Despite my earlier declaration that it is best that I never come in possession of the entire Ken Burns Civil War Series, I went right on out to the library not long after in the hopes of doing just that. This lead to a discovery on the library's part that they did not have the series in it's entirety in DVD form which meant I had to request it through an inter-library loan. My request was fulfilled today when I paid a visit to check out Hannah and Her Sisters (a Christmas favorite) and found my loan request in its entirety waiting for me a full two weeks sooner than expected.
Of course, I've spent the evening enthralled by Part 1. I could hardly believe I had forgotten how this section ended: with the reading of a now famous love letter from a soldier to his wife. Sullivan Ballou, a 32-year-old Union soldier from Rhode Island, penned the letter in July of 1861 while he was stationed at Camp Clark near Washington, DC. It reads:My very dear Sarah,
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more . . .
I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans on the triumph of the Government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt . . .
Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them for so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness . . .
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights . . . always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again . . .
Major Sullivan Ballou would die a week later at the Battle of Bull Run (or Manassas as it is called in the south). The letter would not reach his 24-year-old wife, Sarah, by mail, but would be found among Sullivan's effects when Rhode Island officials gathered their dead from Virginia. At the time of his death, the pair had been married six years and had two sons, Edgar and William. Sarah would never remarry. She died at the age of eighty, fifty-six years later, and was buried next to Sullivan in 1917.
1 comment:
I'm so glad you posted this letter, Bizzy. Everyone should read it. I scribbled it down when I first saw this series, but lost it somewhere along the way. It's the most touching love letter I've ever read.
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