sufficient evidence to convict Awtry of being a spy. When brought
before the court martial convened to try him, he displayed
considerable arrogance, and obstinately persisted in declaring himself
a British subject. With such plausibility did he defend himself, that
the court was at first very much puzzled to decide whether or not he
was a spy, for every evidence brought against the prisoner was
explained and made insignificant by his consummate skill in argument,
and it was only by the opportune arrival of a detective with the most
decided proof of his guilt, that he was condemned to death. Awtry
received the sentence of the court with haughty indifference, and was
led back to prison, to await death by hanging. On the morning of his
execution, the courage and obstinacy which had sustained him from the
day of his arrest, gave way, and to the minister who edited upon him,
he made a full confession of his having been sent to Mississippi as a
spy for Sherman, and that he had already supplied that yankee General
with valuable information of the strength and capacity of Vicksburg
for resistance. He was very much humiliated at being condemned to
death by hanging and made application for the sentence to be changed
to shooting, but the military authorities declined acceding to his
demand, and he was accordingly hanged on the branches of a tree near
Jackson. A small mound of earth in an obscure portion of the
Confederacy is all that is left to mark the remains of Horace Awtry.
The libertine and prosecutor of Mrs. Wentworth is no more, and to God
we leave him. In His hands the soul of the dead will be treated as it
deserves, and the many sins which stain and blacken it will be
punished by the Almighty as they deserve. Black as was his guilt, we
have no word of reproach for the dead. Our maledictions are for the
living alone, and then we give them only when stern necessity demands
it, and when we do, our work of duty is blended with regret, and would
be recalled were it possible, and did not the outraged imperatively
demand it. To our Savior, we leave Awtry Before the Judge of mankind
he will be arraigned for his guilty acts on earth, and the just voice
of the Father, will pronounce on him the punishment he merits.
But one more character remains for us to notice. Three or four times
in the last twelve months a man dressed in the uniform of a Lieutenant
of the Staff, and wearing a black crape around his arm, may have been
seen with a little boy kneeling by the side of a grave in the cemetery
of Jackson, Mississippi. The grave contains two remains, but is
covered over with one large brick foundation from which ascends a pure
and stainless shaft of marble, with the following inscription on its
snowy front:
SACRED
TO THE MEMORY OF
MY WIFE AND CHILD,
EVA AND ELLA WENTWORTH.
"Their troubles o'er, they rest in peace."
1863.
A.W.
As our readers must perceive, the stranger and child, are Alfred
Wentworth and his little boy. About four months after the death of his
wife, he was appointed Inspector General of a Louisiana brigade with
the rank of first Lieutenant, and being stationed for awhile near
Jackson, paid frequent visits to the city, and never failed on such
occasions to take his son to the grave of his wife and child. There,
kneeling before the grave, the broken hearted soldier would offer up a
prayer to God for the repose of the souls of those beneath the sod.
The tears which fell on the grave on such visits, and watered the last
resting place of the loved ones were the holiest that ever flowed from
the eyes of man--they were the homage of a bereaved husband to the
memory of a pure and spotless wife, and an angel daughter. Alfred is
still alive, and has passed unharmed through many a hard fought
battle. Those who know not the tale of his family's sufferings and
unhappy fate, think him moody and unfriendly, but those who are
acquainted with the trials of the soldiers wife, regard his reserved
and silent manners with respect, for though the same sorrows may not
darken the sunshine of their lives, their instinct penetrates the
recess of the soldiers heart, and the sight of its shattered and
wrecked remains often cause a sigh of sorrow, and a tear of
commiseration. Let us trust that a merciful God in His divine wisdom,
may alleviate the poignant grief of the soldier, and restore him to
that happiness he once possessed.
And now kind reader, we bid you a last farewell; but ere the pages of
this book are closed, let us speak a word to you, for those
unfortunates who abandon their homes on the approach of the enemy to
seek refuge in the Confederate lines. Many--alas! too many of its
citizens consider the term "refugee" synonymous with that of
"_beggar_." In this idea we err. It is true they are in many
instances, reduced to penury, but in their poverty are as different
from the mendicant as the good are from the bad. Many of these
refugees have lost their homes, their wealth--their everything to
retain their patriotism and honor. Some of them adorned the most
polished circles in their midst, and many held an enviable position in
the State of their nativity or residence. For their country, for our
country, for your country, the brave abandoned all they possessed,
preferring to live in want among the people of the South, than to
revel in luxuries in the midst of our enemies. Seek these exiles. Look
upon them as suffering Confederates, and extend the hand of friendship
and assistance to all who are in need. Let the soldier know that his
wife and children are provided for by you. It will cheer him while in
camp, it will inspire him in battle, and if he falls by the hand of
the enemy, the knowledge that those he loves will be cared for, will
lighten the pangs of Death, and he will die, happy in the thought of
falling for his country. Oh! kind reader, turn your ear to the moaning
of the soldier's wife--the cries of his children, and let your heart
throb with kindness and sympathy for their sufferings. Relieve their
wants, alleviate their pains, and earn for yourself a brighter reward
than gold or influence can purchase--the eternal gratitude of the
defenders of our liberties.
Farewell! if a single tear of sorrow, steals unhidden down your cheek
at the perusal of this sad tale--if in your heart a single chord of
pity is touched at its recital--we shall have been fully rewarded for
the time and labor expended by us. And if at some future day you hear
of some soldier's family suffering; sympathise with their afflictions
and cheerfully aid in ameliorating their condition, by giving a single
thought of "THE TRIALS OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE."
FINIS.
APPENDIX
In presenting a work of this nature to the reader, the Author takes
the opportunity of making an apology for the errors, typographical and
otherwise, which may be found therein. The difficulties under which he
labored in procuring the publication of the book at this time, when
the principal publishers of the South are so busily engaged in
publishing works written in foreign parts, and which cost them nothing
but the expense of publication, and the procuring of them through our
blockaded ports. The book which our readers have just completed
perusing, is filled with many errors; too many, in fact, for any
literary work to contain. The excuse of the Author for these, is, that
at the time the book was in press he was with the Army of Tennessee
performing his duties, which prevented him from reading the proof
sheets and correcting all mistakes which crept in during composition.
The party on whom devolved the duty of reading the proof performed his
work as well as could be expected, for, in some instances, the errors
were the fault of the Author, and not that of the printer, who labored
under many disadvantages in deciphering the manuscript copy of the
book; the greater part of which was written on the battle-field, and
under fire of the enemy. It is thus that in the first page we find an
error of the most glaring character possible, but which might have
been the Author's, as well as the printer's omission. Thus, the Author
is made to say that the "aristocracy" of New Orleans were "well known
by that elegance and etiquette which distinguish the _parvenu_ of
society." Now the intention, as well as the words of the author,
represented the "aristocracy" in quite a different light. That line
should have read "that elegance and etiquette which distinguish _the
well-bred_ from the _parvenu_ of society, etc." Nevertheless, the
whole sense of the sentence is destroyed by the omission of the
_italicised_ words, and the reader is left to infer that the
aristocracy of New Orleans are the _parvenu_ of society; rather, we
must admit, a doubtful compliment, and quite in accordance with the
following words, which go on to speak of "the vulgar but wealthy class
of citizens with which this country is infested." Now we do not
pretend for a moment to believe that our readers would imagine that we
meant the sentence quoted in the sense it appears, and they may,
perhaps, pass it over without noticing the errors complained of; but
when such errors should not exist they become a source of much
annoyance to the author, and could they have been rectified before it
was too late, they should never have appeared in print. In fact, after
discovering that an error of so gross a nature existed in the first
pages of the book, the author would have had the entire "form"
reprinted, had not the extravagant price of paper, and its great
scarcity, precluded the possibility of such an idea being carried into
effect. The errors, therefore, remain, and for them we would claim
indulgence, although readily admitting that none is deserved.
And now we desire to say a few words relative to the work you have
just completed reading. It may appear to you a wild and extravagant
tale of hardships and privations which existed only in the imagination
of the author. Were your supposition correct, we should rejoice, but
unfortunately, every day brings us scenes of poverty that this work
lacks in ability to portray, in sufficient force, the terrible
sufferings borne by thousands of our people. In the plenitude of our
wealth, we think not of poor, and thus we cannot tell or find out the
hundreds of poverty stricken wretches who cover the country. Our
natures may be charitable even, but we only give charity where it is
asked for, and await the coming of the mendicant before our purses are
opened. By these means alone do we judge the extent of suffering in
the land, and, not hearing of many cases of penury, or receiving many
applications for assistance, we believe that the assertions of great
want being among the people are untrue, and we purposely avoid
searching for the truth of such assertions. The design of the author,
in this little book, has been to open the eyes of the people to the
truth. If he has painted the trials of the soldiers wife more highly
colored than reality could permit, it has been because he desired to
present his argument with greater force than he could otherwise have
done; and yet, if we examine well the picture he presents; take it in
its every part, and look on each one, we will find that it does not
exaggerate a single woe. We have seen far greater scenes of
wretchedness than those narrated herein; scenes which defy
description; for their character has been so horrible that to depict
it, a pen mightier than a Bulwer's or a Scott's would be necessary.
The tale which the reader has just finished perusing is taken from
scenes that _actually occurred_ during the present war--except,
perhaps, that part which relates the tearing of the mother from the
bedside of her dead child. In every other respect all that is narrated
in the foregoing pages are strictly true, and there are parties now in
the South, who, when they read this work, will recognize in
themselves, some of the characters represented herein. The Author
would rejoice, for the sake of humanity and civilization if the tale
he has written was only a fiction of his own imagining; but did it not
contain truths the work would never have been written. No other object
than that of calling attention to the vast misery and wretchedness
which at the present time of writing abounds in the South, prompted
the Author to pen the pages which you have perused. He has witnessed
them himself; he has seen the soldiers wife absolutely starving, and
from a slender purse has himself endeavored to relieve their
necessities. To present before the world the fact that there are
thousands in our midst who are in _absolute beggary_, has been the
object of the writer, and to call on those who are able to do so, to
aid these unfortunates, is his purpose. This book is an appeal to the
Rich in favor of the Poor. It is the voice of Humanity calling upon
Wealth to rise from her sluggish torpor and wrest the hungry and
threadbare victim from the grasp of Famine, and drive desolation from
our midst. If this call is answered; if the wealthy awake to their
duty and save the wretched beings who are in our midst, then the
Author will have gained a richer reward than all the profits accruing
from this work. He will have been more than rewarded by the knowledge
that he has been the instrument, through which charity has once more
visited the South, and swept oppression and want from our land. Such
scenes as those we daily witness were never seen, even in the mildest
form a few short years ago. Prior to the war there was scarcely a
beggar in the South, and from one end of the country to the other
could we walk without hearing the voice of the mendicant appealing to
our benevolence. How changed now! In every city of the South the
streets are filled with ragged boys and girls stopping each passer by
and asking aid. It is a disgrace to humanity and to God, and that such
things should be in our land, whose sons have exhibited such heroism
and devotion.--Many of these beggary are the sons and daughters of our
soldiers--of our honored dead and heroic living. To the soldier who
lies beneath the sod a martyr to his country's cause, their sufferings
are unknown; but if in Heaven he can witness their penury, his soul
must rest ill at peace and weep for those on earth. To the soldier,
who is still alive and struggling for our independence, the letter
that brings him news of his wife's and children's poverty must bring
him discontent, and render him unwilling to longer remain in the army
and struggle for liberty while they are starving. How many times have
not desertion taken place through this very cause. In Mississippi we
witnessed the execution of a soldier for the crime of desertion. On
the morning of his execution he informed the minister that he never
deserted until repeated letters from his wife informed him of her
wretched condition; informed him that herself and her children were
absolutely starving. He could no longer remain in the army; the
dictates of his own heart; the promptings of his affection triumphed
and in an evil hour he deserted and returned home to find her tale,
alas! too true. He was arrested, courtmartialed and _shot_. He had
forfeited his life by his desertion and bore his fate manfully; his
only fear being for the future welfare of that wife and her children
for whom he had lost his life. When he fell, pierced by the bullets of
his comrades, was there not a murder committed? There was, but not by
the men who sentenced him to death. They but performed duty, and, we
are charitable enough to suppose, performed it with regret. The
murderers were the heartless men who are scattered over the land like,
locusts, speculating on the necessities of the people, and their
aiders and abettors are those who calmly sat with folded arms, and
essayed not to aid his family. Rise, O my readers and aid the poor of
our land. Let your hearts be filled with mercy to the unfortunate.
Remember that
"The quality of mercy is not strain'd
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed,
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The crowned monarch better than his crown:"
and in performing an act of charity you bless yourself as well as the
one who is benefited by such charity.
We shall now close our remarks with the hope that the reader will
appreciate the motive which prompted the writing of this book. As will
be seen, it has no plot--it never was intended to have any. The Author
intended merely to write a simple narrative when he commenced this
work, and to place before the public in the most agreeable form of
reading, a subject of vital importance to the Confederacy, and to
impress upon the minds of the wealthy their duty to the poor. He knows
not whether he has succeeded in the latter hope, and he could have
wished that some other pen had taken up the subject and woven it into
a tale that could have had a better and more lasting effect than the
foregoing is likely to have. Nevertheless he trusts that all his labor
is not lost, but that some attention will be paid to his words and a
kinder feeling be manifested towards refugees and the poor than has
hitherto been shown. If this be done then nothing but the happiest
results can follow, and the blessings of thousands, the heartfelt
blessings of thousands on earth, will follow those who aid in the work
of charity, called for by the present emergency, and from the
celestial realms the voice of God will be heard thanking His children
on earth for their kindness to their fellow mortals.
* * * * *
For the publication of this work the Author has to thank the kind
proprietor of the "Atlanta Intelligencer," Col. Jared I. Whitaker. To
this gentleman is he indebted for being able to present the work to
the public, and to him does the Author extend his sincere thanks. In
Col. Whitaker the Confederacy has one son who, uncontaminated by the
vile weeds of mortality which infest us, still remains pure and
undefiled, and, not only the obligations due from the author are
hereby acknowledged, but as one who has witnessed the whole souled
charity of this gentleman, we can record of him the possession of a
heart, unswayed by a sordid motive. To this gentleman are the thanks
of the author tendered, with the wish that he may live many long years
to reap the reward due to those, who, like himself, are ever foremost
in deeds of charity and benevolence.
END OF APPENDIX