Culpepper C. H., Va., April 5, 1864.
. . . It has rained throughout the entire day. The last four
days have been days of storm. The only consolation to be drawn from it, is
perhaps that while such weather continues the weeds of mourning are kept from
beneath the roof of many homes, whence the inmates look out hopefully towards
the camps of contending armies for the return of sons, husbands and fathers,
who after the conflict has closed, will be looked for on earth no more. Oh,
that the wisdom of angels governed in the affairs of men, we then should never
have been called upon to experience the horrors and sufferings we have in the
last three years. When the struggle will cease and Peace, now affrighted, come
back and hover with gentle wings and sweetness of spirit over our beautiful
land, he who holds the destiny of nations in his hands alone knoweth . . .
It is the love of liberty and the affection for the work of
our fathers, in securing it to us, and the admiration of their achievements on
the battle field, that bids us struggle on hopefully for its maintenance. If we
suffer now they suffered then. Through their suffering was purchased for a few
generations of their descendants, peace, prosperity and the privileges of free
men. By our sufferings we hope to perpetuate these blessings, “down to the latest
syllable of recorded time.”
I have been thinking if I might not make it interesting to
you by writing a series of letters, commencing back with my first recollections
and earliest impressions of life and following them up to the present time, if
time can be had to pursue the same to this point. This narrative should contain
all that made decided and lasting impressions on my mind; my boy loves, and
first instinctive (as it were) but ever unspoken impressions of slavery, how
these impressions were smothered, in my heart, and made subordinate to what I
conceived and still conceive to be the true construction of our constitution.
Say, do you think you would like me to begin writing you as indicated? Of
course I should continue to send you the current news of the day, and still
assure you and reassure you of my love.
SOURCE: James H. Wilson, The Life of John A. Rawlins,
p. 411
No comments:
Post a Comment