{"id":14130,"date":"2026-07-04T20:32:18","date_gmt":"2026-07-05T01:32:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/?p=14130"},"modified":"2026-07-04T20:32:18","modified_gmt":"2026-07-05T01:32:18","slug":"mfdj-07-04-26-photographing-antietam","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/?p=14130","title":{"rendered":"MFDJ 07\/04\/26: Photographing Antietam"},"content":{"rendered":"

Today’s Grisly Yet Truly Morbid Fact!<\/h3>\n

Alexander Gardner shook his head as he looked around for the best place to start. He was at Antietam Creek, in Sharpsburg, Maryland, on September 19 to photograph the battlefield two days after the battlefield two days after the battle of Antietam. The job was not going to be easy, although the main photographic problem\u2014that of the movement of the subjects\u2014was a non-issue. Dead men don’t move.<\/p>\n

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Alexander Gardner<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n

Gardner’s employer, photographer Mathew Brady, had asked for at least 70 collodion plates to be made as quickly as possible\u2014quickly, because in the heat and humidity of mid-September in southern Maryland, a corpse could go bad\u00a0<\/em>very fast.<\/p>\n

The battle of Antietam, known in the South as the battle of Sharpsburg, was fought on September 17, 1862. Part of the Maryland campaign, it was the first major battle of the Civil War to occur on Union soil. It is also the bloodiest single-day battle in American history, with a combined count of 22,717 dead, wounded, and missing. Union Maj. Gen. George McClellan pursued and attacked Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia, winning a narrow victory for the North.<\/p>\n

Gardner’s assistant, James F. Gibson, pointed out a probable location for an image, and the two men got to work. They moved across the battlefield, past the Dunker Church, through the Cornfield, across Burnside’s Bridge, down Bloody Lane, then back again. Union and Confederate dead filled the glass plates trundled along in the Whatsit Wagon, carefully driven by Alfred Foons, who had to dodge the burial details at their grisly work.<\/p>\n

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It was a good day’s work, but pretty bad as well. The stench was unbelievable, and it would get worse if there were any further delay. Sam Fletcher of the 15th Massachusetts wrote about his experience was part of a burial detail on September 18: “It was vey hot and the bodies were getting soft and it was very unpleasant… I tasted the odor for several days.”<\/p>\n

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Weather showed little respect for the fallen. It had rained on both the living and the dead after the battle of Manassas and in between the two days of Shiloh. Now the sun was beating down on just under 4,000 dead soldiers. This number was, and still is, simply astounding. More Americans died on this battlefield than had died, or would ever die, on any one day in the nation’s military history.<\/p>\n

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Soldiers such as Charles A. Hale of the 5th New Hampshire wrote to his wife on September 19, telling her, “What a bloody place was that sunken road as we advanced and the Irish Brigade fell back; the fences went down on both sides, and the dead and wounded men were literally piled there in heaps.”<\/p>\n

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Gardner and Gibson moved from such ghastly groupings to individual men, memorializing the carnage of battle. They worked quickly, ducking under the hood behind the still camera, counting off seconds, then rushing the plate, still in its frame, back to the darkness of the little Whatsit Wagon for safekeeping.<\/p>\n

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Over two days, Gardner and Gibson took more than 90 images, then they drove back to Washington, D.C.<\/p>\n

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Culled from: The Aftermath of Battle: The Burial of the Civil War Dead<\/a> by Meg Groeling<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Arcane Excerpts: Melancholy<\/h3>\n

The Anatomy of Melancholy<\/i>\u00a0(full title:\u00a0The Anatomy of Melancholy, What it is: With all the Kinds, Causes, Symptomes, Prognostickes, and Several Cures of it. In Three Maine Partitions with their several Sections, Members, and Subsections. Philosophically, Medicinally, Historically, Opened and Cut Up<\/i>) is a book by\u00a0Robert Burton, first published in 1621 <\/sup>but republished five more times over the next seventeen years with massive alterations and expansions.<\/p>\n

The book is a medical treatise about\u00a0melancholy\u00a0(depression). Over 500,000 words long, it discusses a wide range of topics besides depression \u2013 including history,\u00a0astronomy, geography, and various aspects of literature and science \u2013 and frequently uses humor to make points or explain topics. <\/sup><\/p>\n

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The following is an excerpt from the book, which I still find highly relatable!<\/p>\n

The Author’s Abstract of Melancholy<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n
When I go musing all alone
\nThinking of divers things fore-known,
\nWhen I build castles in the air,
\nVoid of sorrow and void of fear,
\nPleasing myself with phantasms sweet,
\nMethinks the time runs very fleet.
\nAll my joys to this are folly,
\nNaught so sweet as melancholy.<\/em>
\nWhen I lie waking all alone,
\nRecounting what I have ill done,
\nMy thoughts on me then tyrannise,
\nFear and sorrow me surprise,
\nWhether I tarry still or go,
\nMethinks the time moves very slow.
\nAll my griefs to this are jolly,
\nNaught so mad as melancholy.<\/em>
\nWhen to myself I act and smile,
\nWith pleasing thoughts the time beguile,
\nBy a brook side or wood so green,
\nUnheard, unsought for, or unseen,
\nA thousand pleasures do me bless,
\nAnd crown my soul with happiness.
\nAll my joys besides are folly,
\nNone so sweet as melancholy.<\/em>
\nWhen I lie, sit, or walk alone,
\nI sigh, I grieve, making great moan,
\nIn a dark grove, or irksome den,
\nWith discontents and Furies then,
\nA thousand miseries at once
\nMine heavy heart and soul ensconce,
\nAll my griefs to this are jolly,
\nNone so sour as melancholy.<\/em>
\nMethinks I hear, methinks I see,
\nSweet music, wondrous melody,
\nTowns, palaces, and cities fine;
\nHere now, then there; the world is mine,
\nRare beauties, gallant ladies shine,
\nWhate’er is lovely or divine.
\nAll other joys to this are folly,
\nNone so sweet as melancholy.<\/em>
\nMethinks I hear, methinks I see
\nGhosts, goblins, fiends; my phantasy
\nPresents a thousand ugly shapes,
\nHeadless bears, black men, and apes,
\nDoleful outcries, and fearful sights,
\nMy sad and dismal soul affrights.
\nAll my griefs to this are jolly,
\nNone so damn’d as melancholy.<\/em>
\nMethinks I court, methinks I kiss,
\nMethinks I now embrace my mistress.
\nO blessed days, O sweet content,
\nIn Paradise my time is spent.
\nSuch thoughts may still my fancy move,
\nSo may I ever be in love.
\nAll my joys to this are folly,
\nNaught so sweet as melancholy.<\/em>
\nWhen I recount love’s many frights,
\nMy sighs and tears, my waking nights,
\nMy jealous fits; O mine hard fate
\nI now repent, but ’tis too late.
\nNo torment is so bad as love,
\nSo bitter to my soul can prove.
\nAll my griefs to this are jolly,
\nNaught so harsh as melancholy.<\/em>
\nFriends and companions get you gone,
\n‘Tis my desire to be alone;
\nNe’er well but when my thoughts and I
\nDo domineer in privacy.
\nNo Gem, no treasure like to this,
\n‘Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss.
\nAll my joys to this are folly,
\nNaught so sweet as melancholy.<\/em>
\n‘Tis my sole plague to be alone,
\nI am a beast, a monster grown,
\nI will no light nor company,
\nI find it now my misery.
\nThe scene is turn’d, my joys are gone,
\nFear, discontent, and sorrows come.
\nAll my griefs to this are jolly,
\nNaught so fierce as melancholy.<\/em>
\nI’ll not change life with any king,
\nI ravisht am: can the world bring
\nMore joy, than still to laugh and smile,
\nIn pleasant toys time to beguile?
\nDo not, O do not trouble me,
\nSo sweet content I feel and see.
\nAll my joys to this are folly,
\nNone so divine as melancholy.<\/em>
\nI’ll change my state with any wretch,
\nThou canst from gaol or dunghill fetch;
\nMy pain’s past cure, another hell,
\nI may not in this torment dwell!
\nNow desperate I hate my life,
\nLend me a halter or a knife;
\nAll my griefs to this are jolly,
\nNaught so damn’d as melancholy.<\/em><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Culled from: The Anatomy of Melancholy<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Garretdom!<\/h3>\n

A DOUBLE TRAGEDY.<\/strong><\/p>\n

A Son Kills His Father While Trying to Effect His Rescue.<\/strong><\/p>\n

PORTLAND, Ore., Sept. 12.\u2014A special to the Oregonian from Spokane Falls, W. T., gives particulars of a double tragedy which occurred on the 7th, in Grand Coulee, half way between Spokane Falls and Okanogan. A man named Paine committed murder in Missouri several years ago, and was sentenced to be hanged. He made his escape, came to Washington Territory and settled at Okanogan county. His whereabouts having become known, a requisition for Paine was sent to Spokane Falls and was placed in the hands of Constable Jack Hubbard to serve. Hubbard took F. Allen for company and left on Sunday for Paine’s place, one hundred miles distant. They secured Paine without trouble and put handcuffs on him. Paine asked to be allowed to bid farewell to his wife in secret, and his request was granted. The two officers and the prisoner started on a buckboard about noon for Spokane Falls. Toward dusk a son of Paine, aged twenty-five years, who had followed on horseback and finally overtaken the officers and began firing from a Winchester rifle. The first shot hit his father, who died ten minutes afterward. The officers opened fire with revolvers , but the range of the weapon was too short. The fifth shot from Paine struck Hubbard in the chin, and he fell to the ground dead. Aiken then whipped up the horses, but they had gone only a short distance when one of them fell dead from a rifle wound. Young Paine made his escape. The old man as he was dying confessed to Aiken that when he bade his wife good bye he told her to tell their son to rescue him, even if he had to kill the officers.<\/p>\n

Culled from the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
\n1886 Morbid Scrapbook<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Today’s Grisly Yet Truly Morbid Fact! Alexander Gardner shook his head as he looked around for the best place to start. He was at Antietam Creek, in Sharpsburg, Maryland, on September 19 to photograph the battlefield two days after the battlefield two days after the battle of Antietam. The job was not going to be […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14130","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-facts","category-garretdom"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14130","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=14130"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14130\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14147,"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14130\/revisions\/14147"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=14130"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=14130"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.decidedlygrim.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=14130"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}