Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1869-08-25
FROM MARION.
CHICAGO, August 18th

CHICAGO, August 18th.
The Times says, "two celestial phenome-
ma were visible in Chicago on the 7th-the
Chinese and the eclipse" Of the former !
cannot testify, not having seen them, and
the latter needs no testimony of mine to
make it one of the established facts of the
10Th century. The Chic go river tunnel is
also fact, and having experienced all the
horrors Of passage tn rough it, am less |
inclined to silence regarding this ;'phenom
non" than either of the others. Walk ing |
through that dimly lighted, ill-ventilated |
way, listening to the continuous rumble of
unseen vehicles, and watching the Shiny !
liquid oozing from the crevices overhead
and slowly creeping down the walls to the
floor, a person, though usually courageous,
can but reflect that it is the Chicago river
above him, and, (if he has any regard for a
decent burial wish it were a cleaner stream.
Yesterday in company with some N IL
yankee friends, Twisted the Academy of
Design, in Crosby's Opera House, and al
though incapable of approaching or criti-
cising pictures in any just degree, it was
a day OF unusual pleasure. That individual
must be souless indeed who fails to linger
enraptured before Berstadts Yosemite Val
ley had long desired to see it, and stand
ing there, Hope was changed to glad frui-
ton Such marvellous tints, such an ex-
quislte blending of light and shade and such
| life one seldom sees in picture Some one
has remarked how the absence of every liv-
ing creature adds to the grandeur of the
scene; and so it seemed to memo deer
bounds over the cliffs, not a bird or rabbit
is seen among the foliage, not even a grass
| hopper or cricket on the moss, and yet the
picture is peri ect, one misses nothing; 1t
impresses You like the reality you hear
the leaves rustic, feel the coolEess of the
shade, walk weary and hot over the rocks
and long to press your feet in the moss that
carpets the groves.
Turning at last from this all absorbing
picture, the eye rests upon many a gem of
fruit and flower, landscape and marine view,
historic sketch and poetic legend limned as
some vivid imagination dictated. One mid
summer scene we looked at with special iu-
terest when told that it was executed with
the left hand by Bigelow, Chicago artist,
who has recently lost his right hand. As
memory paints it now, I see water just
famed into ripples a tiny shallop on the
strand, soft-tinted foliage, light clouds in a
blue sky, and over all mellow haze Last
ly and regretfully speak of that great pic
ture, great in point of size--the Death Bed
Scene Of Lincoln. | could wish he ar list
who painted it no worse wish than
that he might sit forever and cont en-
plate his own work. The face of the dying
or dead President is CHASTITY, repulsive; the
hand of one of the by5tanders dabbles in
the blood among the matted hair; the pill
low is blood stained the wife is upon her
knees by the bedside in all the agony which
a grief like that must bring and the spec
tators stand about sympathetic, a wed or
curious, as the case may be. One turns
from the whole with sickening, revolving
sensation, which mars all the beauty before
witnessed. However fine the workmanship
and correct the portraits, it is a perverted
taste which parades scene like that before
the world. The same vulgar curiosity
which will so to a funeral and stay to wit
ness one Of those outrages, public 'qeave
taking of the corpse" would enjoy that pic
ture. All honor to our dead President |
Bring him before US in his consciousness,
| himself and we shall never fail to recognize
his virtue; but let not the vulgar eye or
brush profane his last, agonizing hours.
At length, passing out from the Art Gal
lery, we read upon door which stood
slightly ajar the word ''Studio," and the
artists name, which I regret thai I have
forgotten Had the words beea Holy of
Holes and High Priest they could not
have possessed more sacred charm for me;
for to step within Studio and see live
Artist; to watch the creator and creation
of beauty, had always been an intense desire
of NINE and here at the Threshold, when I
expressed this wish to my companion, S he
quietly opened wide the door, and stepped
within, apologizing for our intrusion, and
introducing herself and friends with that
graceful courtesy that ever marks the high
bred, cultivated woman; as she stood there
I appreciated for the first time the "beauty
of audacity," as DR.. Dudley terms it,
Two gentlemen arose and cordially well
coined US, and if they were annoyed at the
interruption, one would not have guessed it
from their manner. Both paintings and
sculpture were scattered about in seemin g
carelessness. l had been reading the Marble
Fam, and Immediately imagination trans
ported us across the ocean and we stood with
in al Italian Studio; the taller and statelier
Of the two artists mentally named Kenyon,
but none of Us were beautiful enough for
Miriam, none pure enough for Hilda, and
alas the second Artist had ears just like
any other man, hence, he could not be Dom
atelIo, although he seemed to revel in Fairy
| scenes, sufficiently to be the twin brother
Of the tabled Faun. There were Fairies
robbing humming birds nests Fairies
asleep in roses and Fairy wedding not yet
complete. There were New England land
scapes, (Whittier's poems in colors) and
! Rocky mountain views Of these latter we
asked, ''are not the tints that splay about
those mountains too bright2" and the reply
was, 40, no; not so bright as the reality.
You cannot imagine the brilliancy with
which nature colors those mountain sum
mits, but we dare not initiate her, even as
nearly as we can, for people will not be-
lieve that her hues are ever so intense"