Elm Leaf Publishing

The American Civil War, fiction and non-fiction       

    Matthew Brady had photographed John Singleton Mosby, a Confederate commander. Also known as the “gray ghost.”

    Brady’s Portrait Gallery was on Broadway and 10thStreet. Here, many famous clients posed and were photographed. Some would return after the war, looking older and grayer. Civil War officers in civilian clothing. The artifice of it a wonder. Such remarkable resemblances.

    The Mathew Brady photography studio on Broadway, in New York City, was part photographic technology and part theater. An unpredictable theater capturing the images of individuals that often-meant unintended results. So much drama had led to these eight seconds of sitting perfectly still and staring into the lens of a thing. In your finest clothes in a studio with velvet curtains and elaborate furnishings. How well it showed your emotions and physicality at that very moment. The human force one might interpret as a soul. It had been the event of an afternoon. You had your photograph taken. You were now back on the streets of New York. With its city noise, sunlight and shadows on structures. The many window displays meant to lure you into a shop. The promise of a park bench. 

    This land East of the Mississippi was good for crops. With rolling hills and fertile valleys. Small Illinois towns had grown quickly with their agriculture and industry. Many of the settlers were German and Irish immigrants. Photography now documents the state’s history. One of Illinois’s most famous former residents was now President of the nation. 

    The bedrooms of the farmhouse were upstairs. With window views of the changing seasons. A distant view of the fields and the wooded land that edged them. They lacked the warmth of the lower rooms with the heat of a wood burning stove, and a fireplace. Daylight would fill these upstairs rooms, make shifting shadows on the wallpaper prints. In the chilly fall, a shining harvest moon appeared above the fields and illuminated the land. 

    The Southern town lay in ruins. Not burned but bombed by cannon fire. The classical columns of a government building still stood in the rubble of it. People sat or stood near what was once a proper house or a factory. The railroads were twisted iron rails. The blue sky was filled with gray clouds of smoke.  

    It was the start of the Industrial Revolution. You could hear the passing train in the distance when out in a Northern field. Northern farms also grew cotton. There was the production of iron for Civil War weapons. Conversation about new factories in Northern cities that were growing quickly. Remarkable growth with new impressive structures, parks and avenues. 

    Most citizens lived in rural areas. The nation was mostly agricultural. Nature determined much of your activity. When it was time to plant or harvest the fields. 

    You fought to survive. Enduring a rain or snowstorm, wind that could ruin a crop. You searched the sky for a sign. Of a blessing or curse in the form of sunshine or natural calamity. A storm that would twist the trees and turn the land to mud and ruin. Spring brought a miracle of growth. A gentle rain and budding tree leaves. 

    The merchant general store sold fabrics, fruit, stamps, shoes and lots of other things. Clothing could be ordered from a catalog. You knew what you wanted and what you might be able to afford. The front window display was something to notice. 

    After a dry spring, rain clouds appeared in the sky one morning. By afternoon, the planted fields had been revived by it. Plants and weeds grew along with the flowers in the farmyards and gardens.  

    The Eastern city is filled with noise. Of industry, travel, building; the voices of those around you. There are moments of quiet in the park. Or in the privacy of a room, nicely furnished. The facades of civilization include the appearance of citizens and visitors. You see the fashionable and the poor. The immigrant and the aristocrat. Evidence of the season. A snow fall, dried leaves in the wind or the sound of rain. The sky blue or gray. 

    The Civil War was also fought out West. A Union volunteer infantry or cavalry company were sometimes organized in the Far West, perhaps in California, Nevada, and Oregon. In Colorado and New Mexico. To protect trails and settlements and sometimes to fight Confederates. Confederate soldiers occupied the towns of Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Tucson. 

    The talk of war once meant a reminiscence of the fight for independence. Now it is the country’s Civil War that is talked about. Whether on a street or in church, patriotism is expressed and the need for loyalty and prayer. 

    This state has its own version of the Union soldier uniform. With its blue wool coat and lighter color pants. Buttons with a state emblem. How many soldiers had been photographed in such uniform? A single visual record of their lives. Perhaps a drawing is rendered from it. Letters are kept and diaries. Things left to you when a loss is suffered. 

    You came upon a Northern town. It is starting to rain, and you are looking for shelter. Found in a doorway on a street near the river dock. This American town has grown quickly. Goods are transported by boat and now the train. There are structures near the main square with colonial references. Many of the town buildings are simple board structures lacking an architectural style. Some look new and built with freshly cut lumber. The blurred light of oil lamps is seen through windows pelted by rain. Dirt roads lead to rural areas being farmed or left to woods. 

    He was lost in the woods. He would either find his way back to the others or face the prospect of being captured. Something he was determined to avoid at all costs. He recognized the beauty of nature. The sunlight cast through the tree leaves. The smell of the earth and the wild plants that grew in the shadows. He did not want to die here. Be captured and left to starvation and disease in a prisoner of war camp. 

    Wherever you lived in the country, your region and climate were a part of your daily life. That was true for all people. The urban setting in all seasons. The colors and sounds of nature. The shifting sky and when things grow in the sunshine. When the wind carries dead leaves from the trees. There were rivers and streams. The wide Mississippi or Missouri River with flat boats and steamers. You welcomed the rain for crops. Knew that falling snow meant the end of certain activities. A gathering storm seen from a window or above you in the field or road you traveled. Often, you were alone with nature. It was a reminder of the passing of time. The cycle of things and the beauty of it.