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Posts Tagged ‘remains’

Medieval Child’s remains used to Demonstrate Soil Analysis (About.com European History)

An interesting history-related post from About.com European History:

This Discovery news piece begins talking about the skeleton of a ten to thirteen year old child buried about eight hundred years ago. Experts can tell from analysis of a recent excavation that the child was being given mercury before they died, to treat a disease which can't be identified. This leads onto a look at how the mercury was found: not from the bones, but from the surrounding soil. As Kaare Lund Rasmussen of the University of Southern Denmark explained "If we can localize an element in the soil in the immediate vicinity of the skeleton which is not ...

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Ned Kelly’s remains to go to family, not developers (The History Blog)

An interesting history-related post from The History Blog:

Excavation of mass grave at Pentridge Prison siteThe skeletal remains of 19th century Australian folk hero outlaw Ned Kelly were discovered in a mass grave on the site of the former Pentridge Prison in 2008. Unlike many of the more than 30 executed criminals buried in that grave, Kelly’s bones — minus the skull which is still missing — were in a box of their own, so experts from the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine were able to examine them without having to sort out which bones amidst the jumble of bones belonged together. They were able to confirm that the skeleton bore the marks of wounds ...

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Rare remains of soldier found at Waterloo (The History Blog)

An interesting history-related post from The History Blog:

Skeleton found in shallow grave on the field of WaterlooLast Friday, June 8th, Belgian archaeologists unearthed the skeletal remains of a soldier killed during the Battle of Waterloo on June 18, 1815. Buried under just 15 inches of soil, the position of the skeleton suggests the young man died where he fell and was hastily covered with a thin layer of dirt, probably by his comrades. This is a very rare find. The victorious armies cleared the battlefield of their dead, and the defeated French were eventually buried on site in mass graves. It’s the first time in a century that a body from the Napoleonic wars has been ...

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Medieval Ship Remains in Ground over Funds (About.com European History)

An interesting history-related post from About.com European History:

In 2009, builders discovered the remains of a medieval ship buried and preserved beneath a warehouse in Talinn. Radiocarbon dates on wooden fragments revealed the ship was built between 1210 and 1280, and experts realised that over half the ship was intact. This makes it the best preserved medieval ship ever found in Estonia, and a rich ground for archaeologists. However, the ship is staying buried for the time being, because there simply isn't the money in the relevant budgets to dig. What will happen is a special protected status will be placed on the boat, so it's ready for ...

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Remains of Bronze Age Culture Found in Caucasus (About.com European History)

An interesting history-related post from About.com European History:

A joint Russo-German expedition to the Russian regions of the Caucasus has discovered the remains of a previously forgotten Bronze Age civilization. Dating back to between the sixteenth to fourteenth century BC, the remains cover sixty miles, with stone built architecture and bronze items, and are in good condition. The researchers worked from black and white pictures taken during the era of communist Russia, allied to modern systems like GPS. The BBC has more details...

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Returning American Indian human remains (Native America, Discovered and Conquered)

An interesting history-related post from Native America, Discovered and Conquered:

One of the basic human rights, it seems, is to be able to control the disposition of the remains of your ancestors and relatives. All 50 states in the U.S. have laws controlling and protecting human remains.

American Indians rights to protect their ancestors have not been protected in the United States until very recently. Indian remains were collected by the federal government and numerous educational facilities and universities etc.

Federal laws in 1989, for the Smithsonian system, and in 1990, for any institution that receives federal funding, required investigations by these institutions into the human remains, burial objects, and ...

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Mexican Yaqui remains returned from New York museum (Native America, Discovered and Conquered)

An interesting history-related post from Native America, Discovered and Conquered:

As I blogged a few days ago, the repatriation movement (the return) of human remains and other items from museums and educational institutions to their rightful owners and communities continues to grow stronger.

The press reports that Northern Mexico’s Yaqui people buried their lost warriors after a two-year effort to rescue the remains from New York’s American Museum of Natural History, where they laid in storage for more than a century.

The burial on November 16 capped an unprecedented effort by U.S. and Mexican Indian tribes to press both governments to bring justice and closure to the 1902 massacre by ...

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Edwin Booth’s remains may testify to John Wilkes’ (The History Blog)

An interesting history-related post from The History Blog:

Junius, Edwin & John Wilkes Booth in Julius CaesarDescendants of renowned Shakespearean actor Edwin Booth want to exhume his body so that his DNA can be compared to the DNA from the remains of the man who died in the Garrett farm barn after being shot by federal troops chasing the assassins of President Abraham Lincoln. Why, you ask? To confirm that John Wilkes Booth is buried in John Wilkes Booth’s grave.

We know the man who died in a barn as John Wilkes Booth, presidential assassin, Edwin’s brother and a far less successful actor, but a conspiracy theory posits that John Wilkes Booth never died in the ...

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1863 — A Night Battle, Over a Week Since — Unnamed Remains the Bravest Soldier by Walt Whitman

May 12, 1863

A Night Battle, Over a Week Since.

May 12. There was part of the late battle at Chancellorsville, (second Fredericksburgh,) a little over a week ago, Saturday, Saturday night and Sunday, under Gen. Joe Hooker, I would like to give just a glimpse of — (a moment’s look in a terrible storm at sea — of which a few suggestions are enough, and full details impossible.) The fighting had been very hot during the day, and after an intermission the latter part, was resumed at night, and kept up with furious energy till 3 o’clock in the morning. That afternoon (Saturday) an attack sudden and strong by Stonewall Jackson had gain’d a great advantage to the southern army, and broken our lines, entering us like a wedge, and leaving things in that position at dark. But Hooker at 11 at night made a desperate push, drove the secesh forces back, restored his original lines, and resumed his plans. This night scrimmage was very exciting, and afforded countless strange and fearful pictures. The fighting had been general both at Chancellorsville and northeast at Fredericksburgh. (We hear of some poor fighting, episodes, skedaddling on our part. I think not of it. I think of the fierce bravery, the general rule.) One corps, the 6th, Sedgewick’s, fights four dashing and bloody battles in thirty-six hours, retreating in great jeopardy, losing largely but maintaining itself, fighting with the sternest desperation under all circumstances, getting over the Rappahannock only by the skin of its teeth, yet getting over. It lost many, many brave men, yet it took vengeance, ample vengeance.

But it was the tug of Saturday evening, and through the night and Sunday morning, I wanted to make a special note of. It was largely in the woods, and quite a general engagement. The night was very pleasant, at times the moon shining out full and clear, all Nature so calm in itself, the early summer grass so rich, and foliage of the trees — yet there the battle raging, and many good fellows lying helpless, with new accessions to them, and every minute amid the rattle of muskets and crash of cannon, (for there was an artillery contest too,) the red life-blood oozing out from heads or trunks or limbs upon that green and dew-cool grass. Patches of the woods take fire, and several of the wounded, unable to move, are consumed–quite large spaces are swept over, burning the dead also — some of the men have their hair and beards singed — some, burns on their faces and hands — others holes burnt in their clothing. The flashes of fire from the cannon, the quick flaring flames and smoke, and the immense roar — the musketry so general, the light nearly bright enough for each side to see the other — the crashing, tramping of men — the yelling — close quarters — we hear the secesh yells — our men cheer loudly back, especially if Hooker is in sight — hand to hand conflicts, each side stands up to it, brave, determin’d as demons, they often charge upon us — a thousand deeds are done worth to write newer greater poems on — and still the woods on fire — still many are not only scorch’d — too many, unable to move, are burn’d to death Then the camps of the wounded — O heavens, what scene is this? — is this indeed humanity — these butchers’ shambles? There are several of them. There they lie, in the largest, in an open space in the woods, from 200 to 300 poor fellows — the groans and screams — the odor of blood, mixed with the fresh scent of the night, the grass, the trees — that slaughter-house! O well is it their mothers, their sisters cannot see them — cannot conceive, and never conceiv’d, these things. One man is shot by a shell, both in the arm and leg — both are amputated — there lie the rejected members. Some have their legs blown off — some bullets through the breast — some indescribably horrid wounds in the face or head, all mutilated, sickening, torn, gouged out — some in the abdomen — some mere boys — many rebels, badly hurt — they take their regular turns with the rest, just the same as any — the surgeons use them just the same. Such is the camp of the wounded — such a fragment, a reflection afar off of the bloody scene — while over all the clear, large moon comes out at times softly, quietly shining. Amid the woods, that scene of flitting souls — amid the crack and crash and yelling sounds — the impalpable perfume of the woods — and yet the pungent, stifling smoke — the radiance of the moon, looking from heaven at intervals so placid — the sky so heavenly — the clear-obscure up there, those buoyant upper oceans — a few large placid stars beyond, coming silently and languidly out, and then disappearing — the melancholy, draperied night above, around. And there, upon the roads, the fields, and in those woods, that contest, never one more desperate in any age or land — both parties now in force — masses — no fancy battle, no semi-play, but fierce and savage demons fighting there — courage and scorn of death the rule, exceptions almost none.

What history, I say, can ever give — for who can know — the mad, determin’d tessle of the armies, in all their separate large and little squads — as this — each steep’d from crown to toe in desperate, mortal purports? Who know the conflict, hand-to-hand — the many conflicts in the dark, those shadowy-tangled, flashing moonbeam’d woods — the writhing groups and squads — the cries, the din; the cracking guns and pistols — the distant cannon–the cheers and calls and threats and awful music of the oaths — the indescribable mix — the officers’ orders, persuasions, encouragements — the devils fully rous’d in human hearts — the strong shout, Charge, men, charge — the flash of the naked sword, and rolling flame and smoke? And still the broken, clear and clouded heaven–and still again the moonlight pouring silvery soft its radiant patches over all. Who paint the scene, the sudden partial panic of the afternoon, at dusk? Who paint the irrepressible advance of the second division of the Third corps, under Hooker himself, suddenly order’d up — those rapid-filing phantoms through the woods? Who show what moves there in the shadows, fluid and firm — to save; (and it did save,) the army’s name, perhaps the nation — as there the veterans bold the field. (Brave Berry falls not yet — but death has mark’d him — soon be falls.)

Unnamed Remains the Bravest Soldier.

Of scenes like these, I say, who writes — whoe’er can write the story? Of many a score — aye, thousands, north and south, of unwrit heroes, unknown heroisms, incredible, impromptu, first-class desperations — who tells? No history ever — no poem sings, no music sounds, those bravest men of all — those deeds. No formal general’s report, nor book in the library, nor column in the paper, embalms the bravest, north or south, east or west. Unnamed, unknown, remain, and still remain, the bravest soldiers. Our manliest — our boys — our hardy darlings; no picture gives them. Likely, the typic one of them (standing, no doubt, for hundreds, thousands,) crawls aside to some bush-clump, or ferny tuft, on receiving his death-shot — there sheltering a little while, soaking roots, grass and soil, with red blood — the battle advances, retreats, flits from the scene, sweeps by — and there, haply with pain and suffering (yet less, far less, than is supposed,) the last lethargy winds like a serpent round him — the eyes glaze in death — none recks — perhaps the burial-squads, in truce, a week afterwards, search not the secluded spot — and there, at last, the Bravest Soldier crumbles in mother earth, unburied and unknown.