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Ashton Memorial, Williamson Park, Lancaster, 5:10 pm. For those who don't know Lancaster, he is sitting where he could, if he looked up, see the view of Lancaster and Morecambe Bay. He is reading H. P. Lovecraft, 'The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Tales' in the Vintage Classics edition.
Thank you for participating in my Readers project, and apologies for interrupting. Other photos in my series of readers are here: www.flickr.com/photos/greg_myers/albums/72157652125931010.
Creator: Unidentified.
Location: Cairns, Queensland.
Description: Offices of the Cairns Argus which operated from 1889 to 1918. The newspaper was issued bi-weekly. (Description supplied with photograph.)
View the original image at the State Library of Queensland: hdl.handle.net/10462/deriv/69710.
Information about State Library of Queensland’s collection: www.slq.qld.gov.au/research-collections.
You are free to use this image without permission. Please attribute State Library of Queensland.
or "Mise agus Pangur Bán" (for those who know the reference...)
If the real world looks bleak around you, and even the grass is no longer green, there's nothing better than to escape into a book ... Seen on what used to be the lawn outside the University Museum of Natural History (there are in fact underground library buildings underneath that lawn, which may be why it looks less than perfect).
The Cumberland University graduate was a devoted husband and father, a member of the Methodist Church, devout Bible reader and a gentleman who was respected by all. An attorney, he was an eloquent speaker who used his gift well as a politician. He ran for three political offices: state representative, governor and Congress winning the former and latter races.
Above all, he was resolute in his belief that the Union should not divide and dissolve into civil war. Yet, when the Southern states seceded, he cast his lot with Tennessee, and, eventually, the Confederacy, a decision that cost his life.
Robert Hopkins Hatton was born Nov. 2, 1826, in Youngstown or Steubenville, Ohio, to Robert Clopton Hatton, a Methodist Episcopal minister, and his wife Margaret. The couple had six children, two who died in infancy. Young Robert began school at six in Alleghany City, Pa., and the family moved to Nashville in 1835 when he was eight. In 1837 the Hattons relocated to a farm in the Beech Grove community of Sumner County. While his father preached in Gallatin and later clerked and taught school, the boy worked on the farm, enjoyed hunting foxes with his dogs and studying in school. In the fall of 1845, Cumberland University allowed an 18-year-old Hatton to enter the junior class. Two years later he graduated with his class of four in June 1847.
Helping relay the story of Hatton from this point will be Martin Frost, 61, a Lebanon resident who is semiretired from Kimbro Oil Company as an accountant and chief financial officer and who has been portraying General Hatton since 1998. “I first heard of Hatton the first year I was here in 1984 as we drove around the square. I asked who the General was on the top of the Confederate monument,” said Frost, a member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, the Robert H. Hatton Camp #723, which was named in memory and honor of Hatton.
Frost proceeded to study the General's life and then was asked to play Hatton at a Cedar Grove Cemetery candlelight tour. “I usually portray him three or four times a year at the fairgrounds or on the square for tourism visits, and different civic organizations have asked me to tell the story of Robert Hatton in uniform. It’s usually just here in the County because he’s not too widely known,” Frost said.
As for Hatton’s progress after graduation, Frost shares, “He entered Cumberland’s law school for one year and ran out of money, so he went to teach. He didn’t like that. He came back to Lebanon and obtained a license to practice law and studied and was able to pass the bar exam and worked as an attorney, and then Cumberland University gave him a law degree, probably because of the relationships he had with his professors.”
Hatton joined in the practice of law in 1850 in a partnership with Col. Jordan Stokes of Lebanon. In the spring of 1850 he was appointed by the board of managers of the Washington Monument in the District of Columbia as an agent to present its claims to the people of Tennessee. And on Dec. 16, 1852, he married Sophie K. Reilly, six months his junior, of Williamson County.
WLM - Robert HattonAbout this time, he dissolved his partnership with Stokes and formed a new one, the firm of Hatton and Green, attorneys- and counselors- at-law, with Nathan Green Jr.
In 1855 as a candidate for the Whig party, the Lebanon lawyer was elected as representative from Wilson County to the General Assembly of Tennessee. While he served in Nashville, his wife and children, Reilly, Manie and later, Emily, resided in Lebanon. Then he ran as the American and Whig party candidate for governor in 1857. By this time Lebanon townsfolk referred to him as “Our Bob”. “In this race against Isham Harris for governor, they were traveling together and stumping around the State. They were at odds in Fayetteville and had a fistfight on the platform. He whipped Harris, who was quite a bit older,” said Frost. “He won the fight but lost the election.”
In 1858 Hatton was elected Grand Master for the Order of Tennessee of the Grand Lodge of the Order of Odd Fellows, and in 1859, he ran and won the election to the U.S. Congress as Representative from the State’s Fifth District. “He did a lot of traveling while campaigning and as member of the Order of Odd Fellows,” said Frost. “I think he loved his wife a lot and enjoyed the children. He was very intelligent and must have been well liked. He seemed to succeed in everything he tried.”
Hatton traveled to the District of Columbia in November 1859, leaving his family at their home on the northeast corner of Lebanon’s West Main Street and Hatton Avenue, 327 W. Main, a site on Lebanon's Civil War Trail (today the location of the Shelter Insurance office).
A reporter for The New York Times provides a detailed description of the tall, 136-pound Hatton from Congress in mid-January 1860.
Robert Hatton, of Tennessee, then obtained the floor for a set speech, and at once commanded attention. He is rather tall, rather thin, with a large head and long face, made longer by a profusion of orange chinbeard, harmonizing well with pink cheeks, a large fair forehead, high and expansive; blue eyes, set wide apart on each side of a small irregular nose, high cheek bones, and a great quantity of thick brown hair, rather inclined to curl, but hardly having length sufficient to indulge its propensity. Decidedly, Mr. Hatton has more of the studied graces of an orator than any member yet seen upon the floor. His gestures are full, found, and appropriate—seldom violent—never grotesque, but always emphatic, and with an inclination to the florid order. His head shows imagination, and the perceptives largely developed—the qualities of causality and caution, however, not being visibly from this gallery—if at all existing. His voice is musical and full of the church-organ tone; and he speaks with the deliberativeness of a man determined to say nothing in support of which he is not willing to stand a pistol shot.
From his hotel in the nation’s capitol, Hatton wrote his wife frequently asking about the children and how much he missed family and home. His epistles often reported on sermons he heard while visiting a variety of church denominations. He kept Sophie up to- date on his Bible reading and commented frequently about the drinking of many of those serving in Congress. (Hatton wouldn’t touch a drop of wine or liquor while in D.C.)
Most fervent upon his heart and mind was the fact that a crack in the Union was unavoidable. Hatton wrote his wife Dec. 6, 1860: Now that I am here, my worst anticipations are more than realized. Disunion is inevitable. What will follow, God only knows. Have, today, listened to furious speeches from Wigfall, of Texas; Iverson, of Georgia; and Brown, of Mississippi. Go out of the Union, their States are determined to. So, with South Carolina, Louisiana, Florida and perhaps others. There is not wisdom or patriotism enough in the land to save it.
In his diary two days later, Hatton noted: What shall I write? That the government is upon the eve of disruption. It is. The indications today, are, that before the 4th day of March, five or six of the Southern States will secede. The probabilities are that all the other Southern States will follow, and very soon. The folly of mankind has never been greater than is now being exhibited by the politicians of the South, and the North. Disunion is ruin to both sections.
Hatton made an impassioned speech Feb. 8, 1861, to the U.S. House of Representatives, but war between the states was plunging nearer like a runaway steam locomotive without a brakeman. When the 36th Congress adjourned, Hatton returned to Lebanon, still speaking his piece on holding the country together. His most famous speech, according to Frost, was made April Fool’s Day 1861, as for 2½ hours he urged his fellow citizens to remain in the Union. That night, tempers flared. “A crowd of people, some seem to think they were students from Cumberland, came to his house after everyone had gone to bed and started yelling and beating on pots and pans,” said Frost. “It woke everybody up, and Hatton came out with a pistol and fired it a few times, and they dispersed. A little bit later on the square, he was burned in effigy.”
Whatever strong feelings Hatton held for the Union, attitudes would change upon the news from Fort Sumter, S.C., and the news of President Lincoln calling for 75,000 volunteers to “put down the rebellion”. Hatton volunteered his services to the State of Tennessee. In May he called for volunteers for the Provisional Army of Tennessee and was elected captain of a company of 100 or more men out of Lebanon. “Six companies, totaling about 600 men from Wilson County, left Lebanon on May 20, 1861, and were mustered in at Nashville, and then took the train to Camp Trousdale in Sumner County. They were half finished with basic training when Tennessee declared its independence and separation,” said Frost. “Six companies from Wilson County and four from Sumner, Smith and DeKalb counties formed the 7th Tennessee Infantry Regiment, and Capt. Hatton was elected colonel. He trained and armed them well, and about July 20, they loaded on a train and then went to Nashville to Chattanooga to Knoxville to Bristol and to Virginia.
“Hatton had made arrangements to meet his wife in Nashville just before he left, but she was unable to meet him. So when he left Lebanon, he never saw his family again other than the little boy who came over to training camp a few days.” Hatton and his men initially fought in some smaller battles of the war as he served with Gen. Robert E. Lee in the Cheat Mountain Campaign and then with Gen. Stonewall Jackson in the northern part of the Shenandoah Valley in fall and winter of 1861-62. He wrote numerous letters to his wife from Warm Springs, Va. In the spring Hatton’s troops were directed to the peninsula below Richmond, Va.
In his last correspondence, dated May 28, 1862, 6:30 p.m., from near Richmond, Hatton wrote: The struggle, will no doubt, be bloody; that we will triumph, and that gloriously, I am confident. Would that I might bind to my heart, before the battle, my wife and children. That pleasure may never again be granted to me. If so, farewell; and may the God of all mercy be to you and ours, a guardian and friend. “If we meet again, we’ll smile; If not, this parting has been well.” Affectionately your husband, R. Hatton.
On the evening of May 31, 1862, Hatton, who had been promoted to Brigadier General eight days previously, formed his line in the presence of Confederate President Jefferson Davis, General Lee and Gen. Joe Johnston at the Battle of Seven Pines, also known as the Battle of Fair Oaks. “He had been given command of the Tennessee brigade, and on the 31st the brigade was held in reserve,” said Frost. “But about 6 o’clock they were ordered to the front to make a charge. They did, and evidently did a fine job. Hatton was on his horse, and he was leading the charge. A charge was a walking movement to the front, an orderly advance to the front. Hatton, on his horse, he was a tremendous target.”
Last seen alive in the charge on Nine Mile Road, Hatton was waving his hat, and his voice cheered his men with his final words, “Forward, my brave boys! Forward!” When his favorite horse, Ball, was shot from beneath him, the young General got up, ran forward and in less then 30 steps later, he fell beneath the blast of a hostile gun. There is still an argument as to whether he was hit by rifle shot or cannon shot, but a missile to the head killed him instantly. The time was reported as sunset. Hatton was 35. (Of Hatton’s original 1,000 soldiers from Wilson, Smith, Sumner and DeKalb counties, only 47 survived when General Lee surrendered April 9, 1865, at Appomattox.) Hatton’s body was carried off the field of battle by two of his soldiers as the Tennessee Brigade fell back to the original line of the battle. His pistols were found by a Union soldier and returned to his family 30 years later.
WLM - Gen. Hattons widow Sophie who lived to 89“The body was placed on a train and shipped to Tennessee. Because the bridge across the Tennessee River at Chattanooga had been burned, they were not able to send the body back to Lebanon,” said Frost. “Someone made the decision to bury the body in Knoxville. It remained in Knoxville until spring of 1866, and in March the body was brought back.”
Nearly four years after his death, Hatton was buried on a rainy day, March 23, 1866. His mortal remains were taken from his house on West Main to the Methodist Church where every seat was filled. Thousands were reported to have attended the funeral of “the most popular man in Lebanon”. From the church, the mile-long procession to Cedar Grove Cemetery was fronted by Hatton’s slave, Jerry, who had accompanied him during the war. Jerry led a black mare that belonged to Hatton. The General was finally laid to rest in his hometown.
Nine years later, in 1875, Reilly, Hatton’s son, died at age 21½ on the eve before he was to graduate from Cumberland University. He was buried beside his father. As for Hatton’s other survivors, his widow Sophie lived a good, long life, serving 15 years as a missionary to Japan and for eight years as state librarian of Tennessee. She died in 1916 at the age of 89. Daughter Manie Campbell Hatton never wed and taught for 53 years in Middle Tennessee, 48 of those years at Howard School in Nashville. She died in 1938 at 82. Daughter Emily married missionary Willard Towson, and they carried the gospel to Japan for 22 years. She had two sons and a daughter. One son, Hatton D. Towson, served in World War I and was wounded in the Battle of Argonne in 1919 and died from his injuries later that year back home in Georgia.
General Hatton's closest living relative is Mary Em Towson Hobbs, of Decatur, Ga. Her father was Lambuth Reilly Towson, the son of Emily Hatton Towson, the General's youngest child. “There are five living descendants of four generations. I’m the oldest, 80 years old,” said Hobbs during a phone interview in January. “I’m the great-granddaughter, and my brother had two sons. One of them is 60 and one is 56, and one of them has a daughter and she has a nine-year-old son.”
WLM - Mary Em Townson Hobbs is Gen. Hattons closest living relativeAs for what she knows about her great-grandfather, pieces of family history were handed down from her parents and other family members, and she spent some time as a child with her great-aunt Manie, the General's daughter. She has also gleaned much from a half dozen or so trips to Lebanon, specifically from meeting with the local members of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, the Robert H. Hatton Camp, who have made her an honorary member. “Every time I come up there, I learn more from them than they learn from me, but it’s been thrilling,” she said.
During one visit in recent years, she and her nephew, Robert Hatton Towson, who lives in Goodlettsville, shared some of the family memorabilia with the group, such as Hatton's diaries. Asked for her conclusions about what she believes her greatgrandfather Hatton was like, and she answered, “I would say he had a personality to stand up for what he thought.”
Buried in Cedar Grove Cemetery, Hatton’s grave lies about 20 yards inside the entrance of Gate 2 on the north side of the road. A 16-foot-tall limestone obelisk, erected by the survivors of the 7th Tennessee, marks his grave, and nearby are interred his wife, his parents, his three children and a grandson.
Inscribed on the west face of the obelisk are the words:
General Robert Hatton
Born Nov. 2, 1826
Fell May 31, 1862
While leading the Tenn. Brigade in the Battle of Seven Pines, Va.
As for Lebanon’s most famous landmark, the monument topped by Hatton’s statue on the square?
“In the late 1800’s, the Confederate veterans began to feel compelled to erect monuments at cemeteries and town squares in memory of all their fallen comrades,” explained Frost. “It was happening all across the South. Here, they had already put one monument up in 1899 in Cedar Grove Cemetery. “I think the United Daughters of the Confederacy approached the City about putting up a statue in the center of square, and they were given ownership of the space to erect a Confederate monument. The veterans raised the money and designed the monument.”
Thus, on May 20, 1912, a monument unveiling occurred with great fanfare in Lebanon as the people of Wilson County honored their Confederate veterans. The area overflowed with people, horses and buggies, as the grandchildren of the veterans sang “Dixie” and a Tennessee National Guard detail fired a salute.
WLM- Limestone obelisk marks Hattons gravesite at Cedar Grove CemetryOn the western face of this limestone monument, GENL HATTON is etched below the officer’s feet. Beneath it reads: Erected in honor of the Confederate veterans of Wilson County and all other true Southern soldiers 1861-1865. The south face bears the words: As long as honor or courage is cherished the deeds of these heroes will live. Whether on the scaffold high or in the battles of van the fittest place for man to die is when he dies for man.” The east face reads: “To our mothers and daughters of the Confederacy from 1861 to the present;” and the north face informs: “Erected by the S.G. Shepard Camp No. 941 UCV with contributions from true friends of the Southern soldier.”
Curiously, some may notice, Hatton’s statue faces west. Noted Frost, “Most monuments of Confederate officers face either north or south—either facing the enemy or turning their back—but Hatton faces west and is standing, not mounted. The reason everyone understands is because when he left for Nashville, he was going west. That was the last time the townspeople saw him.
“Had he not been killed, had he survived during the war; no doubt he would have been a major general commanding a division,” opined Frost, who had two great-great-grandfathers serve in the Confederacy. Said Lebanon businessman Jack Cato, a true student of the Civil War whose greatgrandfather fought under Hatton, “He was a very bright young man, and he had served in the state legislature and had run for governor and been in Congress at the outbreak of the war. We just wonder what his legacy would have been had he lived.”
GENERAL ROBERT HOPKINS HATTON
Born: Nov. 2, 1826, in Youngstown or Steubenville, Ohio
Died: May 31, 1862, in the Battle of Seven Pines, aka the Battle of Fair Oaks
Buried: Cedar Grove Cemetery in Lebanon
Parents: Robert Clopton Hatton and Margaret Campbell Hatton
Wife: Sophia Keron Reilly
Children: Son Reilly, daughters Manie and Emily
Education: Graduate of Cumberland University
Career: Lawyer, politician-statesman, soldier
Military: Captain, Colonel of 7th Tennessee Infantry Regiment,
Brigadier General of Tennessee Brigade
Associations: Methodist Church, Grand Lodge of the Order of Odd Fellows
Other facts: Gifted orator, prodigious letter writer, tireless worker
Biography: Life of General Hatton by James Vaulx Drake, 1867. Reprints
of Hatton’s biography are available for $25 at the Lebanon City Hall.
Powell's Books, Portland, Oregon, about 4:10 PM. I wanted to get a photo for my project in the biggest of bookstores, with its many rooms of new and old books, a great place for finding odd books and multiple editions, and curious readers. He is reading Larry Niven, Ringworld. And he is wearing the Portland Timbers shirt because they were playing Sporting Kansas City less than four hours after this photo.
Thank you for participating in my project. Other photos of readers are here: www.flickr.com/photos/greg_myers/albums/72157652125931010.
Leser auf einer Bank im Olympiapark - die Sonne versteckt sich hinter einer Dunstglocke.
Reader on a bench - sun behind light clouds above.
I've seen lots of public computer errors but I've never seen a segmentation fault on debit/credit card reader before.
At least they don't run windows!
---------------
Verifone SC 5000
SEGMENTATION FAULT!
0/PC=304C300h/JT#359
DbgPC=286EA8h/GID (unknown)(unknown)
PLEASE REBOOT [X]
Just after 5 pm, Dalton Square, Lancaster. I asked for permission and found he was reading a textbook on macroeconomics. I think it goes with the Queen Victoria monument in the background. Thank you for participating in my project. Other photos of readers are here: www.flickr.com/photos/greg_myers/albums/72157652125931010.
Hace poco tuve que cubrir la misa de una graduación universitaria, en el aburrido protocolo vi algo curioso a lo lejos, el monje de la catedral leyendo con un extraño artefacto muy concentrado. Me acerque y no pude evitar tomarle unas fotos. Increible como se las ingenio para poder leer.
La gente es asombrosa!
I've been a book reader all my life and an avid re-reader of books. Somebody calculated how many books an average person could read in an average lifespan. The number was awfully small! I suddenly realized my own reading mortality. In spite of this I'm still a passionate advocate of re-reading and re-watching. It admits of no excuse.
The Death of the Moth, and other essays by Virginia Woolf (Európa, 1980.)
Literary Coffee Houses in Pest and Buda (Literature in Coffee Houses, Coffee Houses in Literature) (Universitas, 1998.)
I found a bookmark in one of the books: a museum ticket to Monet and Friends, 2003. So I read it eight years ago.
"The same energy which inspired the rooks, the ploughmen, the horses, and even, it seemed, the lean bare-backed downs, sent the moth fluttering from side to side of his square of the window-pane. One could not help watching him. One was, indeed, conscious of a queer feeling of pity for him. The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormous and so various that to have only a moth’s part in life, and a day moth’s at that, appeared a hard fate, and his zest in enjoying his meagre opportunities to the full, pathetic. He flew vigorously to one corner of his compartment, and, after waiting there a second, flew across to the other. What remained for him but to fly to a third corner and then to a fourth? That was all he could do, in spite of the size of the downs, the width of the sky, the far-off smoke of houses, and the romantic voice, now and then, of a steamer out at sea. What he could do he did. Watching him, it seemed as if a fibre, very thin but pure, of the enormous energy of the world had been thrust into his frail and diminutive body. As often as he crossed the pane, I could fancy that a thread of vital light became visible. He was little or nothing but life.
Yet, because he was so small, and so simple a form of the energy that was rolling in at the open window and driving its way through so many narrow and intricate corridors in my own brain and in those of other human beings, there was something marvellous as well as pathetic about him. It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zig-zagging to show us the true nature of life. Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it. One is apt to forget all about life, seeing it humped and bossed and garnished and cumbered so that it has to move with the greatest circumspection and dignity. Again, the thought of all that life might have been had he been born in any other shape caused one to view his simple activities with a kind of pity."
I wrote this poem while sitting across from my love, at her family's home on the outskirts of Chicago. Susy was writing a poem of her own, so I picked up a pen and put these thoughts down. She's been so much of the voice in my mind since when we first met. It was nearly a decade ago when she first saw one of my recordings on YouTube, and sent an excited message to let me know how deeply it moved her. No one to that point had ever given back so much feeling for feeling, and everything that passed between us was in the direction of love.
These scenes cover every wild range of emotion in our shared lives, shot through several years of adventures in the city and country. Susy is a woman for all seasons, the furthest-reaching heart I've ever known, pouring out wildly in all the corners of the world we've discovered together. Love is never just another placid theory when she's around, it boils to the surface and drowns everything else. Thanks for the magnetism, mi amor. Te amo. You can purchase this recording, and the rest of the berserkerpoetry album, at steveskafte.bandcamp.com
Ghost Reader
she is a ghost reader
in the darkness of my mind
where forest pines
meet broken lines
she is a chain-dragging spectre
she doesn't haunt my dreams
but she watches my eyes
she hears my ears
and fears my fears
no one is naked
when she is around
they are clothed in glass, darkly
beneath a wall of sound
they are written on paper
before sleep arrives
on the backs of bills
and unfinished wills
perfect truths with a P.S. of lies
she is a ghost reader
the mystery suspect
the unseen guest
the reel, the bait, the leader
she is inbetween scenes
crumpled characters
of frustrated writers
she is inbetween dreams
the waking life
of days and nights
the greying shades
of darks and lights
the push and pull
when hearts are full
and she reads my palms
as I read her soles
she is a ghost reader
in my eyes and over my shoulders
bread from a bird
and blood from a boulder
and with my fading faith in fake flowers
I'm counting the hours
counting the days
until crime pays me back
for drowning my hate in the summer showers
until I hold my fate fast
and grasp my destiny nearer
I'll be sowing words
like a summer seeder
but I'll never hear them when they land
I am a ghost writer
she is a ghost reader
Part of "Robot Reader" signage/header for library or classroom reading display or digital layout. (Check my sets for related graphics.)
Feel free to print or use electronically. Background is white.
"The Riverside Readers, Third Reader" by James H. Van Sickle and Wilhelmina Seegmiller. Illustrated by Ruth Mary Hallock. Copyright 1911 by Houghton Mifflin Company.