HENDON FAMILY CHRONICLES
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A Letter to
Sarah
Written to his wife, Sarah, by Major Sullivan Ballou, 2nd Rhode Island
Volunteers,
on the eve of The Battle of First Manassas
(Bull Run) , where Major Ballou died along with 4000 of his
countrymen on
July 14, 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
0 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?
I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when
two
thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last,
perhaps,
before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind
me
with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.
I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for
a
wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I
could
not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have
often
advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more
than
I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.
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 oftentimes 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 garish 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 thee, 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