After spend about an hour in the U. S. Botanical Gardens, I strolled over to the U. S. Grant Memorial. It's made up of a collection of 7 statues, with an equestrian featuring Grant in the middle on the highest pedestal. At the four corners of Grant are 4 male lions, and on his right and left two unique collections of Union soldiers depicted with horses on the move. There are no words with this memorial, and I couldn't even find Grant's name, which probably explains why it is one of the most neglected memorials in D.C. Yet, perched at the foot of the capitol building in the bowl of the arc of the reflecting pool, it is also one of the most prominently located.
As presidential memorials go, this one is as much, if not more, a memorial to Grant the general. And there's probably a good reason for that. As history has shown, he was by far a more effective and inspiring military strategist than he was a political leader. Looking out from atop his mount you do not get the sense of a man triumphant, but more, a man sobered by the cost of war's victory--another irony given Grant's reputation for self-medicating.
Something else most people probably wouldn't take the time to consider is the beauty of the actual marble the faces the pedestals. It's tainted by the effects of the copper oxidation of the statutes, but that just creates amazing new patterns in the igneous rock.
On the right side you have an image of the caisson pulled by a team of four horses with a cannon attached. One of the soldiers driving the team has leapt upon the back of the one of the animals while another solder on horseback joins in his attempt to restrain the horses as they lurch through the muddy terrain.
Three solders sit atop the caisson and each bears an expression rife with exhaustion and a numb determination. These are men about a task that must be done, but a task for which there is no joy.
To the left are seven soldiers in full charge as they enter a battle. There are drawn swords, a bugler sounding the charge and the American flag proclaiming their loyalty to the Union. And there is a curious feature, too. A figure fallen with his horse and plunged forward, suddenly and completely at the mercy of fate as the raging hooves of his comrade's steads prepare to trample across him.
From this angle, it would even appear that his fellow soldiers are oblivious to his peril, his cape thrust forward like some sort of shield.
As the bugler announces their arrival, the stars and stripes can be seen on the plain of the flag. It's a rich and dynamic work of art.
As I was preparing to leave, I caught site of these to men standing side-by-side at the base of the main statue and looking out across the national Mall. The younger man's arm was affectionately draped across the older man's shoulder. When they turned to leave they appeared to be a young man with his perhaps his grandfather. The older man spoke in a tone of voice that sounded like a person telling a story about something from their past. I did not recognize the language that they shared--and I'm pretty good with other languages. It wasn't Russian or Slavic, nor was it Arabic or Persian. It could have been Turkish, or Hungarian, possibly Finnish, though neither man possessed a Scandinavian complexion.
After spend about an hour in the U. S. Botanical Gardens, I strolled over to the U. S. Grant Memorial. It's made up of a collection of 7 statues, with an equestrian featuring Grant in the middle on the highest pedestal. At the four corners of Grant are 4 male lions, and on his right and left two unique collections of Union soldiers depicted with horses on the move. There are no words with this memorial, and I couldn't even find Grant's name, which probably explains why it is one of the most neglected memorials in D.C. Yet, perched at the foot of the capitol building in the bowl of the arc of the reflecting pool, it is also one of the most prominently located.
As presidential memorials go, this one is as much, if not more, a memorial to Grant the general. And there's probably a good reason for that. As history has shown, he was by far a more effective and inspiring military strategist than he was a political leader. Looking out from atop his mount you do not get the sense of a man triumphant, but more, a man sobered by the cost of war's victory--another irony given Grant's reputation for self-medicating.
Something else most people probably wouldn't take the time to consider is the beauty of the actual marble the faces the pedestals. It's tainted by the effects of the copper oxidation of the statutes, but that just creates amazing new patterns in the igneous rock.
On the right side you have an image of the caisson pulled by a team of four horses with a cannon attached. One of the soldiers driving the team has leapt upon the back of the one of the animals while another solder on horseback joins in his attempt to restrain the horses as they lurch through the muddy terrain.
Three solders sit atop the caisson and each bears an expression rife with exhaustion and a numb determination. These are men about a task that must be done, but a task for which there is no joy.
To the left are seven soldiers in full charge as they enter a battle. There are drawn swords, a bugler sounding the charge and the American flag proclaiming their loyalty to the Union. And there is a curious feature, too. A figure fallen with his horse and plunged forward, suddenly and completely at the mercy of fate as the raging hooves of his comrade's steads prepare to trample across him.
From this angle, it would even appear that his fellow soldiers are oblivious to his peril, his cape thrust forward like some sort of shield.
As the bugler announces their arrival, the stars and stripes can be seen on the plain of the flag. It's a rich and dynamic work of art.
As I was preparing to leave, I caught site of these to men standing side-by-side at the base of the main statue and looking out across the national Mall. The younger man's arm was affectionately draped across the older man's shoulder. When they turned to leave they appeared to be a young man with his perhaps his grandfather. The older man spoke in a tone of voice that sounded like a person telling a story about something from their past. I did not recognize the language that they shared--and I'm pretty good with other languages. It wasn't Russian or Slavic, nor was it Arabic or Persian. It could have been Turkish, or Hungarian, possibly Finnish, though neither man possessed a Scandinavian complexion.
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