My Dear Edward: I have always been proud of you, and since your connection with the Confederate army I have been prouder of you than ever before. I would not have you do anything wrong for the world; but before God, Edward, unless you come home we must die! Last night I was aroused by little Eddie’s crying. I called and said, “What’s the matter, Eddie?” and he said, “Oh, mamma, I’m so hungry!” And Lucy, Edward, your darling Lucy, she never complains, but she is growing thinner and thinner every day. And before God, Edward, unless you come home we must die.
Your Mary.
Turning to the prisoner, I asked, “What did you do when you received this letter?”
He replied, “I made application for a furlough, and it was rejected; again I made application, and it was rejected; and that night, as I wandered backward and forward in the camp, thinking of my home, with the mild eyes of Lucy looking up to me, and the burning words of Mary sinking in my brain, I was no longer the Confederate soldier, but I was the father of Lucy and the husband of Mary, and I would have passed those lines if every gun in the battery had fired upon me. I went to my home. Mary ran out to meet me, her angel arms embraced me, and she whispered, ‘O, Edward, I am so happy! I am so glad you got your furlough!’ She must have felt me shudder, for she turned pale as death, and, catching her breath at every word, she said, ‘Have you come without your furlough? O, Edward, Edward, go back! go back! Let me and my children go down 171 together to the grave, but O, for heaven’s sake, save the honor of our name! And here I am, gentlemen, not brought here by military power, but in obedience to the command of Mary, to abide the sentence of your court.”
Every officer of that court-martial felt the force of the prisoner’s words. Before them stood, in beatific vision, the eloquent pleader for the husband’s and father’s wrongs; but they had been trained by their great leader, Robert E. Lee, to tread the path of duty though the lightning’s flash scorched the ground beneath their feet, and each in his turn pronounced the verdict: “Guilty.” Fortunately for humanity, fortunately for the Confederacy, the proceedings of the court were reviewed by the commanding-general, and upon the record was written:
Headquarters Army of Northern Virginia.
The finding of the court is approved. The prisoner is pardoned, and will report to his company.
R. E. Lee, General.
During a subsequent battle, when shot and shell were falling “like torrents from the mountain cloud,” my attention was directed to the fact that one of our batteries was being silenced by the concentrated fire of the enemy. When I reached the battery every gun but one had been dismantled, and by it stood a solitary soldier, with the blood streaming from his side. As he recognized me, he elevated his voice above the roar of battle, and said, “General, I have one shell left. Tell me, have I saved the honor of Mary and Lucy?” I raised my hat. Once more a Confederate shell went crashing through the ranks of the enemy, and the hero sank by his gun to rise no more.
SHERMAN IN SOUTH CAROLINA
[Cornelia B. Spencer, in Last Days of the War, pages 29-31.]
A letter dated Charleston, September 14, 1865, written by Rev. Dr. John Bachman, then pastor of the Lutheran Church in that city, presents many facts respecting the devastation and robberies by the enemy in South Carolina. 172 So much as relates to the march of Sherman’s army through parts of the State is here presented: