Cedar Falls gazette. [volume] (Cedar Falls, Iowa) 1860-1895, 1863-11-27
or THE BATTLE.
"afa EN#se FRELD.

PHOTOGRApI1S or THE BATTLE.
"" @'~ FIELD.
ISIGo, correspondent who writes for the
San Francisco Golden Era, under the head
Of Things" gives the following admirably
executed photographs Of the battlefield
There is "a world Of truth in one remark
in the article referred to: "1he sun paints
everything but its own glory" Raphael
could paint himself, and Rembrandt could
paint both himself and his mistress, but the
sun can never catch the reflection of its own
features save when a bright lake mirrors
them back, and even then they arc shorn of
their splendor.
But there is one thing the sun can do, bet
ter than the pencil and brush of the most
gifted artist that ever lived--it can paint
corpses! Given a barren plain with dead
man laying on it, his sightess eyeballs star,
ing wildly at a sky which they cannot see,
and the sun will make you picture of hor-
ror and desolation which shall haunt your
brain for life time. # .l
am moved to this remark by some pho.
tographs sent me of the dead at Antietam and
at Gettysburg, taken by that wonderful CO.
worker with the sun, Brady a.a
II may not be generally known that our
army has Photographic corps as well as
topographic one, and that the sun batteries
are wheeled along by the side Of the deathfn
ones which the diaboical ingenuity of man
supplies, putting these latter to The blush
by taking towns and Notifications with in
Gntcly less noise and vastly more cXpcdi.
ton. N IN sar-
Brady's photographers took Sumter and
Charleston some weeks since, but the topog
raphers have not taken it yet s'' -
But appropos Of these pictures. The liv.
ing that throng Montgomery street care lit.
tie perhaps for the dead of Antictarn, Vicks.
burg or Gettysburg; but fancy they would
jostle less careessly down that thoroughiaIc,
talk in lower tones Of feet and Of fashions,
s!runter less at their ease, were few drip.
ping bodies, fresh from the field, laid along
the pavement. There would be q gathering
up of skirts and "a careful picking of way, my
lady and my gentleman would look where
they trod, conversation would be less lively,
and the general air of promenadcrs moro sub
ducd.
AS il is, the dead Of distant battle.fields
come up to us very rarely, even in dreams.
We see the list In Eastern Exchanges occasi-
onally, or find mention of the killed and
wounded in the morning paper at breakfast,
but its recollection is dismissed with the rolls
and coffee. The sensation heading informs
us that five thousand are killed, ten thous.
and wounded. Following comes confused
mass of names, but they are all Of strangers.
We forget the horrible significance that
dwells amid the tumble Of type. 1t seldom,
if ever, occurs to Us that the roll we read is
being called over in Eternity, and that pale,
trembling lips are answering TO it. But all
the while that we read so unconccrnedly,
shadowy fingers are pointing from tho print.
ed page to field where even imagination is
10th to follow Each of these little names
which the printer struck off so lightly last
night, whistliDg over his work, and only
wishing the list were less ihat it might be
sooner ended, represents mangled, bleeding
corpse Each one Of these names in its en-.
tirety is thunderbolt that will crash into
some brain--a dull dead remorseless weight
which will fall upon some heart, straining il
to breaking.
q There is nothing very terrible to US, in the
list however, though our sensations might
be different if the news carrier left the names
on the battlefield and the bodies ut our doors
instead.
We recognize the battle field 10 be real
a funeral next door The Grape on the bell.
pull tells there is death in the house, and in
the close carriage that rolls away with nulii
cd wheels, we know there rides woman TO
whom the world is very dark now. But VIC
only see the mourners in the last Of long
line Of carriages-they ride very JOLLY and
at their ease, smoking cigars in placid way,
perhaps, and were it not for the black gloves
fhaxv rr,hs sot, ~
ful enough to furnish, it might be wedding
for all NC or the world would know. II at.
tracts'our attention precisely as any other
pageantry would, but does not enlist our
sympathes. But it is very different when
the hearsc stops at our own door, ard it is
our threshold that the corps is carried out
oyer:--we know whether it ia wedding or
. funeral then without looking at the color Of
gloves the guests wear. SO those who lose
relatives and friends in battle know what
battlc-6elds are, and my Marylanders and
our Pcnnsylvanians, with their door yards
strewn with the dead and dying and their
houses turned into hospitals, know what bat
tlc-felds are!
Brady has done deal in this work Of his
to bring home to us the terrible reality and
earnestncss Of war-if he has not brought
bodies and laid them at our door steps and
along the streets, he has done something
very like it. At the door Of his gallery in
New York hang little placards, Scenes ffom
Antietarn," "The dead at Cettysbursn-
Crowds Of people are constantly going up
the stairs; follow and you find them bend
ing over Photographic views Of those fearful
battle hclds, taken Immediately after the Eight
ended se bst9H a y ttssttf5