THE lens here perpetuates the interesting spectacle of an army wagon train being "parked" and guarded from a raid by the enemy's cavalry. With a million of the nation's strongest men abandoning production to wage devastation and destruction the problem of providing them with food barely sufficient to sustain life was an almost incalculable enigma. The able-bodied men of the North and the South had turned from the fields and factories to maintain what both conscientiously believed to be their rights. Harvests were left to the elements and the wheels of industry fell into silence. The good women and children at home, aided by men willing but unable to meet the hardships and exposures of warfare, worked heroically to hold their families together and to send to their dear ones at the battle-front whatever comforts came within their humble power. The supply trains of the great armies numbered thousands of six-mule teams and when on the march they would stretch out for many miles. It was in May, in 1863, that one of these wagon trains safely reached Brandy Station, Virginia. Its journey had been one of imminent danger as both armies were in dire need of provisions and the capture of a wagon train was as good fortune as victory in a skirmish. To protect this train from a desperate dash of the Confederate cavalry it was "parked" on the outskirts of a forest that protected it from envious eyes and guarded by the Union lines. One of Mr. Brady's cameras took this photograph during this critical moment. It shows but one division of one corps. As there were three divisions in each corps, and there were many corps in the army, some idea of the immense size of the trains may be gained by this view. The train succeeded in reaching its destination at a time of much need.
ENDEAVORS to reveal these negatives have been futile as far as rank and file of the army and the public at large are concerned. The Government, as the years passed, became impressed with the value of this wonderful record, but has now officially stated with positive finality: "It is evident that these invaluable negatives are rapidly disappearing and in order to insure their preservation it is ordered that hereafter negatives shall not be loaned to private parties for exploitation or to subserve private interest in any manner."
The genius Brady, in possession of $25,000, which, came from the Government too late to save his property, entirely lost track of his collection. Misfortune seemed to follow him and his Government money was soon exhausted. In speaking of him a few days ago, John N. Stewart, Past Vice Commander of the Department of Illinois, Grand Army of the Republic, told me: "I was with the Army of the Potomac as telegraph operator. I knew that views of battlefields were taken by men with a cumbersome outfit as compared with the modern field photographer. I have often wondered what became of their product. I saw Mr. Brady in Washington, shortly before his death, and I made inquiry of him as to the whereabouts of his war scenes. I asked him if the negatives were still in existence and where proofs could be procured. He replied: 'I do not know!' The vast collection must possess great value and be of remarkable historical interest at this late date."
BRADY ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF GETTYSBURG IN JULY 1863—The smoke of the terrific conflict had hardly cleared away when Brady's "What is it" wagon rolled onto the bloody "wheat field"—This picture shows Brady looking toward McPherson's woods on the left of the Chambersburg Pike at the point near which the Battle of Gettysburg began
In talking with Mr. Taylor, in his office at the State Capitol at Hartford, Connecticut, recently he recalled his acquaintance with Brady, and said: "I met him frequently. He was a man of artistic appearance and of very slight physique. I should judge that he was about five feet, six inches tall. He generally wore a broad-brimmed hat similar to those worn by the art students in Paris. His hair was long and bushy. The last time I met him was about twenty-five years after the War and he appeared to be a man of about sixty-five years of age. Despite his financial reverses he was still true to his love for art. I told him that I owned seven thousand of his negatives and he seemed to be pleased. He became reminiscent and among the things that he told me I especially remember these words: 'No one will ever know what I went through in securing those negatives. The world can never appreciate it. It changed the whole course of my life. By persistence and all the political influence that I could control I finally secured permission from Stanton, the Secretary of War, to go onto the battlefields with my cameras. Some of those negatives nearly cost me my life.'" Mr. Brady told Mr. Taylor of his difficulty in finding men to operate his cameras.