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TURN WOLD, GA., SEPTEMBER 29, 1862.
Why the Hessians Enlist.
“A correspondent of the Southern Pres
byterian recently received the following
fasts from the venerable Dr. Bachman of
Charleston :
After the Secessionville fight, it appears
the Dr found, in his usual rounds at the
hospitals, some of the enemy’s wounded
mixed up with our own suffering men, and
sought and obtained the removal of these
strangers, so that our boys mi^ht be by
themselves. The wounded Yankees, 8 in
number, sent from their new quarters, a
request for him to repeat his visit. He
complied with the request, of course. On
entering the room, he inquired if there
were any Germans there, and found one.
man v ho was overjoyed to meet a Lutheran
clergyman, and requested the sacrament, as
he expected to die that night. Our friend
told him that it was necessary that he should
first, understand whether ornot he was pre
pared to participate in those sacred em
blems : and a conversation ensued in the
German language, which is worthy of the
attention of your readers, as it sheds light
on the character of the army that has inva
ded our country.
Dr. B.—What made you enlist in this
war 1
Prisoner.—I was cutting wood, with
the snow 1 foot deep, at 25 cents per day ;
lived in a log hut, and had my four cliil
dren scattered amongst strangers to earn
their own bread ; and so I enlisted because
1 got better wages and a bounty.
Dr. B.—But what else were you to get
besides the bounty and your wages?
P•—W e were each to get a farm with a
house on it.
Dr. B.—But where were yon all to find
farms ?
—Ob, the farms of the secessionists
were to be taken from them and given to us.
Dr. B—But do you think it a right
thing that ycu should come here to dis
possess these people of their property ?
!*•—Oh, that was the affair of the gov
ernment. They were to give us the farms.
Dr. B.—But would you think it light for
strangers to go into your native country of
Wurtemburg, and take possession of the
farms of the people there ?
P-—Well, I bad not thought of it in that
light before.
Dr. B.—Well, what have you secured
since you came on oui coast ?
P.—A good deal of plunder.
Dr. B.—How ? Did you break open the
people’s houses ?
THE COUNTRY M A N.
P.— The negroes broke them open, and
then we helped ourselves out of the draw
ers.
Dr. B.— What did you get for yourself?
P.—I got clothes enough to last my chil
dren for several years.
Dr. B.—Any spoons?
P.—No large, ones, but several small sil
ver spoons, besides knives and forks.
Dr. B.—Had you no knives and forks at
borne ?
P.—No : my children have to eat with
forks made out of hickory.
Dr. B.—What have you done with your
plunder ?
P — I have sent it all home to my fami
ly. The government made arrangements for
us to sene it. 1 hope it has reached my fam
ily safely.
Dr. B.— But what were you to get after
the fight at Secessionville?
P.—Oh. we were to get all Charleston
for ourselves.
Dr. B.—But what if the people there
would not give it up to you ?
P.—Oh, then we should have killed them
all.
Dr.B.—Now, do you think, after all that
you have told me, that you are a fit man to
receive the sacrament? I cannot give the
Lord's supper to a man that has Lived him
self out for money to come down to this
country to kill and rob people.
P.—But what shall I do ? I am going
to (lie, and I must have the sacrament.
Dr. B.— Well, you must go to a higher
Power than mine to help you. I can do
nothing for such a person.
P.—Are there no other ministers of your
church here ?
Dr. B.—Y r es, four others, but no ope of
them would give the sacrament to such a
man as you describe yourself to be.
P.—But wliat then will become of me,
for I shall die to-night ?
Dr. B.—If you die without repenting of
these sins you confess, you must go to hell
—that is what will become of you.
Addressing the whole company, then, in
English, Dr. B. told them he thought it
right to explain to them, as he had come
at their request, that he has two sons in the
Confederate army, and that he viewed them
as unrighteous invaders, but would pray
for them if they still desired it after this
statement. They begged him to proceed,
and be did so.
No comment is necessary from me upon
this narrative. It speaks for itself.”
In the few comments which I have to
make on the foregoing, I shall speak plain
ly, but intend no disrespect to anyone, and
least of all to the venerable Dr. Bachman,
whose character in the main, as a man of
science, and a Christian minister and gen
tleman, I venerate and esteem. But it does
seem to me there is a fiendish vindictivness
in telling a poor dying man who has sent
for you to administer comfort and consola
tion to him in the agony of death, and in
lepiy to the enquiry “ what will then be
come of me,” “you must go to hell—that
is what will become of you.” I say, it
seems to me that there is a fiendish vindic
tiveness in this answer, unbecoming a mem
ber of the human family, let alone a minis
ter of God.
The case is this : A poor German “ was
cutting wood with the snow one foot deep,
at 25c per day, lived in a log hut, had 4
children scattered among strangers to earn
their own bread, and so he enlisted because
he got better wages and a bounty.”—In
this I can scarcely find it in my heart to
blame the poor wretch. On the contrary,
I rather blame the criminals' and malefac
tors who hold the reins of the yankee gov
ernment—who in their insane stiivings af
ter negro philanthropy, reduce the white
man to the pitch of misery and wo reached
by the German, and then force him into the
army, either as a means of preventing his
children from starving, or by drafting him
into the service.
But it seems that this wretched vaga
bond indulged in the futile delusion im
pressed upon him by his deceivers, of secu
ring a farm at the South, and that he got
his share of the spoons stolen b.y the yan-
kees on the Carolina coast, besides some
knives and forks, which he sent home to
his family, before which event, his “chil
dren had to eat with forks made out of
hickory.”
Even living, it seems to me that this
wretched, starving, and misled vagrant
was rather an object of pity than of vin
dictiveness. But in the midst of his folly,
God has said to him, “Thou fool! this
night thy soul shall be required of thee !”
The monsterthat advances with equal tread
upon the door of the pauper and the king,
salutes this German, wounded and suffer
ing in the hospital in Charleston. He is
about to die, and in that solemn hour he
seeks the consolations of religion. He
seeks them at the hands of a Clnistian
minister, and that minister refuses them.
“ But what then will become of me,” says
the poor fellow, “ for I shall die to-night?”
“If you die without repenting of these
sins you confess,” says Dr. Bachman taunt
ingly “ you will go to hell—that is what
