As the first part of the Sesquicentennial weekend comes to a close, many folks got to learn about the Civil War and partake of the fun, interesting parts. Let us not forget Robert E. Lee’s words regarding war:
It is well that war is so terrible. We should grow too fond of it.
When all the battle regalia has been cleaned and put away, when the visitors have moved on, we should all stop and think what that war has cost this country and will continue to cost this nation, indivisible. We mustn’t lose sight of the dead and the horrible killing and maiming; the property destroyed; the children who would never know a father, or a wife who never saw her husband again; or mothers and fathers who lost not one son but many; of the friends and neighbors who would never come home.
The Civil War was perhaps our nation’s darkest hour. We should not forget it.
Before the war it was the United States of America are….After the war it was the United States of America is. Perhaps in a way, it was one of our nations brightest hour.
I did not know that. Thanks, Ivan.
Living in Virginia is a marvelous thing. You can reach out and touch American history almost every day, both the glory and the sadness. It makes us all aware of who we were and how we have become what we are.
Very well put, Wolverine. I have always felt blessed to have been born and raised here, except for about 5 years of my life as a late kid/eary teen.
Since General Lee was not at First Manassas, let me instead offer the words of General Jackson which fit in nicely Moon, with your observations:
“people who are anxious to bring war don’t know what they are bargaining for; they don’t see all the horrors that must accompany such an event.” Stonewall Jackson
That too, Raymond. Thanks for your addition.
Monday morning, looking at contact sheets from the volumes of photos shot over the past four days. Vividly colorful ball gowns and pageantry aside, what stands out in the City events are the quieter moments…young girls in summer shorts lined up on a courthouse sidewalk in rehearsal as Peace Maidens…a wreath laid at the place where more than 250 soldiers were buried….singing hymns together at a church service under a canvas tent on the museum lawn…cooling off with a cloth dipped in water. What an unforgettable experience the last four days have been.
I took pictures at every single event I attended in BOTH PWC and CoM. It was an amazing 4 days indeed, even with the extreme heat. The one thing that I really got an appreciation after watching the reenactment was the mass confusion. These were young men fighting for the first time in their lives and the battlefield was smokey. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for them.
I would like to say a thanks to all that participated in making the festivities a HUGE success.
Amen.
I always think of this poignant letter when I think of the First Manassas and the Civil War in general–it says so much in so few words. Young Sarah Ballou was a widow at 24. She never remarried and died 56 years later and is buried alongside Simon at the Swan Point Cemetery in Providence, RI. I don’t suppose she ever “celebrated” the Battle of Bull Run. May she and Simon rest in eternal piece.
July 14, 1861
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 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 . . .
Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the first Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861.
Thank you for posting that very special letter, George. It has always been one of my favorites. I should hate it. When I think of the waste of war, I feel sick. Somehow all the abstracts like honor, valor, country, state, all seen to be vainglorious notions when we think of the young wife or Little Edgar who grew up without a father.
Reading that letter, as beautiful and romantic as it is, reminds me of the first time I saw the Vietnam Memorial Wall. Why? What is it we have that was worth the sacrifice of nearly 60,000 of my generation? The Civil War perhaps gives us a few more concretes to as a reward for all that carnage.
I apologize for clicking twice.
@George, accepted. It shouldn’t have posted twice. It isn’t your fault. I removed one to get rid of the appearance of stuttering.