Today marks the sesquicentennial Sullivan Ballou's farewell love letter to his wife shortly before he was killed in the Civil War. It is a great piece of history, a beautiful love letter, and the kind of family history document we all long for, all rolled into one.
A week before the battle of Bull Run, Sullivan Ballou, a Major in
the 2nd Rhode Island Volunteers, wrote home to his wife in Smithfield. The letter was used in Ken Burns' documentary, but was edited. I think it deserves a complete reading, so here it is in full:
July the 14th, 1861
Washington D.C.
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 you again, I
feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall
be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of
pleasure—and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my
will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on
the battlefield for my country, I am ready. 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 upon the triumph of the Government, and how great
a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and
suffering 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.
But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down
nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and
sorrows—when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of
orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear
little children—is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my
purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love
for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though
useless, contest with my love of country.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you 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 irresistibly on
with all these chains to the battlefield.
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 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 grow 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 battlefield, it will whisper
your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How
thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out
with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with
all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from
harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near
you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and
wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
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 brightest
day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest
hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it
shall be my breath; or 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 me, for we shall meet again.
As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a
father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long,
and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest
memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your
maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two
mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait
for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.
-
- Sullivan
Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the First Battle of Bull
Run.
