Blueprints for the Butler Mansion: The Richards House

We must start this post with an apology. As hard as we tried, we couldn't find a picture in which our last contestant figures as the main focus. It appears that it was usually photographed when people were trying to get shots of its neighbors--the Capital City Club to the right and the Leyden residence to the left. Below you have a cropped picture with a decent lateral view of the house, but it's better if you follow our links to all the images available, to get a clearer idea. From some angles, this mansion looks like your typical (and, I must say, almost pretty) Victorian house. From others, you can get a glimpse at the building that was considered among the most ornate (read: gaudiest) in Atlanta before the Dougherty-Hopkins residence was built, outrunning even our previous contestant, the Governor's mansion. 

                                                                                                                       Image from Peachtree Street, Atlanta

                                                  Name: the Richards-Abbott residence 

                                                  Built: 1884 

                                                  Demolished: around 1915

                                                  Location: intersection of Peachtree and Ellis streets

Our house above was a three-story affair of orange brick and terra cota, occupying a 59 by 275-foot lot on the block between Cain and Ellis streets. (You can see its original color in this picture.) It was "elaborately embellished with turrets, gargoyles, dormer windows, and porches," according to our good and reliable friend, the Peachtree Street, Atlanta book. This contestant's history, and more images, after the jump.

Blueprints for the Butler Mansion: The Governor's Mansion

Today brings our second historical house to compete for the honor of most closely resembling the Butler Mansion.  Candidate number two, come on down! 

 Image from ATLhistory.com

                               Name: John H. James residence
                               Built: 1869
                               Demolished: 1923
                               Location: intersection of Peachtree and Cain streets

Better known for its role as the governor's mansion, the James residence is likely the most familiar contestant of the three to windies, as it's mentioned in direct relation to Scarlett's architectural horror fanciful abode in Chapter XLIX of Gone with the Wind: 

"...when finished, it would be larger and finer looking than any other house in town.  It would be even more imposing than the near-by James residence which had just been purchased for the official mansion of Governor Bullock."

But enough GWTW quoting (yes, we love our quotes here). Follow me over the jump to find the history of the James house and its unique qualifications in the Butler Mansion resemblance sweepstakes.

The Daring Hoop Skirt Blockade Runner

Civil War blockade runner. While the phrase immediately brings to mind images of Rhett Butler (let's be honest), Rhett and his male counterparts weren't the only ones bringing in goods for the South. Southern women had an ingenious weapon at their immediate disposal to help them aid the war effort--the hoop skirt. 

And so without further ado we bring you the tale of a daring hoop skirt blockade runner, as remembered by Sara Pryor, a Virginian aristocrat and the wife of Confederate general Roger Pryor: 

"One day I was in an ambulance, driving on one of the interminable lanes of the region, the only incident being the watery crossing over the 'cosin,' as the driver called the swamps that had been 'Poquosin' in the Indian tongue. Behind me  came a jolting two-wheeled cart, drawn by a mule  and driven by a small negro boy, who stood in front with a foot planted firmly upon each of the shafts. Within, and completely filling the vehicle, which was nothing more than a box on wheels, sat a dignified-looking woman. The dame of the ambulance at once became fascinated by a small basket of sweet potatoes which the dame of the cart carried in her lap. 

"With a view to acquiring these treasures I essayed a tentative conversation upon the weather, the prospects of a late spring, and finally the scarcity of provisions and consequent suffering of the soldiers.

"After a keen glance of scrutiny the market woman exclaimed, 'Well, I am doing all I can for them! I know you won't speak of it! Look here!'

"Lifting the edge of her hooped petticoat, she revealed a roll of army cloth, several pairs of cavalry boots, a roll of crimson flannel, packages of gilt braid and sewing silk, cans of preserved meats, a bag of coffee! She was on her way to our own camp, right under the General's nose! Of course I should not betray her — I promised. I did more. Before we parted she had drawn forth a little memorandum book and had taken a list of my own necessities. She did not 'run the blockade' herself. She had an agent — 'a dear, good Suffolk man'— who would fill my order on his next trip.

"It isn't worth while to tell men everything. They are not supposed to be interested in the needle-and-thread ways of women!" 

--excerpted from Reminiscences of peace and war (1905)

So there you have the brave tale of subterfuge, goods smuggling--and crinoline and petticoats.  And just think: if some regular ole Southern lady could be so inventive with her hoop skirts, can you imagine what our own intrepid Scarlett would be able to do with them? If the girl could turn green curtains into the ultimate seduction weapon, I shudder to think what she would be able to accomplish with an especially voluminous hoop skirt in her arsenal.

Blueprints for the Butler Mansion: The House of a Thousand Candles

So here’s what we figured. We have material on three historical houses that resemble the Butler mansion, and, instead of distributing the posts over the course of the following weeks, as was our initial plan, we decided to post one each day, starting with today. On Thursday, when you’ll all have seen the three houses in question, we’ll have a poll and you can vote the house you find closer to Scarlett’s Peachtree mansion as described by Margaret Mitchell. And now, let's meet our first mansion:

                                                       Image scanned from Peachtree Street, Atlanta

                            Name: Dougherty-Hopkins residence

                            Built: 1890

                            Demolished: 1931

                            Location: intersection of Peachtree and Baker streets

Our first candidate enters the competition with one major drawback: as you can see, it was built in 1890, which puts some solid 22 years between it and the fictional Butler mansion and also makes it the "youngest" house in our lot. However, we think that this alone is no reason to discard it, especially since it does have a couple of elements working in its favor as well. But first let's hear the story behind it-->after the jump.

Shakespeare in Gone with the Wind (also featuring, bills)

"'If you think Confederate money is cute, Will, I certainly don't,' said Scarlett, shortly, for the very sight of Confederate money made her mad. 'We've got three thousand dollars of it in Pa's trunk this minute, and Mammy's  after me to let her paste it over the holes in the attic walls so the draft won't get her. And I think I'll do it. Then it'll be good for something.'

'"Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,'' said Melanie with a sad smile. 'Don't do that, Scarlett. Keep it for Wade. He'll be proud of it some day.'" --Gone with the Wind, Chapter XXX

I read Gone with the Wind before I read Shakespeare. I also read Gone with the Wind before the internet was readily available (at least for me). So the above quote didn't mean much to me until I read Hamlet and jumped out of my seat looking like an idiot uttered a small delighted gasp of surprise. Isn't that one of the nicest feelings in the world, to stumble across quotes used in Gone with the Wind in their natural habitat?

Melly's quote comes, of course, from the graveyard scene in Hamlet, in which Hamlet is moodily meditating on life, death and the human condition (what else is new?).  His speech is the typical example of the ubi sunt genre. Here are the quotes relevant for understanding Melly's line: 

          "Why may
          not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,
          till he find it stopping a bung-hole?"
                                               (5.1. 186-88)

          "Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
          Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
          O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
          Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!"
                                               (5.1.195-98)

It's actually a very nice image, the one Melly is able to so briefly invoke, isn't it? I've always found it interesting that the two things that are compared to unfortunate Caesars in Gone with the Wind are the Confederacy and Rhett. In an admittedly very loose way, it seems to reinforce the idea that his connection to the Old South is deeper than he cares to acknowledge.

After the jump you have some images of Confederate money, that iso scanned from The Authentic South of Gone with the Wind: The Illustrated Guide to the Grandeur of a Lost Era. I figured you didn't have enough of Confederate bills this week.

Rue de la Paix

"'It's your bonnet,' he said.  'Who else could wear that shade of green?  Don't you think I carried the color of your eyes well in my mind?'

'Did you really have it trimmed just for me?'

'Yes, and there's 'Rue de la Paix' on the box, if that means anything to you.'

It meant nothing to her, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. Just at this moment, nothing mattered to her except that she looked utterly charming in the first pretty hat she had put on her head in two years."

--Gone with the Wind, Chapter XIII

To go along with our scrapbook theme, each week we'll be posting a fun GWTW-themed collage from the endlessly addictive Polyvore website. It's like our very own boutique on Rue de la Paix.

Green hat from Paris by vivien22 on Polyvore.com
Enjoy!

Lines on the Back of a Confederate Note

“‘When I was over to Fayetteville today,’ said Will, ‘I found somethin’ right cute that I thought would interest you ladies and I brought it home.’ (...) He turned the bill over. On its back was pasted a strip of coarse brown wrapping paper, inscribed in pale homemade ink. Will cleared his throat and read slowly and with difficulty.

‘The name is ‘Lines on the Back of a Confederate Note,’’ he said.” --Gone with the Wind, Chapter XXX

So here’s something that used to really intrigue me. In the scene above, the poem Will Benteen brings home from Fayetteville is written on a piece of paper pasted on the back of the Confederate bill. I always assumed (correctly) that the poem was not just an anonymous creation that happened to fall into Will’s hands, but an existing piece someone pasted there in tribute to its title. And here rose the problem. To me the title seemed to suggest that the lines had been written directly on the back of a bill. But then, aren’t bills supposed to be printed on both sides?

Fortunately, history found a way to reconcile the truth of the title with my over analyzing tendencies the universally accepted truth about bills. Yes, bills are printed on both sides. However, a number of Confederate bills at the end of the war were not, because the Confederacy fell before the printing could be completed. And this was exactly the case with the $500 bill on which this poem was written.

But let’s hear the story from the author himself, a Major S.A. Jonas of Aberdeen, Mississippi. Originally a civil engineer working for the New Orleans, Jackson & Great Northern Railroad, Jonas went on to fight in the Confederate army (and he really was with Johnston when he surrendered--sorry, couldn’t resist that one) and then, after the war, became editor of The Examiner in his native town. From this position, he wrote a letter to a journal in Louisville, Kentucky, claiming authorship for the poem Lines on the Back of a Confederate Note and detailing its history:

“Immediately after Johnston’s surrender at High Point, N.C., a number of us obtained transportation at Richmond, Va., where we awaited means to reach our homes. A little party of us, including Capt. A. B. Schell of your city, were quartered, thanks to the kindness of its proprietor, at the Powhatan Hotel. A Philadelphia comedy company was stopping there, and one of the lady performers, Miss Annie Ruch, requested that we would all furnish her with our autographs. It so happened that among the spoils of the Confederacy that were floating through the town were many $500 bills incomplete-- the reverse sides, or backs, had not been printed--and Miss Ruch furnished us each with one of these upon which to write. We all complied with her wishes, each writing a compliment or a sentiment, and my blank was filled in with the lines in question.”

              --In a letter to The Louisville Courier Journal

The poem was first published by The Metropolitan Record of New York, an official newspaper of the Roman Catholic Church, that appeared between 1859 and 1873. To give you an idea of the specific of this newspaper is to say that, besides Catholic, all the following descriptions apply: Irish, Democrat, Pro-Southern, Anti-abolitionism, Anti-Lincoln. It was... more than just a little vehement. This newspaper would publish Jonas’ poem under the heading, "Something too good to be lost.”

The piece was such a success that it quickly became part of the popular culture, as the Lost Cause legend started to grow. As such, it was attributed to a number of people, including Father Ryan and half a dozen Southern ladies. It was actually because The Louisville Courier Journal had claimed the honor for a Kentucky lady the week before that Jonas stepped in to clear the misunderstanding and claim his laurels. 
 

                                                          Image from the Library of Congress

 

Besides featuring some classic motifs of the Lost Cause mythology, Lines on the Back of a Confederate Note also inspired/was used in a large number of artifacts, from the plain bill Will shows Scarlett to more elaborate plaques and lithographs, like the one you can see above. (It's a good thing they changed the title to The Lost Cause, though, for otherwise I would have been sure to obsess over its inaccuracy all over again.)

You can find a review of that lithograph's cultural heritage here, though the poem is assigned to a different author and Jonas to legend. The Gone with the Wind scene is also mentioned (with one little inaccuracy).

After the jump you’ll find the poem in its entirety. The stanzas in italics are the ones Will reads aloud in Gone with the Wind.