Sullivan Ballou Letter

tmh10

Major
Joined
Mar 2, 2012
Location
Pipestem,WV
July 14, 1861
Maj. Sullivan Ballou


The following is a letter written by Maj. Sullivan Ballou to his wife Sarah (née Shumway) at home in Rhode Island. Ballou died a week later, at the First Battle of Bull Run. He was 32.

Expired Image Removed
Camp Clark, Washington
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

http://www.civilwar.org/education/history/primarysources/sullivan-ballou-letter.html
 
Major Sullivan Ballou marched with then Colonel A. Burnsides with General I. McDowell to the First Battle of Bull Run. They formed the march on the Columbia Turnpike and headed south on the gravel road which was used as a coaching route and there were toll houses along the way.

They would camp at Padgett's Tavern which would be on the Northeast corner of the Little River Turnpike and Columbia Turnpike (which is the eastern fork of the "U" portion of the Columbia Turnpike and now called Old Columbia Turnpike). They would camp there before heading west on the Little River Turnpike and camp at Fairfax City around the old Court house.

They would then march westward to Centerville and camp near the spring before the battle.

M. E. Wolf
 
Loved that Shannie! I'll confess I didn't understand what he was singing about, but he sang it extremely well.
 
I wrote a poem about Ballou's Letter because it was a inspiration to me. I thought I could write a brief summary in a poetic form of what Sulivan Ballou was expressing to his wife, Sarah.

Enjoy.

---

Ballou’s Providence
Moving out soon to face the battle of my life;
Must bid my time for some lines for my dear wife.
Courage inspired me for my patriotic moment;
An urge to be a part of my country’s statement.

If I gasp for air, it shall have a profound effect.
Pain from within, O Sarah! -- we are perfect.
Torn between your happiness and my proud duty.
As I sleep in the dark, I’m reminded of your beauty.

Hold me in your thoughts, break your chains of regret.
Think of me as a spirit, the one without a debt.
Memories were made and they shall live on;
Pass on the words for me when I am gone.

Once I’m drenched in blood, lying on the ground;
Fighting against the inevitability of death,
In a trench full of mud, and I shall be found;
A victor whispering your name on my last breath.

I beg for forgiveness for my faults, my dear wife.
Causing the misfortunes throughout your life.
During your brightest days and darkest nights,
You shall feel my comfort, underneath the star lights.

Love our children with the best of your ability;
Remind them of how precious life is and its fragility.
I shall watch over with utmost confidence in you;
O Sarah, we shall meet again and to love anew.
 
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Some readers may recall a scene from movie Drums Along the Mohawk where a widow watches the men of the community march off to battle. Her own deceased husband, Barney, was an officer in the British Army before the Revolution and as the men marched past her door she remarked to a woman whose husband was in the ranks that, there they go, off to war and like my husband, blast them, enjoying every minute of it. Perhaps from a woman's point of view it did seem that their husbands and sweet hearts marched off to war as some great masculine adventure leaving them to pick up the pieces.
It seems to me that Sullivan Ballou was not of this number. He knew full well what sorrow and pain his death would cause and for him the morrow's battle would be no exciting adventure, while his love of country transcended all else as he sought to repay a debt to those who had fought to establish this country in the first place. What a remarkable young man he must have been and I envy him for the purity of motives he exhibited in his letter. Would that all of us could sacrifice so much for the betterment of our country and what a touching reminder not only of Major Ballou but so many others like him who would sacrifice their everything for a something greater than themselves. Oh, what a terrible cost in blood we payed in the lives of our best and brightest when we chose to settle our differences on the field of battle rather than in the halls of government. Rest easy Major Ballou, your country yet stands.
 
His grave, individually or many graves of the Union dead? If the former, why ever, if the latter, was that not unusual behavior for either side to desecrate the graves of the dead? I can understand why troops might loot the dead for usable items, but desecrate graves? To what end?
 
Fascinating. Note the NPS article says the famous letter was "reportedly" written to his wife. Is there a question as to the authenticity of the letter?
 


That's great - although I could have done without the Obama refs - on the other hand I completely agree with the take on Ken Burns, a talented film maker and a terrible historian. But that still does not quite answer the question: how did the Ballou letter get public?

Does anyone know this book:

For Love and Liberty: The Untold Civil War Story of Major Sullivan Ballou and His Famous Love Letter Hardcover
by Robin Young (Author)

Reading the intro, it seems to tell you all you want to know and then some...
 
That's great - although I could have done without the Obama refs - on the other hand I completely agree with the take on Ken Burns, a talented film maker and a terrible historian. But that still does not quite answer the question: how did the Ballou letter get public?

Does anyone know this book:

For Love and Liberty: The Untold Civil War Story of Major Sullivan Ballou and His Famous Love Letter Hardcover
by Robin Young (Author)

Reading the intro, it seems to tell you all you want to know and then some...

Well, I can totally understand Burns editing the letter for The Civil War.....we'd have all gone to sleep, instead of crying uncontrollably.

LOL...I tried reading the original at the same pace when I first found it, and timed it.... it was much longer than I could stand hearing Ashokan Farewell. :smile: They'd have had to write a longer song.

Oops. And I totally missed the Obama stuff. Just looking for the visual. :smile:
 
I've searched and re-searched, could have sworn we had a thread on this famous, famous letter? It's been discussed but can see no thread, how odd! For the sake of being able to find Sullivan, his wife and his prophetic, sweet last letter to a woman he cherished literally more than life, thought we'd better create a place. Please allow this to stand. Yes, I have the links to where The Letter ( caps deserved! ) has been discussed- if it's already a thread somewhere it certainly did not come up in a forum search ( 3 times ) this morning.

Sullivan's memorial
http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=1800

Sarah's
http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=8219968


SullivanBallou.jpg


March 28, 1829 – July 29, 1861

" Sullivan Ballou was a successful, 32-year-old attorney in Providence, Rhode Island, when Abraham Lincoln called for volunteers in the wake of Fort Sumter."


The former Speaker of the Rhode Island House of Representatives enlisted in the 2nd Rhode Island Infantry, where he was elected major. By mid-July, the swirling events in the summer of 1861 had brought Ballou and his unit to a camp of instruction in the nation's capital. With the movement of the federal forces into Virginia imminent, Sullivan Ballou penned this letter to his wife. His concern that he "should fall on the battle-field" proved all too true. One week after composing his missive, as the war's first major battle began in earnest on the plains of Manassas, Ballou was struck and killed as the Rhode Islanders advanced from Matthews Hill. "
http://www.nps.gov/resources/story.htm?id=253


It's that LETTER, is the thing. More than takes your breath away, you wonder how many times through the years it both comforted Sarah and made her weep. As it does all of us.


Sarah Shumway Ballou
sarah ballou.png





Headquarters, Camp Clark
Washington, D.C., July 14, 1861

My Very Dear Wife:

Indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days, perhaps to-morrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write a few 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 battle-field for any 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 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 care 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 this hazarding the happiness of those I loved, and I could not find one. A pure love of my country, and of the principles I 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 with mighty cables, that nothing but Omnipotence can break; and yet, my love of country comes over me like a strong wind, and bears me irresistibly on with all those chains, to the battlefield. The memories of all the blissful moments I have spent with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them so long. And how 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 boys grow up to honorable manhood around us.

I know I have but few 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, nor that, 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, how 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 the darkest night amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours always, always, and, if the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air cools your throbbing temples, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dear; 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, I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

- Sullivan
 
According to the Women in the Civil War website, Sarah was only 24 when her husband penned the letter, which wasn't mailed. Apparently it was in his personal effects, where he assumed his beloved wife would find it--which she did.

Sarah didn't remarry and supported her two sons by giving piano lessons and through her government pension. She later worked as secretary of the Providence public school system. She died at age 80 in East Orange, New Jersey and was buried next to her husband.

Although Sarah Ballou received other letters from her husband dated later, his letter of July 14, 1861 was never mailed. Ballou might have deliberately left it among his personal effects, knowing that, if he were killed in battle, Sarah would find the letter among his belongings when they were eventually shipped home. And, according to the story, that is how she came to find it.

A very sweet and sad story, JPK.
 
I wonder if Sarah ever knew how horribly his body was treated later. I cannot understand the vidictiveness and callousness displayed by those who dug him up. Appalling! I hope she never knew.
 
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