_Frank H. Irwin, company E, 93rd Pennsylvania--died May 1, '65--My
letter to his mother_--Dear madam: No doubt you and Frank's friends have
heard the sad fact of his death in hospital here, through his uncle,
or the lady from Baltimore, who took his things. (I have not seen them,
only heard of them visiting Frank.) I will write you a few lines--as
a casual friend that sat by his death-bed. Your son, corporal Frank H.
Irwin, was wounded near fort Fisher, Virginia, March 25th, 1865--the
wound was in the left knee, pretty bad. He was sent up to Washington,
was receiv'd in ward C, Armory-square hospital, March 28th--the wound
became worse, and on the 4th of April the leg was amputated a little
above the knee--the operation was perform' d by Dr. Bliss, one of the
best surgeons in the army--he did the whole operation himself--there was
a good deal of bad matter gather'd--the bullet was found in the knee.
For a couple of weeks afterwards he was doing pretty well. I visited
and sat by him frequently, as he was fond of having me. The last ten or
twelve days of April I saw that his case was critical. He previously had
some fever, with cold spells. The last week in April he was much of
the time flighty--but always mild and gentle. He died first of May. The
actual cause of death was pyaemia, (the absorption of the matter in the
system instead of its discharge.) Frank, as far as I saw, had everything
requisite in surgical treatment, nursing, &c. He had watches much of the
time. He was so good and well-behaved and affectionate, I myself liked
him very much. I was in the habit of coming in afternoons and sitting by
him, and soothing him, and he liked to have me--liked to put his arm out
and lay his hand on my knee--would keep it so a long while. Toward the
last he was more restless and flighty at night--often fancied himself
with his regiment--by his talk sometimes seem'd as if his feelings
were hurt by being blamed by his officers for something he was entirely
innocent of--said, "I never in my life was thought capable of such a
thing, and never was." At other times he would fancy himself talking as
it seem'd to children or such like, his relatives I suppose, and giving
them good advice; would talk to them a long while. All the time he was
out of his head not one single bad word or idea escaped him. It was
remark'd that many a man's conversation in his senses was not half as
good as Frank's delirium. He seem'd quite willing to die--he had become
very weak and had suffer'd a good deal, and was perfectly resign'd, poor
boy. I do not know his past life, but I feel as if it must have
been good. At any rate what I saw of him here, under the most trying
circumstances, with a painful wound, and among strangers, I can say
that he behaved so brave, so composed, and so sweet and affectionate,
it could not be surpass'd. And now like many other noble and good men,
after serving his country as a soldier, he has yielded up his young life
at the very outset in her service. Such things are gloomy--yet there
is a text, "God doeth all things well"--the meaning of which, after due
time, appears to the soul.
I thought perhaps a few words, though from a stranger, about your son,
from one who was with him at the last, might be worth while--for I loved
the young man, though I but saw him immediately to lose him. I am merely
a friend visiting the hospitals occasionally to cheer the wounded and
sick.