sight ghastly beyond description. I thought I had become hardened to almost anything, but I cannot say I ever wish to see another sight like that I saw on the battlefield of Gettysburg."

Fisk wrote as eloquently on the moral and political issues behind the war as he did on the everyday hardships of life in the Army of the Potomac. He saw the war as a question of right and wrong-of freedom against slavery and democracy against aristocracy-and he continued to believe that the war had to be fought, even after he was well acquainted with its horror and pointlessness. "When they have done their killing, there remains the question to be settled the same as before. They might as well have settled it before the shooting as afterwards."

In this volume editors Ruth and Emil Rosenblatt have included all of Fisk's existing letters to the Freeman, along with three speeches from the 1890s in which Fisk looks back on his wartime experiences from the vantage point of an older man.

With this colorful study, Reid Mitchell takes us to Mardi Gras--to a yearly ritual that sweeps the richly multicultural city of New Orleans into a frenzy of parades, pageantry, dance, drunkenness, music, sexual display, and social and political bombast. In "All on a Mardi Gras Day" Mitchell tells us some of the most intriguing stories of Carnival since 1804. Woven into his narrative are observations of the meaning and messages of Mardi Gras--themes of unity, exclusion, and elitism course through these tales as they do through the Crescent City.

Moving through the decades, Mitchell describes the city's diverse cultures coming together to compete in Carnival performances. We observe powerful social clubs, or krewes, designing their elaborate parade displays and extravagant parties; Creoles and Americans in conflict over whose dances belong in the ballroom; enslaved Africans and African Americans preserving a sense of their heritage in processions and dances; white supremacists battling Reconstruction; working-class blacks creating the flamboyant Krewe of Zulu; the birth and reign of jazz; the gay community holding lavish balls; and of course tourists purchasing an authentic experience according to the dictates of our commercial culture. Interracial friction, nativism, Jim Crow separatism, the hippie movement--Mitchell illuminates the expression of these and other American themes in events ranging from the 1901 formation of the anti-prohibitionist Carrie Nation Club to the controversial 1991 ordinance desegregating Carnival parade krewes.

Through the conflicts, Mitchell asserts, "I see in Mardi Gras much what I hear in a really good jazz band: a model for the just society, thejoyous community, the heavenly city...A model for community where individual expression is the basis for social harmony and where continuity is the basis for creativity." "All on a Mardi Gras Day" journeys into a world where hope persists for a rare balance between diversity and unity.

"The Battle of Bull's Run, so disastrous to the National Arms, and yet so little profitable, as a military event, to the Confederates, was in its immediate effects a profound enigma to the people of the whole country. They could not understand it. The Confederates held the field, yet they did not seek profit from the panic and flight of their opponents, by a pursuit. The Nationals were beaten and dispersed; yet, after the first paralysis of defeat, they instantly recovered their faith and elasticity. There had been marches, and bivouacs, and skirmishes, and a fierce battle, within the space of a week; and at the end of twenty-four hours after the close of the conflict, the respective parties in the contest were occupying almost the same geographical position which they did before the encounter."--from The Pictorial Field-Book of the Civil War

Before the rise of "professional" academic history, there were devoted Brahmins of a literary bent (George Bancroft, Francis Parkman, and Henry Adams) and skilled researchers and chroniclers, men such as J. Thomas Scharf of Maryland history fame and--the most prolific of all--Ben Lossing of New York, who, since they made their living by writing history, could rightly be labeled "professional" after all. Every literate history lover in the mid-to-late nineteenth century knew of Lossing and his work; he may not have been academically trained, but he knew where to look for evidence, did the digging we would expect him to do, and wrote with a flair for the dramatic. In his Pictorial Field Book of the Civil War, Lossing takes the same "on-the-scene approach" to the Civil War--visiting the sites of battles and other events, making sketches of theseplaces, talking with people about their experiences--that earned his earlier Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution and Pictorial Book of the War of 1812 a wide and enthusiastic readership.

"The Battle of Bull's Run, so disastrous to the National Arms, and yet so little profitable, as a military event, to the Confederates, was in its immediate effects a profound enigma to the people of the whole country. They could not understand it. The Confederates held the field, yet they did not seek profit from the panic and flight of their opponents, by a pursuit. The Nationals were beaten and dispersed; yet, after the first paralysis of defeat, they instantly recovered their faith and elasticity. There had been marches, and bivouacs, and skirmishes, and a fierce battle, within the space of a week; and at the end of twenty-four hours after the close of the conflict, the respective parties in the contest were occupying almost the same geographical position which they did before the encounter."--from 'The Pictorial Field-Book of the Civil War' Before the rise of "professional" academic history, there were devoted Brahmins of a literary bent (George Bancroft, Francis Parkman, and Henry Adams) and skilled researchers and chroniclers, men such as J. Thomas Scharf of Maryland history fame and--the most prolific of all--Ben Lossing of New York, who, since they made their living by writing history, could rightly be labeled "professional" after all. Every literate history lover in the mid-to-late nineteenth century knew of Lossing and his work; he may not have been academically trained, but he knew where to look for evidence, did the digging we would expect him to do, and wrote with a flair for the dramatic. In his 'Pictorial Field Book of the Civil War', Lossing takes the same "on-the-scene approach" to the Civil War--visiting the sites of battles and other events, making sketches of these places, talking with people about their experiences--that earned his earlier 'Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution' and 'Pictorial Book of the War of 1812' a wide and enthusiastic readership.

"The Battle of Bull's Run, so disastrous to the National Arms, and yet so little profitable, as a military event, to the Confederates, was in its immediate effects a profound enigma to the people of the whole country. They could not understand it. The Confederates held the field, yet they did not seek profit from the panic and flight of their opponents, by a pursuit. The Nationals were beaten and dispersed; yet, after the first paralysis of defeat, they instantly recovered their faith and elasticity. There had been marches, and bivouacs, and skirmishes, and a fierce battle, within the space of a week; and at the end of twenty-four hours after the close of the conflict, the respective parties in the contest were occupying almost the same geographical position which they did before the encounter."--from 'The Pictorial Field-Book of the Civil War' Before the rise of "professional" academic history, there were devoted Brahmins of a literary bent (George Bancroft, Francis Parkman, and Henry Adams) and skilled researchers and chroniclers, men such as J. Thomas Scharf of Maryland history fame and--the most prolific of all--Ben Lossing of New York, who, since they made their living by writing history, could rightly be labeled "professional" after all. Every literate history lover in the mid-to-late nineteenth century knew of Lossing and his work; he may not have been academically trained, but he knew where to look for evidence, did the digging we would expect him to do, and wrote with a flair for the dramatic. In his 'Pictorial Field Book of the Civil War', Lossing takes the same "on-the-scene approach" to the Civil War--visiting the sites of battles and other events, making sketches of these places, talking with people about their experiences--that earned his earlier 'Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution' and 'Pictorial Book of the War of 1812' a wide and enthusiastic readership.