Hero or Heedless?

Post Reply New Topic

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?

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 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 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

Sentimental tripe.

ruveyn

Sentimentality is both a literary device used to induce a tender emotional response disproportionate to the situation

Sentimental tripe.

ruveyn

What is a hero? I know that I am going to die. You are going to die. We are all going to die sooner or later.

They say "a coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero dies but once".

I can only wish that when it is my turn to die I could go out as a hero. That my death would mean something that people would remember after I have gone.

They say "a coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero dies but once".

A hero is one who can overcome his natural fear and trepidation to do what is necessary for the greater good of himself and his society. A hero is one who can widen his view and understanding sufficiently to get beyond his limited private imperatives to do what must be done.

In WW2 the U.S. was blessed in having a generation of heroes save it from fascist gangsters. Ordinary folks, not professional warriors like the Roman Legionaries. The conditions of the nation was such that a sufficient number of these ordinaries folks could and did rise to the occasion. In England a similar thing happened. If the leadership had been different, England would have made terms with the Nazis. But that is not what happened. A very determined bigoted drunk old imperialist was at the helm and ordinary folks rose to the occasion and fought the battles that had to be fought. And that is why Germany and Japan did not win the day.

ruveyn

A hero is one who can overcome his natural fear and trepidation to do what is necessary for the greater good of himself and his society. A hero is one who can widen his view and understanding sufficiently to get beyond his limited private imperatives to do what must be done.

In WW2 the U.S. was blessed in having a generation of heroes save it from fascist gangsters. Ordinary folks, not professional warriors like the Roman Legionaries. The conditions of the nation was such that a sufficient number of these ordinaries folks could and did rise to the occasion. In England a similar thing happened. If the leadership had been different, England would have made terms with the Nazis. But that is not what happened. A very determined bigoted drunk old imperialist was at the helm and ordinary folks rose to the occasion and fought the battles that had to be fought. And that is why Germany and Japan did not win the day.

ruveyn

Those ordinary heros being the "Proles" that you so despise? The folks who, when elections were held again, were sure to elect Clement Attlee to power?

Brits and Americans of all classes fought. There just happen to be more proles than non-proles. For a brief moment working people put the interests of the country before the interest of their trade union. It didn't last long but it was sufficient to get the job done.

ruveyn

I find it ironic .... high literarcy rates....

More evidence that home schools teach people to value spelling done hastily on an Internet Forum above the actual content of the argument.

And that fundamentalists don't turn the other cheek.