How contemptible! His courage and fortitude shone out in spite of the infamous position in which his enemies sought to place him, but even the eyes blinded by prejudice and the callous hearts around him could not fail to note, though they could not appreciate, the lofty spirit of the man.
From the little room in the third story, designated “No. 9—Wirz, H., Captain C. S. A.,” he was marched to the scaffold, erected in one corner of the prison yard. Here he took a seat on a small stool, immediately under the gaping noose swaying over him. A soldier stood at shoulder arms on either corner of the platform, and four companies, one each from the 195th and 214th Pennsylvania, and two from the 9th Regiment of Hancock’s Corps, formed a hollow square around the scaffold. Fathers Boyle and Wiget never left his side until the last moment. Indeed, when the noose was adjusted his face wore a smile and he was still talking to Father Boyle.
For eighteen minutes he was compelled to sit and listen to the reading of the findings and sentence—the enumeration of the crimes with which he was charged, while on the housetops and in the branches of the trees in the Capitol grounds men and boys crowded, all eager to witness the ghastly spectacle; and their inhuman shouts, and brutal jests about the “dead-line,” pendant above him, could be heard by Wirz, who sat apparently calm and unmoved, save when amid the groans and outcries, a voice called out “Hang the scoundrel.” As this reached his ears he turned quickly, with a defiant look in the direction from which the sound proceeded, then, giving a cool glance on the surroundings, he resumed his self-command, giving his undivided attention to his spiritual advisers.
At the close of the reading Major Russell asked Wirz if he wished to say anything to the public before the execution. He replied: “I have nothing to say, only that I am innocent, and will die like a man, my hopes being in the future. I go before my God, the Almighty God, and he will judge between me and you.” At twenty minutes to eleven o’clock Sylvester Ballon kicked away the prop and Henry Wirz passed from life to the dark valley of the shadow of death.
St. Aloysius R. C. Church, Washington, D. C.
I saw Father Wiget a few hours after the execution. He, with Father Boyle, had stood with Wirz on the scaffold—had clasped his hand just as he was about to be launched into eternity. He had been with him through the mockery of a trial, and when I saw him his breast was filled with emotion. He said: “Oh! he was a brave man!” He had stood by him as the rabble thirsting for his blood, like the cruel Jews, cried out “Crucify him! Crucify him!” and he knew the man was innocent of the crimes imputed to him. “He was a brave man”—the good old priest could say no more; his heart was touched, and his feelings too deep for mere words. Between what is felt and what is expressed there is often an immeasurable distance. It is impossible at times to give expression in words to the most touching—to the most beautiful emotions of the heart.
In Wirz’s letters to his wife there is an amount of pathos—a bitter, yet mournful wailing. The soft notes which he touches with trembling fingers will strike a sympathetic chord in hearts not utterly lost to all sense of tenderness or humanity.
A letter written by his wife just after she had learned of the termination of her husband’s trial would in itself show how false and malicious were the assertions of sensational newspapers that there was no kindly feeling between them. After speaking of her distress at the necessity of leaving him at that critical moment, and telling him not to despair—that all would come out right—she speaks of their past happiness, and cannot believe the authorities will tear them apart; that if the members of the court only knew how much they suffered, a pardon would be granted him. The letter concludes as follows:
“Dear husband, bear up bravely, whatever your fate may be. If I could but see you for one short hour I should be much comforted. I cannot describe to you on paper the distress of my mind. May angels watch and protect you from all harm, is the constant prayer of your loving wife.”