One of my most prized possessions is a book from Chamberlain’s personal library, with his signature on the flyleaf: ‘Maine at Gettysburg: Commissioners Report’ – 602 pages recounting the contributions to the battle of the fifteen Maine regiments, battalions, batteries, or other commands of Maine troops. It’s a fascinating book, in which is contained one of Chamberlain’s most notable, heartfelt quotes, delivered upon the dedication of the monument to his beloved 20th Maine:
In great deeds something abides. On great fields something stays. Forms change and pass; bodies disappear; but spirits linger, to consecrate ground for the vision-place of souls. And reverent men and women from afar, and generations that know us not and that we know not of, heart-drawn to see where and by whom great things were suffered and done for them, shall come to this deathless field to ponder and dream; and lo! The shadow of a mighty presence shall wrap them in its bosom, and the power of the vision pass into their souls …. This is the great reward of service. To live, far out and on in the lives of others …. To give life’s best for such high stake that it shall be found again unto life eternal.
Chamberlain was a true ‘liberal’ long before that label was co-opted by men whose words belie their actions. He was a genuine altruist, and a believer in the dignity of man and the defense of individual liberty. And, unlike many modern history ‘experts’, he understood the difference between genuine substance and meaningless symbolism.
About five years ago, we visited The Wilderness battlefield outside of Fredericksburg. As we drove through Fredericksburg itself, on I-95, on our way to The Wilderness, we stopped to read a monument dedicated to Sedgwick’s Sixth Corps, on the side of the road. The monument sat on a tiny patch of grass, surrounded on four sides by the interstate, asphalt parking lots and strip malls. All over the east, many such historically meaningful spots where valiant blood was spilled have been replaced by an ocean of concrete and steel, plastic and neon. And most of those who drive by, narrow-mindedly focused on more ‘material’ concerns, will never take the time to contemplate what once happened there. And it is this mindset that is causing the gradual, permanent erosion of our hereditary roots.
Here in Lancaster, we lost a long and heartbreaking battle to save the home of General John Reynolds (the most respected man in the Army of the Potomac at the time of Gettysburg, where he met his death. Not one negative comment by his contemporaries is recorded about him.). The Reynolds home has been gutted and is now a community eyesore – an adult video and bookstore.
But there is a world of difference between desecrating hallowed ground by placing the quest for the almighty dollar, or political power, ahead of preserving the land where valiant blood was shed, or where valiant men once lived and served … and allowing nature to take its course. The ‘shadow of a mighty presence’ about which Chamberlain wrote is not a visual thing; it is a spiritual experience. The stark, cold environs created by manmade asphalt and concrete, plastic and neon, have a way of interfering with the experiencing of such a ‘connection’. Trees, grass, blue skies, and fresh air do not.
Joshua Chamberlain would not care that portions of the Gettysburg battlefield are naturally evolving. That trees are growing where there once were none. Anyone who has sat in contemplation on a Civil War battlefield, and who has been enveloped by the ghosts of those who went before, knows full well that Chamberlain’s ‘shadow of a mighty presence’ is not deterred by new vegetation, or swales that result from rainwater, or naturally evolving changes in topography. The only thing that can destroy that ‘presence’ is a people who no longer care – a people who rush by without so much as a thought about what was long ago suffered for them by men who knew firsthand the precious price of liberty.
~ joanie
Post 154, beautifully said.
One tree had grown directly over one grave--just in front of the headstone.
That headstone says the person beneath fought in America's War for Independence.
But all that is left of that tree is a broken old stump.
This tree had lived out its long life and died of old age, so old is this grave.