Engineers, a hero to his child—The family pets—Home from the
Mexican War—Three years in Baltimore—Superintendent of the
West Point Military Academy—Lieutenant-Colonel of Second Cavalry—Supresses
“John Brown Raid” at Harper’s Ferry—Commands the Department of
Taxes………….. 3

Chapter II The Confederate General Resigns from Colonelcy of First

United States Cavalry—Motives for this step—Chosen to command
Virginia forces—Anxiety about his wife, family, and possessions—Chief
advisor to President Davis—Battle of Manassas—Military
operations in West Virginia—Letter to State
Governor……………………. 24

Chapter III Letters to Wife and Daughters From Camp on Sewell’s

Mountain—Quotation from Colonel Taylor’s book—From Professor
Wm. P. Trent—From Mr. Davis’s Memorial Address—Defense of
Southern ports—Christmas, 1861—The General visits his father’s
grave—Commands, under the President, all the armies of the
Confederate States …………….. 48

Chapter IV Army Life of Robert the Younger Volunteer in Rockbridge

Artillery—“Four Years with General Lee” quoted—Meeting between
father and son—Personal characteristics of the General—Death
of his daughter Annie—His son Robert raised from the ranks—the
horses, “Grace Darling” and “Traveller”—Fredricksburg—Freeing
slaves ……………… 69

Chapter V The Army of Northern Virginia The General’s sympathy for

his suffering soldiers—Chancellorsville—Death of “Stonewall”
Jackson—General Fitzhugh Lee wounded and captured—Escape of
his brother Robert—Gettysburg—Religious revival—Infantry
review—Unsatisfactory commissariat……………………… 91

Chapter VI The Winter of 1863-4 The Lee family in Richmond—The

General’s letters to them from Camps Rappahannock and Rapidan—Death
of Mrs. Fitzhugh Lee—Preparations to meet General Grant—The
Wilderness—Spottsylvania Court House—Death of General Stuart—General
Lee’s illness … 112

Chapter VII Fronting the Army of the Potomac Battle of Cold

Harbour—Siege of Petersburg—The General intrusts a mission to
his son Robert—Battle of the Crater—Grant crosses the James
River—General Long’s pen-picture of Lee—Knitting socks for the
soldiers—A Christmas dinner—Incidents of camp life… 128

Chapter VIII The Surrender Fort Fisher captured—Lee made

Commander-in-Chief—Battle of Five Forks—The General’s farewell
to his men—His reception in Richmond after the surrender—President
Davis hears the news—Lee’s visitors—His son Robert turns
farmer ……….. 144

Chapter IX A Private Citizen Lee’s conception of the part—His
influence

exerted toward the restoration of Virginia—He visits old friends
throughout the country—Receives offers of positions—Compares
notes with the Union General Hunter—Longs for a country home—Finds
one at “Derwent,” near Cartersville………………. 162

Chapter X President of Washington College Patriotic motives for

acceptance of trust—Condition of college—The General’s arrival
at Lexington—He prepares for the removal of his family to that city—Advice
to Robert Junior—Trip to “Bremo” on private canal-boat—Mrs.
Lee’s invalidism……….. 179

Chapter XI The Idol of the South Photographs and autographs in

demand—The General’s interest in young people—His happy home
life—Labours at Washington College—He gains financial aid for
it—Worsley’s translation of Homer dedicated to him—Tributes
from other English scholars…… 198

Chapter XII Lee’s Opinion upon the Late War His intention to write

the history of his Virginia campaigns—Called before a committee of
Congress—Preaches patience and silence in the South—Shuns
controversy and publicity—Corresponds with an Englishman, Herbert C.
Saunders …………. 218

Chapter XIII Family Affairs The General writes to his sons—To his
wife

at Rockbridge Baths—He joins her there about once a week—Distinguished
and undistinguished callers at his Lexington home—He advocates early
hours—His fondness for animals …………….. 235

Chapter XIV An Ideal Father Letters to Mildred Lee—To Robert—To

Fitzhugh—Interviewed by Swinton, historian of the Army of the
Potomac—Improvement in grounds and buildings of Washington College—Punctuality
a prominent trait of its President—A strong supporter of the
Y.M.C.A………………………… 252

Chapter XV Mountain Rides An incident about “Traveller”—The
General’s

love for children—His friendship with Ex-President Davis—A
ride with his daughter to the Peaks of Otter—Mildred Lee’s narrative—Mrs.
Lee at the White Sulphur Springs—The great attention paid her
husband there—His idea of life ………………… 264

Chapter XVI An Advisor of Young Men Lee’s policy as college

president—His advice on agricultural matters—His affection for
his prospective daughter-in-law—Fitzhugh’s wedding—The
General’s ovation at Petersburg—his personal interest in the
students under his care……… 280

Chapter XVII The Reconstruction Period The General believes in

the enforcement of law and order—His moral influence in the college—Playful
humour shown in his letters—His opinion of negro labour—Mr.
Davis’s trial—Letter to Mrs. Fitzhugh Lee—Intercourse with
Faculty ……….. 299

Chapter XVIII Mrs. R. E. Lee Goes to Warm Springs for rheumatism—Her

daughter Mildred takes typhoid there—Removes to Hot Springs—Her
husband’s devotion—Visit of Fitzhugh and bride to Lexington—Miss
Jones, a would-be benefactor of Washington College—Fate of
Washington relics belonging to Mrs. Lee’s family……………… 318

Chapter XIX Lee’s Letters to His Sons The building of Robert’s

house—The General as a railroad delegate—Lionised in Baltimore—Calls
on President Grant—Visits Alexandria—Declines to be
interviewed—Interested in his grandson—The Washington
portraits……………. 339

Chapter XX The New Home in Lexington Numerous guests—Further
sojourns

at different Baths—Death of the General’s brother, Smith Lee—Visits
to “Ravensworth” and “The White House”—Meetings with interesting
people at White Sulphur Springs—Death of Professor Preston
…………… 357

Chapter XXI Failing Health The General declines lucrative positions

in New York and Atlanta—He suffers from an obstinate cold—Local
gossip—He is advised to go South in the spring of 1870—Desires
to visit his daughter Annie’s grave …………………….. 376

Chapter XXII The Southern Trip Letters to Mrs. Lee from Richmond and

Savannah—From Brandon—Agnes Lee’s account of her father’s
greetings from old friends and old soldiers—Wilmington and Norfolk
do him honour—Visits to Fitzhugh and Robert in their
homes……………. 388

Chapter XXIII A Round of Visits Baltimore—Alexandria—A
war-talk with

Cousin Cassius Lee—“Ravensworth”—Letter to Doctor Buckler
declining invitation to Europe—To General Cooper—To Mrs. Lee
from the Hot Springs—Tired of public places—Preference for
country life ………. 412

Chapter XXIV Last Days Letter to his wife—To Mr. Tagart—Obituary

notice in “Personal Reminiscences of General Robert E. Lee”—Mrs.
Lee’s account of his death ………………………… 431

Chapter I — Services in the United States Army

Captain Lee, of the Engineers, a hero to his child—The family pets—Home
from the Mexican War—Three years in Baltimore—Superintendent
of the West Point Military Academy—Lieutenant-Colonel of Second
Cavalry—Supresses “John Brown Raid” at Harper’s Ferry—Commands
the Department of Taxes

The first vivid recollection I have of my father is his arrival at
Arlington, after his return from the Mexican War. I can remember some
events of which he seemed a part, when we lived at Fort Hamilton, New
York, about 1846, but they are more like dreams, very indistinct and
disconnected—naturally so, for I was at that time about three years
old. But the day of his return to Arlington, after an absence of more than
two years, I have always remembered. I had a frock or blouse of some light
wash material, probably cotton, a blue ground dotted over with white
diamond figures. Of this I was very proud, and wanted to wear it on this
important occasion. Eliza, my “mammy,” objecting, we had a contest and I
won. Clothed in this, my very best, and with my hair freshly curled in
long golden ringlets, I went down into the larger hall where the whole
household was assembled, eagerly greeting my father, who had just arrived
on horseback from Washington, having missed in some way the carriage which
had been sent for him.

There was visiting us at this time Mrs. Lippitt, a friend of my mother’s,
with her little boy, Armistead, about my age and size, also with long
curls. Whether he wore as handsome a suit as mine I cannot remember, but
he and I were left together in the background, feeling rather frightened
and awed. After a moment’s greeting to those surrounding him, my father
pushed through the crowd, exclaiming:

“Where is my little boy?”

He then took up in his arms and kissed—not me, his own child in his
best frock with clean face and well-arranged curls—but my little
playmate, Armistead! I remember nothing more of any circumstances
connected with that time, save that I was shocked and humiliated. I have
no doubt that he was at once informed of his mistake and made ample amends
to me.

A letter from my father to his brother Captain S. S. Lee, United States
Nave, dated “Arlington, June 30, 1848,” tells of his coming home:

“Here I am once again, my dear Smith, perfectly surrounded by Mary and her
precious children, who seem to devote themselves to staring at the furrows
in my face and the white hairs in my head. It is not surprising that I am
hardly recognisable to some of the young eyes around me and perfectly
unknown to the youngest. But some of the older ones gaze with astonishment
and wonder at me, and seem at a loss to reconcile what they see and what
was pictured in their imaginations. I find them, too, much grown, and all
well, and I have much cause for thankfulness, and gratitude to that good
God who has once more united us.”

My next recollection of my father is in Baltimore, while we were on a
visit to his sister, Mrs. Marshall, the wife of Judge Marshall. I remember
being down on the wharves, where my father had taken me to see the landing
of a mustang pony which he had gotten for me in Mexico, and which had been
shipped from Vera Cruz to Baltimore in a sailing vessel. I was all eyes
for the pony, and a very miserable, sad-looking object he was. From his
long voyage, cramped quarters and unavoidable lack of grooming, he was
rather a disappointment to me, but I soon got over all that. As I grew
older, and was able to ride and appreciate him, he became the joy and
pride of my life. I was taught to ride on him by Jim Connally, the
faithful Irish servant of my father, who had been with him in Mexico. Jim
used to tell me, in his quizzical way, that he and “Santa Anna” (the
pony’s name) were the first men on the walls of Chepultepec. This pony was
pure white, five years old and about fourteen hands high. For his inches,
he was as good a horse as I ever have seen. While we lived in Baltimore,
he and “Grace Darling,” my father’s favourite mare, were members of our
family.

Grace Darling was a chestnut of fine size and of great power, which he had
bought in Texas on his way out to Mexico, her owner having died on the
march out. She was with him during the entire campaign, and was shot seven
times; at least, as a little fellow I used to brag about that number of
bullets being in her, and since I could point out the scars of each one, I
presume it was so. My father was very much attached to her and proud of
her, always petting her and talking to her in a loving way, when he rode
her or went to see her in her stall. Of her he wrote on his return home:

“I only arrived yesterday, after a long journey up the Mississippi, which
route I was induced to take, for the better accommodation of my horse, as
I wished to spare her as much annoyance and fatigue as possible, she
already having undergone so much suffering in my service. I landed her at
Wheeling and left her to come over with Jim.”

Santa Anna was found lying cold and dead in the park at Arlington one
morning in the winter of ‘60-’61. Grace Darling was taken in the spring of
‘62 from the White House [My brother’s place on the Pamunkey River, where
the mare had been sent for save keeping.”] by some Federal quartermaster,
when McClellan occupied that place as his base of supplies during his
attack on Richmond. When we lived in Baltimore, I was greatly struck one
day by hearing two ladies who were visiting us saying:

“Everybody and everything—his family, his friends, his horse, and
his dog—loves Colonel Lee.”

The dog referred to was a black-and-tan terrier named “Spec,” very bright
and intelligent and really a member of the family, respected and beloved
by ourselves and well known to all who knew us. My father picked up his
mother in the “Narrows” while crossing from Fort Hamilton to the
fortifications opposite on Staten Island. She had doubtless fallen
overboard from some passing vessel and had drifted out of sight before her
absence had been discovered. He rescued her and took her home, where she
was welcomed by his children an made much of. She was a handsome little
thing, with cropped ears and a short tail. My father named her “Dart.” She
was a fine ratter, and with the assistance of a Maltese cat, also a member
of the family, the many rats which infested the house and stables were
driven away or destroyed. She and the cat were fed out of the same plate,
but Dart was not allowed to begin the meal until the cat had finished.

Spec was born at Fort Hamilton and was the joy of us children, our pet and
companion. My father would not allow his tail and ears to be cropped. When
he grew up, he accompanied us everywhere and was in the habit of going
into church with the family. As some of the little ones allowed their
devotions to be disturbed by Spec’s presence, my father determined to
leave him at home on those occasions. So the next Sunday morning, he was
sent up to the front room of the second story. After the family had left
for church he contented himself for awhile looking out of the window,
which was open, it being summer time. Presently impatience overcame his
judgement and he jumped to the ground, landed safely notwithstanding the
distance, joined the family just as they reached the church, and went in
with them as usual, much to the joy of the children. After that he was
allowed to go to church whenever he wished. My father was very fond of
him, and loved to talk to him and about him as if he were really one of
us. In a letter to my mother, dated Fort Hamilton, January 18, 1846, when
she and her children were on a visit to Arlington, he thus speaks of him:

“…I am very solitary, and my only company is my dogs and cats. But
‘Spec’ has become so jealous now that he will hardly let me look at the
cats. He seems to be afraid that I am going off from him, and never lets
me stir without him. Lies down in the office from eight to four without
moving, and turns himself before the fire as the side from it becomes
cold. I catch him sometimes sitting up looking at me so intently that I am
for a moment startled…”

In a letter from Mexico written a year later—December 25, ‘46, to my
mother, he says:

“…Can’t you cure poor ‘Spec.’ Cheer him up—take him to walk with
you and tell the children to cheer him up…”

In another letter from Mexico to his eldest boy, just after the capture of
Vera Cruz, he sends this message to Spec….

“Tell him I wish he was here with me. He would have been of great service
in telling me when I was coming upon the Mexicans. When I was
reconnoitering around Vera Cruz, their dogs frequently told me by barking
when I was approaching them too nearly….”

When he returned to Arlington from Mexico, Spec was the first to recognise
him, and the extravagance of his demonstrations of delight left no doubt
that he knew at once his kind master and loving friend, though he had been
absent three years. Sometime during our residence in Baltimore, Spec
disappeared, and we never knew his fate.

From that early time I began to be impressed with my father’s character,
as compared with other men. Every member of the household respected,
revered and loved him as a matter of course, but it began to dawn on me
that every one else with whom I was thrown held him high in their regard.
At forty-five years of age he was active, strong, and as handsome as he
had ever been. I never remember his being ill. I presume he was indisposed
at times; but no impressions of that kind remain. He was always bright and
gay with us little folk, romping, playing, and joking with us. With the
older children, he was just as companionable, and the have seen him join
my elder brothers and their friends when they would try their powers at a
high jump put up in our yard. The two younger children he petted a great
deal, and our greatest treat was to get into his bed in the morning and
lie close to him, listening while he talked to us in his bright,
entertaining way. This custom we kept up until I was ten years old and
over. Although he was so joyous and familiar with us, he was very firm on
all proper occasions, never indulged us in anything that was not good for
us, and exacted the most implicit obedience. I always knew that it was
impossible to disobey my father. I felt it in me, I never thought why, but
was perfectly sure when he gave an order that it had to be obeyed. My
mother I could sometimes circumvent, and at times took liberties with her
orders, construing them to suit myself; but exact obedience to every
mandate of my father was part of my life and being at that time. He was
very fond of having his hands tickled, and, what was still more curious,
it pleased and delighted him to take off his slippers and place his feet
in our laps in order to have them tickled. Often, as little things, after
romping all day, the enforced sitting would be too much for us, and our
drowsiness would soon show itself in continued nods. Then, to arouse, us,
he had a way of stirring us up with his foot—laughing heartily at
and with us. He would often tell us the most delightful stories, and then
there was no nodding. Sometimes, however, our interest in his wonderful
tales became so engrossing that we would forget to do our duty—when
he would declare, “No tickling, no story!” When we were a little older,
our elder sister told us one winter the ever-delightful “Lady of the
Lake.” Of course, she told it in prose and arranged it to suit our mental
capacity. Our father was generally in his corner by the fire, most
probably with a foot in either the lap of myself or youngest sister—the
tickling going on briskly—and would come in at different points of
the tale and repeat line after line of the poem—much to our
disapproval—but to his great enjoyment.

In January, 1849, Captain Lee was one of a board of army officers
appointed to examine the coasts of Florida and its defenses and to
recommend locations for new fortifications. In April he was assigned to
the duty of the construction of Fort Carroll, in the Patapsco River below
Baltimore. He was there, I think, for three years, and lived in a house on
Madison Street, three doors above Biddle. I used to go down with him to
the Fort quite often. We went to the wharf in a “bus,” and there we were
met by a boat with two oarsmen, who rowed us down to Sollers Point, where
I was generally left under the care of the people who lived there, while
my father went over to the Fort, a short distance out in the river. These
days were happy ones for me. The wharves, the shipping, the river, the
boat and oarsmen, and the country dinner we had at the house at Sollers
Point, all made a strong impression on me; but above all I remember my
father, his gentle, loving care of me, his bright talk, his stories, his
maxims and teachings. I was very proud of him and of the evident respect
for and trust in him every one showed. These impressions, obtained at that
time, have never left me. He was a great favourite in Baltimore, as he was
everywhere, especially with ladies and little children. When he and my
mother went out in the evening to some entertainment, we were often
allowed to sit up and see them off; my father, as I remember, always in
full uniform, always ready and waiting for my mother, who was generally
late. He would chide her gently, in a playful way and with a bright smile.
He would then bid us good-bye, and I would go to sleep with this beautiful
picture in my mind, the golden epaulets and all—chiefly the
epaulets.

In Baltimore, I went to my first school, that of a Mr. Rollins on Mulberry
Street, and I remember how interested my father was in my studies, my
failures, and my little triumphs. Indeed, he was so always, as long as I
was at school and college, and I only wish that all of the kind, sensible,
useful letters he wrote me had been preserved.

My memory as to the move from Baltimore, which occurred in 1852, is very
dim. I think the family went to Arlington to remain until my father had
arranged for our removal to the new home at West Point.

My recollection of my father as Superintendent of the West Point Military
Academy is much more distinct. He lived in the house which is still
occupied by the Superintendent. It was built of stone, large and roomy,
with gardens, stables, and pasture lots. We, the two youngest children,
enjoyed it all. “Grace Darling” and “Santa Anna” were there with us, and
many a fine ride did I have with my father in the afternoons, when,
released from his office, he would mount his old mare and, with Santa Anna
carrying me by his side, take a five or ten-mile trot. Though the pony
cantered delightfully, he would make me keep him in a trot, saying
playfully that the hammering sustained was good for me. We rode the
dragoon-seat, no posting, and until I became accustomed to it I used to be
very tired by the time I got back.

My father was the most punctual man I ever knew. He was always ready for
family prayers, for meals, and met every engagement, social or business,
at the moment. He expected all of us to be the same, and taught us the use
and necessity of forming such habits for the convenience of all concerned.
I never knew him late for Sunday service at the Post Chapel. He used to
appear some minutes before the rest of us, in uniform, jokingly rallying
my mother for being late, and for forgetting something at the last moment.
When he could wait no longer for her, he would say that he was off and
would march along to church by himself, or with any of the children who
were ready. There he sat very straight—well up the middle aisle—and,
as I remember, always became very sleepy, and sometimes even took a little
nap during the sermon. At that time, this drowsiness of my father’s was
something awful to me, inexplicable. I know it was very hard for me to
keep awake, and frequently I did not; but why he, who to my mind could do
everything right, without any effort, should sometimes be overcome, I
could not understand, and did not try to do so.

It was against the rules that the cadets should go beyond certain limits
without permission. Of course they did go sometimes, and when caught were
given quite a number of “demerits.” My father was riding out one afternoon
with me, and, while rounding a turn in the mountain road with a deep woody
ravine on one side, we came suddenly upon three cadets far beyond the
limits. They immediately leaped over a low wall on the side of the road
and disappeared from our view.

We rode on for a minute in silence; then my father said: “Did you know
those young men? But no; if you did, don’t say so. I wish boys would do
what was right, it would be so much easier for all parties!”

He knew he would have to report them, but, not being sure of who they
were, I presume he wished to give them the benefit of the doubt. At any
rate, I never heard any more about it. One of the three asked me the next
day if my father had recognised them, and I told him what had occurred.

By this time I had become old enough to have a room to myself, and, to
encourage me in being useful and practical, my father made me attend to
it, just as the cadets had to do with their quarters in barracks and in
camp. He at first even went through the form of inspecting it, to see if I
had performed my duty properly, and I think I enjoyed this until the
novelty wore off. However, I was kept at it, becoming in time very
proficient, and the knowledge so acquired has been of great use to me all
through life.

My father always encouraged me in every healthy outdoor exercise and
sport. He taught me to ride, constantly giving me minute instructions,
with the reasons for them. He gave me my first sled, and sometimes used to
come out where we boys were coasting to look on. He gave me my first pair
of skates, and placed me in the care of a trustworthy person, inquiring
regularly how I progressed. It was the same with swimming, which he was
very anxious I should learn in a proper manner. Professor Bailey had a son
about my age, now himself a professor at Brown University, Providence,
Rhode Island, who became my great chum. I took my first lesson in the
water with him, under the direction and supervision of his father. My
father inquired constantly how I was getting along, and made me describe
exactly my method and stroke, explaining to me what he considered the best
way to swim, and the reasons therefor.

I went to day-school at West Point, and had always a sympathetic helper in
my father; often he would come into the room where I studied at night,
and, sitting down by me, would show me how to overcome a hard sentence in
my Latin reader or a difficult sum in arithmetic, not by giving me the
translation of the troublesome sentence or the answer to the sum, but by
showing me, step by step, the way to the right solutions. He was very
patient, very loving, very good to me, and I remember trying my best to
please him in my studies. When I was able to bring home a good report from
my teacher, he was greatly pleased, and showed it in his eye and voice,
but he always insisted that I should get the “maximum,” that he would
never be perfectly satisfied with less. That I did sometimes win it,
deservedly, I know was due to his judicious and wise method of exciting my
ambition and perseverance. I have endeavoured to show how fond my father
was of his children, and as the best picture I can offer of his loving,
tender devotion to us all, I give here a letter from him written about
this time to one of his daughters who was staying with our grandmother,
Mrs. Custis, at Arlington:

“West Point, February 25, 1853

“My Precious Annie: I take advantage of your gracious permission to write
to you, and there is no telling how far my feelings might carry men were I
not limited by the conveyance furnished by the Mim’s [His pet name for my
mother] letter, which lies before me, and which must, the Mim says so, go
in this morning’s mail. But my limited time does not diminish my affection
for you, Annie, nor prevent my thinking of you and wishing for you. I long
to see you through the dilatory nights. At dawn when I rise, and all day,
my thoughts revert to you in expressions that you cannot hear or I repeat.
I hope you will always appear to me as you are now painted on my heart,
and that you will endeavor to improve and so conduct yourself as to make
you happy and me joyful all our lives. Diligent and earnest attention to
ALL your duties can only accomplish this. I am told you are growing very
tall, and I hope very straight. I do not know what the Cadets will say if
the Superintendent’s CHILDREN do not practice what he demands of them.
They will naturally say he had better attend to his own before he corrects
other people’s children, and as he permits his to stoop it is hard he will
not allow them. You and Agnes [His third daughter] must not, therefore,
bring me into discredit with my young friends, or give them reason to
think that I require more of them than of my own. I presume your mother
has told all about us, our neighbors, and our affairs. And indeed she may
have done that and not said much either, so far as I know. But we are all
well and have much to be grateful for. To-morrow we anticipate the
pleasure of your brother’s [His son, Custis] company, which is always a
source of pleasure to us. It is the only time we see him, except when the
Corps come under my view at some of their exercises, when my eye is sure
to distinguish him among his comrades and follow him over the plain. Give
much love to your dear grandmother, grandfather, Agnes, Miss Sue,
Lucretia, and all friends, including the servants. Write sometimes, and
think always of your Affectionate father, R. E. Lee.”

In a letter to my mother written many years previous to this time, he
says:

“I pray God to watch over and direct our efforts in guarding our dear
little son….Oh, what pleasure I lose in being separated from my
children! Nothing can compensate me for that….”

In another letter of about the same time:

“You do not know how much I have missed you and the children, my dear
Mary. To be alone in a crowd is very solitary. In the woods, I feel
sympathy with the trees and birds, in whose company I take delight, but
experience no pleasure in a strange crowd. I hope you are all well and
will continue so, and, therefore, must again urge you to be very prudent
and careful of those dear children. If I could only get a squeeze at that
little fellow, turning up his sweet mouth to ‘keese baba!’ You must not
let him run wild in my absence, and will have to exercise firm authority
over all of them. This will not require severity or even strictness, but
constant attention and an unwavering course. Mildness and forbearance will
strengthen their affection for you, while it will maintain your control
over them.”

In a letter to one of his sons he writes as follows:

“I cannot go to bed, my dear son, without writing you a few lines, to
thank you for your letter, which gave me great pleasure….You and Custis
must take great care of your kind mother and dear sisters when your father
is dead. To do that you must learn to be good. Be true, kind and generous,
and pray earnestly to God to enable you to keep His Commandments ‘and walk
in the same all the days of your life.’ I hope to come on soon to see that
little baby you have got to show me. You must give her a kiss for me, and
one to all the children, to your mother, and grandmother”

The expression of such sentiments as these was common to my father all
through his life, and to show that it was all children, and not his own
little folk alone that charmed and fascinated him, I quote from a letter
to my mother:

“…I saw a number of little girls all dressed up in their white frocks
and pantalets, their hair plaited and tied up with ribbons, running and
chasing each other in all directions. I counted twenty-three nearly the
same size. As I drew up my horse to admire the spectacle, a man appeared
at the door with the twenty-fourth in his arms.

“‘My friend,’ said I, ‘are all these your children?’

“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and there are nine more in the house, and this is the
youngest.’

“Upon further inquiry, however, I found that they were only temporarily
his, and that they were invited to a party at his house. He said, however,
he had been admiring them before I came up, and just wished that he had a
million of dollars, and that they were all his in reality. I do not think
the eldest exceeded seven or eight years old. It was the prettiest sight I
have seen in the west, and, perhaps, in my life….”

As Superintendent of the Military Academy at West Point my father had to
entertain a good deal, and I remember well how handsome and grand he
looked in uniform, how genial and bright, how considerate of everybody’s
comfort of mind and body. He was always a great favourite with the ladies,
especially the young ones. His fine presence, his gentle, courteous
manners and kindly smile put them at once at ease with him.

Among the cadets at this time were my eldest brother, Custis, who
graduated first in his class in 1854, and my father’s nephew, Fitz. Lee, a
third classman, besides other relatives and friends. Saturday being a
half-holiday for the cadets, it was the custom for all social events in
which they were to take part to be placed on that afternoon or evening.
Nearly every Saturday a number of these young men were invited to our
house to tea, or supper, for it was a good, substantial meal. The misery
of some of these lads, owing to embarrassment, possibly from awe of the
Superintendent, was pitiable and evident even to me, a boy of ten or
eleven years old. But as soon as my father got command, as it were, of the
situation, one could see how quickly most of them were put at their ease.
He would address himself to the task of making them feel comfortable and
at home, and his genial manner and pleasant ways at once succeeded.

In the spring of ‘53 my grandmother, Mrs. Custis, died. This was the first
death in our immediate family. She was very dear to us, and was admired,
esteemed and loved by all who had ever known her. Bishop Meade, of
Virginia, writes of her:

“Mrs. Mary Custis, of Arlington, the wife of Mr. Washington Custis,
grandson of Mrs. General Washington was the daughter of Mr. William
Fitzhugh, of Chatham. Scarcely is there a Christian lady in our land more
honoured than she was, and none more loved and esteemed. For good sense,
prudence, sincerity, benevolence, unaffected piety, disinterested zeal in
every good work, deep humanity and retiring modesty—for all the
virtues which adorn the wife, the mother, and the friend—I never
knew her superior.”

In a letter written to my mother soon after this sad event my father says:

“May God give you strength to enable you to bear and say, ‘His will be
done.’ She has gone from all trouble, care and sorrow to a holy
immortality, there to rejoice and praise forever the God and Saviour she
so long and truly served. Let that be our comfort and that our
consolation. May our death be like hers, and may we meet in happiness in
Heaven.”

In another letter about the same time he writes:

“She was to me all that a mother could be, and I yield to none in
admiration for her character, love for her virtues, and veneration for her
memory.”

At this time, my father’s family and friends persuaded him to allow R. S.
Weir, Professor of Painting and Drawing at the Academy, to paint his
portrait. As far as I remember, there was only one sitting, and the artist
had to finish it from memory or from the glimpses he obtained as his
subject in the regular course of their daily lives at “The Point.” This
picture shows my father in the undress uniform of a Colonel of Engineers
[His appointment of Superintendent of the Military Academy carried with it
the temporary rank of Colonel of Engineers], and many think it a very good
likeness. To me, the expression of strength peculiar to his face is
wanting, and the mouth fails to portray that sweetness of disposition so
characteristic of his countenance. Still, it was like him at that time. My
father never could bear to have his picture taken, and there are no
likenesses of him that really give his sweet expression. Sitting for a
picture was such a serious business with him that he never could “look
pleasant.”

In 1855 my father was appointed to the lieutenant-colonelcy of the Second
Cavalry, one of the two regiments just raised. He left West Point to enter
upon his new duties, and his family went to Arlington to live. During the
fall and winter of 1855 and ‘56, the Second Cavalry was recruited and
organised at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri, under the direction of Colonel
Lee, and in the following spring was marched to western Texas, where it
was assigned the duty of protecting the settlers in that wild country.

I did not see my father again until he came to my mother at Arlington
after the death of her father, G. W. P. Custis, in October 1857. He took
charge of my mother’s estate after her father’s death, and commenced at
once to put it in order—not an easy task, as it consisted of several
plantations and many negroes. I was at a boarding-school, after the family
returned to Arlington, and saw my father only during the holidays, if he
happened to be at home. He was always fond of farming, and took great
interest in the improvements he immediately began at Arlington relating to
the cultivation of the farm, to the buildings, roads, fences, fields, and
stock, so that in a very short time the appearance of everything on the
estate was improved. He often said that he longed for the time when he
could have a farm of his own, where he could end his days in quiet and
peace, interested in the care and improvement of his own land. This idea
was always with him. In a letter to his son, written in July, ‘65,
referring to some proposed indictments of prominent Confederates, he says:

“…As soon as I can ascertain their intention toward me, if not
prevented, I shall endeavour to procure some humble, but quiet abode for
your mother and sisters, where I hope they can be happy. As I before said,
I want to get in some grass country where the natural product of the land
will do much for my subsistence….”

Again in a letter to his son, dated October, 1865, after he had accepted
the presidency of Washington College, Lexington, Virginia:

“I should have selected a more quiet life and a more retired abode than
Lexington. I should have preferred a small farm, where I could have earned
my daily bread.”

About this time I was given a gun of my own and was allowed to go shooting
by myself. My father, to give me an incentive, offered a reward for every
crow-scalp I could bring him, and, in order that I might get to work at
once, advanced a small sum with which to buy powder and shot, this sum to
be returned to him out of the first scalps obtained. My industry and zeal
were great, my hopes high, and by good luck I did succeed in bagging two
crows about the second time I went out. I showed them with great pride to
my father, intimating that I should shortly be able to return him his
loan, and that he must be prepared to hand over to me very soon further
rewards for my skill. His eyes twinkled, and his smile showed that he had
strong doubts of my making an income by killing crows, and he was right,
for I never killed another, though I tried hard and long.

I saw but little of my father after we left West Point. He went to Texas,
as I have stated, in ‘55 and remained until the fall of ‘57, the time of
my grandfather’s death. He was then at Arlington about a year. Returning
to his regiment, he remained in Texas until the autumn of ‘59, when he
came again to Arlington, having applied for leave in order to finish the
settling of my grandfather’s estate. During this visit he was selected by
the Secretary of War to suppress the famous “John Brown Raid,” and was
sent to Harper’s Ferry in command of the United States troops.

From his memorandum book the following entries were taken:

“October 17, 1859. Received orders from the Secretary of War in person, to
repair in evening train to Harper’s Ferry.

“Reached Harper’s Ferry at 11 P.M…. Posted marines in the United States
Armory. Waited until daylight, as a number of citizens were held as
hostages, whose lives were threatened. Tuesday about sunrise, with twelve
marines, under Lieutenant Green, broke in the door of the engine-house,
secured the insurgents, and relieved the prisoners unhurt. All the
insurgents killed or mortally wounded, but four, John Brown, Stevens,
Coppie, and Shields.”

Brown was tried and convicted and sentenced to be hanged on December 2,
1859. Colonel Lee writes as follows to his wife:

“Harper’s Ferry, December 1, 1859.

“I arrived here, dearest Mary, yesterday about noon, with four companies
from Fort Monroe, and was busy all the evening and night getting
accommodation for the men, etc., and posting sentinels and piquets to
insure timely notice of the approach of the enemy. The night has passed
off quietly. The feelings of the community seem to be calmed down, and I
have been received with every kindness. Mr. Fry is among the officers from
Old Point. There are several young men, former acquaintances of ours, as
cadets, Mr. Bingham of Custis’s class, Sam Cooper, etc., but the senior
officers I never met before, except Captain Howe, the friend of our Cousin
Harriet R——.

“I presume we are fixed her till after the 16th. To-morrow will probably
be the last of Captain Brown. There will be less interest for the others,
but still I think the troops will not be withdrawn till they are similarly
disposed of.

“Custis will have informed you that I had to go to Baltimore the evening I
left you, to make arrangements for the transportation of the troops….
This morning I was introduced to Mrs. Brown, who, with a Mrs. Tyndall and
a Mr. And Mrs. McKim, all from Philadelphia, had come on to have a last
interview with her husband. As it is a matter over which I have no control
I referred them to General Taliaferro [General William B. Taliaferro,
commanding Virginia troops at Harper’s Ferry].

“You must write to me at this place. I hope you are all well. Give love to
everybody. Tell Smith [Sydney Smith Lee, of the United States Navy, his
brother] that no charming women have insisted on taking care of me as they
are always doing of him—I am left to my own resources. I will write
you again soon, and will always be truly and affectionately yours,

“Mrs. M. C. Lee. R. E. Lee.”

In February, 1860, he was ordered to take command of the Department of
Texas. There he remained a year. The first months after his arrival were
spent in the vain pursuit of the famous brigand, Cortinez, who was
continually stealing across the Rio Grande, burning the homes, driving off
the stock of the ranchmen, and then retreating into Mexico. The summer
months he spent in San Antonio, and while there interested himself with
the good people of that town in building an Episcopal church, to which he
contributed largely.

Chapter II — The Confederate General

Resigns from Colonelcy of First United States Cavalry—Motives for
this step—Chosen to command Virginia forces—Anxiety about his
wife, family, and possessions—Chief advisor to President Davis—Battle
of Manassas—Military operations in West Virginia—Letter to
State Governor

In February, 1861, after the secession of Texas, my father was ordered to
report to General Scott, the Commander-in-Chief of the United States Army.
He immediately relinquished the command of his regiment, and departed from
Fort Mason, Texas, for Washington. He reached Arlington March 1st. April
17th, Virginia seceded. On the 18th Colonel Lee had a long interview with
General Scott. On April 20th he tendered his resignation of his commission
in the United States Army. The same day he wrote to General Scott the
following letter:

“Arlington, Virginia, April 20, 1861.

“General: Since my interview with you on the 18th inst. I have felt that I
ought no longer to retain my commission in the Army. I therefore tender my
resignation, which I request you will recommend for acceptance. It would
have been presented at once but for the struggle it has cost me to
separate myself from a service to which I have devoted the best years of
my life, and all the ability I possessed.

“During the whole of that time—more than a quarter of a century—I
have experienced nothing but kindness from my superiors and a most cordial
friendship from my comrades. To no one, General, have I been as much
indebted as to yourself for uniform kindness and consideration, and it has
always been my ardent desire to merit your approbation. I shall carry tot
he grave the most grateful recollections of your kind consideration, and
your name and fame shall always be dear to me.

“Save in the defense of my native State, I never desire again to draw my
sword.

“Be pleased to accept my most earnest wishes for the continuance of your
happiness and prosperity, and believe me most truly yours,

“(Signed)

“R. E. Lee”

His resignation was written the same day.

“Arlington, Washington City P.O., April 20, 1861.

“Honourable Simon Cameron, Secretary of War.

“Sir: I have the honour to tender the resignation of my command as Colonel
of the First Regiment of Cavalry.

“Very respectfully your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee,

“Colonel First Cavalry.”

To show further his great feeling in thus having to leave the army with
which he had been associated for so long, I give two more letters, one to
his sister, Mrs. Anne Marshall, of Baltimore, the other to his brother,
Captain Sydney Smith Lee, of the United States Navy:

“Arlington, Virginia, April 20, 1861.

“My Dear Sister: I am grieved at my inability to see you…. I have been
waiting for a ‘more convenient season,’ which has brought to many before
me deep and lasting regret. Now we are in a state of war which will yield
to nothing. The whole South is in a state of revolution, into which
Virginia, after a long struggle, has been drawn; and though I recognise no
necessity for this state of things, and would have forborne and pleaded to
the end for redress of grievances, real or supposed, yet in my own person
I had to meet the question whether I should take part against my native
State.

“With all my devotion to the Union and the feeling of loyalty and duty of
an American citizen, I have not been able to make up my mind to raise my
hand against my relatives, my children, my home. I have therefore resigned
my commission in the Army, and save in defense of my native State, with
the sincere hope that my poor services may never be needed, I hope I may
never be called on to draw my sword. I know you will blame me; but you
must think as kindly of me as you can, and believe that I have endeavoured
to do what I thought right.

“To show you the feeling and struggle it has cost me, I send you a copy of
my letter of resignation. I have no time for more. May God guard and
protect you and yours, and shower upon you everlasting blessings, is the
prayer of your devoted brother, R. E. Lee.”

“Arlington, Virginia, April 20, 1860.

“My Dear Brother Smith: The question which was the subject of my earnest
consultation with you on the 18th inst. has in my own mind been decided.
After the most anxious inquiry as to the correct course for me to pursue,
I concluded to resign, and sent in my resignation this morning. I wished
to wait till the Ordinance of secession should be acted on by the people
of Virginia; but war seems to have commenced, and I am liable at any time
to be ordered on duty which I could not conscientiously perform. To save
me from such a position, and to prevent the necessity of resigning under
orders, I had to act at once, and before I could see you again on the
subject, as I had wished. I am now a private citizen, and have no other
ambition than to remain at home. Save in defense of my native State, I
have no desire ever again to draw my sword. I send you my warmest love.

“Your affectionate brother,

“R. E. Lee.”

I will give here one of my father’s letters, written after the war, in
which is his account of his resignation from the United States Army:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 25, 1868.

“Honourable Reverdy Johnson,

“United States Senate, Washington, D. C.

“My Dear Sir: My attention has been called to the official report of the
debate in the Senate of the United States, on the 19th instant, in which
you did my the kindness to doubt the correctness of the statement made by
the Honourable Simon Cameron, in regard to myself. I desire that you may
feel certain of my conduct on the occasion referred to, so far as my
individual statement can make you. I never intimated to any one that I
desired the command of the United States Army; nor did I ever have a
conversation with but one gentleman, Mr. Francis Preston Blair, on the
subject, which was at his invitation, and, as I understood, at the
instance of President Lincoln. After listening to his remarks, I declined
the offer that he made me, to take command of the army that was to be
brought into the field; stating, as candidly and courteously as I could,
that, though opposed to secession and deprecating war, I could take no
part in an invasion of the Southern States. I went directly from the
interview with Mr. Blair to the office of General Scott; told him of the
proposition that had been made to me, and my decision. Upon reflection
after returning to my home, I concluded that I ought no longer to retain
the commission I held in the United States Army, and on the second morning
thereafter I forwarded my resignation to General Scott. At the time, I
hoped that peace would have been preserved; that some way would have been
found to save the country from the calamities of war; and I then had no
other intention than to pass the remainder of my life as a private
citizen. Two days afterward, upon the invitation of the Governor of
Virginia, I repaired to Richmond; found that the Convention then in
session had passed the ordinance withdrawing the State from the Union; and
accepted the commission of commander of its forces, which was tendered me.

“These are the ample facts of the case, and they show that Mr. Cameron has
been misinformed.

“I am with great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

My father reached Richmond April 22, 1861. The next day he was introduced
to the Virginia Convention, and offered by them the command of the
military forces of his State. In his reply to Mr. John Janney, the
President, who spoke for the Convention, he said:

“Mr. President and Gentlemen of the Convention: Deeply impressed with the
solemnity of the occasion on which I appear before you, and profoundly
grateful for the honour conferred upon me, I accept the position your
partiality has assigned me, though I would greatly have preferred your
choice should have fallen on one more capable.

“Trusting to Almighty God, an approving conscience, and the aid of my
fellow citizens, I will devote myself to the defense and service of my
native State, in whose behalf alone would I have ever drawn my sword.”

On April 26th, from Richmond, he wrote to his wife:

“…I am very anxious about you. You have to move and make arrangements to
go to some point of safety, which you must select. The Mount Vernon plate
and pictures ought to be secured. Keep quiet while you remain and in your
preparation. War is inevitable, and there is no telling when it will burst
around you. Virginia, yesterday, I understand, joined the Confederate
States. What policy they may adopt I cannot conjecture. May God bless and
preserve you, and have mercy upon all our people, is the constant prayer
of your affectionate husband,

“R. E. Lee.”

On April 30th:

“On going to my room last night I found my trunk and sword there, and
opening them this morning discovered the package of letters and was very
glad to learn you were all well and as yet peaceful. I fear the latter
state will not continue long…. I think therefore you had better prepare
all things for removal, that is, the plate, pictures, etc., and be
prepared at any moment. Where to go is the difficulty. When the war
commences no place will be exempt, in my opinion, and indeed all the
avenues into the State will be the scenes of military operations.

“There is no prospect or intention of the Government to propose a truce.
Do not be deceived by it…. May God preserve you all and bring peace to
our distracted country.”

Again to my mother at Arlington:

“Richmond, May 2, 1861.

“My dear Mary: I received last night your letter of the 1st, with
contents. It gave me great pleasure to learn that you are all well and in
peace. You know how pleased I should be to have you and my dear daughters
with me. That I fear can not be. There is no place that I can expect to be
but in the field, and there is no rest for me to look to, but I want you
to be in a place of safety…. We have only to be resigned to God’s will
and pleasure, and do all we can for our protection…. I have just
received Custis’s letter of the 30th, inclosing the acceptance of my
resignation. It is stated that it will take effect April 25th. I resigned
on the 20th, and wished it to take effect that day. I cannot consent to
its running on further, and he must receive no pay, if they tender it,
beyond that day, but return the whole, if need be….”

From another letter to my mother, dated May 8th:

“…I grieve at the necessity that drives you from your home. I can
appreciate your feelings on the occasion, and pray that you may receive
comfort and strength in the difficulties that surround you. When I reflect
upon the calamity impending over the country, my own sorrows sink into
insignificance…. Be content and resigned to God’s will. I shall be able
to write seldom. Write to me, as you letters will be my greatest comfort.
I send a check for $500; it is all I have in bank. Pay the children’s
school expenses….”

To my mother, still at Arlington:

“Richmond, May 11, 1861.

“I have received your letter of the 9th from Arlington. I had supposed you
were at Ravensworth…. I am glad to hear that you are at peace, and
enjoying the sweet weather and beautiful flowers. You had better complete
your arrangements and retire further from the scene of war. It may burst
upon you at any time. It is sad to think of the devastation, if not ruin,
it may bring upon a spot so endeared to us. But God’s will be done. We
must be resigned. May He guard and keep you all, is my constant prayer.”

All this time my father was very hard at work organising and equipping the
volunteers who were pouring into Richmond from the Southern States, but he
was in constant correspondence with my mother, helping her all he could in
her arrangements for leaving her home. His letters show that he thought of
everything, even the least, and he gave the most particular directions
about his family, their effects, the servants, the horses, the farm,
pictures, plate, and furniture. Being called to Norfolk suddenly, before
going he wrote to my mother:

“Richmond, May 16, 1861.

“My Dear Mary: I am called down to Norfolk and leave this afternoon. I
expect to return Friday, but may be delayed. I write to advise you of my
absence, in case you should not receive answers to any letters that may
arrive. I have not heard from you since I last wrote; nor have I anything
to relate. I heard from my dear little Rob, who had an attack of chills
and fever. He hoped to escape the next paroxysm…. I witnessed the
opening of the convention [The Episcopal Convention of the Diocese of
Virginia] yesterday, and heard the good Bishop’s [Bishop Meade, of
Virginia] sermon, being the 50th anniversary of his ministry. It was a
most impressive scene, and more than once I felt the tears coming down my
cheek. It was from the text, ‘and Pharoh said unto Jacob, how old art
thou?’ It was full of humility and self-reproach. I saw Mr. Walker, Bishop
Johns, Bishop Atkinson, etc. I have not been able to attend any other
services, and presume the session will not be prolonged. I suppose it may
be considered a small attendance. Should Custis arrive during my absence,
I will leave word for him to take my room at the Spotswood till my return.
Smith [His brother, S. S. Lee, C. S. N.] is well and enjoys a ride in the
afternoon with Mrs. Stannard. The charming women, you know, always find
him out. Give much love to Cousin Anna, Nannie, and dear daughters. When
Rob leaves the University take him with you.

“Truly and affectionately, R. E. Lee.”

By this time my mother and all the family had left Arlington. My brother,
Custis, had joined my father in Richmond, the girls had gone to Fauquier
county, to visit relatives, and my mother to Ravensworth, about ten miles
from Arlington towards Fairfax Court House, where her aunt, Mrs. A. M.
Fitzhugh, lived. Always considerate of the happiness and comfort of
others, my father feared that his wife’s presence at Ravensworth might
possibly bring annoyance to “Cousin Anna,” as he called our aunt, and he
wrote to my mother, urging her not to remain there. He sympathised with
her in having to leave her home, which she never saw again.

“Richmond, May 25, 1861.

“I have been trying, dearest Mary, ever since the receipt of your letter
by Custis, to write to you. I sympathise deeply in your feelings at
leaving your dear home. I have experienced them myself, and they are
constantly revived. I fear we have not been grateful enough for the
happiness there within our reach, and our Heavenly Father has found it
necessary to deprive us of what He has given us. I acknowledge my
ingratitude, my transgressions, and my unworthiness, and submit with
resignation to what he thinks proper to inflict upon me. We must trust all
then to him, and I do not think it prudent or right for you to return
there, while the United States troops occupy that country. I have gone
over all this ground before, and have just written Cousin Anna on the
subject.

“While writing, I received a telegram from Cousin John Goldsborough [a
cousin of Mrs. Fitzhugh], urging your departure ‘South.’ I suppose he is
impressed with the risk of your present position, and in addition to the
possibility, or probability, of personal annoyance to yourself, I fear
your presence may provoke annoyance in Cousin Anna. But unless Cousin Anna
goes with you, I shall be distressed about her being there alone. If the
girls went to ‘Kinloch’ or ‘Eastern View,’ you and Cousin Anna might take
care of yourselves, because you could get in the carriage and go off in an
emergency. But I really am afraid that you may prove more harm than
comfort to her. Mr. Wm. C. Rives has just been in to say that if you and
Cousin Anna will go to his house, he will be very glad for you to stay as
long as you please. That his son has a commodious house just opposite his,
unoccupied, partially furnished; that you could, if you prefer, take that,
bring up servants and what you desire, and remain there as independent as
at home…. I must now leave the matter to you, and pray that God may
guard you. I have no time for more. I know and feel the discomfort of your
position, but it cannot be helped, and we must bear our trials like
Christians…. If you and Cousin Anna choose to come here, you know how
happy we shall be to see you. I shall take the field as soon now as I
can….

“Ever yours truly and devotedly,

“R. E. Lee”

Three days later he was at Manassas, only a short distance from
Ravensworth, and he sent her this short note:

“Manassas, May 28, 1861.

“I reached here, dearest Mary, this afternoon. I am very much occupied in
examining matters, and have to go out to look over the ground. Cousin John
tempts me strongly to go down, but I never visit for many reasons. If for
no other, to prevent compromising the house, for my visit would certainly
be known.

“I have written to you fully and to Cousin Anna. I am decidedly of the
opinion that it would be better for you to leave, on your account and
Cousin Anna’s. My only objection is the leaving of Cousin Anna alone, if
she will not go with you. If you prefer Richmond, go with Nannie.
Otherwise, go to the upper country, as John indicates. I fear I cannot be
with you anywhere. I do not think Richmond will be permanent.

“Truly, R.”

I may as well say here, that “Cousin Anna” never did leave “Ravensworth”
during the war. She remained there, with only a few faithful servants, and
managed to escape any serious molestation. “Nannie” was Mrs. S. S. Lee,
who shortly after this time went to Richmond.

On May 25th, my father was transferred, with all the Virginia troops, to
the Confederate States Army. He ceased to be a Major-General, and became a
Brigadier. No higher rank having been created as yet in the Confederate
service. Later, when the rank was created, he was made a full general.

By the end of May, to quote from General Long,

“Lee had organised, equipped, and sent to the field more than thirty
thousand men, and various regiments were in a forward state of
preparation.”

When the Confederate government moved from Montgomery to Richmond, and
President Davis took charge of all military movements, my father was kept
near him as his constant and trusted adviser. His experience as an
engineer was of great service to the young Confederacy, and he was called
upon often for advice for the location of batteries and troops on our
different defensive lines. In a letter to my mother he speaks of one of
these trips to the waters east of Richmond.

“Richmond, June 9, 1861.

“…I have just returned from a visit to the batteries and troops on James
and York rivers, etc., where I was some days. I called a few hours at the
White House. Saw Charlotte and Annie. Fitzhugh was away, but got out of
the cars as I got in. Our little boy looked very sweet and seemed glad to
kiss me good-bye. Charlotte said she was going to prepare to leave for the
summer, but had not determined where to go. I could only see some of the
servants about the house and the stables. They were all well…. You may
be aware that the Confederate Government is established here. Yesterday I
turned over to it the command of the military and naval forces of the
State, in accordance with the proclamation of the Government and the
agreement between the State and the Confederate States. I do not know what
my position will be. I should like to retire to private life, if I could
be with you and the children, but if I can be of any service to the State
or her cause I must continue. Mr. Davis and all his Cabinet are here….
Good-bye. Give much love to kind friends. May God guard and bless you,
them, and our suffering country, and enable me to perform my duty. I think
of you constantly. Write me what you will do. Direct here.

“Always yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

To my mother, who was now in Fauquier County, staying at “Kinloch,” Mr.
Edward Turner’s home, he writes on June 24th, from Richmond:

“…Your future arrangements are the source of much anxiety to me. No one
can say what is in the future, nor is it wise to anticipate evil. But it
is well to prepare for what may reasonably happen and be provided for the
worst. There is no saying when you can return to your home or what may be
its condition when you do return. What, then, can you do in the meantime?
To remain with friends may be incumbent, and where can you go?… My
movements are very uncertain, and I wish to take the field as soon as
certain arrangements can be made. I may go at any moment, and to any point
where it may be necessary…. Many of our old friends are dropping in. E.
P. Alexander is here, Jimmy Hill, Alston, Jenifer, etc., and I hear that
my old colonel, A. S. Johnston, is crossing the plains from California….

“As ever, R. E. Lee.”

I again quote from a letter to my mother, dated Richmond, July 12, 1861:

“…I am very anxious to get into the field, but am detained by matters
beyond my control. I have never heard of the appointment, to which you
allude, of Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate States Army, nor have I
any expectation or wish for it. President Davis holds that position. Since
the transfer of the military operations in Virginia to the authorities of
the Confederate States, I have only occupied the position of a general in
that service, with the duties devolved on me by the President. I have been
labouring to prepare and get into the field the Virginia troops, and to
strengthen, by those from the other States, the threatened commands of
Johnston, Beauregard, Huger, Garnett, etc. Where I shall go I do not know,
as that will depend upon President Davis. As usual in getting through with
a thing, I have broken down a little and had to take my bed last evening,
but am at my office this morning and hope will soon be right again…. My
young friend Mr. Vest has just returned from a search in the city for
‘Dixie,’ and says he has visited every place in Richmond without finding
it. I suppose it is exhausted. Always yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

“The booksellers say ‘Dixie’ is not to be had in Virginia. R. E. L.”

On July 21st occurred the battle of Manassas. In a letter to my mother
written on the 27th, my father says:

“…That indeed was a glorious victory and has lightened the pressure upon
our front amazingly. Do not grieve for the brave dead. Sorrow for those
they left behind—friends, relatives, and families. The former are at
rest. The latter must suffer. The battle will be repeated there in greater
force. I hope God will again smile on us and strengthen our hearts and
arms. I wished to partake in the former struggle, and am mortified at my
absence, but the President thought it more important I should be here. I
could not have done as well as has been done, but I could have helped, and
taken part in the struggle for my home and neighbourhood. So the work is
done I care not by whom it is done. I leave to-morrow for the Northwest
Army. I wished to go before, as I wrote you, and was all prepared, but the
indications were so evident of the coming battle, and in the uncertainty
of the result, the President forbade my departure. Now it is necessary and
he consents. I cannot say for how long, but will write you…. I inclose
you a letter from Markie [Miss Martha Custis Williams—second cousin
of my mother, afterward Mrs. Admiral Carter, U.S.N.]. Write to her if you
can and thank her for her letter to me. I have not time. My whole time is
occupied, and all my thoughts and strength are given to the cause to which
my life, be it long or short, will be devoted. Tell her not to mind the
reports she sees in the papers. They are made to injure and occasion
distrust. Those that know me will not believe them. Those that do not will
not care for them. I laugh at them. Give love to all, and for yourself
accept the constant prayers and love of truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

It was thought best at this time to send General Lee to take command of
military operations in West Virginia. The ordinary difficulties of a
campaign in this country of mountains and bad roads were greatly increased
by incessant rains, sickness of all kinds amongst the new troops, and the
hostility of many of the inhabitants of the Southern cause. My father’s
letters, which I will give here, tell of his trials and troubles, and
describe at the same time the beauty of the scenery and some of the
military movements.

About August 1st he started for his new command, and he writes to my
mother on his arrival at Huntersville, Pocahontas County, now West
Virginia:

“Huntersville, August 4, 1861.

“I reached here yesterday, dearest Mary, to visit this portion of the
army. The day after my arrival at Staunton, I set off for Monterey, where
the army of General Garnett’s command is stationed. Two regiments and a
field-battery occupy the Alleghany Mountains in advance, about thirty
miles, and this division guards the road to Staunton. The division here
guards the road leading to the Warm Springs to Milboro and Covington. Two
regiments are advanced about twenty-eight miles to Middle Mountain.
Fitzhugh [Major W. H. F. Lee—General Lee’s second son] with his
squadron is between that point and this. I have not seen him. I understand
he is well. South of here again is another column of our enemies, making
their way up the Kanawha Valley, and, from General Wise’s report, are not
far from Lewisburgh. Their object seems to be to get possession of the
Virginia Central Railroad and the Virginia and Tennessee Railroad. By the
first they can approach Richmond; by the last interrupt our reinforcements
from the South. The points from which we can be attacked are numerous, and
their means are unlimited. So we must always be on the alert. My
uneasiness on these points brought me out here. It is so difficult to get
our people, unaccustomed to the necessities of war, to comprehend and
promptly execute the measures required for the occasion. General Jackson
of Georgia commands on the Monterey line, General Loring on this line, and
General Wise, supported by General Floyd, on the Kanawha line. The
soldiers everywhere are sick. The measles are prevalent throughout the
whole army, and you know that disease leaves unpleasant results, attacks
on the lungs, typhoid, etc., especially in camp, where accommodations for
the sick are poor. I travelled from Staunton on horseback. A part of the
road, as far as Buffalo Gap, I passed over in the summer of 1840, on my
return to St. Louis, after bringing you home. If any one had then told me
that the next time I travelled that road would have been on my present
errand, I should have supposed him insane. I enjoyed the mountains, as I
rode along. The views are magnificent—the valleys so beautiful, the
scenery so peaceful. What a glorious world Almighty God has given us. How
thankless and ungrateful we are, and how we labour to mar his gifts. I
hope you received my letters from Richmond. Give love to daughter and
Mildred. I did not see Rob as I passed through Charlottesville. He was at
the University and I could not stop.”

A few days later there is another letter:

“Camp at Valley Mountain, August 9, 1861.

“I have been here, dear Mary, three days, coming from Monterey to
Huntersville and thence here. We are on the dividing ridge looking north
down the Tygart’s river valley, whose waters flow into the Monongahela and
South towards the Elk River and Greenbriar, flowing into the Kanawha. In
the valley north of us lie Huttonsville and Beverly, occupied by our
invaders, and the Rich Mountains west, the scene of our former disaster,
and the Cheat Mountains east, their present stronghold, are in full view.

“The mountains are beautiful, fertile to the tops, covered with the
richest sward of bluegrass and white clover, the inclosed fields waving
with the natural growth of timothy. The inhabitants are few and population
sparse. This is a magnificent grazing country, and all it needs is labour
to clear the mountain-sides of its great growth of timber. There surely is
no lack of moisture at this time. It has rained, I believe, some portion
of every day since I left Staunton. Now it is pouring, and the wind,
having veered around to every point of the compass, has settled down to
the northeast. What that portends in these regions I do not know. Colonel
Washington [John Augustin Washington, great-nephew of General Washington,
and Mt. Vernon’s last owner bearing that name], Captain Taylor, and myself
are in one tent, which as yet protects us. I have enjoyed the company of
Fitzhugh since I have been here. He is very well and very active, and as
yet the war has not reduced him much. He dined with me yesterday and
preserves his fine appetite. To-day he is out reconnoitering and has the
full benefit of this rain. I fear he is without his overcoat, as I do not
recollect seeing it on his saddle. I told you he had been promoted to a
major in cavalry, and is the commanding cavalry officer on this line at
present. He is as sanguine, cheerful, and hearty as ever. I sent him some
corn-meal this morning and he sent me some butter—a mutual
interchange of good things. There are but few of your acquaintances in
this army. I find here in the ranks of one company Henry Tiffany. The
company is composed principally of Baltimoreans—George Lemmon and
Douglas Mercer are in it. It is a very fine company, well drilled and well
instructed. I find that our friend, J. J. Reynolds, of West Point memory,
is in command of the troops immediately in front of us. He is a
brigadier-general. You may recollect him as the Assistant Professor of
Philosophy, and lived in the cottage beyond the west gate, with his
little, pale-faced wife, a great friend of Lawrence and Markie. He
resigned on being relieved from West Point, and was made professor of some
college in the West. Fitzhugh was the bearer of a flag the other day, and
he recognised him. He was very polite and made inquiries of us all. I am
told they feel very safe and are very confident of success. Their numbers
are said to be large, ranging from 12,000 to 30,000, but it is impossible
for me to get correct information either as to their strength or position.
Our citizens beyond this are all on their side. Our movements seem to be
rapidly communicated to them, while theirs come to us slowly and
indistinctly. I have two regiments here, with others coming up. I think we
shall shut up this road to the Central Railroad which they strongly
threaten. Our supplies come up slowly. We have plenty of beef and can get
some bread. I hope you are well and are content. I have heard nothing of
you or the children since I left Richmond. You must write there…. The
men are suffering from the measles, etc., as elsewhere, but are cheerful
and light-hearted. The atmosphere, when it is not raining, is delightful.
You must give much love to daughter and ‘Life’ [Pet names for his two
daughters, Mary and Mildred]. I want to see you all very much, but I know
not when that can be. May God guard and protect you all. In Him alone is
our hope. Remember me to Ned [M. Edward Carter Turner, of Kinloch, my
father’s cousin] and all at ‘Kinloch’ and Avenel [The house of the
Berbeleys, in Fauquier County]. Send word to Miss Lou Washington [Eldest
daughter of John Augustin Washington] that her father is sitting on his
blanket sewing the strap on his haversack. I think she out to be here to
do it. Always yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

In a letter to his two daughters who were in Richmond, he writes:

“Valley Mountain, August 29, 1861.

“My Precious Daughters: I have just received your letters of the 24th and
am rejoiced to hear that you are well and enjoying the company of your
friends…. It rains here all the time, literally. There has not been
sunshine enough since my arrival to dry my clothes. Perry [his servant—had
been in the dining-room at Arlington] is my washerman, and socks and
towels suffer. But the worst of the rain is that the ground has become so
saturated with water that the constant travel on the roads has made them
almost impassable, so that I cannot get up sufficient supplies for the
troops to move. It is raining now. Has been all day, last night, day
before, and day before that, etc., etc. But we must be patient. It is
quite cool, too. I have on all my winter clothes and am writing in my
overcoat. All the clouds seem to concentrate over this ridge of mountains,
and by whatever wind they are driven, give us rain. The mountains are
magnificent. The sugar-maples are beginning to turn already, and the grass
is luxuriant.

“‘Richmond’ [His horse] has not been accustomed to such fare or such
treatment. But he gets along tolerably, complains some, and has not much
superfluous flesh. There has been much sickness among the men—measles,
etc.—and the weather has been unfavourable. I hope their attacks are
nearly over, and that they will come out with the sun. Our party has kept
well…. Although we may be too weak to break through the lines, I feel
well satisfied that the enemy cannot at present reach Richmond by either
of these routes, leading to Staunton, Milborough or Covington. He must
find some other way…. God Bless you, my children, and preserve you from
all harm is the constant prayer of

“Your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.”

On account of rheumatism, my mother was anxious to go to the Hot Springs
in Bath County. She was now staying at “Audley,” Clarke County, Virginia,
with Mrs. Lorenzo Lewis, who had just sent her six sons into the army.
Bath County was not very far from the seat of war in western Virginia, and
my father was asked as to the safety of the Hot Springs from occupation by
the enemy. He writes as follows to my mother:

“Valley Mountain, September 1, 1861.

“I have received, dearest Mary, your letter of August 18th from Audley,
and am very glad to get news of your whereabouts…. I am very glad you
are enabled to see so many of your friends. I hope you have found all well
in your tour, and am very glad that our cousin Esther bears the separation
from all her sons so bravely. I have no doubt they will do good service in
our Southern cause, and wish they could be placed according to their
fancies…. I fear you have postponed your visit to the Hot too late. It
must be quite cold there now, judging from the temperature here, and it
has been raining in these mountains since July 24th…. I see Fitzhugh
quite often, though he is encamped four miles from me. He is very well and
not at all harmed by the campaign.

“We have a great deal of sickness among the soldiers, and now those on the
sick-list would form an army. The measles is still among them, though I
hope it is dying out. But it is a disease which though light in childhood
is severe in manhood, and prepares the system for other attacks. The
constant cold rains, with no shelter but tents, have aggravated it. All
these drawbacks, with impassable roads, have paralysed our efforts. Still
I think you will be safe at the Hot, for the present. We are right up to
the enemy on three lines, and in the Kanawha he has been pushed beyond the
Gauley…. My poor little Rob I never hear from scarcely. He is busy, I
suppose, and knows not where to direct….

“With much affection,

“R. E. Lee.”

From the same camp, to my mother, on September 9th:

“…I hope from the tone of your letter that you feel better, and wish I
could see you and be with you. I trust we may meet this fall somewhere, if
only for a little time. I have written to Robert telling him if, after
considering what I have previously said to him on the subject of his
joining the company he desires under Major Ross, he still thinks it best
for him to do so, I will not withhold my consent. It seems he will be
eighteen; I thought seventeen. I am unable to judge for him and he must
decide for himself. In reply to a recent letter from him to me on the same
subject, I said to him all I could. I pray God to bring him to the right
conclusion…. For military news, I must refer you to the papers. You will
see there more than ever occurs, and what does occur the relation must be
taken with some allowance. Do not believe anything you see about me. There
has been no battle, only skirmishing with the outposts, and nothing done
of any moment. The weather is still unfavourable to us. The roads, or
rather tracks of mud, are almost impassable and the number of sick
large….

“Truly and devotedly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

My mother was at the Hot Springs—I had taken her there and was with
her. I don’t now remember why, but it was decided that I should return to
the University of Virginia, which opened October 1st, and continue my
course there. While at the Springs my mother received this letter from my
father:

“Valley Mount, September 17, 1861.

“I received, dear Mary, your letter of the 5th by Beverly Turner [A son of
Mr. Edward Turner, of ‘Kinloch’], who is a nice young soldier. I am pained
to see find young men like him, of education and standing, from all the
old and respectable families in the State, serving in the ranks. I hope in
time they will receive their reward. I met him as I was returning from an
expedition to the enemy’s works, which I had hoped to have surprised on
the morning of the 12th, both at Cheat Mountain and on Valley River. All
the attacking parties with great labour had reached their destination,
over mountains considered impassable to bodies of troops, notwithstanding
a heavy storm that set in the day before and raged all night, in which
they had to stand up till daylight. Their arms were then unserviceable,
and they in poor condition for a fierce assault against artillery and
superior numbers. After waiting till 10 o’clock for the assault on Cheat
Mountain, which did not take place, and which was to have been the signal
for the rest, they were withdrawn, and, after waiting three days in front
of the enemy, hoping he would come out of his trenches, we returned to our
position at this place. I can not tell you my regret and mortification at
the untoward events that caused the failure of the plan. I had taken every
precaution to ensure success and counted on it, but the Ruler of the
Universe willed otherwise and sent a storm to disconcert a well-laid plan,
and to destroy my hopes. We are no worse off now than before, except the
disclosure of our plan, against which they will guard. We met with one
heavy loss which grieves me deeply: Colonel Washington accompanied
Fitzhugh on a reconnoitering expedition, and I fear they were carried away
by their zeal and approached the enemy’s pickets. The first they knew was
a volley from a concealed party within a few yards of them. Their balls
passed through the Colonel’s body, then struck Fitzhugh’s horse, and the
horse of one of the men was killed. Fitzhugh mounted the Colonel’s horse
and brought him off. I am much grieved. He was always anxious to go on
these expeditions. This was the first day I assented. Since I had been
thrown into such intimate relations with him, I had learned to appreciate
him very highly. Morning and evening have I seen him on his knees praying
to his Maker.

“‘The righteous perisheth and no man layeth it to heart, and merciful men
are taken away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the
evil to come.’ May God have mercy on us all! I suppose you are at the Hot
Springs and will direct to you there. Our poor sick, I know, suffer much.
They bring it on themselves by not doing what they are told. They are
worse than children, for the latter can be forced….

“Truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

On the same day he wrote the Governor of Virginia:

“Valley Mountain, September 17, 1861.

“My Dear Governor: I received your very kind note of the 5th instant, just
as I was about to accompany General Loring’s command on an expedition to
the enemy’s works in front, or I would have before thanked you for the
interest you take in my welfare, and your too flattering expressions of my
ability. Indeed, you overrate me much, and I feel humbled when I weigh
myself by your standard. I am, however, very grateful for your confidence,
and I can answer for my sincerity in the earnest endeavour I make to
advance the cause I have so much at heart, though conscious of the slow
progress I make. I was very sanguine of taking the enemy’s works on last
Thursday morning. I had considered the subject well. With great effort the
troops intended for the surprise had reached their destination, having
traversed twenty miles of steep, rugged mountain paths; and the last day
through a terrible storm, which lasted all night, and in which they had to
stand drenched to the skin in cold rain. Still, their spirits were good.
When morning broke, I could see the enemy’s tents on Valley River, at the
point on the Huttonsville road just below me. It was a tempting sight. We
waited for the attack on Cheat Mountain, which was to be the signal. Till
10 A. M. the men were cleaning their unserviceable arms. But the signal
did not come. All chance for a surprise was gone. The provisions of the
men had been destroyed the preceding day by the storm. They had nothing to
eat that morning, could not hold out another day, and were obliged to be
withdrawn. The party sent to Cheat Mountain to take that in rear had also
to be withdrawn. The attack to come off the east side failed from the
difficulties in the way; the opportunity was lost, and our plan
discovered. It is a grievous disappointment to me, I assure you, but for
the rain-storm, I have no doubt it would have succeeded. This, Governor,
is for your own eye. Please do not speak of it; we must try again. Our
greatest loss is the death of my dear friend, Colonel Washington. He and
my son were reconnoitering the front of the enemy. They came unawares upon
a concealed party, who fired upon them within twenty yards, and the
Colonel fell pierced by three balls. My son’s horse received three shots,
but he escaped on the Colonel’s horse. His zeal for the cause to which he
had devoted himself carried him, I fear, too far. We took some seventy
prisoners, and killed some twenty-five or thirty of the enemy. Our loss
was small besides what I have mentioned. Our greatest difficulty is the
roads. It has been raining in these mountains about six weeks. It is
impossible to get along. It is that which has paralysed all our efforts.
With sincere thanks for your good wishes,

“I am very truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.

“His Excellency, Governor John Letcher.”

Chapter III — Letters to Wife and Daughters

From Camp on Sewell’s Mountain—Quotation from Colonel Taylor’s book—From
Professor Wm. P. Trent—From Mr. Davis’s Memorial Address—Defense
of Southern ports—Christmas, 1861—The General visits his
father’s grave—Commands, under the President, all the armies of the
Confederate States

The season being too far advanced to attempt any further movements away
from our base of supplies, and the same reasons preventing any advance of
the Federal forces, the campaign in this part of Virginia ended for the
winter. In the Kanawha Valley, however, the enemy had been and were quite
active. Large reinforcements under General Rosecrans were sent there to
assist General Cox, the officer in command at that point. General Loring,
leaving a sufficient force to watch the enemy at Cheat Mountain, moved the
rest of his army to join the commands of Generals Floyd and Wise, who were
opposing the advance of Cox. General Lee, about September 20th, reached
General Floyd’s camp, and immediately proceeded to arrange the lines of
defense. Shortly after his arrival there he wrote to my mother at the Hot
Springs:

“Camp on Sewell’s Mountain,

“September 26, 1881.

“I have just received, dear Mary, your letter of the 17th and 19th
instants, with one from Robert. I have but little time for writing
to-night, and will, therefore, write to you…. Having now disposed of
business matters, I will say how glad I am to hear from you, and to learn
that you have reached the Hot in safety, with daughter and Rob. I pray
that its healing waters may benefit you all. I am glad to hear of
Charlotte and the girls, and hope all will go well with them. I infer you
received my letter before leaving Valley Mountain, though you did not
direct your letter ‘via Lewisburg, Greenbrier County,’ and hence its
delay. I told you of the death of Colonel Washington. I grieve for his
loss, though trust him to the mercy of our Heavenly Father. May He have
mercy on us all.

“It is raining heavily. The men are all exposed on the mountain, with the
enemy opposite to us. We are without tents, and for two nights I have lain
buttoned up in my overcoat. To-day my tent came up and I am in it. Yet I
fear I shall not sleep for thinking of the poor men. I wrote about socks
for myself. I have no doubt the yarn ones you mention will be very
acceptable to the men here or elsewhere. If you can send them here, I will
distribute them to the most needy. Tell Rob I could not write to him for
want of time. My heart is always with you and my children. May God guard
and bless you all is the constant prayer of

“Your devoted husband,

“R. E. Lee.”

To my mother, still at the Hot Springs:

“Sewell’s Mountain, October 7, 1861.

“I received, dear Mary, your letter by Doctor Quintard, with the cotton
socks. Both were very acceptable, though the latter I have not yet tried.
At the time of their reception the enemy was threatening an attack, which
was continued till Saturday night, when under cover of darkness we
suddenly withdrew. Your letter of the 2d, with the yarn socks, four pairs,
was handed to me when I was preparing to follow, and I could not at the
time attend to either. But I have since, and as I found Perry in desperate
need, I bestowed a couple of pairs on him, as a present from you, the
others I have put in my trunk and suppose they will fall to the lot of
Meredith [His cook—a servant from the White House], into the state
of whose hose I have not yet inquired. Should any sick man require them
first, he shall have them, but Meredith will have no one near to supply
him but me, and will naturally expect that attention. I hope, dear Mary,
you and daughter, as well as poor little Rob, have derived some benefit
from the sanitary baths of the Hot. What does daughter intend to do during
the winter? And, indeed, what do you? It is time you were determining.
There is no prospect of your returning to Arlington. I think you had
better select some comfortable place in the Carolinas or Georgia, and all
board together. If Mildred goes to school at Raleigh, why not go there? It
is a good opportunity to try a warmer climate for your rheumatism. If I
thought our enemies would not make a vigorous move against Richmond, I
would recommend to rent a house there. But under these circumstances I
would not feel as if you were permanently located if there. I am ignorant
where I shall be. In the field somewhere, I suspect, so I have little hope
of being with you, though I hope to be able to see you…. I heard from
Fitzhugh the other day. He is well, though his command is greatly reduced
by sickness. I wished much to bring him with me; but there is too much
cavalry on this line now, and I am dismounting them. I could not,
therefore, order more. The weather is almost as bad here as in the
mountains I left. There was a drenching rain yesterday, and as I had left
my overcoat in camp I was thoroughly wet from head to foot. It has been
raining ever since and is now coming down with a will. But I have my
clothes out on the bushes and they will be well washed.

“The force of the enemy, by a few prisoners captured yesterday and
civilians on the road, is put down from 17,000 to 20,000. Some went as
high as 22,000. General Floyd thinks 18,000. I do not think it exceeds
9,000 or 10,000, though it exceeds ours. I wish he had attacked us, as I
believe he would have been repulsed with great loss. His plan was to
attack us at all points at the same time. The rumbling of his wheels,
etc., was heard by our pickets, but as that was customary at night in the
moving and placing of his cannon, the officer of the day to whom it was
reported paid no particular attention to it, supposing it to be a
preparation for attack in the morning. When day appeared, the bird had
flown, and the misfortune was that the reduced condition of our horses for
want of provender, exposure to cold rains in these mountains, and want of
provisions for the men prevented the vigorous pursuit and following up
that was proper. We can only get up provisions from day to day—which
paralyses our operations.

“I am sorry, as you say, that the movements of the armies cannot keep pace
with the expectations of the editors of papers. I know they can regulate
matters satisfactorily to themselves on paper. I wish they could do so in
the field. No one wishes them more success than I do and would be happy to
see them have full swing. I hope something will be done to please them.
Give much love to the children and everybody, and believe me.

“Always yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

Colonel Taylor, in his “Four Years with General Lee,” says:

“We had now reached the latter days of October. The lateness of the season
and the condition of the roads precluded the idea of earnest, aggressive
operations, and the campaign in western Virginia was virtually concluded.

“Judged from its results, it must be confessed that this series of
operations was a failure. At its conclusion, a large portion of the State
was in possession of the Federals, including the rich valleys of the Ohio
and Kanawha rivers, and so remained until the close of the war. For this,
however, General Lee cannot reasonably be held accountable. Disaster had
befallen the Confederate arms, and the worst had been accomplished before
he had reached the theatre of operations; the Alleghanies there
constituted the dividing line between the hostile forces, and in this
network of mountains, sterile and rendered absolutely impracticable by a
prolonged season of rain, Nature had provided an insurmountable barrier to
operations in this transmontane country…. It was doubtless because of
similar embarrassments that the Federal general retired, in the face of
inferior numbers, to a point near his base of supplies.”

Professor William P. Trent, in his “Robert E. Lee,” after describing
briefly the movements of the contending armies, writes:

“There was, then, nothing to do but to acknowledge the campaign a failure.
The Confederate Government withdrew its troops and sent them elsewhere.
Lee, whom the press abused and even former friends began to regard as
overrated, was assigned to command the Department of South Carolina,
Georgia, and Florida; and her western counties were lost to the Old
Dominion forever. It must have been a crushing blow to Lee at the time,
but he bore it uncomplainingly…. And when all is said, no commander,
however great, can succeed against bad roads, bad weather, sickness of
troops, lack of judgement and harmony among subordinates, and a strong,
alert enemy. Yet this is what Lee was expected to do.”

Mr. Davis, in an address before a memorial meeting at Richmond in 1870,
speaking of General Lee in this campaign, said:

“He came back, carrying the heavy weight of defeat, and unappreciated by
the people whom he served, for they could not know, as I knew, that, if
his plans and orders had been carried out, the result would have been
victory rather than retreat. You did not know it; for I should not have
known it had he not breathed it in my ear only at my earnest request, and
begging that nothing be said about it. The clamour which then arose
followed him when he went to South Carolina, so that it became necessary
on his departure to write a letter to the Governor of that State, telling
him what manner of man he was. Yet, through all this, with a magnanimity
rarely equalled, he stood in silence, without defending himself or
allowing others to defend him, for he was unwilling to offend any one who
was wearing a sword and striking blows for the Confederacy.”

After returning to Richmond, my father resumed his position as advisor and
counsellor to Mr. Davis. From there he writes to my mother, who had left
the Hot Springs and gone on to “Shirley,” on James River:

“Richmond, November 5, 1861.

“My Dear Mary: I received last night your letter of the 2d, and would have
answered it at once, but was detained with the Secretary till after 11 P.
M. I fear now I may miss the mail. Saturday evening I tried to get down to
you to spend Sunday, but could find no government boat going down, and the
passenger boats all go in the morning. I then went to the stable and got
out my horse, but it was near night then and I was ignorant both of the
road and distance and I gave it up. I was obliged to be here Monday, and
as it would have consumed all Sunday to go and come, I have remained for
better times. The President said I could not go to-day, so I must see what
can be done to-morrow. I will come, however, wherever you are, either
Shirley or the White House, as soon as possible, and if not sooner,
Saturday at all events…. I am, as ever, Yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

The day after this letter was written, my father was ordered to South
Carolina for the purpose of directing and supervising the construction of
a line of defense along the southern coast. I give here several letters to
members of his family which tell of his duties and manner of life:

“Savannah, November 18, 1861.

“My Dear Mary: This is the first moment I have had to write to you, and
now am waiting the call to breakfast, on my way to Brunswick, Fernandina,
etc. This is my second visit to Savannah. Night before last, I returned to
Coosawhatchie, South Carolina, from Charleston, where I have placed my
headquarters, and last night came here, arriving after midnight. I
received in Charleston your letter from Shirley. It was a grievous
disappointment to me not to have seen you, but better times will come, I
hope…. You probably have seen the operations of the enemy’s fleet. Since
their first attack they have been quiescent apparently, confining
themselves to Hilton Head, where they are apparently fortifying.

“I have no time for more. Love to all.

“Yours very affectionately and truly,

“R. E. Lee.”

“Charleston, November 15, 1861.

“My Precious Daughter: I have received your letter forwarded to Richmond
by Mr. Powell, and I also got, while in the West, the letter sent by B.
Turner. I can write but seldom, but your letters always give me great
pleasure. I am glad you had such a pleasant visit to ‘Kinloch.’ I have
passed a great many pleasant days there myself in my young days. Now you
must labour at your books and gain knowledge and wisdom. Do not mind what
Rob says. I have a beautiful white beard. It is much admired. At least,
much remarked on. You know I have told you not to believe what the young
men tell you. I was unable to see your poor mother when in Richmond.
Before I could get down I was sent off here. Another forlorn hope
expedition. Worse than West Virginia…. I have much to do in this
country. I have been to Savannah and have to go again. The enemy is quiet
after his conquest of Port Royal Harbor and his whole fleet is lying
there. May God guard and protect you, my dear child, prays your

“Affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

The above letter was written to his youngest daughter Mildred, who was at
school in Winchester, Virginia. Two of my sisters were in King George
County, Virginia, at “Clydale,” the summer home of Dr. Richard Stuart,
with whose family we had been a long time intimate. From there they had
driven to “Stratford,” in Westmoreland County, about thirty miles distant,
where my father was born. They had written him of this trip, and this is
his reply:

“Savannah, November 22, 1861.

“My Darling Daughters: I have just received your joint letter of October
24th from ‘Clydale.’ It was very cheering to me, and the affection and
sympathy you expressed were very grateful to my feelings. I wish indeed I
could see you, be with you, and never again part from you. God only can
give me that happiness. I pray for it night and day. But my prayers I know
are not worthy to be heard. I received your former letter in western
Virginia, but had no opportunity to reply to it. I enjoyed it,
nevertheless. I am glad you do not wait to hear from me, as that would
deprive me of the pleasure of hearing from you often. I am so pressed with
business. I am much pleased at your description of Stratford and your
visit. It is endeared to me by many recollections, and it has been always
a great desire of my life to be able to purchase it. Now that we have no
other home, and the one we so loved has been foully polluted, the desire
is stronger with me than ever. The horse-chestnut you mention in the
garden was planted by my mother. I am sorry the vault is so dilapidated.
You did not mention the spring, on of the objects of my earliest
recollections. I am very glad, my precious Agnes, that you have become so
early a riser. It is a good habit, and in these times for mighty works
advantage should be taken of every hour. I much regretted being obliged to
come from Richmond without seeing your poor mother…. This is my second
visit to Savannah. I have been down the coast to Amelia Island to examine
the defenses. They are poor indeed, and I have laid off work enough to
employ our people a month. I hope our enemy will be polite enough to wait
for us. It is difficult to get our people to realise their position….
Good-bye, my dear daughters.

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

To his daughter Annie:

“Coosawhatchie, South Carolina, December 8, 1861.

“My Precious Annie: I have taken the only quiet time I have been able to
find on this holy day to thank you for your letter of the 29th ulto. One
of the miseries of war is that there is no Sabbath, and the current of
work and strife has no cessation. How can we be pardoned for all our
offenses! I am glad that you have joined your mamma again and that some of
you are together at last. It would be a great happiness to me were you all
at some quiet place, remote from the vicissitudes of war, where I could
consider you safe. You must have had a pleasant time at ‘Clydale.’ I hope
indeed that ‘Cedar Grove’ may be saved from the ruin and pillage that
other places have received at the hands of our enemies, who are pursuing
the same course here as the have practised elsewhere. Unfortunately, too,
the numerous deep estuaries, all accessible to their ships, expose the
multitude of islands to their predatory excursions, and what they leave is
finished by the negroes whose masters have deserted their plantations,
subject to visitations of the enemy. I am afraid Cousin Julia [Mrs.
Richard Stuart] will not be able to defend her home if attacked by the
vandals, for they have little respect for anybody, and if they catch the
Doctor [Doctor Richard Stuart] they will certainly send him to Fort Warren
or La Fayette. I fear, too, the Yankees will bear off their pretty
daughters. I am very glad you visited ‘Chatham’ [the home of the
Fitzhughs, where my grandmother Custis was born]. I was there many years
ago, when it was the residence of Judge Coulter, and some of the avenues
of poplar, so dear to your grandmama, still existed. I presume they have
all gone now. The letter that you and Agnes wrote from ‘Clydale’ I replied
to and sent to that place. You know I never have any news. I am trying to
get a force to make headway on our defenses, but it comes in very slow.
The people do not seem to realise that there is a war.

“It is very warm here, if that is news, and as an evidence I inclose some
violets I plucked in the yard of a deserted house I occupy. I wish I could
see you and give them in person…. Good-bye, my precious child. Give much
love to everybody, and believe me,

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

From the same place, on December 2d, he writes to my mother:

“I received last night, dear Mary, your letter of the 12th, and am
delighted to learn that you are all well and so many of you are together.
I am much pleased that Fitzhugh has an opportunity to be with you all and
will not be so far removed from his home in his new field of action. I
hope to see him at the head of a find regiment and that he will be able to
do good service in the cause of his country. If Mary and Rob get to you
Christmas, you will have quite a family party, especially if Fitzhugh is
not obliged to leave his home and sweet wife before that time. I shall
think of you all on that holy day more intensely than usual, and shall
pray to the great God of Heaven to shower His blessings upon you in this
world, and to unite you all in His courts in the world to come. With a
grateful heart I thank Him for His preservation thus far, and trust to His
mercy and kindness for the future. Oh, that I were more worthy, more
thankful for all He has done and continues to do for me! Perry and
Meredith [his two coloured servants] send their respects to all….

“Truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

From the same place, on Christmas Day, he writes to my mother:

“I cannot let this day of grateful rejoicing pass, dear Mary, without some
communication with you. I am thankful for the many among the past that I
have passed with you, and the remembrance of them fills me with pleasure.
For those on which we have been separated we must not repine. Now we must
be content with the many blessings we receive. If we can only become
sensible of our transgressions, so as to be fully penitent and forgiven,
that this heavy punishment under which we labour may with justice be
removed from us and the whole nation, what a gracious consummation of all
that we have endured it will be!

“I hope you had a pleasant visit to Richmond…. If you were to see this
place, I think you would have it, too. I am here but little myself. The
days I am not here I visit some point exposed to the enemy, and after our
dinner at early candle-light, am engaged in writing till eleven or twelve
o’clock at night…. AS to our old home, if not destroyed, it will be
difficult ever to be recognised. Even if the enemy had wished to preserve
it, it would almost have been impossible. With the number of troops
encamped around it, the change of officers, etc., the want of fuel,
shelter, etc., and all the dire necessities of war, it is vain to think of
its being in a habitable condition. I fear, too, books, furniture, and the
relics of Mount Vernon will be gone. It is better to make up our minds to
a general loss. They cannot take away the remembrance of the spot, and the
memories of those that to us rendered it sacred. That will remain to us as
long as life will last, and that we can preserve. In the absence of a
home, I wish I could purchase ‘Stratford.’ That is the only other place
that I could go to, now accessible to us, that would inspire me with
feelings of pleasure and local love. You and the girls could remain there
in quiet. It is a poor place, but we could make enough cornbread and bacon
for our support, and the girls could weave us clothes. I wonder if it is
for sale and at how much. Ask Fitzhugh to try to find out, when he gets to
Fredericksburg. You must not build your hopes on peace on account of the
United States going into a war with England [on account of the Trent
affair]. She will be very loath to do that, notwithstanding the bluster of
the Northern papers. Her rulers are not entirely mad, and if they find
England is in earnest, and that war or a restitution of their captives
must be the consequence, they will adopt the latter. We must make up our
minds to fight our battles and win our independence alone. No one will
help us. We require no extraneous aid, if true to ourselves. But we must
be patient. It is not a light achievement and cannot be accomplished at
once…. I wrote a few days since, giving you all the news, and have now
therefore nothing to relate. The enemy is still quiet and increasing in
strength. We grow in size slowly but are working hard. I have had a day of
labour instead of rest, and have written intervals to some of the
children. I hope they are with you, and inclose my letters….

“Affectionately and truly,

“R. E. Lee.”

In the next letter to my mother he describes a visit to the grave of his
father at Dungeness, on Cumberland Island, Georgia. Dungeness was
presented to General Nathaniel Green by the State of Georgia for services
rendered her in the Revolution. General Henry Lee, returning from the West
Indies, where he had been for some months on account of his health, landed
there, and in a few days died, March 15, 1818. He was most kindly cared
for by the daughter of his old commander, and was buried there in the
garden of Dungeness. At the time of my father’s visit the place belonged
to a great-nephew of General Green, Mr. Nightingale.

“Coosawhatchie, South Carolina, January 18, 1862.

“On my return, day before yesterday, from Florida, dear Mary, I received
your letter of the 1st inst. I am very glad to find that you had a
pleasant family meeting Christmas, and that it was so large. I am truly
grateful for all the mercies we enjoy, notwithstanding the miseries of
war, and join heartily in the wish that the next year may find us at peace
with all the world. I am delighted to hear that our little grandson [his
first grandchild—son of my brother Fitzhugh. He died in 1863] is
improving so fast and is becoming such a perfect gentleman. May his path
be strewn with flowers and his life with happiness. I am very glad to hear
also that his dear papa is promoted. It will be gratifying to him and
increase, I hope, his means of usefulness. Robert wrote me he saw him on
his way through Charlottesville with his squadron, and that he was well.
While at Fernandina I went over to Cumberland Island and walked up to
‘Dungeness,’ the former residence of General Green. It was my first visit
to the house, and I had the gratification at length of visiting my
father’s grave. He died there, you may recollect, on his way from the West
Indies, and was interred in one corner of the family cemetery. The spot is
marked by a plain marble slab, with his name, age, and her daughter, Mrs.
Shaw, and her husband. The place is at present owned by Mr. Nightingale,
nephew of Mrs. Shaw, who married a daughter of Mr. James King. The family
have moved into the interior of Georgia, leaving only a few servants and a
white gardener on the place. The garden was beautiful, inclosed by the
finest hedge I have ever seen. It was of the wild olive, which, in Mrs.
Shaw’s lifetime, during my tour of duty in Savannah in early life, was so
productive, had been destroyed by an insect that has proved fatal to the
orange on the coast of Georgia and Florida. There was a fine grove of
olives, from which, I learn, Mr. Nightingale procures oil. The garden was
filled with roses and beautiful vines, the names of which I do not know.
Among them was the tomato-vine in full bearing, with the ripe fruit on it.
There has yet been no frost in that region of country this winter. I went
in the dining-room and parlour, in which the furniture still remained….
The house has never been finished, but is a fine, large one and
beautifully located. A magnificent grove of live-oaks envelops the road
from the landing to the house…. Love to everybody and God bless you all.

“Truly and faithfully yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

From the same place there is another letter to my mother:

“Coosawhatchie, South Carolina, January 28, 1862.

“I have just returned from Charleston, and received your letter of the
14th, dear Mary…. I was called to Charleston by the appearance off the
bar of a fleet of vessels the true character and intent of which could not
be discerned during the continuance of the storm which obscured the view.
Saturday, however, all doubt was dispelled, and from the beach on
Sullivan’s Island the preparations for sinking them were plainly seen.
Twenty-one were visible the first day of my arrival, but at the end of the
storm, Saturday, only seventeen were seen. Five of these were vessels of
war: what became of the other four is not known. The twelve old
merchantmen were being stripped of their spars, masts, etc., and by sunset
seven were prepared apparently for sinking across the mouth of the Maffitt
Channel, they were placed in a line about two hundred yards apart, about
four miles from Fort Moultrie. They will do but little harm to the
channel, I think, but may deter vessels from running out at night for fear
of getting on them. There now seem to be indications of a movement against
Savannah. The enemy’s gunboats are pushing up the creek to cut off
communication between the city and Fort Pulaski on Cockspur Island. Unless
I have better news, I must go there to-day. There are so many points of
attack, and so little means to meet them on the water, that there is but
little rest…. Perry and Meredith are well and send regards to
everybody….

“Very truly and sincerely yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

It was most important that the defenses of Charleston and Savannah should
be made as strong as possible. The difficulties in the way were many and
great, but General Lee’s perseverance overcame most of them. The result
was that neither of those cities fell till the close of the war, and a
region of country was preserved to the Confederacy necessary for the
feeding of its armies. Of course all of this was not accomplished by my
father alone in the four months he was there; but the plans of defense he
laid down were successfully followed.

While in Savannah, he writes to my mother:

“Savannah, February 8, 1862.

“I wrote to you, dear Mary, the day I left Coosawhatchie for this place. I
have been here ever since, endeavouring to push forward the work for the
defense of the city, which has lagged terribly and which ought to have
been finished. But it is difficult to arouse ourselves from ease and
comfort to labour and self-denial.

“Guns are scarce, as well as ammunition, and I shall have to break up
batteries on the coast to provide, I fear, for this city. Our enemies are
endeavouring to work their way through the creeks that traverse the
impassable marshes stretching along the interior of the coast and
communicating with the sounds and sea, through which the Savannah flows,
and thus avoid the entrance of the river commanded by Fort Pulaski. Their
boats require only seven feet of water to float them, and the tide rises
seven feet, so that at high water they can work their way and rest on the
mud at low. They are also provided with dredges and appliances for
removing obstructions through the creeks in question, which cannot be
guarded by batteries. I hope, however, we shall be able to stop them, and
I daily pray to the Giver of all victories to enable us to do so…. I
trust you are all well and doing well, and wish I could do anything to
promote either. I have more here than I can do, and more, I fear, than I
can well accomplish. It is so very hard to get anything done, and while
all wish well and mean well, it is so different to get them to act
energetically and promptly…. The news from Kentucky and Tennessee is not
favourable, but we must make up our minds to meet with reverses and
overcome them. I hope God will at last crown our efforts with success. But
the contest must be long and severe, and the whole country has to go
through much suffering. It is necessary we should be humbled and taught to
be less boastful, less selfish, and more devoted to right and justice to
all the world…. Always yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

To my mother:

“Savannah, February 23, 1862.

“I have been wishing, dear Mary, to write to you for more than a week, but
every day and every hour seem so taken up that I have found it
impossible…. The news from Tennessee and North Carolina is not all
cheering, and disasters seem to be thickening around us. It calls for
renewed energies and redoubled strength on our part, and, I hope, will
produce it. I fear our soldiers have not realised the necessity for the
endurance and labour they are called upon to undergo, and that it is
better to sacrifice themselves than our cause. God, I hope, will shield us
and give us success. Here the enemy is progressing slowly in his designs,
and does not seem prepared, or to have determined when or where to make
his attack. His gunboats are pushing up all the creeks and marshes of the
Savannah, and have attained a position so near the river as to shell the
steamers navigating it. None have as yet been struck. I am engaged in
constructing a line of defense at Fort Jackson which, if time permits and
guns can be obtained, I hope will keep them out. They can bring such
overwhelming force in all their movements that it has the effect to
demoralise our new troops. The accounts given in the papers of the
quantity of cotton shipped to New York are, of course, exaggerated. It is
cotton in the seed and dirt, and has to be ginned and cleaned after its
arrival. It is said that the negroes are employed in picking and
collecting it, and are paid a certain amount. But all these things are
gathered from rumour, and can only be believed as they appear probable,
which this seems to be…. I went yesterday to church, being the day
appointed for fasting and prayer. I wish I could have passed it more
devoutly. The bishop (Elliott) gave a most beautiful prayer for the
President, which I hope may be heard and answered…. Here the yellow
jasmine, red-bud, orange-tree, etc., perfume the whole woods, and the
japonicas and azaleas cover the garden. Perry and Meredith are well. May
God bless and keep you always is the constant prayer of your husband,

“R. E. Lee.”

To his daughter Annie:

“Savannah, March 2, 1862.

“My Precious Annie: It has been a long time since I have written to you,
but you have been constantly in my thoughts. I think of you all,
separately and collectively, in the busy hours of the day and the silent
hours of the night, and the recollection of each and every one whiles away
the long night, in which my anxious thoughts drive away sleep. But I
always feel that you and Agnes at those times are sound asleep, and that
is immaterial to either where the blockaders are or what their progress is
in the river. I hope you are all well, and as happy as you can be in these
perilous times to our country. They look dark at present, and it is plain
we have not suffered enough, laboured enough, repented enough, to deserve
success. But they will brighten after awhile, and I trust that a merciful
God will arouse us to a sense of our danger, bless our honest efforts, and
drive back our enemies to their homes. Our people have not been earnest
enough, have thought too much of themselves and their ease, and instead of
turning out to a man, have been content to nurse themselves and their
dimes, and leave the protection of themselves and families to others. To
satisfy their consciences, they have been clamorous in criticising what
others have done, and endeavoured to prove that they ought to do nothing.
This is not the way to accomplish our independence. I have been doing all
I can with our small means and slow workmen to defend the cities and coast
here. Against ordinary numbers we are pretty strong, but against the hosts
our enemies seem able to bring everywhere there is no calculating. But if
our men will stand to their work, we shall give them trouble and damage
them yet. They have worked their way across the marshes, with their
dredges, under cover of their gunboats, to the Savannah River, about Fort
Pulaski. I presume they will endeavour to reduce the fort and thus open a
way for their vessels up the river. But we have an interior line they must
force before reaching the city. It is on this line we are working, slowly
to my anxious mind, but as fast as I can drive them…. Good-bye, my dear
child. May God bless you and our poor country.

“Your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.”

Soon after this letter was written my father was recalled to Richmond,
“and was assigned on the 13th of March, under the direction of the
President, to the conduct of the military operations of all the armies of
the Confederate States” [“Four Years with General Lee”]. My mother was
still at the White House, my brother’s place on the Pamunkey, and there my
father wrote to her:

“Richmond, March 14, 1862.

“My Dear Mary: I have been trying all the week to write to you, but have
not been able. I have been placed on duty here to conduct operations under
the direction of the President. It will give me great pleasure to do
anything I can to relieve him and serve the country, but I do not see
either advantage or pleasure in my duties. But I will not complain, but do
my best. I do not see at present either that it will enable me to see much
more of you. In the present condition of affairs no one can foresee what
may happen, nor in my judgement is it advisable for any one to make
arrangements with a view to permanency or pleasure. The presence of some
one at the White House is necessary as long as practicable. How long it
will be practicable for you an Charlotte to remain there I cannot say. The
enemy is pushing us back in all directions, and how far he will be
successful depends much upon our efforts and the mercy of Providence. I
shall, in all human probability, soon have to take the field, so for the
present I think things had better remain as they are. Write me your views.
If you think it best for you to come to Richmond I can soon make
arrangements for your comfort and shall be very glad of your company and
presence. We have experienced a great affliction both in our private and
public relations. Our good and noble Bishop Meade died last night. He was
very anxious to see you, sent you his love and kindest remembrances, and
had I known in time yesterday I should have sent expressly for you to come
up. But I did not know of his wish or condition till after the departure
of the cars yesterday. Between 6 and 7 P. M. yesterday he sent for me,
said he wished to bid me good-bye, and to give me his blessing, which he
did in the most affecting manner. Called me Robert and reverted to the
time I used to say the catechism to him. He invoked the blessing of God
upon me and the country. He spoke with difficulty and pain, but was
perfectly calm and clear. His hand was then cold and pulseless, yet he
shook mine warmly. ‘I ne’er shall look upon his like again.’ He died
during the night. I presume the papers of to-morrow will tell you all….

“Very truly and sincerely,

“R. E. Lee.”

The next day he again writes to my mother.

“Richmond, March 15, 1861.

“My Dear Mary: I wrote you yesterday by mail. On returning to my quarters
last night after 11 P. M. Custis informed me Robert had arrived and had
made up his mind to go into the army. He stayed at the Spottswood, and
this morning I went with him to get his overcoat, blankets, etc. There is
great difficulty in procuring what is good. They all have to be made, and
he has gone to the office of the adjutant-general of Virginia to engage in
the service. God grant it may be for his good as He has permitted it. I
must be resigned. I told him of the exemption granted by the Secretary of
War to the professors and students of the university, but he expressed no
desire to take advantage of it. It would be useless for him to go, if he
did not improve himself, nor would I wish him to go merely for exemption.
As I have done all in the matter that seems proper and right, I must now
leave the rest in the hands of our merciful God. I hope our son will do
his duty and make a good soldier…. I had expected yesterday to go to
North Carolina this morning, but the President changed his mind. I should
like to go to see you to-morrow, but in the present condition of things do
not feel that I ought to be absent…. I may have to go to North Carolina
or Norfolk yet. New Berne, N. C., has fallen into the hands of the enemy.
In Arkansas our troops under Van Dorn have had a hard battle, but nothing
decisive gained. Four generals killed—McIntosh, McCullogh, Herbert,
and Slack. General Price wounded. Loss on both sides said to be heavy….

“Very truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

Chapter IV — Army Life of Robert the Younger

Volunteer in Rockbridge Artillery—“Four Years with General Lee”
quoted—Meeting between father and son—Personal characteristics
of the General—Death of his daughter Annie—His son Robert
raised from the ranks—the horses, “Grace Darling” and “Traveller”—Fredricksburg—Freeing
slaves

Like all the students at the university, I was wild to go into the army,
and wrote my father that I was afraid the war would be over before I had a
chance to serve. His reply was that I need have no fear of that
contingency, that I must study hard and fit myself to be useful to my
country when I was old enough to be of real service to her; so, very
properly, I was not allowed to have my wish then. In a letter to my mother
written April, ‘61, he says:

“I wrote to Robert that I could not consent to take boys from their
schools and young men from their colleges and put them in the ranks at the
beginning of a war, when they are not wanted and when there are men enough
for that purpose. The war may last ten years. Where are our ranks to be
filled from then? I was willing for his company to continue at their
studies, to keep up its organisation, and to perfect themselves in their
military exercises, and to perform duty at the college; but NOT to be
called into the field. I therefore wished him to remain. If the exercises
at the college are suspended, he can then come home….”

But in the spring of ‘62 he allowed me to volunteer, and I having selected
the company I wished to join, the Rockbridge Artillery, he gave his
approval, and wrote me to come to Richmond, where he would give me my
outfit. He was just as sweet and loving to me then as in the old days. I
had seen so little of him during the last six years that I stood somewhat
in awe of him. I soon found, however, that I had no cause for such a
feeling. He took great pains in getting what was necessary for me. The
baggage of a private in a Confederate battery was not extensive. How
little was needed my father, even at that time, did not know, for though
he was very careful in providing me with the least amount he thought
necessary, I soon found by experience that he had given me a great deal
too much. It was characteristic of his consideration for others and the
unselfishness of his nature, that at this time, when weighed down,
harassed and burdened by the cares incident to bringing the untrained
forces of the Confederacy into the field, and preparing them for a
struggle the seriousness of which he knew better than any one, he should
give his time and attention to the minute details of fitting out his
youngest son as a private soldier. I think it worthy of note that the son
of the commanding general enlisting as a private in his army was not
thought to be anything remarkable or unusual. Neither my mother, my
family, my friends nor myself expected any other course, and I do not
suppose it ever occurred to my father to think of giving me an office,
which he could easily have done. I know it never occurred to me, nor did I
ever hear, at that time or afterwards, from anyone, that I might have been
entitled to better rank than that of a private because of my father’s
prominence in Virginia and in the Confederacy. With the good advice to be
obedient to all authority, to do my duty in everything, great or small, he
bade me good-bye, and sent me off to the Valley of Virginia, where the
command in which I was about to enlist were serving under “Stonewall
Jackson.”

Of my father’s military duties at this time, Colonel Taylor, in his “Four
Years with General Lee,” says:

“Exercising a constant supervision over the condition of affairs at each
important point, thoroughly informed as to the resources and necessities
of the several commanders of armies in the field, as well as of the
dangers which respectively threatened them, he was enabled to give them
wise counsel, to offer them valuable suggestions, and to respond to their
demands for assistance and support to such extent as the limited resources
of the government would permit. It was in great measure due to his advice
and encouragement that General Magruder so stoutly and so gallantly held
his lines on the Peninsula against General McClellan until troops could be
sent to his relief from General Johnston’s army. I recollect a telegraphic
despatch received by General Lee from General Magruder, in which he stated
that a council of war which he had convened had unanimously determined
that his army should retreat, in reply to which General Lee urged him to
maintain his lines, and to make as bold a front as possible, and
encouraged him with the prospect of being reinforced. No better
illustration of the nature and importance of the duty performed by General
Lee, while in this position, can be given than the following letter—one
of a number of similar import—written by him to General Jackson, the
‘rough’ or original draft of which is still in my possession:

“‘Headquarters, Richmond, Virginia, April 29, 1862.

“‘Major-General T. J. Jackson, commanding, etc., Swift Run Gap, Virginia.

“‘General: I have had the honour to receive your letter of yesterday’s
date. From the reports that reach me that are entitled to credit, the
force of the enemy opposite Fredericksburg is represented as too large to
admit of any diminution whatever of our army in that vicinity at present,
as it might not only invite an attack on Richmond, but jeopard the safety
of the army in the Peninsula. I regret, therefore, that your request to
have five thousand men sent from that army to reinforce you cannot be
complied with. Can you not draw enough from the command of General Edward
Johnson to warrant you in attacking Banks? The last return received from
that army show a present force of upward of thirty-five hundred, which, it
is hoped, has since increased by recruits and returned furloughs. As he
does not appear to be pressed, it is suggested that a portion of his force
might be temporarily removed from its present position and made available
for the movement in question. A decisive and successful blow at Banks’s
column would be fraught with the happiest results, and I deeply regret my
inability to send you the reinforcements you ask. If, however, you think
the combined forces of Generals Ewell and Johnson, with your own,
inadequate for the move, General Ewell might, with the assistance of
General Anderson’s army near Fredericksburg, strike at McDowell’s army
between that city and Acquia, with much promise of success; provided you
feel sufficiently strong alone to hold Banks in check.

“‘Very truly yours,

“‘R. E. Lee.’

“The reader will observe that this letter bears the date ‘April 29, 1862.’
On May 5th or 6th, General Jackson formed a junction between his own
command and that of General Edward Johnson; on May 8th, he defeated Milroy
at McDowell. Soon thereafter, the command of General Ewell was united to
that already under Jackson, and on the 25th of the same month Banks was
defeated and put to flight. Other incidents might be cited to illustrate
this branch of the important service rendered at this period by General
Lee. The line of earthworks around the city of Richmond, and other
preparations for resisting an attack, testified to the immense care and
labour bestowed upon the defense of the capital, so seriously threatened
by the army of General McClellan.”

On May 31st, the battle of Seven Pines was fought, and General Joseph E.
Johnston, commanding the Confederate Army, was severely wounded. The next
day, by order of the President, General Lee took command of the Army of
Northern Virginia.

The day after the battle of Cold Harbor, during the “Seven Days” fighting
around Richmond, was the first time I met my father after I had joined
General Jackson. The tremendous work Stonewall’s men had performed,
including the rapid march from the Valley of Virginia, the short rations,
the bad water, and the great heat, had begun to tell upon us, and I was
pretty well worn out. On this particular morning, my battery had not moved
from its bivouac ground of the previous night, but was parked in an open
field all ready, waiting orders. Most of the men were lying down, many
sleeping, myself among the latter number. To get some shade and to be out
of the way, I had crawled under a caisson, and was busy making up many
lost hours of rest. Suddenly I was rudely awakened by a comrade, prodding
me with a sponge-staff as I had failed to be aroused by his call, and was
told to get up and come out, that some one wished to see me. Half awake, I
staggered out, and found myself face to face with General Lee and his
staff. Their fresh uniforms, bright equipments and well-groomed horses
contrasted so forcibly with the war-worn appearance of our command that I
was completely dazed. It took me a moment or two to realise what it all
meant, but when I saw my father’s loving eyes and smile it became clear to
me that he had ridden by to see if I was safe and to ask how I was getting
along. I remember well how curiously those with him gazed at me, and I am
sure that it must have struck them as very odd that such a dirty, ragged,
unkempt youth could have been the son of this grand-looking victorious
commander.

I was introduced recently to a gentleman, now living in Washington, who,
when he found out my name, said he had met me once before and that it was
on this occasion. At that time he was a member of the Tenth Virginia
Infantry, Jackson’s Division, and was camped near our battery. Seeing
General Lee and staff approach, he, with others, drew near to have a look
at them, and thus witnessed the meeting between father and son. He also
said that he had often told of this incident as illustrating the peculiar
composition of our army.

After McClellan’s change of base to Harrison’s Landing on James River, the
army lay inactive around Richmond. I had a short furlough on account of
sickness, and saw my father; also my mother and sisters, who were then
living in Richmond. He was the same loving father to us all, as kind and
thoughtful of my mother, who as an invalid, and of us, his children, as if
our comfort and happiness were all he had to care for. His great victory
did not elate him, so far as one could see. In a letter of July 9th, to my
mother, he says:

“…I have returned to my old quarters and am filled with gratitude to our
Heavenly Father for all the mercies He has extended to us. Our success has
not been so great or complete as we could have desired, but God knows what
is best for us. Our enemy met with a heavy loss, from which it must take
him some time to recover, before he can recommence his operations….”

The honourable Alexander H. Stephens, Vice-President of the Confederate
States, says of General Lee:

“What I had seen General lee to be at first—child-like in simplicity
and unselfish in his character—he remained, unspoiled by praise and
by success.”

He was the same in victory or defeat, always calm and contained. Jackson,
having had a short rest, was now moved up to Gordonsville. I rejoined my
command and went with him, supplied with new clothes and a fresh stock of
health. In a letter to his three daughters who were in North Carolina,
dated Richmond, July 18, 1862, he writes describing my condition:

“Rob came out to see me one afternoon. He had been much worn down by his
marching and fighting, and had gone to his mamma to get a little rest. He
was thin but well, but, not being able to get a clean shirt, has not gone
to see Miss Norvell. He has rejoined his company and gone off with General
Jackson, as good as new again, I hope, inasmuch as your mother thought, by
means of a bath and a profusion of soap, she had cleansed the outward man
considerably, and replenished his lost wardrobe.”

From Gordonsville we were moved on to Orange County, and then commenced
that series of manoeuvres by the Army of Northern Virginia, beginning with
the battle of Cedar Mountain and ending with second Manassas.

When I again saw my father, he rode at the head of Longstreet’s men on the
field of Manassas, and we of Jackson’s corps, hard pressed for two days,
welcomed him and the divisions which followed him with great cheers. Two
rifle-guns from our battery had been detached and sent to join
Longstreet’s advance artillery, under General Stephen D. Lee, moving into
action on our right. I was “Number 1” at one of these guns. We advanced
rapidly, from hill to hill, firing as fast as we could, trying to keep
ahead of our gallant comrades, just arrived. As we were ordered to cease
firing from the last position we took, and the breathless cannoneers were
leaning on their guns, General Lee and staff galloped up, and from this
point of vantage scanned the movements of the enemy and of our forces. The
general reined in “Traveller” close by my gun, not fifteen feet from me. I
looked at them all some few minutes, and then went up and spoke to Captain
Mason of the staff, who had not the slightest idea who I was. When he
found me out he was greatly amused, and introduced me to several others
whom I already knew. My appearance was even less prepossessing that when I
had met my father at Cold Harbour, for I had been marching night and day
for four days, with no opportunity to wash myself or my clothes; my face
and hands were blackened with powder-sweat, and the few garments I had on
were ragged and stained with the red soil of that section. When the
General, after a moment or two, dropped his glass to his side, and turned
to his staff, Captain Mason said:

“General, here is some one who wants to speak to you.”

The General, seeing a much-begrimed artillery-man, sponge-staff in hand,
said:

“Well, my many, what can I do for you?” I replied:

“Why, General, don’t you know me?” and he, of course, at once recognised
me, and was very much amused at my appearance and most glad to see that I
was safe and well.

We, of the ranks, used to have our opinions on all subjects. The armies,
their generals, and their manoeuvres were freely discussed. If there was
one point on which the entire army was unanimous—I speak of the rank
and file—it was that we were not in the least afraid of General
Pope, but were perfectly sure of whipping him whenever we could meet him.
The passages I quote here from two of General Lee’s letters indicate that
this feeling may possibly have extended to our officers. In a letter to my
mother, from near Richmond, dated July 28, 1862, he says:

“…When you write to Rob, tell him to catch Pope for me, and also bring
in his cousin, Louis Marshall, who, I am told, is on his staff. I could
forgive the latter’s fighting against us, but not his joining Pope.”

And again:

“…Johnny Lee [his nephew] saw Louis Marshall after Jackson’s last
battle, who asked him kindly after his old uncle, and said his mother was
well. Johnny said Louis looked wretched himself. I am sorry he is in such
bad company, but I suppose he could not help it.”

As one of the Army of Northern Virginia, I occasionally saw the
commander-in-chief, on the march, or passed the headquarters close enough
to recognise him and members of his staff, but as a private soldier in
Jackson’s corps did not have much time, during that campaign, for
visiting, and until the battle of Sharpsburg I had no opportunity of
speaking to him. On that occasion our battery had been severely handled,
losing many men and horses. Having three guns disabled, we were ordered to
withdraw, and while moving back we passed General Lee and several of his
staff, grouped on a little knoll near the road. Having no definite orders
where to go, our captain, seeing the commanding general, halted us and
rode over to get some instructions. Some others and myself went along to
see and hear. General Lee was dismounted with some of his staff around
him, a courier holding his horse. Captain Poague, commanding our battery,
the Rockbridge Artillery, saluted, reported our condition, and asked for
instructions. The General, listening patiently looked at us—his eyes
passing over me without any sign of recognition—and then ordered
Captain Poague to take the most serviceable horses and men, man the
uninjured gun, send the disabled part of his command back to refit, and
report to the front for duty. As Poague turned to go, I went up to speak
to my father. When he found out who I was, he congratulated me on being
well and unhurt. I then said:

“General, are you going to send us in again?”

“Yes, my son,” he replied, with a smile; “you all must do what you can to
help drive these people back.”

This meeting between General Lee and his son has been told very often and
in many different ways, but the above is what I remember of the
circumstances.

He was much on foot during this part of the campaign, and moved about
either in an ambulance or on horseback, with a courier leading his horse.
The accident which temporarily disabled him happened before he left
Virginia. He had dismounted, and was sitting on a fallen log, with the
bridle reins hung over his arm. Traveller, becoming frightened at
something, suddenly dashed away, threw him violently to the ground,
spraining both hands and breaking a small bone in one of them. A letter
written some weeks afterward to my mother alludes to this meeting with his
son, and to the condition of his hands:

“…I have not laid eyes on Rob since I saw him in the battle of
Sharpsburg—going in with a single gun of his for the second time,
after his company had been withdrawn in consequence of three of its guns
having been disabled. Custis has seen him and says he is very well, and
apparently happy and content. My hands are improving slowly, and, with my
left hand, I am able to dress and undress myself, which is a great
comfort. My right is becoming of some assistance, too, thought it is still
swollen and sometimes painful. The bandages have been removed. I am now
able to sign my name. It has been six weeks to-day since I was injured,
and I have at last discarded the sling.”

After the army recrossed the Potomac into Virginia, we were camped for
some time in the vicinity of Winchester. One beautiful afternoon in
October, a courier from headquarters rode up to our camp, found me out,
and handed me a note from my father. It told me of the death of my sister
Annie. As I have lost this letter to me, I quote from one to my mother
about the same time. It was dated October 26, 1862:

“…I cannot express the anguish I feel at the death of our sweet Annie.
To know that I shall never see her again on earth, that her place in our
circle, which I always hoped one day to enjoy, is forever vacant, is
agonising in the extreme. But God in this, as in all things, has mingled
mercy with the blow, in selecting that one best prepared to leave us. May
you be able to join me in saying ‘His will be done!’ …I know how much
you will grieve and how much she will be mourned. I wish I could give you
any comfort, but beyond our hope in the great mercy of God, and the belief
that he takes her at the time and place when it is best for her to go,
there is none. May that same mercy be extended to us all, and may we be
prepared for His summons.”

In a letter to my sister Mary, one month later, from “Camp near
Fredericksburg”:

“…The death of my dear Annie was, indeed, to me a bitter pang, but ‘the
Lord gave and the Lord has taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord.’
In the quiet hours of the night, when there is nothing to lighten the full
weight of my grief, I feel as if I should be overwhelmed. I have always
counted, if God should spare me a few days after this Civil War has ended,
that I should have her with me, but year after year my hopes go out, and I
must be resigned….”

To this daughter whose loss grieved him so he was specially devoted. She
died in North Carolina, at the Warren White Sulphur Springs. At the close
of the war, the citizens of the county erected over her grave a handsome
monument. General lee was invited to be present at the ceremonies of the
unveiling. In his reply, he says:

“…I have always cherished the intention of visiting the tomb of her who
never gave me aught but pleasure;… Though absent in person, my heart
will be with you, and my sorrow and devotions will be mingled with
yours…. I inclose, according to your request, the date of my daughter’s
birth and the inscription proposed for the monument over her tomb. The
latter are the last lines of the hymn which she asked for just before her
death.”

A visitor to her grave, some years after the war, thus describes it:

“In the beautiful and quiet graveyard near the Springs a plain shaft of
native granite marks the grave of this beloved daughter. On one side is
cut in the stone, ‘Annie C. Lee, daughter of General R. E. Lee and Mary C.
Lee’—and on the opposite—‘Born at Arlington, June 18, 1839,
and died at White Sulphur Springs, Warren County, North Carolina, Oct. 20,
1862.’ On another side are the lines selected by her father,

That autumn I was offered the position of Lt. and A. D. C. on the staff of
my brother, W. H. F. Lee, just promoted from the colonelcy of the 9th
Virginia Cavalry to the command of a brigade in the same arm of the
service. My father had told me when I joined the army to do my whole duty
faithfully, not to be rash about volunteering for any service out of my
regular line, and always to accept promotion. After consulting him, it was
decided that I should take the position offered, and he presented me with
a horse and one of his swords. My promotion necessitated my having an
honourable discharge as a private, from the ranks, and this I obtained in
the proper way from General “Stonewall” Jackson, commanding the corps of
which my company was a part, and was thus introduced for the first time to
that remarkable man. Having served in his command since my enlistment, I
had been seeing him daily. “Old Jack,” at a distance, was as familiar to
me as one of the battery guns, but I had never met him, and felt much awe
at being ushered into his presence. This feeling, however, was groundless,
for he was seemingly so much embarrassed by the interview that I really
felt sorry for him before he dismissed me with my discharge papers,
properly made out and signed.

I had received a letter from my father telling me to come to him as soon
as I had gotten my discharge from my company, so I proceeded at once to
his headquarters, which were situated near Orange Court House, on a wooded
hill just east of the village. I found there the horse which he gave me.
She was a daughter of his mare, “Grace Darling,” and, though not so
handsome as her mother, she inherited many of her good qualities and
carried me well until the end of the war and for thirteen years afterward.
She was four years old, a solid bay, and never failed me a single day
during three years’ hard work. The General was on the point of moving his
headquarters down to Fredericksburg, some of the army having already gone
forward to that city. I think the camp was struck the day after I arrived,
and as the General’s hands were not yet entirely well, he allowed me, as a
great favour, to ride his horse “Traveller.” Amongst the soldiers this
horse was as well known as was his master. He was a handsome iron-gray
with black points—mane and tail very dark—sixteen hands high,
and five years old. He was born near the White Sulphur Springs, West
Virginia, and attracted the notice of my father when he was in that part
of the State in 1861. He was never known to tire, and, though quiet and
sensible in general and afraid of nothing, yet if not regularly exercised,
he fretted a good deal especially in a crowd of horses. But there can be
no better description of this famous horse than the one given by his
master. It was dictated to his daughter Agnes at Lexington, Virginia,
after the war, in response to some artist who had asked for a description,
and was corrected in his own handwriting:

“If I were an artist like you I would draw a true picture of Traveller—representing
his fine proportions, muscular figure, deep chest and short back, strong
haunches, flat legs, small head, broad forehead, delicate ears, quick eye,
small feet, and black mane and tail. Such a picture would inspire a poet,
whose genius could then depict his worth and describe his endurance of
toil, hunger, thirst, heat, cold, and the dangers and sufferings through
which he passed. He could dilate upon his sagacity and affection, and his
invariable response to every wish of his rider. He might even imagine his
thoughts, through the long night marches and days of battle through which
he has passed. But I am no artist; I can only say he is a Confederate
gray. I purchased him in the mountains of Virginia in the autumn of 1861,
and he has been my patient follower ever since—to Georgia, the
Carolinas, and back to Virginia. He carried me through the Seven Days
battle around Richmond, the second Manassas, at Sharpsburg,
Fredericksburg, the last day at Chancellorsville, to Pennsylvania, at
Gettysburg, and back to the Rappahannock. From the commencement of the
campaign in 1864 at Orange, till its close around Petersburg, the saddle
was scarcely off his back, as he passed through the fire of the
Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbour, and across the James River. He
was almost in daily requisition in the winter of 1864-65 on the long line
of defenses from Chickahominy, north of Richmond, to Hatcher’s Run, south
of the Appomattox. In the campaign of 1865, he bore me from Petersburg to
the final days at Appomattox Court House. You must know the comfort he is
to me in my present retirement. He is well supplied with equipments. Two
sets have been sent to him from England, one from the ladies of Baltimore,
and one was made for him in Richmond; but I think his favourite is the
American saddle from St. Louis. Of all his companions in toil, ‘Richmond,’
‘Brown Roan,’ ‘Ajax,’ and quiet ‘Lucy Long,’ he is the only one that
retained his vigour. The first two expired under their onerous burden, and
the last two failed. You can, I am sure, from what I have said, paint his
portrait.”

The general had the strongest affection for Traveller, which he showed on
all occasions, and his allowing me to ride him on this long march was a
great compliment. Possibly he wanted to give me a good hammering before he
turned me over to the cavalry. During my soldier life, so far, I had been
on foot, having backed nothing more lively than a tired artillery horse;
so I mounted with some misgivings, though I was very proud of my steed. My
misgivings were fully realised, for Traveller would not walk a step. He
took a short, high trot—a buck-trot, as compared with a buck-jump—and
kept it up to Fredericksburg, some thirty miles. Though young, strong, and
tough, I was glad when the journey ended. This was my first introduction
to the cavalry service. I think I am safe in saying that I could have
walked the distance with much less discomfort and fatigue. My father
having thus given me a horse and presented me with one of his swords, also
supplied my purse so that I could get myself an outfit suitable to my new
position, and he sent me on to join my command, stationed not far away on
the Rappahannock, southward from Fredericksburg.

As an officer in the cavalry on the staff, I had more frequent
opportunities of seeing my father than as a private in the artillery. In
the course of duty, I was sometimes sent to him to report the condition of
affairs at the front, or on the flank of the army, and I also,
occasionally, paid him a visit. At these times, he would take me into his
tent, talk to me about my mother and sisters, about my horse and myself,
or the people and the country where my command happened to be stationed. I
think my presence was very grateful to him, and he seemed to brighten up
when I came. I remember, he always took it as a matter of course that I
must be hungry (and I was for three years), so he invariably made his
mess-steward, Bryan, give me something to eat, if I did not have time to
wait for the regular meal. His headquarters at this time, just before the
battle of Fredericksburg and after, were at a point on the road between
Fredericksburg and Hamilton’s Crossing, selected on account of its
accessibility. Notwithstanding there was near-by a good house vacant, he
lived in his tents. His quarters were very unpretentious, consisting of
three or four “wall-tents” and several more common ones. They were pitched
on the edge of an old pine field, near a grove of forest trees from which
he drew his supply of fire-wood, while the pines helped to shelter his
tents and horses from the cold winds. Though from the outside they were
rather dismal, especially through the dreary winter time, within they were
cheerful, and the surroundings as neat and comfortable as possible under
the circumstances.

On November 24, 1862, in a letter to his daughter Mary, he writes:

“…General Burnside’s whole army is apparently opposite Fredericksburg
and stretches from the Rappahannock to the Potomac. What his intentions
are he has not yet disclosed. I am sorry he is in position to oppress our
friends and citizens of the Northern Neck. He threatens to bombard
Fredericksburg, and the noble spirit displayed by its citizens,
particularly the women and children, has elicited my highest admiration.
They have been abandoning their homes, night and day, during all this
inclement weather, cheerfully and uncomplainingly, with only such
assistance as our wagons and ambulances could afford, women, girls,
children, trudging through the mud and bivouacking in the open fields.”

How the battle of Fredericksburg was fought and won all the world has
heard, and I shall not attempt to describe it. On December 11th, the day
Burnside commenced his attack, General Lee wrote to my mother:

“…The enemy, after bombarding the town of Fredericksburg, setting fire
to many houses and knocking down nearly all those along the river, crossed
over a large force about dark, and now occupies the town. We hold the
hills commanding it, and hope we shall be able to damage him yet. His
position and heavy guns command the town entirely.”

On December 16th, in another letter to my mother, he tells of the
recrossing of the Federals:

“I had supposed they were just preparing for battle, and was saving our
men for the conflict. Their hosts crown the hill and plain beyond the
river, and their numbers to me are unknown. Still I felt the confidence we
could stand the shock, and was anxious for the blow that is to fall on
some point, and was prepared to meet it here. Yesterday evening I had my
suspicions that they might return during the night, but could not believe
they would relinquish their hopes after all their boasting and
preparation, and when I say that the latter is equal to the former you
will have some idea of the magnitude. This morning they were all safe on
the north side of the Rappahannock. They went as they came—in the
night. They suffered heavily as far as the battle went, but it did not go
far enough to satisfy me. Our loss was comparatively slight, and I think
will not exceed two thousand. The contest will have now to be renewed, but
on what field I cannot say.”

I did not see my father at any time during the fighting; some days after
it was all over, I saw him, as calm and composed as if nothing unusual had
happened, and he never referred to his great victory, except to deplore
the loss of his brave officers and soldiers or the sufferings of the sick
and wounded. He repeatedly referred to the hardships so bravely endured by
the inhabitants of Fredericksburg, who had been obliged to flee from the
town, the women and children, the old and the feeble, whose sufferings cut
him to the heart. On Christmas Day he writes to his youngest daughter,
Mildred, who was at school in North Carolina:

“…I cannot tell you how I long to see you when a little quiet occurs. My
thoughts revert to you, your sisters, and your mother; my heart aches for
our reunion. Your brothers I see occasionally. This morning Fitzhugh rode
by with his young aide-de-camp (Rob) at the head of his brigade, on his
way up the Rappahannock. You must study hard, gain knowledge, and learn
your duty to God and your neighbour: that is the great object of life. I
have no news, confined constantly to camp, and my thoughts occupied with
its necessities and duties. I am, however, happy in the knowledge that
General Burnside and army will not eat their promised Christmas dinner in
Richmond to-day.”

On the next day he writes as follows to his daughter Agnes, who was with
her mother in Richmond:

“Camp Fredericksburg, December 26, 1862.

“My Precious Little Agnes: I have not heard of you for a long time. I wish
you were with me, for always solitary, I am sometimes weary, and long for
the reunion of my family once again. But I will not speak of myself, but
of you…. I have seen the ladies in this vicinity only when flying from
the enemy, and it caused me acute grief to witness their exposure and
suffering. But a more noble spirit was never displayed anywhere. The faces
of old and young were wreathed with smiles, and glowed with happiness at
their sacrifices for the good of their country. Many have lost EVERYTHING.
What the fire and shells of the enemy spared, their pillagers destroyed.
But God will shelter them, I know. So much heroism will not be unregarded.
I can only hold oral communication with your sister [His daughter Mary, in
King George county, within the lines of the enemy], and have forbidden the
scouts to bring any writing, and have taken some back that I had given
them for her. If caught, it would compromise them. They only convey
messages. I learn in that way she is well.

“Your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.”

I give another letter he wrote on Christmas Day, besides the one quoted
above, to his daughter, Mildred. It was written to his wife, and is
interesting as giving an insight into his private feelings and views
regarding this great victory:

“…I will commence this holy day by writing to you. My heart is filled
with gratitude to Almighty God for His unspeakable mercies with which He
has blessed us in this day, for those He has granted us from the beginning
of life, and particularly for those He has vouchsafed us during the past
year. What should have become of us without His crowning help and
protection? Oh, if our people would only recognise it and cease from vain
self-boasting and adulation, how strong would be my belief in final
success and happiness to our country! But what a cruel thing is war; to
separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and
happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred
instead of love for our neighbours, and to devastate the fair face of this
beautiful world! I pray that, on this day when only peace and good-will
are preached to mankind, better thoughts may fill the hearts of our
enemies and turn them to peace. Our army was never in such good health and
condition since I have been attached to it. I believe they share with me
my disappointment that the enemy did not renew the combat on the 13th. I
was holding back all day and husbanding our strength and ammunition for
the great struggle, for which I thought I was preparing. Had I divined
that was to have been his only effort, he would have had more of it. My
heart bleeds at the death of every one of our gallant men.”

One marked characteristic of my father was his habit of attending to all
business matters promptly. He was never idle, and what he had to do he
performed with care and precision. Mr. Custis, my grandfather, had made
him executor of his will, wherein it was directed that all the slaves
belonging to the estate should be set free after the expiration of so many
years. The time had now arrived, and notwithstanding the exacting duties
of his position, the care of his suffering soldiers, and his anxiety about
their future, immediate and distant, he proceeded according to the law of
the land to carry out the provisions of the will, and had delivered to
every one of the servants, where it was possible, their manumission
papers. From his letters written at this time I give a few extracts
bearing on this subject:

“…As regards the liberation of the people, I wish to progress in it as
far as I can. Those hired in Richmond can still find employment there if
they choose. Those in the country can do the same or remain on the farms.
I hope they will all do well and behave themselves. I should like, if I
could, to attend to their wants and see them placed to the best advantage.
But that is impossible. All that choose can leave the State before the war
closes….

“…I executed the deed of manumission sent me by Mr. Caskie, and returned
it to him. I perceived that John Sawyer and James’s names, among the
Arlington people, had been omitted, and inserted them. I fear there are
others among the White House lot which I did not discover. As to the
attacks of the Northern papers, I do not mind them, and do not think it
wise to make the publication you suggest. If all the names of the people
at Arlington and on the Pamunkey are not embraced in this deed I have
executed, I should like a supplementary deed to be drawn up, containing
all those omitted. They are entitled to their freedom and I wish to give
it to them. Those that have been carried away, I hope are free and happy;
I cannot get their papers to them, and they do not require them. I will
give them if they ever call for them. It will be useless to ask their
restitution to manumit them….”

Chapter V — The Army of Northern Virginia

The General’s sympathy for his suffering soldiers—Chancellorsville—Death
of “Stonewall” Jackson—General Fitzhugh Lee wounded and captured—Escape
of his brother Robert—Gettysburg—Religious revival—Infantry
review—Unsatisfactory commissariat

During this winter, which was a very severe one, the sufferings of General
Lee’s soldiers on account of insufficient shelter and clothing, the scant
rations for man and beast, the increasing destitution throughout the
country, and his inability to better these conditions, bore heavily upon
him. But he was bright and cheerful to those around him, never complaining
of any one nor about anything and often indulging in his quaint humour,
especially with the younger officers, as when he remarked to one of them,
who complained of the tough biscuit at breakfast:

“You ought not to mind that; they will stick by you the longer!”

His headquarters continued all the winter at the same place, and with
stove and fire-places in the tents, the General and his military family
managed to keep fairly comfortable. On February 6, 1863, he wrote to his
daughter, Agnes from this camp:

“Camp Fredericksburg, February 6, 1863.

“…I read yesterday, my precious daughter, your letter, and grieved very
much when last in Richmond at not seeing you. My movements are so
uncertain that I cannot be relied on for anything. The only place I am to
be found is in camp, and I am so cross now that I am not worth seeing
anywhere. Here you will have to take me with the three stools—the
snow, the rain, and the mud. The storm of the last twenty-four hours has
added to our stock of all, and we are now in a floating condition. But the
sun and the wind will carry all off in time, and then we shall appreciate
our relief. Our horses and mules suffer the most. They have to bear the
cold and rain, tug through the mud, and suffer all the time with hunger.
The roads are wretched, almost impassable. I heard of Mag lately. One of
our scouts brought me a card of Margaret Stuart’s with a pair of gauntlets
directed to ‘Cousin Robert.’… I have no news. General Hooker is obliged
to do something. I do not know what it will be. He is playing the Chinese
game, trying what frightening will do. He runs out his guns, starts his
wagons and troops up and down the river, and creates an excitement
generally. Our men look on in wonder, give a cheer, and all again subsides
in statu quo ante bellum. I wish you were here with me to-day. You would
have to sit by this little stove, look out at the rain, and keep yourself
dry. But here come, in all the wet, the adjutants-general with the papers.
I must stop and go to work. See how kind God is; we have plenty to do in
good weather and bad….”

“Your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.”

On February 23d, he writes to Mrs. Lee:

“Camp Fredericksburg, February 23, 1863.

“The weather is now very hard upon our poor bushmen. This morning the
whole country is covered with a mantle of snow fully a foot deep. It was
nearly up to my knees as I stepped out this morning, and our poor horses
were enveloped. We have dug them out and opened our avenues a little, but
it will be terrible and the roads impassable. No cars from Richmond
yesterday. I fear our short rations for man and horse will have to be
curtailed. Our enemies have their troubles too. They are very strong
immediately in front, but have withdrawn their troops above and below us
back toward Acquia Creek. I owe Mr. F. J. Hooker [“Fighting Joe” was
Hooker’s most popular sobriquet in the Federal army] no thanks for keeping
me here. He ought to have made up his mind long ago about what do to—24th.
The cars have arrived and brought me a young French officer, full of
vivacity, and ardent for service with me. I think the appearance of things
will cool him. If they do not, the night will, for he brought no blankets.

“R. E. Lee.”

The dreary winter gradually passed away. Toward the last of April, the two
armies, which had been opposite each other for four months, began to move,
and, about the first of May, the greatest of Lee’s battles was fought. My
command was on the extreme left, and, as Hooker crossed the river, we
followed a raiding party of the enemy’s cavalry over toward the James
River above Richmond; so I did not see my father at any time during the
several day’s fighting. The joy of our victory at Chancellorsville was
saddened by the death of “Stonewall” Jackson. His loss was the heaviest
blow the Army of Northern Virginia ever sustained. To Jackson’s note
telling him he was wounded, my father replied:

“I cannot express my regret at the occurance. Could I have directed
events, I should have chosen for the good of the country to have been
disabled in your stead. I congratulate you on the victory, which is due to
your skill and energy.”

Jackson said, when this was read to him,

“Better that ten Jacksons should fall than one Lee.”

Afterward, when it was reported that Jackson was doing well, General Lee
playfully sent him word:

“You are better off than I am, for while you have only lost your LEFT, I
have lost my RIGHT arm.”

Then, hearing that he was worse, he said:

“Tell him that I am praying for him as I believe I have never prayed for
myself.”

After his death, General Lee writes to my mother, on May 11th:

“…In addition to the deaths of officers and friends consequent upon the
late battles, you will see that we have to mourn the loss of the great and
good Jackson. Any victory would be dear at such a price. His remains go to
Richmond to-day. I know not how to replace him. God’s will be done! I
trust He will raise up some one in his place….”

Jones, in his Memoirs, says: “To one of his officers, after Jackson’s
death, he [General Lee] said: ‘I had such implicit confidence in Jackson’s
skill and energy that I never troubled myself to give him detailed
instructions. The most general suggestions were all that he needed.’”

To one of his aides, who came to his tent, April 29th, to inform him that
the enemy had crossed the Rappahannock River in heavy force, General Lee
made the playful reply:

“Well, I heard firing, and I was beginning to think it was time some of
you lazy young fellows were coming to tell me what it was all about. Say
to General Jackson that he knows just as well what to do with the enemy as
I do.”

Jackson said of Lee, when it was intimated by some, at the time he first
took command, that he was slow:

“He is cautious. He ought to be. But he is NOT slow. Lee is a phenomenon.
He is the only man whom I would follow blindfold.”

As the story of these great men year by year is made plainer to the world,
their love, trust, and respect for each other will be better understood.
As commander and lieutenant they were exactly suited. When General Lee
wanted a movement made and gave Jackson an outline of his plans and the
object to be gained, it was performed promptly, well, and thoroughly, if
it was possible for flesh and blood to do it.

At the end of May, the Army of Northern Virginia, rested and strengthened,
was ready for active operations. On May 31st General Lee writes to Mrs.
Lee:

“…General Hooker has been very daring this past week, and quite active.
He has not said what he intends to do, but is giving out by his movements
that he designs crossing the Rappahannock. I hope we may be able to
frustrate his plans, in part, if not in whole…. I pray that our merciful
Father in Heaven may protect and direct us! In that case, I fear no odds
and no numbers.”

About June 5th most of the army was gathered around Culpeper. Its
efficiency, confidence, and MORALE were never better. On June 7th the
entire cavalry corps was reviewed on the plain near Brandy Station in
Culpeper by General Lee. We had been preparing ourselves for this event
for some days, cleaning, mending and polishing, and I remember were very
proud of our appearance. In fact, it was a grand sight—about eight
thousand well-mounted men riding by their beloved commander, first passing
by him in a walk and then a trot. He writes to my mother next day—June
8, 1863:

“…I reviewed the cavalry in this section yesterday. It was a splendid
sight. The men and horses looked well. They have recuperated since last
fall. Stuart [J. E. B. Stuart, commanding cavalry corps.] was in all his
glory. Your sons and nephews [two sons and three nephews] were well and
flourishing. The country here looks very green and pretty, notwithstanding
the ravages of war. What a beautiful world God, in His loving kindness to
His creatures, has given us! What a shame that men endowed with reason and
knowledge of right should mar His gifts….”

The next day, June 9th, a large force of the enemy’s cavalry, supported by
infantry, crossed the Rappahannock and attacked General Stuart. The
conflict lasted until dark, when “The enemy was compelled to recross the
river, with heavy loss, leaving about five hundred prisoners, three pieces
of artillery, and several colours in our hands.”

During the engagement, about 3 P. M., my brother, General W. H. F. Lee, my
commanding officer, was severely wounded. In a letter dated the 11th of
the month, my father writes to my mother:

“…My supplications continue to ascend for you, my children, and my
country. When I last wrote I did not suppose that Fitzhugh would be soon
sent to the rear disabled, and I hope it will be for a short time. I saw
him the night after the battle—indeed, met him on the field as they
were bringing him from the front. He is young and healthy, and I trust
will soon be up again. He seemed to be more concerned about his brave men
and officers, who had fallen in the battle, than about himself….”

It was decided, the next day, to send my brother to “Hickory Hill,” the
home of Mr. W. F. Wickham, in Hanover County, about twenty miles from
Richmond, and I was put in charge of him to take him there and to be with
him until his wound should heal. Thus it happened that I did not meet my
father again until after Gettysburg had been fought, and the army had
recrossed into Virginia, almost to the same place I had left it. My father
wrote my brother a note the morning after he was wounded, before he left
Culpeper. It shows his consideration and tenderness:

“My Dear Son: I send you a dispatch, received from C. last night. I hope
you are comfortable this morning. I wish I could see you, but I cannot.
Take care of yourself, and make haste and get well and return. Though I
scarcely ever saw you, it was a great comfort to know that you were near
and with me. I could think of you and hope to see you. May we yet meet in
peace and happiness….”

In a letter to my brother’s wife, written on the 11th, his love and
concern for both of them are plainly shown:

“I am so grieved, my dear daughter, to send Fitzhugh to you wounded. But I
am so grateful that his wound is of a character to give us full hope of a
speedy recovery. With his youth and strength to aid him, and your tender
care to nurse him, I trust he will soon be well again. I know that you
will unite with me in thanks to Almighty God, who has so often sheltered
him in the hour of danger, for his recent deliverance, and lift up your
whole heart in praise to Him for sparing a life so dear to us, while
enabling him to do his duty in the station in which he had placed him. Ask
him to join us in supplication that He may always cover him with the
shadow of His almighty arm, and teach him that his only refuge is in Him,
the greatness of whose mercy reacheth unto the heavens, and His truth unto
the clouds. As some good is always mixed with the evil in this world, you
will now have him with you for a time, and I shall look to you to cure him
soon and send him back to me….”

My brother reached “Hickory Hill” quite comfortably, and his wound
commenced to heal finely. His wife joined him, my mother and sisters came
up from Richmond, and he had all the tender care he could wish. He
occupied “the office” in the yard, while I slept in the room adjoining and
became quite an expert nurse. About two weeks after our arrival, one
lovely morning as we all came out from the breakfast table, stepping into
the front porch with Mrs. Wickham, we were much surprised to hear to or
three shots down in the direction of the outer gate, where there was a
large grove of hickory trees. Mrs. Wickham said some one must be after her
squirrels, as there were many in those woods and she asked me to run down
and stop whoever was shooting them. I got my hat, and at once started off
to do her bidding. I had not gone over a hundred yards toward the grove,
when I saw, coming up at a gallop to the gate I was making for, five or
six Federal cavalrymen. I knew what it meant at once, so I rushed back to
the office and told my brother. He immediately understood the situation
and directed me to get away—said I could do no good by staying, that
the soldiers could not and would not hurt him, and there was nothing to be
gained by my falling into their hands; but that, on the contrary, I might
do a great deal of good by eluding them, making my way to “North Wales,” a
plantation across the Pamunkey River, and saving our horses.

So I ran out, got over the fence and behind a thick hedge, just as I heard
the tramp and clank of quite a body of troopers riding up. Behind this
hedge I crept along until I reached a body of woods, were I was perfectly
safe. From a hill near by I ascertained that there was a large raiding
party of Federal cavalry in the main road, and the heavy smoke ascending
from the Court House, about three miles away, told me that they were
burning the railroad buildings at that place. After waiting until I
thought the coast was clear, I worked my way very cautiously back to the
vicinity of the house to find out what was going on. Fortunately, I took
advantage of the luxuriant shrubbery in the old garden at the rear of the
house, and when I looked out from the last box bush that screened me,
about twenty yards from the back porch, I perceived that I was too soon,
for there were standing, sitting and walking about quite a number of the
bluecoats. I jumped back behind the group of box trees, and, flinging
myself flat under a thick fir, crawled close up to the trunk under the
low-hanging branches, and lay there for some hours.

I saw my brother brought out from the office on a mattress, and placed in
the “Hickory Hill” carriage, to which was hitched Mr. Wichkam’s horses,
and then saw him driven away, a soldier on the box and a mounted guard
surrounding him. He was carried to the “White House” in this way, and then
sent by water to Fortress Monroe. This party had been sent out especially
to capture him, and he was held as a hostage (for the safety of some
Federal officers we had captured) for nine long, weary months.

The next day I found out that all the horses but one had been saved by the
faithfulness of our servants. The one lost, my brother’s favourite and
best horse, was ridden straight into the column by Scott, a negro servant,
who had him out for exercise. Before he knew our enemies, he and the horse
were prisoners. Scott watched for his opportunity, and, not being guarded,
soon got away. By crawling through a culvert, under the road, while the
cavalry was passing along, he made his way into a deep ditch in the
adjoining field, thence succeeded in reaching the farm where the rest of
the horses were, and hurried them off to a safe place in the woods, just
as the Federal cavalry rode up to get them.

In a letter dated Culpeper, July 26th, to my brother’s wife, my father
thus urges resignation:

“I received, last night, my darling daughter, your letter of the 18th from
‘Hickory Hill.’… You must not be sick while Fitzhugh is away, or he will
be more restless under his separation. Get strong and hearty by his
return, that he may the more rejoice at the sight of you…. I can
appreciate your distress at Fitzhugh’s situation. I deeply sympathise with
it, and in the lone hours of the night I groan in sorrow at his captivity
and separation from you. But we must bear it, exercise all our patience,
and do nothing to aggravate the evil. This, besides injuring ourselves,
would rejoice our enemies and be sinful in the eyes of God. In His own
good time He will relieve us and make all things work together for our
good, if we give Him our love and place in Him our trust. I can see no
harm that can result from Fitzhugh’s capture, except his detention. I feel
assured that he will be well attended to. He will be in the hands of old
army officers and surgeons, most of whom are men of principle and
humanity. His wound, I understand, has not been injured by his removal,
but is doing well. Nothing would do him more harm than for him to learn
that you were sick and sad. How could he get well? So cheer up and prove
your fortitude and patriotism…. You may think of Fitzhugh and love him
as much as you please, but do not grieve over him or grow sad.”

From Williamsport, to my mother, he thus writes of his son’s capture:

“I have heard with great grief that Fitzhugh has been captured by the
enemy. Had not expected that he would be taken from his bed and carried
off, but we must bear this additional affliction with fortitude and
resignation, and not repine at the will of God. It will eventuate in some
good that we know not of now. We must bear our labours and hardships
manfully. Our noble men are cheerful and confident. I constantly remember
you in my thoughts and prayers.”

On July 12th, from near Hagerstown, he writes again about him:

“The consequences of war are horrid enough at best, surrounded by all the
ameliorations of civilisation and Christianity. I am very sorry for the
injuries done the family at Hickory Hill, and particularly that our dear
old Uncle Williams, in his eightieth year, should be subjected to such
treatment. But we cannot help it, and must endure it. You will, however,
learn before this reaches you that our success at Gettysburg was not so
great as reported—in fact, that we failed to drive the enemy from
his position, and that our army withdrew to the Potomac. Had the river not
unexpectedly risen, all would have been well with us; but God, in His
all-wise providence, willed otherwise, and our communications have been
interrupted and almost cut off. The waters have subsided to about four
feet, and, if they continue, by to-morrow, I hope, our communications will
be open. I trust that a merciful God, our only hope and refuge, will not
desert us in this hour of need, and will deliver us by His almighty hand,
that the whole world may recognise His power and all hearts be lifted up
in adoration and praise of His unbounded loving-kindness. We must,
however, submit to His almighty will, whatever that may be. May God guide
and protect us all is my constant prayer.”

In 1868, in a letter to Major Wm. M. McDonald, of Berryville, Clarke
County, Virginia, who was intending to write a school history, and had
written to my father, asking for information about some of his great
battles, the following statement appears:

“As to the battle of Gettysburg, I must again refer you to the official
accounts. Its loss was occasioned by a combination of circumstances. It
was commenced in the absence of correct intelligence. It was continued in
the effort to overcome the difficulties by which we were surrounded, and
it would have been gained could one determined and united blow have been
delivered by our whole line. As it was, victory trembled in the balance
for three days, and the battle resulted in the infliction of as great an
amount of injury as was received and in frustrating the Federal campaign
for the season.”

After my brother’s capture I went to Richmond, taking with me his horses
and servants. After remaining there a short time, I mounted my mare and
started back to the army, which I found at its old camping-ground in
Culpeper. I stopped at first for a few days with my father. He was very
glad to see me and the could tell him all about my mother and sisters, and
many other friends whom I had just left in Richmond. He appeared to be
unchanged in manner and appearance. The disappointment in the Gettysburg
campaign, to which he alludes in his letter to my mother, was not shown in
anything he said or did. He was calm and dignified with all, at times
bright and cheerful, and always had a pleasant word for those about him.
The army lay inactive, along the line of the Rappahannock and the Rapidan
for two months, watching the enemy, who was in our front. We were very
anxious to attack or to be attacked, but each general desired to fight on
ground of his won choosing.

During this period, and indeed at all times, my father was fully employed.
Besides the care of his own immediate command, he advised with the
President and Secretary of War as to the movements and dispositions of the
other armies in the Confederacy. In looking over his correspondence one is
astonished a the amount of it and at its varied character. He always
answered all letters addressed to him, from whatever source, if it was
possible. During this winter he devoted himself especially to looking
after the welfare of his troops, their clothing, shoes, and rations, all
three of which were becoming very scarce. Often, indeed, his army had only
a few days’ rations in sight. Here are some letters written to the
authorities, showing how he was hampered in his movements by the
deficiencies existing in the quartermaster’s and commissary departments.
To the Quartermaster-General, at Richmond, he writes, October, 1863, after
his movement around General Meade’s right, to Manassas:

“…The want of supplies of shoes, clothing and blankets is very great.
Nothing but my unwillingness to expose the men to the hardships that would
have resulted from moving them into Loudoun in their present condition
induced me to return to the Rappahannock. But I was averse to marching
them over the rough roads of that region, at a season, too when frosts are
certain and snow probable, unless they were better provided to encounter
them without suffering. I should, otherwise have endeavoured to detain
General Meade near the Potomac, if I could not throw him to the north
side.”

In a letter of the same time to the Honourable James A. Seddon, Secretary
of War:

“…If General Meade is disposed to remain quiet where he is, it was my
intention, provided the army could be supplied with clothing, again to
advance and threaten his position. Nothing prevented my continuing in his
front but the destitute condition of the men, thousands of whom are
barefooted, a greater number partially shod, and nearly all without
overcoats, blankets, or warm clothing. I think the sublimest sight of war
was the cheerfulness and alacrity exhibited by this army in the pursuit of
the enemy under all the trial and privations to which it was exposed….”

Later on, in January, when the sever weather commenced, he again writes to
the Quartermaster-General on the same subject:

“General: The want of shoes and blankets in this army continues to cause
much suffering and to impair its efficiency. In one regiment I am informed
that there are only fifty men with serviceable shoes, and a brigade that
recently went on picket was compelled to leave several hundred men in
camp, who were unable to bear the exposure of duty, being destitute of
shoes and blankets…. The supply, by running the blockade, has become so
precarious that I think we should turn our attention chiefly to our own
resources, and I should like to be informed how far the latter can be
counted upon…. I trust that no efforts will be spared to develop our own
resources of supply, as a further dependence upon those from abroad can
result in nothing but increase of suffering and want. I am, with great
respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee, General.”

There was at this time a great revival of religion in the army. My father
became much interested in it, and did what he could to promote in his
camps all sacred exercises. Reverend J. W. Jones, in his “Personal
Reminiscences of General R. E. Lee,” says:

“General Lee’s orders and reports always gratefully recognised ‘The Lord
of Hosts’ as the ‘Giver of Victory,’ and expressed an humble dependence
upon and trust in Him.’”

All his correspondence shows the same devout feeling.

On August 13, 1863, he issued the following order:

“Headquarters, Army Northern Virginia, August 13, 1863.

“The President of the Confederate States has, in the name of the people,
appointed August 21st as a day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer. A
strict observance of the day is enjoined upon the officers and soldiers of
this army. All military duties, except such as are absolutely necessary,
will be suspended. The commanding officers of brigades and regiments are
requested to cause divine services, suitable to the occasion, to be
performed in their respective commands. Soldiers! we have sinned against
Almighty God. We have forgotten His signal mercies, and have cultivated a
revengeful, haughty, and boastful spirit. We have not remembered that the
defenders of a just cause should be pure in His eyes; that ‘our times are
in His hands,’ and we have relied too much on our own arms for the
achievement of our independence. God is our only refuge and our strength.
Let us humble ourselves before Him. Let us confess our many sins, and
beseech Him to give us a higher courage, a purer patriotism, and more
determined will; that He will hasten the time when war, with its sorrows
and sufferings, shall cease, and that He will give us a name and place
among the nations of the earth.

“R. E. Lee, General.”

His was a practical, every-day religion, which supported him all through
his life, enabled him to bear with equanimity every reverse of fortune,
and to accept her gifts without undue elation. During this period of rest,
so unusual to the Army of Northern Virginia, several reviews were held
before the commanding general. I remember being present when that of the
Third Army Corps, General A. P. Hill commanding, took place. Some of us
young cavalrymen, then stationed near the Rappahannock, rode over to
Orange Court House to see this grand military pageant. From all parts of
the army, officers and men who could get leave came to look on, and from
all the surrounding country the people, old and young, ladies and
children, came in every pattern of vehicle and on horseback, to see twenty
thousand of that “incomparable infantry” of the Army of Northern Virginia
pass in review before their great commander.

The General was mounted on Traveller, looking very proud of his master,
who had on sash and sword, which he very rarely wore, a pair of new
cavalry gauntlets, and, I think, a new hat. At any rate, he looked
unusually fine, and sat his horse like a perfect picture of grace and
power. The infantry was drawn up in column by divisions, with their bright
muskets all glittering in the sun, their battle-flags standing straight
out before the breeze, and their bands playing, awaiting the inspection of
the General, before they broke into column by companies and marched past
him in review. When all was ready, General Hill and staff rode up to
General Lee, and the two generals, with their respective staffs, galloped
around front and rear of each of the three divisions standing motionless
on the plain. As the cavalcade reached the head of each division, its
commanding officer joined in and followed as far as the next division, so
that there was a continual infusion of fresh groups into the original one
all along the lines. Traveller started with a long lope, and never changed
his stride. His rider sat erect and calm, not noticing anything but the
gray lines of men whom he knew so well. The pace was very fast, as there
were nine good miles to go, and the escort began to become less and less,
dropping out one by one from different causes as Traveller raced along
without check. When the General drew up, after this nine-mile gallop,
under the standard at the reviewing-stand, flushed with the exercise as
well as with pride in his brave men, he raised his hat and saluted. Then
arose a shout of applause and admiration from the entire assemblage, the
memory of which to this day moistens the eye of every old soldier. The
corps was then passed in review at a quick-step, company front. It was a
most imposing sight. After it was all over, my father rode up to several
carriages whose occupants he knew and gladdened them by a smile, a word,
or a shake of the hand. He found several of us young officers with some
pretty cousins of his from Richmond, and he was very bright and cheerful,
joking us young people about each other. His letters to my mother and
sister this summer and fall help to give an insight into his thoughts and
feelings. On July 15th, from Bunker Hill, in a letter to his wife, he
says:

“…The army has returned to Virginia. Its return is rather sooner than I
had originally contemplated, but having accomplished much of what I
proposed on leaving the Rappahannock—namely, relieving the valley of
the presence of the enemy and drawing his army north of the Potomac—I
determined to recross the latter river. The enemy, after centering his
forces in our front, began to fortify himself in his position and bring up
his troops, militia, etc.—and those around Washington and
Alexandria. This gave him enormous odds. It also circumscribed our limits
for procuring subsistence for men and animals, which, with the uncertain
state of the river, rendered it hazardous for us to continue on the north
side. It has been raining a great deal since we first crossed the Potomac,
making the roads horrid and embarrassing our operations. The night we
recrossed it rained terribly, yet we got all over safe, save such vehicles
as broke down on the road from the mud, rocks, etc. We are all well. I
hope we will yet be able to damage our adversaries when they meet us. That
it should be so, we must implore the forgiveness of God for our sins, and
the continuance of His blessings. There is nothing but His almighty power
that can sustain us. God bless you all….”

Later, July 26th, he writes from Camp Culpeper:

“…After crossing the Potomac, finding that the Shenandoah was six feet
above the fording-stage, and, having waited for a week for it to fall, so
that I might cross into Loudoun, fearing that the enemy might take
advantage of our position and move upon Richmond, I determined to ascend
the Valley and cross into Culpeper. Two corps are here with me. The third
passed Thornton’s Gap, and I hope will be in striking distance to-morrow.
The army has laboured hard, endured much, and behaved nobly. It has
accomplished all that could be reasonably expected. It ought not to have
been expected to perform impossibilities, or to have fulfilled the
anticipations of the thoughtless and unreasonable.”

On August 2d, from the same camp, he again writes to my mother:

“…I have heard of some doctor having reached Richmond, who had seen our
son at Fortress Monroe. He said that his wound is improving, and that he
himself was well and walking about on crutches. The exchange of prisoners
that had been going on has, for some cause, been suspended, owing to some
crotchet or other, but I hope will soon be resumed, and that we shall have
him back soon. The armies are in such close proximity that frequent
collisions are common along the outposts. Yesterday the enemy laid down
two or three pontoon bridges across the Rappahannock and crossed his
cavalry, with a big force of his infantry. It looked at first as if it
were the advance of his army, and, as I had not intended to deliver
battle, I directed our cavalry to retire slowly before them and to check
their too rapid pursuit. Finding, later in the day, that their army was
not following, I ordered out the infantry and drove them back to the
river. I suppose they intended to push on to Richmond by this or some
other route. I trust, however, they will never reach there….”

On August 23d, from the camp near Orange Court House, General Lee writes
to Mrs. Lee:

“…My camp is near Mr. Erasmus Taylor’s house, who has been very kind in
contributing to our comfort. His wife sends us every day, buttermilk, loaf
bread, ice, and such vegetables as she has. I cannot get her to desist,
thought I have made two special visits to that effect. All the brides have
come on a visit to the army: Mrs. Ewell, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Heth, etc.
General Meade’s army is north of the Rappahannock along the Orange and
Alexandria Railroad. He is very quiet….”

“September 4, 1863.

“…You see I am still here. When I wrote last, the indications were that
the enemy would move against us any day; but this past week he has been
very quiet, and seems at present to continue so. I was out looking at him
yesterday, from Clarke’s Mountain. He has spread himself over a large
surface and looks immense….”

And on September 18th, from the same camp:

“…The enemy state that they have heard of a great reduction in our
forces here, and are now going to drive us back to Richmond. I trust they
will not succeed; but our hope and our refuge is in our merciful Father in
Heaven….”

On October 9th, the Army of Northern Virginia was put in motion, and wa
pushed around Meade’s right. Meade was gradually forced back to a position
near the old battlefield at Manassas. Although we had hard marching, much
skirmishing, and several severe fights between the cavalry of both armies,
nothing permanent was accomplished, and in about ten days we were back on
our old lines. In a letter of October 19, 1863, to his wife, my father
says:

“…I have returned to the Rappahannock. I did not pursue with the main
army beyond Bristoe or Broad Run. Our advance went as far as Bull Run,
where the enemy was entrenched, extending his right as far as ‘Chantilly,’
in the yard of which he was building a redoubt. I could have thrown him
farther back, but saw no chance of bringing him to battle, and it would
only have served to fatigue our troops by advancing farther. I should
certainly have endeavored to throw them north of the Potomac; but
thousands were barefooted, thousands with fragments of shoes, and all
without overcoats, blankets, or warm clothing. I could not bear to expose
them to certain suffering and an uncertain issue….”

On October 25th, from “Camp Rappahannock,” he writes again to my mother:

“…I moved yesterday into a nice pine thicket, and Perry is to-day
engaged in constructing a chimney in front of my tent, which will make it
warm and comfortable. I have no idea when Fitzhugh [his son, Major General
Fitzhugh Lee] will be exchanged. The Federal authorities still resist all
exchanges, because they think it is to our interest to make them. Any
desire expressed on our part for the exchange of any individual magnifies
the difficulty, as they at once think some great benefit is to result to
us from it. His detention is very grievous to me, and, besides, I want his
services. I am glad you have some socks for the army. Send them to me.
They will come safely. Tell the girls [his daughters] to send all they
can. I wish they could make some shoes, too. We have thousands of
barefooted men. There is no news. General Meade, I believe, is repairing
the railroad, and I presume will come on again. If I could only get some
shoes and clothes for the men, I would save him the trouble….”

One can see from these letters of my father how deeply he felt for the
sufferings of his soldiers, and how his plans were hindered by inadequate
supplies of food and clothing. I heard him constantly allude to these
troubles; indeed, they seemed never absent from his mind.

Chapter VI — The Winter of 1863-4

The Lee family in Richmond—The General’s letters to them from Camps
Rappahannock and Rapidan—Death of Mrs. Fitzhugh Lee—Preparations
to meet General Grant—The Wilderness—Spottsylvania Court House—Death
of General Stuart—General Lee’s illness

My mother had quite recently rented a house on Clay Street in Richmond
which, though small, gave her a roof of her own, and it also enabled her
at times to entertain some of her many friends. Of this new home, and of a
visit of a soldier’s wife to him, the General thus writes:

“Camp Rappahannock, November 1, 1863.

“I received yesterday, dear Mary, your letter of the 29th, and am very
glad to learn that you find your new abode so comfortable and so well
arranged. The only fault I find in it is that it is not large enough for
you all, and that Charlotte, whom I fear requires much attention, is by
herself. Where is ‘Life’ to go, too, for I suppose she is a very big
personage? But you have never told me where it is situated, or how I am to
direct to you. Perhaps that may be the cause of delay in my letters. I am
sorry you find such difficulty in procuring yarn for socks, etc. I fear my
daughters have not taken to the spinning-wheel and loom, as I have
recommended. I shall not be able to recommend them to the brave soldiers
for wives. I had a visit from a soldier’s wife to-day, who was on a visit
with her husband. She was from Abbeville district, S. C. Said she had not
seen her husband for more than two years, and, as he had written to her
for clothes, she herself thought she would bring them on. It was the first
time she had travelled by railroad, but she got along very well by
herself. She brought an entire suit of her own manufacture for her
husband. She spun the yarn and made the clothes herself. She clad her
three young children in the same way, and had on a beautiful pair of
gloves she had made for herself. Her children she had left with her
sister. She said she had been here a week and must return to-morrow, and
thought she could not go back without seeing me. Her husband accompanied
her to my tent, in his nice gray suit. She was very pleasing in her
address and modest in her manner, and was clad in a nice, new alpaca. I am
certain she could not have made that. Ask Misses Agnes and Sally Warwick
what they think of that. They need not ask me for permission to get
married until they can do likewise. She, in fact, was an admirable woman.
Said she was willing to give up everything she had in the world to attain
our independence, and the only complaint she made of the conduct of our
enemies was their arming our servants against us. Her greatest difficulty
was to procure shoes. She made them for herself and children of cloth with
leather soles. She sat with me about ten minutes and took her leave—another
mark of sense—and made no request for herself or husband. I wrote
you about my wants in my former letter. My rheumatism I hope is a little
better, but I have had to-day, and indeed always have, much pain. I trust
it will pass away…. I have just had a visit from my nephews, Fitz, John,
and Henry [General “Fitz” Lee, and his two brothers, Major John Mason Lee
and Captain Henry Carter Lee]. The former is now on a little expedition.
The latter accompanies him. As soon as I was left alone, I committed them
in a fervent prayer to the care and guidance of our Heavenly Father…. I
pray you may be made whole and happy.

“Truly and devotedly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

Another letter from the same camp is interesting:

“Camp Rappahannock, November 5, 1863.

“I received last night, dear Mary, your letter of the 2d…. I am glad to
hear that Charlotte is better. I hope that she will get strong and well,
poor child. The visit of her ‘grandpa’ will cheer her up. I trust, and I
know, he gave her plenty of good advice. Tell Mrs. Atkinson that her son
Nelson is a very good scout and a good soldier. I wish I had some way of
promoting him. I received the bucket of butter she was so kind as to send
me, but have had no opportunity of returning the vessel, which I hope to
be able to do. I am sorry Smith does not like your house. I have told you
my only objection to it, and wish it were large enough to hold Charlotte.
It must have reminded you of old times to have your brother Carter and
Uncle Williams [Mr. Charles Carter Lee, the General’s brother; Mr.
Williams Carter, the General’s uncle] to see you. I think my rheumatism is
better to-day. I have been through a great deal with comparatively little
suffering. I have been wanting to review the cavalry for some time, and
appointed to-day with fear and trembling. I had not been on horseback for
five days previously and feared I should not get through. The governor was
here and told me Mrs. Letcher had seen you recently. I saw all my nephews
looking very handsome, and Rob too. The latter says he has written to you
three times since he crossed the river. Tell “Chas.” I think F’s old
regiment, the 9th, made the best appearance in review.

“While on the ground, a man rode up to me and said he was just from
Alexandria and had been requested to give me a box, which he handed me,
but did not know who sent it. It contained a handsome pair of gilt spurs.
Good-night. May a kind heavenly Father guard you all.

“Truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

When our cavalry was reviewed the preceding summer, it happened that we
engaged the next day, June 9th, the enemy’s entire force of that arm, in
the famous battle of Brandy Station. Since then there had been a sort of
superstition amongst us that if we wanted a fight all that was necessary
was to have a review. We were now on the same ground we had occupied in
June, and the enemy was in force just across the river. As it happened,
the fighting did take place, though the cavalry was not alone engaged. Not
the day after the review, but on November 7th, Meade advanced and crossed
the Rappahannock, while our army fell back and took up our position on the
line of the Rapidan.

Before the two armies settled down into winter quarters, General Meade
tried once more to get at us, and on the 26th of November, with ten days’
rations and in light marching order, he crossed the Rapidan and attempted
to turn our right. But he was unable to do anything, being met at every
point by the Army of Northern Virginia, heavily entrenched and anxious for
an attack. Long says:

“Meade declared that the position could not be carried without the loss of
thirty thousand men. This contingency was too terrible to be entertained—yet
the rations of the men were nearly exhausted, and nothing remained but
retreat. This was safely accomplished on the night of December 1st….”

Lee was more surprised at the retreat of Meade than he had been at his
advance, and his men, who had been in high spirits at the prospect of
obliterating the memory of Gettysburg, were sadly disappointed at the loss
of the opportunity. To my mother, General Lee wrote on December 4th, from
“Camp Rapidan”:

“…You will probably have seen that General Meade has retired to his old
position on the Rappahannock, without giving us battle. I had expected
from his movements, and all that I had heard, that it was his intention to
do so, and after the first day, when I thought it necessary to skirmish
pretty sharply with him, on both flanks, to ascertain his views, I waited,
patiently, his attack. On Tuesday, however, I thought he had changed his
mind, and that night made preparations to move around his left next
morning and attack him. But when day dawned he was nowhere to be seen. He
had commenced to withdraw at dark Tuesday evening. We pursued to the
Rapidan, but he was over. Owing to the nature of the ground, it was to our
advantage to receive rather than to make the attack. I am greatly
disappointed at his getting off with so little damage, but we do not know
what is best for us. I believe a kind God has ordered all things for our
good….”

About this time the people of the City of Richmond, to show their esteem
for my father, desired to present him with a home. General Lee, on hearing
of it, thus wrote to the President of the Council:

“…I assure you, sir, that no want of appreciation of the honour
conferred upon me by this resolution—or insensibility to the kind
feelings which prompted it—induces me to ask, as I most respectfully
do, that no further proceedings be taken with reference to the subject.
The house is not necessary for the use of my family, and my own duties
will prevent my residence in Richmond. I should therefore be compelled to
decline the generous offer, and I trust that whatever means the City
Council may have to spare for this purpose may be devoted to the relief of
the families of our soldiers in the field, who are more in want of
assistance, and more deserving it, than myself….”

My brother was still in prison, and his detention gave my father great
concern. In a letter to my mother, written November 21st, he says:

“…I see by the papers that our son has been sent to Fort Lafayette. Any
place would be better than Fort Monroe, with Butler in command. His long
confinement is very grievous to me, yet it may all turn out for the
best….”

To his daughter-in-law my father was devoutedly attached. His love for her
was like that for his own children, and when her husband was captured and
thrown, wounded, into prison, his great tenderness for her was shown on
all occasions. Her death about this time, though expected, was a great
blow to him. When news came to Gen. W. H. F. Lee, at Fortress Monroe, that
his wife Charlotte was dying in Richmond, he made application to General
Butler, commanding that post, that he be allowed to go to her for 48
hours, his brother Custis Lee, of equal rank with himself, having formally
volunteered in writing to take his place, as a hostage, was curtly and
peremptorily refused.

In his letter to my mother, of December 27th, my father says:

“…Custis’s despatch which I received last night demolished all the
hopes, in which I had been indulging during the day, of dear Charlotte’s
recovery. It has pleased God to take from us one exceedingly dear to us,
and we must be resigned to His holy will. She, I trust, will enjoy peace
and happiness forever, while we must patiently struggle on under all the
ills that may be in store for us. What a glorious thought it is that she
has joined her little cherubs and our angel Annie [his second daughter] in
Heaven. Thus is link by link the strong chain broken that binds us to the
earth, and our passage soothed to another world. Oh, that we may be at
last united in that heaven of rest, where trouble and sorrow never enter,
to join in an everlasting chorus of praise and glory to our Lord and
Saviour! I grieve for our lost darling as a father only can grieve for a
daughter, and my sorrow is heightened by the thought of the anguish her
death will cause our dear son and the poignancy it will give to the bars
of his prison. May God in His mercy enable him to bear the blow He has so
suddenly dealt, and sanctify it to his everlasting happiness!”

After Meade’s last move, the weather becoming wintry, the troops fixed up
for themselves winter quarters, and the cavalry and artillery were sent
back along the line of the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad, where forage
could be more easily obtained for their horses. On January 24, 1864, the
General writes to my mother:

“…I have had to disperse the cavalry as much as possible, to obtain
forage for their horses, and it is that which causes trouble. Provisions
for the men, too, are very scarce, and, with very light diet and light
clothing, I fear they suffer, but still they are cheerful and
uncomplaining. I received a report from one division the other day in
which it stated that over four hundred men were barefooted and over a
thousand without blankets.”

Lee was the idol of his men. Colonel Charles Marshall, who was his A. D.
C. and military secretary, illustrates this well in the following
incident:

“While the Army was on the Rapidan, in the winter of 1863-4, it became
necessary, as was often the case, to put the men on very short rations.
Their duty was hard, not only on the outposts during the winter, but in
the construction of roads, to facilitate communication between the
different parts of the army. One day General Lee received a letter from a
private soldier, whose name I do not now remember, informing him of the
work that he had to do, and stating that his rations were not sufficient
to enable him to undergo the fatigue. He said, however, that if it was
absolutely necessary to put him on such short allowance, he would make the
best of it, but that he and his comrades wanted to know if General Lee was
aware that his men were getting so little to eat, because if he was aware
of it he was sure there must be some necessity for it. General Lee did not
reply directly to the letter, but issued a general order in which he
informed the soldiers of his efforts in their behalf, and that their
privation was beyond his means of present relief, but assured them that he
was making every effort to procure sufficient supplies. After that there
was not a murmur in the army, and the hungry men went cheerfully to their
hard work.”

When I returned to the army in the summer, I reported to my old brigade,
which was gallantly commanded by John R. Chambliss, colonel of the 13th
Virginia Cavalry, the senior officer of the brigade. Later, I had been
assigned to duty with General Fitz Lee and was with him at this time. My
mother was anxious that I should be with my father, thinking, I have no
doubt, that my continued presence would be a comfort to him. She must have
written him to that effect, for in a letter to her, dated February, 1864,
he says:

“…In reference to Rob, his company would be a great pleasure and comfort
to me, and he would be extremely useful in various ways, but I am opposed
to officers surrounding themselves with their sons and relatives. It is
wrong in principle, and in that case selections would be made from private
and social relations, rather than for the public good. There is the same
objection to his going with Fitz Lee. I should prefer Rob’s being in the
line, in an independent position, where he could rise by his own merit and
not through the recommendation of his relatives. I expect him soon, when I
can better see what he himself thinks. The young men have no fondness for
the society of the old general. He is too heavy and sombre for them….”

If anything was said to me on this occasion by my father, I do not
remember it. I rather think that something prevented the interview, for I
cannot believe that it could have entirely escaped my memory. At any rate,
I remained with General Fitz Lee until my brother’s return from prison in
April of that year. Fitz Lee’s brigade camped near Charlottesville, on the
Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad, in January, in order that forage could be
more readily obtained. The officers, to amuse themselves and to return in
part the courtesies and kindnesses of the ladies of the town, gave a ball.
It was a grand affair for those times. Committees were appointed and
printed invitations issued. As a member of the invitation committee, I
sent one to the general commanding the army. Here is his opinion of it, in
a letter to me:

“…I inclose a letter for you, which has been sent to my care. I hope you
are well and all around you are so. Tell Fitz I grieve over the hardships
and sufferings of his men, in their late expedition. I should have
preferred his waiting for more favourable weather. He accomplished much
under the circumstances, but would have done more in better weather. I am
afraid he was anxious to get back to the ball. This is a bad time for such
things. We have too grave subjects on hand to engage in such trivial
amusements. I would rather his officers should entertain themselves in
fattening their horses, healing their men, and recruiting their regiments.
There are too many Lees on the committee. I like all to be present at the
battles, but can excuse them at balls. But the saying is, ‘Children will
be children.’ I think he had better move his camp farther from
Charlottesville, and perhaps he will get more work and less play. He and I
are too old for such assemblies. I want him to write me how his men are,
his horses, and what I can do to full up the ranks….”

In this winter and spring of 1864, every exertion possible was made by my
father to increase the strength of his army and to improve its efficiency.
He knew full well that the enemy was getting together an enormous force,
and that his vast resources would be put forth to crush us in the spring.
His letters at this time to President Davis and the Secretary of War show
how well he understood the difficulties of his position.

“In none of them,” General Long says, “does he show a symptom of despair
or breathe a thought of giving up the contest. To the last, he remained
full of resources, energetic and defiant, and ready to bear upon his
shoulders the whole burden of the conduct of the war.”

In a letter to President Davis, written March, 1864, he says:

“Mr. President: Since my former letter on the subject, the indications
that operations in Virginia will be vigorously prosecuted by the enemy are
stronger than they then were. General Grant has returned from the army in
the West. He is, at present, with the Army of the Potomac, which is being
organised and recruited…. Every train brings recruits and it is stated
that every available regiment at the North is added to it….

“Their plans are not sufficiently developed to discover them, but I think
we can assume that, if General Grant is to direct operations on this
frontier, he will concentrate a large force on one or more lines, and
prudence dictates that we should make such preparations as are in our
power….”

On April 6th he again writes to the President:

“…All the information I receive tends to show that the great effort of
the enemy in this campaign will be made in Virginia…. Reinforcements are
certainly daily arriving to the Army of the Potomac…. The tone of the
Northern papers, as well as the impression prevailing in their armies, go
to show that Grant with a large force is to move against Richmond…. The
movements and reports of the enemy may be intended to mislead us, and
should therefore be carefully observed. But all the information that
reaches me goes to strengthen the belief that General Grant is preparing
to move against Richmond.”

The question of feeding his army was ever before him. To see his men
hungry and cold, and his horses ill fed, was a great pain to him. To Mr.
Davis he thus writes on this subject:

“Headquarters, April 12, 1864.

“Mr. President: My anxiety on the subject of provisions for the army is so
great that I cannot refrain from expressing it to Your Excellency. I
cannot see how we can operate with our present supplies. Any derangement
in their arrival or disaster to the railroad would render it impossible
for me to keep the army together, and might force a retreat to North
Carolina. There is nothing to be had in this section for men or animals.
We have rations for the troops to-day and to-morrow. I hope a new supply
arrived last night, but I have not yet had a report. Every exertion should
be made to supply the depots at Richmond and at other points. All pleasure
travel should cease, and everything be devoted to necessary wants.

“I am, with great respect, your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee, General.”

In a letter written to our cousin, Margaret Stuart, of whom he was very
fond, dated March 29th, he says:

“…The indications at present are that we shall have a hard struggle.
General Grant is with the Army of the Potomac. All the officer’s wives,
sick, etc., have been sent to Washington. No ingress into or egress from
the lines is now permitted and no papers are allowed to come out—they
claim to be assembling a large force….”

Again, April 28th, he writes to this same young cousin:

“…I dislike to send letters within reach of the enemy, as they might
serve, if captured, to bring distress on others. But you must sometimes
cast your thoughts on the Army of Northern Virginia, and never forget it
in your prayers. It is preparing for a great struggle, but I pray and
trust that the great God, mighty to deliver, will spread over it His
almighty arms, and drive its enemies before it….”

One perceives from these letters how clearly my father foresaw the storm
that was so soon to burst upon him. He used every means within his power
to increase and strengthen his army to meet it, and he continually urged
the authorities at Richmond to make preparations in the way of supplies of
ammunition, rations, and clothing.

I shall not attempt to describe any part of this campaign except in a very
general way. It has been well written up by both sides, and what was done
by the Army of Northern Virginia we all know. I saw my father only once or
twice, to speak to him, during the thirty odd days from the Wilderness to
Petersburg, but, in common with all his soldiers, I felt that he was ever
near, that he could be entirely trusted with the care of us, that he would
not fail us, that it would all end well. The feeling of trust that we had
in him was simply sublime. When I say “we,” I mean the men of my age and
standing, officers and privates alike. Older heads may have begun to see
the “beginning of the end” when they saw that slaughter and defeat did not
deter our enemy, but made him the more determined in his “hammering”
process; but it never occurred to me, and to thousands and thousands like
me, that there was any occasion for uneasiness. We firmly believed that
“Marse Robert,” as his soldiers lovingly called him, would bring us out of
this trouble all right.

When Grant reached Spottsylvania Court House, he sent all of his cavalry,
under Sheridan, to break our communications. They were met at Yellow
Tavern, six miles from Richmond, by General Stuart, with three brigades of
Confederate cavalry, and were attacked so fiercely that they were held
there nearly all day, giving time for the troops around Richmond to
concentrate for the defense of the city.

In this fight General Stuart fell mortally wounded, and he died the next
day in Richmond. The death of our noted cavalry leader was a great blow to
our cause—a loss second only to that of Jackson.

Captain W. Gordon McCabe writes me:

“I was sitting on my horse very near to General Lee, who was talking to my
colonel, William Johnson Pegram, when a courier galloped up with the
despatch announcing that Stuart had been mortally wounded and was dying.
General Lee was evidently greatly affected, and said slowly, as he folded
up the despatch, ‘General Stuart has been mortally wounded: a most
valuable and able officer.’ Then, after a moment, he added in a voice of
deep feeling ‘HE NEVER BROUGHT ME A PIECE OF FALSE INFORMATION’—turned
and looked away. What praise dearer to a soldier’s heart could fall from
the lips of the commanding general touching his Chief of Cavalry! These
simple words of Lee constitute, I think, the fittest inscription for the
monument that is soon to be erected to the memory of the great cavalry
leader of the ‘Army of Northern Virginia.’”

In a letter from my father to my mother, dated Spottsylvania Court House,
May 16th, he says:

“…As I write I am expecting the sound of the guns every moment. I grieve
over the loss of our gallant officers and men, and miss their aid and
sympathy. A more zealous, ardent, brave, and devoted soldier than Stuart
the Confederacy cannot have. Praise be to God for having sustained us so
far. I have thought of you very often in these eventful days. God bless
and preserve you.”

General Lee, in his order announcing the death of Stuart, thus speaks of
him:

“…Among the gallant soldiers who have fallen in this war, General Stuart
was second to none in valour, in zeal, and in unflinching devotion to his
country. His achievements form a conspicuous part of the history of this
army, with which his name and services will be forever associated. To
military capacity of a high order and to the noble virtues of the soldier
he added the brighter graces of a pure life, guided and sustained by the
Christian’s faith and hope. The mysterious hand of an all-wise God has
removed him from the scene of his usefulness and fame. His grateful
countrymen will mourn his loss and cherish his memory. To his comrades in
arms he has left the proud recollections of his deeds and the inspiring
influence of his example.”

Speaking of the operations around Spottsylvania Court House, Swinton, the
historian of the Army of the Potomac, says:

“Before the lines of Spottsylvania, the Army of the Potomac had for twelve
days and nights engaged in a fierce wrestle in which it had done all that
valour may do to carry a position by nature and art impregnable. In this
contest, unparalleled in its continuous fury, and swelling to the
proportions of a campaign, language is inadequate to convey an impression
of the labours, fatigues, and sufferings of the troops, who fought by day,
only to march by night, from point to point of the long line, and renew
the fight on the morrow. Above forty thousand men had already fallen in
the bloody encounters of the Wilderness and Spottsylvania, and the
exhausted army began to lose its spirits. It was with joy, therefore, that
it at length turned its back upon the lines of Spottsylvania.”

General Long, in his “Memoirs of General Lee,” speaking of our army at
this time, says:

“In no previous operations did the Army of Northern Virginia display
higher soldierly qualities. Regardless of numbers, every breach was
filled, and, with unparalleled stubbornness, its lines were maintained.
The soldiers of that army not only gratified their countrymen, but by
their gallantry and vigour won the admiration of their enemies. Whenever
the men in blue appeared they were met by those in gray, and muzzle to
muzzle and point to point they measured their foeman’s strength.”

When we learned that General Lee was ill—confined for a day or two
to his tent, at the time he was confronting General Grant on the North
Anna—this terrible thought forced itself upon us: Suppose disease
should disable him, even for a time, or, worse, should take him forever
from the front of his men! It could not be! It was too awful to consider!
And we banished any such possibility from our minds. When we saw him out
again, on the lines, riding Traveller as usual, it was as if some great
crushing weight had been suddenly lifted from our hearts. Colonel Walter
H. Taylor, his adjutant-general, says:

“The indisposition of General Lee…was more serious than was generally
supposed. Those near him were very apprehensive lest he should be
compelled to give up.”

General Early also writes of this circumstance:

“One of his three corps commanders [Longstreet] had been disabled by
wounds at the Wilderness, and another was too unwell to command his corps
[A. P. Hill], while he (General Lee) was suffering from a most annoying
and weakening disease. In fact, nothing but his own determined will
enabled him to keep the field at all; and it was then rendered more
manifest than ever that he was the head and front, the very life and soul
of the army.”

Chapter VII — Fronting the Army of the Potomac

Battle of Cold Harbour—Siege of Petersburg—The General
intrusts a mission to his son Robert—Battle of the Crater—Grant
crosses the James River—General Long’s pen-picture of Lee—Knitting
socks for the soldiers—A Christmas dinner—Incidents of camp
life

From the North Anna River the Federal Army moved by its left flank,
seeking to find its adversary unprepared, but the Army of Northern
Virginia steadily confronted it, ever ready to receive any attack. At Cold
Harbour they paused, facing each other, and General Grant, having received
sixteen thousand men from Butler by way of Yorktown on June 1st, made an
attack, but found our lines immovable. In his “Memoirs” he writes:

“June 2d was spent in getting troops into position for attack on the 3d.
On June 3d, we again assaulted the enemy’s works in the hope of driving
him from his position. In this attempt our loss was heavy, while that of
the enemy, I have reason to believe, was comparatively light.”

This assault was repelled along the whole line, with the most terrible
slaughter yet recorded in our war. Yet in a few hours these beaten men
were ordered to move up to our lines again. Swinton, the historian of the
Army of the Potomac, thus describes what happened when this order was sent
to the men:

“The order was issued through these officers” (the corps commanders) “To
their subordinate commanders, and from them descended through the wonted
channels; but no man stirred, and the immobile lines pronounced a verdict,
silent, yet emphatic, against further slaughter. The loss on the Union
side in this sanguinary action was more than thirteen thousand, while on
the part of the Confederates it is doubtful whether it reached that many
hundreds.”

Colonel Walter H. Taylor, in his “Four Years with General Lee,” says:

“Soon after this, he (Grant) abandoned his chosen line of operations, and
moved his army to the south side of the James River. The struggle from
Wilderness to this point covers a period of about one month, during which
time there had been an almost daily encounter of hostile arms, and the
Army of Northern Virginia had placed hors de combat of the army under
General Grant a number equal to its entire numerical strength at the
commencement of the campaign, and, notwithstanding its own heavy losses
and the reinforcements received by the enemy, still presented an
impregnable front to its opponent, and constituted and insuperable barrier
to General Grant’s ‘On to Richmond.’”

Thus after thirty days of marching, starving, fighting, and with a loss of
more than sixty thousand men, General Grant reached the James River, near
Petersburg, which he could have done at any time he so desired without the
loss of a single man. The baffling of our determined foe so successfully
raised the spirits of our rank and file, and their confidence in their
commander knew no bounds.

The two armies now commenced a contest which could end only one way. If
General Lee had been permitted to evacuate Petersburg and Richmond, to
fall back upon some interior point, nearer supplies for man and beast and
within supporting distance of the remaining forces of the Confederacy, the
surrender would certainly have been put off—possibly never have
taken place—and the result of the war changed. The Army of the
Potomac placed itself on the James, through whose channel it had easy
access to the wide world whence to secure for itself an unlimited supply
of men and munitions of war. General Lee, with a line thirty miles long to
defend and with only 35,000 men to hold it, with no chance of
reinforcements, no reserves with which to fill up the ranks lessened daily
by death in battle and by disease, had to sit still and see his army, on
half rations or less, melt away because it was deemed advisable by his
government, for political and other purposes, to hold Richmond, the
Confederacy’s capital.

In an article by Lord Wolseley, in “Macmillan’s Magazine,” he says:

“Lee was opposed to the final defense of Richmond that was urged upon him
for political, not military reasons. It was a great strategic error.
General Grant’s large army of men was easily fed, and its daily losses
easily recruited from a near base; whereas, if it had been drawn into the
interior after the little army with which Lee endeavoured to protect
Richmond, its fighting strength would have been largely reduced by the
detachments required to guard a long line of communications through a
hostile country.”

During the nine months the siege of Petersburg lasted, I saw my father but
seldom. His headquarters were near the town, my command was on the extreme
right of the army, and during the winter, in order to get forage, we were
moved still further away, close to the border of North Carolina. During
this summer, I had occasion, once or twice, to report to him at his
headquarters, once about July 1st by his special order. I remember how we
all racked our brains to account for this order, which was for me to
report “at once to the commanding general,” and many wild guesses were
made by my young companions as to what was to become of me. Their surmises
extended from my being shot for unlawful foraging to my being sent on a
mission abroad to solicit the recognition of our independence. I reported
at once, and found my father expecting me, with a bed prepared. It was
characteristic of him that he never said a word about what I was wanted
for until he was ready with full instructions. I was fed at once, for I
was still hungry, my bed was shown me, and I was told to rest and sleep
well, as he wanted me in the morning, and that I would need all my
strength.

The next morning he gave me a letter to General Early, who, with his
command, was at that time in Maryland, threatening Washington. My mission
was to carry this letter to him. As Early had cut loose from his
communications with Virginia, and as there was a chance of any messenger
being caught by raiding parties, my father gave me verbally the contents
of his letter, and told me that if I saw any chance of my capture to
destroy it, then, if I did reach the General, I should be able to tell him
what he had written. He cautioned me to keep my own counsel, and to say
nothing to any one as to my destination. Orders for a relay of horses from
Staunton, where the railroad terminated, to the Potomac had been
telegraphed, and I was to start at once. This I did, seeing my sisters and
mother in Richmond while waiting for the train to Staunton, and having
very great difficulty in keeping from them my destination. But I did, and,
riding night and day, came up with General Early at a point in Maryland
some miles beyond the old battlefield of Sharpsburg. I delivered the
letter to him, returned to Petersburg, and reported to my father. Much
gratified by the evident pleasure of the General at my diligence and at
the news I had brought from Early and his men, after a night’s rest and
two good meals I returned to my command, never telling my comrades until
long afterward what had been done to me by the commanding general.

My father’s relations with the citizens of Petersburg were of the kindest
description. The ladies were ever trying to make him more comfortable,
sending him of their scanty fare more than they could well spare. He
always tried to prevent them, and when he could do so without hurting
their feelings he would turn over to the hospitals the dainties sent him—much
to the disgust of his mess-steward, Bryan. Bryan was an Irishman,
perfectly devoted to my father, and, in his opinion, there was nothing in
the eatable line which was too good for the General. He was an excellent
caterer, a good forager, and, but for my father’s frowning down anything
approaching lavishness, the headquarter’s table would have made a much
better show. During this period of the war, Bryan was so handicapped by
the universal scarcity of all sorts of provisions that his talents were
almost entirely hidden. The ladies not only were anxious to feed the
General, but also to clothe him. From Camp Petersburg he writes to my
mother, June 24th:

“…The ladies of Petersburg have sent me a nice set of shirts. They were
given to me by Mrs. James R. Branch and her mother, Mrs. Thomas Branch. In
fact, they have given me everything, which I fear they cannot spare—vegetables,
bread, milk, ice-cream. To-day one of them sent me a nice peach—the
first one I think I have seen for two years. I sent it to Mrs. Shippen [an
invalid lady, in the yard of whose country place (“Violet Bank”) Lee’s
tents were pitched]. Mr. Platt had services again to-day under the trees
near my camp. We had quite a large congregation of citizens, ladies and
gentlemen, and our usual number of soldiers. During the services, I
constantly heard the shells crashing among the houses of Petersburg. Tell
‘Life’ [his pet name for my sister Mildred] I send her a song composed by
a French soldier. As she is so learned in the language, I want he to send
my a reply in verse.”

June 30, 1864, the anniversary of his wedding day, he thus writes to my
mother:

“…I was very glad to receive your letter yesterday, and to hear that you
were better. I trust that you will continue to improve and soon be as well
as usual. God grant that you may be entirely restored in His own good
time. Do you recollect what a happy day thirty-three years ago this was?
How many hopes and pleasures it gave birth to! God has been very merciful
and kind to us, and how thankless and sinful I have been. I pray that He
may continue His mercies and blessings to us, and give us a little peace
and rest together in this world, and finally gather us and all He has
given us around His throne in the world to come. The President has just
arrived, and I must bring my letter to a close.”

My mother had been quite ill that summer, and my father’s anxiety for her
comfort and welfare, his desire to be with her to help her, was very
great. The sick in the Confederacy at this period of universal scarcity
suffered for want of the simplest medicines. All that could be had were
given to hospitals. To his youngest daughter the General writes, and sends
to Mrs. Lee what little he could find in the way of fruit:

“…I received this morning by your brother your note of the 3d, and am
glad to hear that your mother is better. I sent out immediately to try to
find some lemons, but could only procure two, sent to me by a kind lady,
Mrs. Kirkland, in Petersburg. These were gathered from her own trees.
There are none to be purchased. I found one in my valise, dried up, which
I also send, as it may prove of some value. I also put up some early
apples which you can roast for your mother, and one pear. This is all the
fruit I can get. You must go to the market every morning and see if you
cannot find some fruit for her. There are no lemons to be had. Tell her
lemonade is not as palatable or digestible as buttermilk. Try to get some
good buttermilk for her. With ice, it is delicious and very nutritious.”

My sister Mildred had a pet squirrel which ran about the house in
Richmond. She had named it “Custis Morgan,” after her brother Custis, and
General John Morgan, the great cavalry leader of the western army. He
ventured out one day to see the city, and never returned. In a letter to
Mildred, July 10th, my father alludes to his escape, and apparently
considers it a blessing:

“…I was pleased on the arrival of my little courier to learn that you
were better, and that ‘Custis Morgan’ was still among the missing. I think
the farther he gets from you the better you will be. The shells scattered
the poor inhabitants of Petersburg so that many of the churches are
closed. Indeed, they have been visited by the enemy’s shells. Mr. Platt,
pastor of the principal Episcopal church, had services at my headquarters
to-day. The services were under the trees, and the discourse on the
subject of salvation….”

About this time, the enemy, having been at work on a mine for nearly a
month, exploded it, and attacked our lines with a large force. The ensuing
contest was called the Battle of the Crater. General Lee, having suspected
that a mine was being run under his works, was partly prepared for it, and
the attack was repulsed very quickly with great loss to the enemy. In the
address of Capt. W. Gordon McCabe before the Association of the Army of
Northern Virginia—November 2, 1876—speaking of this event, he
says:

“From the mysterious paragraphs in the Northern papers, and from reports
of deserters, though those last were vague and contradictory, Lee and
Beauregard suspected that the enemy was mining in front of some one of the
three salients on Beauregard’s front, and the latter officer had in
consequence directed counter-mines to be sunk from all three, meanwhile
constructing gorge-lines in the rear upon which the troops might retire in
case of surprise or disaster…. But the counter-mining on the part of the
Confederates was after a time discontinued, owing to the lack of proper
tools, the inexperience of the troops in such work, and the arduous nature
of their service in the trenches.”

The mine was sprung July 30th. On the 31st, the General writes:

“…Yesterday morning the enemy sprung a mine under one of our batteries
on the line and got possession of a portion of our intrenchments. It was
the part defended by General Beauregard’s troops, I sent General Mahone
with two brigades of Hill’s corps, who charged them handsomely,
recapturing the intrenchments and guns, twelve stands of colours,
seventy-three officers, including General Bartlett, his staff, three
colonels, and eight hundred and fifty enlisted men. There were upward of
five hundred of his dead and unburied in the trenches, among them many
officers and blacks. He suffered severely. He has withdrawn his troops
from the north side of the James. I do not know what he will attempt next.
He is mining on other points along our line. I trust he will not succeed
in bettering his last attempt….”

Grant, by means of a pontoon bridge, permanently established across the
James, was able to move his troops very quickly from one side to the
other, and could attack either flank, while making a feint on the opposite
one. This occurred several times during the summer, but General Lee seemed
always to have anticipated the movement and to be able to distinguish the
feint from the real attack. On August 14th, he speaks of one of these
movements in a letter to my mother:

“…I have been kept from church to-day by the enemy’s crossing to the
north side of the James River and the necessity of moving troops to meet
him. I do not know what his intentions are. He is said to be cutting a
canal across the Dutch Gap, a point in the river—but I cannot, as
yet, discover it. I was up there yesterday, and saw nothing to indicate
it. We shall ascertain in a day or two. I received to-day a kind letter
from Reverend Mr. Cole, of Culpeper Court House. He is a most excellent
man in all the relations of life. He says there is not a church standing
in all that country, within the lines formerly occupied by the enemy. All
are razed to the ground, and the materials used often for the vilest
purposes. Two of the churches at the Court House barely escaped
destruction. The pews were all taken out to make seats for the theatre.
The fact was reported to the commanding officer by their own men of the
Christian Commission, but he took no steps to rebuke or arrest it. We must
suffer patiently to the end, when all things will be made right….”

To oppose this movement (of August 14th), which was in heavy force, our
cavalry division was moved over to the north side, together with infantry
and artillery, and we had a very lively time for several days. In the
engagement on the 15th of August I was shot in the arm and disabled for
about three weeks. The wound was a very simple one—just severe
enough to give me a furlough, which I enjoyed intensely. Time heals all
wounds, it is said. I remember it cured mine all too soon, for, being on a
wounded leave, provided it did not keep one in bed, was the best luck a
soldier could have. I got back the last of September, and in passing
stopped to see my father. I take from General Long a pen-picture of him at
this time, which accords with my own recollection of his appearance:

“…General Lee continued in excellent health and bore his many cares with
his usual equanimity. He had aged somewhat in appearance since the
beginning of the war, but had rather gained than lost in physical vigour,
from the severe life he had led. His hair had grown gray, but his face had
the ruddy hue of health, and his eyes were as clear and bright as ever.
His dress was always a plain, gray uniform, with cavalry boots reaching to
his knees, and a broad-brimmed gray felt hat. He seldom wore a weapon, and
his only mark of rank was the stars on his collar. Though always
abstemious in diet, he seemed able to bear any amount of fatigue, being
capable of remaining in his saddle all day and at his desk half the
night.”

I cannot refrain from further quoting from the same author this beautiful
description of the mutual love, respect, and esteem existing between my
father and his soldiers:

“No commander was ever more careful, and never had care for the comfort of
an army given rise to greater devotion. He was constantly calling the
attention of the authorities to the wants of his soldiers, making every
effort to provide them with food and clothing. The feeling for him was one
of love, not of awe and dread. They could approach him with the assurance
that they would be received with kindness and consideration, and that any
just complaint would receive proper attention. There was no condescension
in his manner, but he was ever simple, kind, and sympathetic, and his men,
while having unbounded faith in him as a leader, almost worshipped him as
a man. These relations of affection and mutual confidence between the army
and its commander had much to do with the undaunted bravery displayed by
the men, and bore a due share in the many victories they gained.”

Colonel Charles Marshall, in his address before the “Association of the
Army of Northern Virginia,” also alludes to this “wonderful influence over
the troops under his command. I can best describe that influence by saying
that such was the love and veneration of the men for him that they came to
look upon the cause as General Lee’s cause, and they fought for it because
they loved him. To them he represented cause, country, and all.”

All persons who were ever thrown into close relations with him had
somewhat these same feelings. How could they help it? Here is a letter to
his youngest daughter which shows his beautiful love and tenderness for us
all. Throughout the war, he constantly took the time from his arduous
labours to send to his wife and daughters such evidences of his affection
for them:

“Camp Petersburg, November 6, 1864.

“My Precious Life: This is the first day I have had leisure to answer your
letter. I enjoyed it very much at the time of its reception, and have
enjoyed it since, but I have often thought of you in the meantime, and
have seen you besides. Indeed, I may say, you are never out of my
thoughts. I hope you think of me often, and if you could know how
earnestly I desire your true happiness, how ardently I pray you may be
directed to every good and saved from every evil, you would as sincerely
strive for its accomplishment. Now in your youth you must be careful to
discipline your thoughts, words, and actions. Habituate yourself to useful
employment, regular improvement, and to the benefit of all those around
your. You have had some opportunity of learning the rudiments of your
education—not as good as I should have desired, but I am much
cheered by the belief that you availed yourself of it—and I think
you are now prepared by diligence and study to learn whatever you desire.
Do not allow yourself to forget what you have spent so much time and
labour acquiring, but increase it every day by extended application. I
hope you will embrace in your studies all useful acquisitions. I was much
pleased to hear that while at ‘Bremo’ you passed much of your time in
reading and music. All accomplishments will enable you to give pleasure,
and thus exert a wholesome influence. Never neglect the means of making
yourself useful in the world. I think you will not have to complain of Rob
again for neglecting your schoolmates. He has equipped himself with a new
uniform from top to toe, and, with a new and handsome horse, is
cultivating a marvellous beard and preparing for conquest. I went down on
the lines to the right, Friday, beyond Rowanty Creek, and pitched my camp
within six miles of Fitzhugh’s last night. Rob came up and spent the night
with me, and Fitzhugh appeared early in the morning. They rode with me
till late that day. I visited the battlefield in that quarter, and General
Hampton in describing it said there had not been during the war a more
spirited charge than Fitzhugh’s division made that day up the Boydton
plank road, driving cavalry and infantry before him, in which he was
stopped by night. I did not know before that his horse had been shot under
him. Give a great deal of love to your dear mother, and kiss your sisters
for me. Tell them they must keep well, not talk too much, and go to bed
early.

“Ever your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.”

He refers in this letter to his coming down near our command, and my
brother’s visit and mine to him. Everything was quiet, and we greatly
enjoyed seeing him and being with him. The weather, too, was fine, and he
seemed to delight in our ride with him along the lines. I didn’t think I
saw him but once more until everything was over and we met in Richmond.
Some time before this, my mother, fearing for his health under the great
amount of exposure and work he had to do, wrote to him and begged him to
take better care of himself. In his reply, he says:

“…But what care can a man give to himself in the time of war? It is from
no desire for exposure or hazard that I live in a tent, but from
necessity. I must be where I can, speedily, at all times attend to the
duties of my position, and be near or accessible to the officers with whom
I have to act. I have been offered rooms in the houses of our citizens,
but I could not turn the dwellings of my kind hosts into a barrack where
officers, couriers, distressed women, etc., would be entering day and
night….”

General Fitz Lee, in his life of my father, says of him at this time:

“Self-possessed and calm, Lee struggled to solve the huge military
problem, and make the sum of smaller numbers equal to that of greater
numbers…. His thoughts ever turned upon the soldiers of his army, the
ragged gallant fellows around him—whose pinched cheeks told hunger
was their portion, and whose shivering forms denoted the absence of proper
clothing.”

His letters to my mother during the winter tell how much his men were in
need. My mother was an invalid from rheumatism, confined to a
rolling-chair. To help the cause with her own hands as far as she could,
she was constantly occupied in knitting socks for the soldiers, and
induced all around her to do the same. She sent them directly to my
father, and he always acknowledged them. November 30th, he says:

“…I received yesterday your letter on the 27th and am glad to learn your
supply of socks is so large. If two or three hundred would send an equal
number, we should have a sufficiency. I will endeavour to have them
distributed to the most needy….”

And on December 17th:

“…I received day before yesterday the box with hats, gloves, and socks;
also the barrel of apples. You had better have kept the latter, as it
would have been more useful to you than to me, and I should have enjoyed
its consumption by you and the girls more than by me….”

His friends and admirers were constantly sending him presents; some,
simple mementos of their love and affection; others, substantial and
material comforts for the outer and inner man. The following letter, from
its date, is evidently an acknowledgement of Christmas gifts sent him:

“December 30th…. The Lyons furs and fur robe have also arrived safely,
but I can learn nothing of the saddle of mutton. Bryan, of whom I inquired
as to its arrival, is greatly alarmed lest it has been sent to the
soldiers’ dinner. If the soldiers get it, I shall be content. I can do
very well without it. In fact, I should rather they should have it than
I….”

The soldiers’ “dinner” here referred to was a Christmas dinner, sent by
the entire country, as far as they could, to the poor starving men in the
trenches and camps along the lines. It would not be considered much now,
but when the conditions were such as my father describes when he wrote the
Secretary of War,

“The struggle now is to keep the army fed and clothed. Only fifty men in
some regiments have shoes, and bacon is only issued once in a few days,”
anything besides the one-quarter of a pound of bacon and musty corn-bread
was a treat of great service, and might be construed as “a Christmas
dinner.”

I have mentioned before my father’s devotion to children. This sentiment
pervaded his whole nature. At any time the presence of a little child
would bring a brightness to his smile, a tender softness to his glance,
and drive away gloom or care. Here is his account of a visit paid him,
early in January, 1865, by three little women:

“…Yesterday afternoon three little girls walked into my room, each with
a small basket. The eldest carried some fresh eggs, laid by her own hens;
the second, some pickles made by her mother; the third, some popcorn grown
in her garden. They were accompanied by a young maid with a block of soap
made by her mother. They were the daughters of a Mrs. Nottingham, a
refugee from Northhampton County, who lived near Eastville, not far from
‘old Arlington.’ The eldest of the girls, whose age did not exceed eight
years, had a small wheel on which she spun for her mother, who wove all
the cloth for her two brothers—boys of twelve and fourteen years. I
have not had so pleasant a visit for a long time. I fortunately was able
to fill their baskets with apples, which distressed poor Bryan [his
mess-steward], and I begged them to bring me nothing but kisses and to
keep the eggs, corn, etc., for themselves. I pray daily and almost hourly
to our Heavenly Father to come to the relief of you and our afflicted
country. I know He will order all things for our good, and we must be
content.”

Chapter VIII — The Surrender

Fort Fisher captured—Lee made Commander-in-Chief—Battle of
Five Forks—The General’s farewell to his men—His reception in
Richmond after the surrender—President Davis hears the news—Lee’s
visitors—His son Robert turns farmer

The year 1865 had now commenced. The strength of that thin gray line,
drawn out to less than one thousand men to the mile, which had repulsed
every attempt of the enemy to break through it, was daily becoming less.
The capture of Fort Fisher, our last open port, January 15th, cut off all
supplies and munitions from the outside world. Sherman had reached
Savannah in December, from which point he was ready to unite with Grant at
any time. From General Lee’s letters, official and private, one gets a
clear view of the desperateness of his position. He had been made
commander-in-chief of all the military forces in the Confederate States on
February 6th. In his order issued on accepting this command he says:

“…Deeply impressed with the difficulties and responsibilities of the
position, and humbly invoking the guidance of Almighty God, I rely for
success upon the courage and fortitude of the army, sustained by the
patriotism and firmness of the people, confident that their united efforts
under the blessing of Heaven will secure peace and independence….”

General Beauregard, who had so ably defended Petersburg when it was first
attacked, and who had assisted so materially in its subsequent defense,
had been sent to gather troops to try to check Sherman’s advance through
the Carolinas. But Beauregard’s health was now very bad, and it was feared
he would have to abandon the field. In a letter to the Secretary of War,
dated February 21, 1865, my father says:

“…In the event of the necessity of abandoning our position on James
River, I shall endeavour to unite the corps of the army about Burkeville
[junction of Southside and Danville Railroad], so as to retain
communication with the North and South as long as practicable, and also
with the West, I should think Lynchburg, or some point west, the most
advantageous place to which to remove stores from Richmond. This, however,
is a most difficult point at this time to decide, and the place may have
to be changed by circumstances. It was my intention in my former letter to
apply for General Joseph E. Johnston, that I might assign him to duty,
should circumstances permit. I have had no official report of the
condition of General Beauregard’s health. It is stated from many sources
to be bad. If he should break down entirely, it might be fatal. In that
event, I should have no one with whom to supply his place. I therefore
respectfully request General Johnston may be ordered to report to me, and
that I may be informed where he is.”

In a letter to the Secretary of War, written the next day:

“…But you may expect Sheridan to move up the Valley, and Stoneman from
Knoxville, as Sherman draws near Roanoke. What then will become of those
sections of the country? I know of no other troops that could be given to
Beauregard. Bragg will be forced back by Schofield, I fear, and, until I
abandon James River, nothing can be sent from this army. Grant, I think,
is now preparing to draw out by his left with the intent of enveloping me.
He may wait till his other columns approach nearer, or he may be preparing
to anticipate my withdrawal. I cannot tell yet…. Everything of value
should be removed from Richmond. It is of the first importance to save all
powder. The cavalry and artillery of the army are still scattered for want
of provender, and our supply and ammunition trains, which out to be with
the army in case of sudden movement, are absent collecting provisions and
forage—some in western Virginia and some in North Carolina. You will
see to what straits we are reduced; but I trust to work out.”

On the same day, in a letter to my mother, he writes:

“…After sending my note this morning, I received from the express office
a back of socks. You will have to send down your offerings as soon as you
can, and bring your work to a close, for I think General Grant will move
against us soon—within a week, if nothing prevents—and no man
can tell what may be the result; but trusting to a merciful God, who does
not always give the battle to the strong, I pray we may not be
overwhelmed. I shall, however, endeavour to do my duty and fight to the
last. Should it be necessary to abandon our position to prevent being
surrounded, what will you do? You must consider the question, and make up
your mind. It is a fearful condition, and we must rely for guidance and
protection upon a kind Providence….”

About this time, I saw my father for the last time until after the
surrender. We had been ordered up to the army from our camp nearly forty
miles away, reaching the vicinity of Petersburg the morning of the attack
of General Gordon on Fort Stedman, on March 25th. My brother and I had
ridden ahead of the division to report its presence, when we met the
General riding Traveller, almost alone, back from that part of the lines
opposite the fort. Since then I have often recalled the sadness of his
face, its careworn expression. When he caught sight of his two sons, a
bright smile at once lit up his countenance, and he showed very plainly
his pleasure at seeing us. He thanked my brother for responding so
promptly to his call upon him, and regretted that events had so shaped
themselves that the division would not then be needed, as he had hoped it
would be.

No good results followed Gordon’s gallant attack. His supports did not
come up a the proper time, and our losses were very heavy, mostly
prisoners. Two days after this, Sheridan, with ten thousand mounted men,
joined Grant, having marched from the Valley of Virginia via Staunton and
Charlottesville. On the 28th, everything being ready, General Grant
commenced to turn our right, and having more than three men to our one, he
had no difficult task. On that very day my father wrote to my mother:

“…I have received your note with a bag of socks. I return the bag and
receipt. The count is all right this time. I have put in the bag General
Scott’s autobiography, which I thought you might like to read. The
General, of course, stands out prominently, and does not hide his light
under a bushel, but he appears the bold, sagacious, truthful man that he
is. I inclose a note from little Agnes. I shall be very glad to see her
to-morrow, but cannot recommend pleasure trips now….”

On April 1st the Battle of Five Forks was fought, where about fifty
thousand infantry and cavalry—more men than were in our entire army—attacked
our extreme right and turned it, so that, to save our communications, we
had to abandon our lines at Petersburg, giving up that city and Richmond.
Form that time to April 9th the Army of Northern Virginia struggled to get
back to some position where it could concentrate its forces and make a
stand; but the whole world knows of that six-days’ retreat. I shall not
attempt to describe it in detail—indeed, I could not if I would, for
I was not present all the time—but will quote from those who have
made it a study and who are far better fitted to record it than I am.
General Early, in his address at Lexington, Virginia, January 19, 1872—General
Lee’s birthday—eloquently and briefly describes these six days as
follows:

“…The retreat from the lines of Richmond and Petersburg began in the
early days of April, and the remnant of the Army of Northern Virginia fell
back, more than one hundred miles, before its overpowering antagonists,
repeatedly presenting front to the latter and giving battle so as to check
his progress. Finally, from mere exhaustion, less than eight thousand men
with arms in their hands, of the noblest army that ever fought ‘in the
tide of time,’ were surrendered at Appomattox to an army of 150,000 men;
the sword of Robert E. Lee, without a blemish on it, was sheathed forever;
and the flag, to which he had added such luster, was furled, to be,
henceforth, embalmed in the affectionate remembrance of those who remained
faithful during all our trials, and will do so to the end.”

Colonel Archer Anderson, in his address at the unveiling of the Lee
monument in Richmond, Virginia, May 29, 1890, speaking of the siege of
Petersburg and of the surrender, utters these noble words:

“…Of the siege of Petersburg, I have only time to say that in it for
nine months the Confederate commander displayed every art by which genius
and courage can make good the lack of numbers and resources. But the
increasing misfortunes of the Confederate arms on other theatres of the
war gradually cut off the supply of men and means. The Army of Northern
Virginia ceased to be recruited, it ceased to be adequately fed. It lived
for months on less than one-third rations. It was demoralised, not by the
enemy in its front, but by the enemy in Georgia and the Carolinas. It
dwindled to 35,000 men, holding a front of thirty-five miles; but over the
enemy it still cast the shadow of its great name. Again and again, by a
bold offensive, it arrested the Federal movement to fasten on its
communications. At last, an irresistible concentration of forces broke
through its long thin line of battle. Petersburg had to be abandoned.
Richmond was evacuated. Trains bearing supplies were intercepted, and a
starving army, harassed for seven days by incessant attacks on rear and
flank, found itself completely hemmed in by overwhelming masses. Nothing
remained to it but its stainless honour, its unbroken courage. In those
last solemn scenes, when strong men, losing all self-control, broke down
and sobbed like children, Lee stood forth as great as in the days of
victory and triumph. No disaster crushed his spirit, no extremity of
danger ruffled his bearing. In the agony of dissolution now invading that
proud army, which for four years had wrested victory from every peril, in
that blackness of utter darkness, he preserved the serene lucidity of his
mind. He looked the stubborn facts calmly in the face, and when no
military resource remained, when he recognised the impossibility of making
another march or fighting another battle, he bowed his head in submission
to that Power which makes and unmakes nations. The surrender of the
fragments of the Army of Northern Virginia closed the imperishable record
of his military life….”

From the London “Standard,” at the time of his last illness, I quote these
words relative to this retreat:

“When the Army of Northern Virginia marched out of the lines around
Petersburg and Richmond, it still numbered some twenty-six thousand men.
After a retreat of six days, in the face of an overwhelming enemy, with a
crushing artillery—a retreat impeded by constant fighting and
harassed by countless hordes of cavalry—eight thousand were given up
by the capitulation at Appomattox Court House. Brilliant as were General
Lee’s earlier triumphs, we believe that he gave higher proofs of genius in
his last campaign, and that hardly any of his victories were so honourable
to himself and his army as that of his six-days’ retreat.”

Swinton, in his “History of the Army of the Potomac,” after justly
praising its deeds, thus speaks of its great opponent, the Army of
Northern Virginia:

“Nor can there fail to arise the image of that other army that was the
adversary of the Army of the Potomac, and—who that once looked upon
it can ever forget it?—that array of tattered uniforms and bright
muskets—that body of incomparable infantry, the Army of Northern
Virginia, which, for four years, carried the revolt on its bayonets,
opposing a constant front to the mighty concentration of power brought
against it; which, receiving terrible blows, did not fail to give the
like, and which, vital in all its parts, died only with its annihilation.”

General Long, in speaking of its hardships and struggles during the
retreat, thus describes how the army looked up to their commander and
trusted him to bring them through all their troubles:

“General Lee had never appeared more grandly heroic than on this occasion.
All eyes were raised to him for a deliverance which no human seemed able
to give. He alone was expected to provide food for the starving army and
rescue it from the attacks of a powerful and eager enemy. Under the
accumulation of difficulties, his courage seemed to expand, and wherever
he appeared his presence inspired the weak and weary with renewed energy
to continue the toilsome march. During these trying scenes his countenance
wore its habitual calm, grave expression. Those who watched his face to
catch a glimpse of what was passing in his mind could gather thence no
trace of his inner sentiments.”

No one can tell what he suffered. He did in all things what he considered
right. Self he absolutely abandoned. As he said, so he believed, that
“human virtue should equal human calamity.” A day or two before the
surrender, he said to General Pendleton:

“…I have never believed we could, against the gigantic combination for
our subjugation, make good in the long run our independence unless foreign
powers should, directly or indirectly, assist us…. But such
considerations really made with me no difference. We had, I was satisfied,
sacred principles to maintain and rights to defend, for which we were in
duty bound to do our best, even if we perished in the endeavour.”

After his last attempt was made with Gordon and Fitz Lee to break through
the lines of the enemy in the early morning of the 9th, and Colonel
Veneble informed him that it was not possible, he said:

“Then there is nothing left me but to go and see General Grant.” When some
one near him, hearing this, said:

“Oh, General, what will history say of the surrender of the army in the
field?” he replied:

“Yes, I know they will say hard things of us; they will not understand how
we were overwhelmed by numbers; but that is not the question, Colonel; the
question is, is it right to surrender this army? If it is right, then I
will take all the responsibility.”

There had been some correspondence with Grant just before the conversation
with General Pendleton. After Gordon’s attack failed, a flag of truce was
sent out, and, about eleven o’clock, General Lee went to meet General
Grant. The terms of surrender were agreed upon, and then General Lee
called attention to the pressing needs of his men. He said:

“I have a thousand or more of your men and officers, whom we have required
to march along with us for several days. I shall be glad to send them to
your lines as soon as it can be arranged, for I have no provisions for
them. My own men have been living for the last few days principally upon
parched cord, and we are badly in need of both rations and forage.”

Grant said he would at once send him 25,000 rations. General Lee told him
that amount would be ample and a great relief. He then rode back to his
troops. The rations issued then to our army were the supplies destined for
us but captured at Amelia Court House. Had they reached us in time, they
would have given the half-starved troops that were left strength enough to
make a further struggle. General Long graphically pictures the last
scenes:

“It is impossible to describe the anguish of the troops when it was known
that the surrender of the army was inevitable. Of all their trials, this
was the greatest and hardest to endure. There was no consciousness of
shame; each heart could boast with honest pride that its duty had been
done to the end, and that still unsullied remained its honour. When, after
this interview with General Grant, General Lee again appeared, a shout of
welcome instinctively went up from the army. But instantly recollecting
the sad occasion that brought him before them, their shouts sank into
silence, every hat was raised, and the bronzed faces of thousands of grim
warriors were bathed in tears. As he rode slowly along the lines, hundreds
of his devoted veterans pressed around the noble chief, trying to take his
hand, touch his person, or even lay their hands upon his horse, thus
exhibiting for him their great affection. The General then with head bare,
and tears flowing freely down his manly cheeks, bade adieu to the army.”

In a few words: “Men, we have fought through the war together; I have done
my best for you; my heart is too full to say more,” he bade them good-bye
and told them to return to their homes and become good citizens. The next
day he issued his farewell address, the last order published to the army:

“Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia, April 10, 1865.

“After four years’ of arduous service, marked by unsurpassed courage and
fortitude, the Army of Northern Virginia has been compelled to yield to
overwhelming numbers and resources. I need not tell the survivors of so
many hard-fought battles, who have remained steadfast to the last, that I
have consented to this result from no distrust of them; but, feeling that
valour and devotion could accomplish nothing that could compensate for the
loss that would have attended the continuation of the contest, I have
determined to avoid the useless sacrifice of those whose past services
have endeared them to their countrymen. By the terms of the agreement,
officers and men can return to their homes and remain there until
exchanged. You will take with you the satisfaction that proceeds from the
consciousness of duty faithfully performed; and I earnestly pray that a
merciful God will extend to you his blessing and protection. With an
increasing admiration of your constancy and devotion to your country, and
a grateful remembrance of your kind and generous consideration of myself,
I bid you an affectionate farewell.

“R. E. Lee, General.”

General Long says that General Meade called on General Lee on the 10th,
and in the course of conversation remarked:

“Now that the war may be considered over, I hope you will not deem it
improper for me to ask, for my personal information, the strength of your
army during the operations around Richmond and Petersburg.” General Lee
replied:

“At no time did my force exceed 35,000 men; often it was less.” With a
look of surprise, Meade answered:

“General, you amaze me; we always estimated your force at about seventy
thousand men.”

General de Chanal, a French officer, who was present, states that General
Lee, who had been an associate of Meade’s in the engineers in the “old
army,” said to him pleasantly:

“Meade, years are telling on you; your hair is getting quite gray.”

“Ah, General Lee,” was Meade’s prompt reply, “it is not the work of years;
YOU are responsible for my gray hairs!”

“Three days after the surrender,” says Long, “the Army of Northern
Virginia had dispersed in every direction, and three weeks later the
veterans of a hundred battles had exchanged the musket and the sword for
the implements of husbandry. It is worthy of remark that never before was
there an army disbanded with less disorder. Thousands of soldiers were set
adrift on the world without a penny in their pockets to enable them to
reach their homes. Yet none of the scenes of riot that often follow the
disbanding of armies marked their course.”

A day or two after the surrender, General Lee started for Richmond, riding
Traveller, who had carried him so well all through the war. He was
accompanied by some of his staff. On the way, he stopped at the house of
his eldest brother, Charles Carter Lee, who lived on the Upper James in
Powhatan County. He spent the evening in talking with his brother, but
when bedtime came, though begged by his host to take the room and bed
prepared for him, he insisted on going to his old tent, pitched by the
roadside, and passed the night in the quarters he was accustomed to. On
April 15th he arrived in Richmond. The people there soon recognised him;
men, women, and children crowded around him, cheering and waving hats and
handkerchiefs. It was more like the welcome to a conqueror than to a
defeated prisoner on parole. He raised his hat in response to their
greetings, and rode quietly to his home on Franklin Street, where my
mother and sisters were anxiously awaiting him. Thus he returned to that
private family life for which he had always longed, and become what he
always desired to be—a peaceful citizen in a peaceful land.

In attempting to describe these last days of the Army of Northern
Virginia, I have quoted largely from Long, Jones, Taylor, and Fitz Lee,
all of whom have given more or less full accounts of the movements of both
armies.

It so happened that shortly after we left our lines, April 2d or 3d, in
one of the innumerable contests, my horse was shot, and in getting him and
myself off the field, having no choice of routes, the pursuing Federal
cavalry intervened between men and the rest of our command, so I had to
make my way around the head of Sheridan’s advance squadrons before I could
rejoin our forces. This I did not succeed in accomplishing until April
9th, the day of the surrender, for my wounded horse had to be left with a
farmer, who kindly gave me one in exchange, saying I could send him back
when I was able, or, if I was prevented, that I could keep him and he
would replace him with mine when he got well.

As I was riding toward Appomattox on the 9th, I met a body of our cavalry
with General T. H. Rosser at the head. He told me that General Lee and his
army had surrendered, and that this force had made its way out, and was
marching back to Lynchburg, expecting thence to reach General Johnston’s
army. To say that I was surprised does not express my feelings. I had
never heard the word “surrender” mentioned, nor even a suggested, in
connection with our general or our army. I could not believe it, and did
not until I was positively assured by all my friends who were with
Rosser’s column that it was absolutely so. Very sadly I turned back and
went to Lynchburg along with them. There I found some wagons from our
headquarters which had been sent back, and with them the horses and
servants of the staff. These I got together, not believing for an instant
that our struggle was over, and, with several officers from our command
and others, we made our way to Greensboro, North Carolina. There I found
Mr. Davis and his cabinet and representatives of the Confederate
departments from Richmond. There was a great diversity of opinion amongst
all present as to what we should do. After waiting a couple of days,
looking over the situation from every point of view, consulting with my
uncle, Commodore S. S. Lee, of the Confederate Navy, and with many others,
old friends of my father and staunch adherents of the Southern cause, it
was determined to go back to Virginia to get our paroles, go home, and go
to work.

While at Greensboro I went to see President Davis, just before he
proceeded on his way further south. He was calm and dignified, and, in his
conversation with several officers of rank who were there, seemed to
think, and so expressed himself, that our cause was not lost, though
sorely stricken, and that we could rally our forces west of the
Mississippi and make good our fight. While I was in the room, Mr. Davis
received the first official communication from General Lee of his
surrender. Colonel John Taylor Woods, his aide-de-camp, had taken me in to
see the President, and he and I were standing by him when the despatch
from General Lee was brought to him. After reading it, he handed it
without comment to us; then, turning away, he silently wept bitter tears.
He seemed quite broken at the moment by this tangible evidence of the loss
of his army and the misfortune of its general. All of us, respecting his
great grief, silently withdrew, leaving him with Colonel Wood. I never saw
him again.

I started for Richmond, accompanied by several companions, with the
servants and horses belonging to our headquarters. These I had brought
down with me from Lynchburg, where I had found them after the surrender.
After two week of marching and resting, I arrived in Richmond and found my
father there, in the house on Franklin Street, now the rooms of the
“Virginia Historical Society,” and also my mother, brother, and sisters.
They were all much relieved at my reappearance.

As well as I can recall my father at this time, he appeared to be very
well physically, though he looked older, grayer, more quiet and reserved.
He seemed very tired, and was always glad to talk of any other subject
than that of the war or anything pertaining thereto. We all tried to cheer
and help him. And the people of Richmond and of the entire South were as
kind and considerate as it was possible to be. Indeed, I think their great
kindness tired him. He appreciated it all, was courteous, grateful, and
polite, but he had been under such a terrible strain for several years
that he needed the time and quiet to get back his strength of heart and
mind. All sorts and conditions of people came to see him: officers and
soldiers from both armies, statesmen, politicians, ministers of the
Gospel, mothers and wives to ask about husbands and sons of whom they had
heard nothing. To keep him from being overtaxed by this incessant stream
of visitors, we formed a sort of guard of the young men in the house, some
of whom took it by turns to keep the door and, if possible, turn strangers
away. My father was gentle, kind, and polite to all, and never willingly,
so far as I know, refused to see any one.

Dan lee, late of the Confederate States Navy, my first cousin, and myself,
one day had charge of the front door, when at it appeared a Federal
soldier, accompanied by a darkey carrying a large willow basket filled to
the brim with provisions of every kind. The man was Irish all over, and
showed by his uniform and carriage that he was a “regular,” and not a
volunteer. On our asking him what he wanted, he replied that he wanted to
see General Lee, that he had heard down the street the General and his
family were suffering for lack of something to eat, that he had been with
“the Colonel” when he commanded the Second Cavalry, and, as long as he had
a cent, his old colonel should not suffer. My father, who had stepped into
another room as he heard the bell ring, hearing something of the
conversation, came out into the hall. The old Irishman, as soon as he saw
him, drew himself up and saluted, and repeated to the General, with tears
streaming down his cheeks, what he had just said to us. My father was very
much touched, thanked him heartily for his kindness and generosity, but
told him that he did not need the things he had brought and could not take
them. This seemed to disappoint the old soldier greatly, and he pleaded so
hard to be allowed to present the supplies to his old colonel, whom he
believed to be in want of them, that at last my father said that he would
accept the basket and sent it to the hospital, for the sick and wounded,
who were really in great need. Though he was not satisfied, he submitted
to this compromise, and then to our surprise and dismay, in bidding the
General good-bye, threw his arms around him and was attempting to kiss
him, when “Dan” and I interfered. As he was leaving, he said:

“Good-bye, Colonel! God bless ye! If I could have got over in time I would
have been with ye!”

A day or two after that, when “Dan” was doorkeeper, three Federal
officers, a colonel, a major, and a doctor, called and asked to see
General Lee. They were shown into the parlour, presented their cards, and
said they desired to pay their respects as officers of the United States
Army. When Dan went out with the three cards, he was told by some one that
my father was up stairs engaged with some other visitor, so he returned
and told them this and they departed. When my father came down, was shown
the cards and told of the three visitors, he was quite put out at Dan’s
not having brought him the cards at the time and that afternoon mounted
him on one of his horses and sent him over to Manchester, where they were
camped, to look up the three officers and to tell them he would be glad to
see them at any time they might be pleased to call. However, Dan failed to
find them.

He had another visit at this time which affected him deeply. Two
Confederate soldiers in very dilapidated clothing, worn and emaciated in
body, came to see him. They said they had been selected from about sixty
other fellows, too ragged to come themselves, to offer him a home in the
mountains of Virginia. The home was a good house and farm, and near by was
a defile, in some rugged hills, from which they could defy the entire
Federal Army. They made this offer of a home and their protection because
there was a report that he was about to be indicted for treason. The
General had to decline to go with them, but the tears came into his eyes
at this hearty exhibition of loyalty.

After being in Richmond a few days, and by the advice of my father getting
my parole from the United States Provost Marshal there, the question as to
what I should do came up. My father told me that I could go back to
college if I desired and prepare myself for some profession—that he
had a little money which he would be willing and glad to devote to the
completion of my education. I think he was strongly in favour of my going
back to college. At the same time he told me that, if I preferred it, I
could take possession of my farm land in King William County, which I had
inherited from my grandfather, Mr. Custis, and make my home there. As
there was little left of the farm but the land, he thought he could
arrange to help me build a house and purchase stock and machinery.

My brother, General W. H. F. Lee, had already gone down to his place, “The
White House” in New Kent County, with Major John Lee, our first cousin,
had erected a shanty, and gone to work, breaking up land for a corn crop,
putting their cavalry horses to the plow. As I thought my father had use
for any means he might have in caring for my mother and sisters, and as I
had this property, I determined to become a farmer. However, I did not
decide positively, and in the meantime it was thought best that I should
join my brother and cousin at the White House and help them make their
crop of corn. In returning to Richmond, I had left at “Hickory Hill,”
General Wickham’s place in Hanover County, our horses and servants, taken
with me from Lynchburg to Greensboro and back. So bidding all my friends
and family good-bye, I went by rail to “Hickory Hill” and started the next
day with three servants and about eight horses for New Kent, stopping the
first night at “Pampatike.” The next day I reached the White House, where
the reinforcements I brought with me were hailed with delight.

Though I have been a farmer from that day to this, I will say that the
crop of corn which we planted that summer, with ourselves and army
servants as laborers and our old cavalry horses as teams, and which we did
not finish planting until the 9th of June, was the best I ever made.

Chapter IX — A Private Citizen

Lee’s conception of the part—His influence exerted toward the
restoration of Virginia—He visits old friends throughout the country—Receives
offers of positions—Compares notes with the Union General Hunter—Longs
for a country home—Finds one at “Derwent,” near Cartersville

My father remained quietly in Richmond with my mother and sisters. He was
now a private citizen for the first time in his life. As he had always
been a good soldier, so now he became a good citizen. My father’s advice
to all his old officers and men was to submit to the authority of the land
and to stay at home, now that their native States needed them more than
ever. His advice and example had great influence with all. In a letter to
Colonel Walter Taylor [his old A. A. G.], he speaks on this point:

“…I am sorry to hear that our returned soldiers cannot obtain
employment. Tell them they must all set to work, and if they cannot do
what they prefer, do what they can. Virginia wants all their aid, all
their support, and the presence of all her sons to sustain and recuperate
her. They must therefore put themselves in a position to take part in her
government, and not be deterred by obstacles in their way. There is much
to be done which they only can do….”

And in a letter, a month later, to an officer asking his opinion about a
decree of the Emperor of Mexico encouraging the emigration from the South
to that country:

“…I do not know how far their emigration to another land will conduce to
their prosperity. Although prospects may not now be cheering, I have
entertained the opinion that, unless prevented by circumstances or
necessity, it would be better for them and the country if they remained at
their homes and shared the fate of their respective States….”

Again, in a letter to Governor Letcher [the “War Governor” of Virginia]:

“…The duty of its citizens, then, appears to me too plain to admit of
doubt. All should unite in honest efforts to obliterate the effects of the
war and to restore the blessing of peace. They should remain, if possible,
in the country; promote harmony and good feeling, qualify themselves to
vote and elect to the State and general legislatures wise and patriotic
men, who will devote their abilities to the interests of the country and
the healing of all dissensions. I have invariably recommended this course
since the cessation of hostilities, and have endeavoured to practise it
myself….”

Also in a letter of still later date, to Captain Josiah Tatnall, of the
Confederate States Navy, he thus emphasises the same sentiment:

“…I believe it to be the duty of every one to unite in the restoration
of the country and the reestablishment of peace and harmony. These
considerations governed be in the counsels I gave to others, and induced
me on the 13th of June to make application to be included in the terms of
the amnesty proclamation….”

These letters and many more show plainly his conception of what was right
for all to do at this time. I have heard him repeatedly give similar
advice to relatives and friends and to strangers who sought it. The
following letters to General Grant and to President Johnson show how he
gave to the people of the South an example of quiet submission to the
government of the country:

“Richmond, Virginia, June 13, 1865.

“Lieutenant-General U. S. Grant, Commanding the

“Armies of the United States.

“General: Upon reading the President’s proclamation of the 29th ult., I
came to Richmond to ascertain what was proper or required of me to do,
when I learned that, with others, the was to be indicted for treason by
the grand jury at Norfolk. I had supposed that the officers and men of the
Army of Northern Virginia were, by the terms of their surrender, protected
by the United States Government from molestation so long as they conformed
to its conditions. I am ready to meet any charges that may be preferred
against me, and do not wish to avoid trail; but, if I am correct as to the
protection granted by my parole, and am not to be prosecuted, I desire to
comply with the provision of the President’s proclamation, and, therefore,
inclose the required application, which I request, in that event, may be
acted on. I am with great respect,

“Your obedient servant, R. E. Lee.”

“Richmond, Virginia, June 13, 1865.

“His Excellency Andrew Johnson, President of the United States.

“Sir: Being excluded from the provisions of the amnesty and pardon
contained in the proclamation of the 29th ult., I hereby apply for the
benefits and full restoration of all rights as privileges extended to
those included in its terms. I graduated at the Military Academy at West
Point in June, 1829; resigned from the United States Army, April, 1861;
was a general in the Confederate Army, and included in the surrender of
the Army of Northern Virginia, April 9, 1865. I have the honour to be,
very respectfully,

“Your obedient servant, R. E. Lee.”

Of this latter letter, my brother, Custis Lee, writes me:

“When General Lee requested me to make a copy of this letter, he remarked
it was but right for him to set an example of making a formal submission
to the civil authorities, and that he thought, by do doing, he might
possibly be in a better position to be of use to the Confederates who were
not protected by military paroles, especially Mr. Davis.”

Colonel Charles Marshall [a grandson of Chief Justice Marshall, and Lee’s
military secretary] says:

“…He (General Lee) set to work to use his great influence to reconcile
the people of the South to the hard consequences of their defeat, to
inspire them with hope, to lead them to accept, freely and frankly, the
government that had been established by the result of the war, and thus
relieve them from the military rule…. The advice and example of General
Lee did more to incline the scale in favour of a frank and manly adoption
of that course of conduct which tended to the restoration of peace and
harmony than all the Federal garrisons in all the military districts.”

My father was at this time anxious to secure for himself and family a
house somewhere in the country. He had always had a desire to be the owner
of a small farm, where he could end his days in peace and quiet. The life
in Richmond was not suited to him. He wanted quiet and rest, but could not
get it there, for people were too attentive to him. So in the first days
of June he mounted old Traveller and, unattended, rode down to “Pampatike”—some
twenty-five miles—to pay a visit of several days to his relations
there. This is an old Carter property, belonging then and now to Colonel
Thomas H. Carter, who, but lately returned from Appomattox Court House,
was living there with his wife and children. Colonel Carter, whose father
was a first cousin of General Lee’s, entered the Army of Northern Virginia
in the spring of 1861, as captain of the “King William Battery,” rose
grade by grade by his skill and gallantry, and surrendered in the spring
of 1865, as Colonel and Chief of Artillery of his corps at that time. He
was highly esteemed and much beloved by my father, and our families had
been intimate for a long time.

“Pampatike” is a large, old-fashioned plantation, lying along the Pamunkey
River, between the Piping Tree and New Castle ferries. Part of the house
is very old, and, from time to time, as more rooms were needed, additions
have been made, giving the whole a very quaint and picturesque appearance.
At the old-fashioned dinner hour of three o’clock, my father, mounted on
Traveller, unannounced, unexpected, and alone, rode up to the door. The
horse and rider were at once recognised by Colonel Carter, and he was
gladly welcomed by his kinsfolk. I am sure the days passed here were the
happiest he had spent for many years. He was very weary of town, of the
incessant unrest incident to his position, of the crowds of persons of all
sorts and conditions striving to see him; so one can imagine the joy of
master and horse when, after a hot ride of over twenty miles, they reached
this quiet resting-place. My father, Colonel Carter tells me, enjoyed
every moment of his stay. There were three children in the house, the two
youngest little girls of five and three years old. These were his special
delight, and he followed them around, talking baby-talk to them and
getting them to talk to him. Every morning before he was up they went into
his room, at his special request, to pay him a visit. Another great
pleasure was to watch Traveller enjoy himself. He had him turned out on
the lawn, where the June grass was very fine, abundant, and at its prime,
and would allow no cord to be fed to him, saying he had had plenty of that
during the last four years, and that the grass and the liberty were what
he needed. He talked to Colonel Carter much about Mexico, its people and
climate; also about the old families living in that neighbourhood and
elsewhere in the State, with whom both Colonel Carter and himself were
connected; but he said very little about the recent war, and only in
answer to some direct question.

About six miles from “Pampatike,” on the same river and close to its
banks, is “Chericoke,” another old Virginia homestead, which had belonged
to the Braxtons for generations, and, at that time, was the home of Corbin
Braxton’s widow. General Lee was invited to dine there, and to meet him my
brother, cousin, and I, from the White House, were asked, besides General
Rosser, who was staying in the neighbourhood, and several others. This old
Virginia house had long been noted for its lavish hospitality and
bountiful table. Mrs. Braxton had never realised that the war should make
any change in this respect, and her table was still spread in those days
of desolation as it had been before the war, when there was plenty in the
land. So we sat down to a repast composed of all the good things for which
that country was famous. John and I did not seem to think there was too
much in sight—at any rate, it did not daunt us, and we did our best
to lessen the quantity, consuming, I think, our share and more! We had
been for so many years in the habit of being hungry that it was not
strange we continued to be so awhile yet. But my father took a different
view of the abundance displayed, and, during his drive back, said to
Colonel Carter:

“Thomas, there was enough dinner to-day for twenty people. All this will
now have to be changed; you cannot afford it; we shall have to practise
economy.”

In talking with Colonel Carter about the situation of farmers at that time
in the South, and of their prospects for the future, he urged him to get
rid of the negroes left on the farm—some ninety-odd in number,
principally women and children, with a few old men—saying the
government would provide for them, and advised him to secure white labour.
The Colonel told him he had to use, for immediate needs, such force as he
had, being unable at that time to get whites. Whereupon General Lee
remarked:

“I have always observed that wherever you find the negro, everything is
going down around him, and wherever you find a white man, you see
everything around him improving.”

He was thinking strongly of taking a house in the country for himself and
family, and asked the Colonel whether he could not suggest some part of
the State that might suit him. Colonel Carter mentioned Clarke County as
representing the natural-grass section of Virginia, and Gloucester County
the salt-water. My father unhesitatingly pronounced in favour of the
grass-growing country. He told Mrs. Carter how pleased he was to hear that
she had received her husband in tears when he returned from the surrender,
as showing the true spirit, for, though glad to see him, she wept because
he could fight no more for the cause. The day after this dinner he had to
turn his back on those dear friends and their sweet home.

When Traveller was brought up to the door for him to mount, he walked all
around him, looking carefully at the horse, saddle, and bridle. Apparently
the blanket was not arranged to suit him, for he held the bridle while
“Uncle Henry” took off the saddle. Then he took off the blanket himself,
spread it out on the grass, and, folding it to suit his own idea of
fitness, carefully placed it on Traveller’s back, and superintended
closely the putting on and girthing of the saddle. This being done, he
bade everybody good-bye, and, mounting his horse, rode away homeward—to
Richmond. After crossing the Pamunkey at Newcastle ferry, he rode into
“Ingleside,” about a mile from the river, the lovely home of Mrs. Mary
Braxton. Here he dismounted and paid his respects to the mistress of the
house and her daughters, who were also cousins. That afternoon he reached
Richmond, returning by the same road he had travelled coming out. After
his visit, which he had enjoyed so much, he began looking about more than
ever to find a country home.

The house he was occupying in Richmond belonged to Mr. John Stewart, of
“Brook Hill,” who was noted for his devotion to the cause of the South and
his kindness to all those who had suffered in the conflict. My brother
Custis had rented it at the time he was appointed on Mr. Davis’s staff. A
mess had been established there by my brother and several other officers
on duty in Richmond. In time, my mother and sister had been made members
of it, and it had been the headquarters of all of the family during the
war, when in town. My father was desirous of making some settlement with
his landlord for its long use, but before he could take the final steps my
mother received the following note from Mr. Stewart:

“…I am not presuming on your good opinion, when I feel that you will
believe me, first, that you and yours are heartily welcome to the house as
long as your convenience leads you to stay in Richmond; and, next, that
you owe me nothing, but, if you insist on paying, that the payment must be
in Confederate currency, for which along it was rented to your son. You do
not know how much gratification it is, and will afford me and my whole
family during the remainder of our lives, to reflect that we have been
brought into contact, and to know and to appreciate you and all that are
dear to you.”

My father had been offered, since the surrender, houses lands, and money,
as well as positions as president of business associations and chartered
corporations.

“An English nobleman,” Long says, “desired him to accept a mansion and an
estate commensurate with his individual merits and the greatness of an
historic family.”

He replied: “I am deeply grateful; I cannot desert my native State in the
hour of her adversity. I must abide her fortunes, and share her fate.”

Until his death, he was constantly in receipt of such offers, all of which
he thought proper to decline. He wrote to General Long:

“I am looking for some little, quiet home in the woods, where I can
procure shelter and my daily bread, if permitted by the victor. I wish to
get Mrs. Lee out of the city as soon as practical.”

It so happened that nearly exactly what he was looking for was just then
offered to him. Mrs. Elizabeth Randolph Cocke, of Cumberland County, a
granddaughter of Edmund Randolph, had on her estate a small cottage which,
with the land attached, she placed at his disposal. The retired situation
of this little home, and the cordial way in which Mrs. Cocke insisted on
his coming, induced my father to accept her invitation.

Captain Edmund Randolph Cocke [Mrs. Cocke’s second son who lived with his
mother at Oakland] writes me the following:

“Oakland, Virginia, October 25, 1896.

“My mother, whose sympathies for everybody and everything connected with
our cause were the greatest and most enlarged of any one I ever knew,
thought it might be agreeable and acceptable to General Lee to have a
retired placed in which to rest. Having this little house unoccupied, she
invited him to accept it as a home as long as he might find it pleasant to
himself. The General came up with your mother and sisters about the last
of June, General Custis Lee having preceded them a day or two on
Traveller. At that time our mode of travel was on the canal by
horse-packet: leaving Richmond at a little before sunset, the boat reached
Pemberton, our landing, about sunrise. General Custis and I went down to
meet them, and we all reached home in time for breakfast. That night on
the boat the Captain had had the most comfortable bed put up that he could
command, which was offered to your father. But he preferred to sleep on
deck, which he did, with his military cloak thrown over him. No doubt that
was the last night he ever spent under the open sky. After a week spent
here, General Lee removed, with his family, to “Derwent.” There he spent
several months of quiet and rest, only interrupted by the calls of those
who came in all honesty and sincerity to pay their respects to him. Old
soldiers, citizens, men and women, all came without parade or ceremony.
During this time he rode on Traveller daily, taking sometimes long trips—once
I recall, going to his brother’s, Mr. Carter Lee’s, about twenty miles,
and at another time to Bremo, about thirty miles. During the month of
August he was visited by Judge Brockenborough, of Lexington, who, as
Rector of the Board of Trustees of Washington College, tendered him, on
behalf of the Board, the presidency of the college. After considering the
matter for several weeks, he decided to accept this position.

“…During that summer he was a regular attendant at the various churches
in our neighbourhood, whenever there was a service. I never heard your
father discuss public matters at all, nor did he express his opinion of
public men. On one occasion, I did hear him condemn with great severity
the Secretary of War, Stanton. This was at the time Mrs. Surratt was
condemned and executed. At another time I heard him speak harshly of
General Hunter, who had written to him to get his approval of his
movements, during the Valley Campaign, against General Early. With these
exceptions, I never heard him speak of public men or measures.”

In this connection I quote the Rev. J. Wm. Jones in his “Personal
Reminiscences of General Robert E. Lee”:

“Not long after the close of the war, General Lee received a letter from
General David Hunger, of the Federal Army, in which he begged information
on two points:

“1. His (Hunter’s) campaign in the summer of 1864 was undertaken on
information received at the War Department in Washington that General Lee
was about to detach forty thousand picked troops to send General Johnston.
Did not his (Hunter’s) movements prevent this, and relieve Sherman to that
extent?

“2. When he (Hunter) found it necessary to retreat from before Lynchburg,
did not he adopt the most feasible line of retreat?

“General Lee wrote a very courteous reply, in which he said:

“‘The information upon which your campaign was undertaken was erroneous. I
had NO TROOPS to spare General Johnston and no intention of sending him
any—CERTAINLY NOT FORTY THOUSAND, AS THAT WOULD HAVE TAKEN ABOUT ALL
I HAD.

“‘As to the second point—I would say that I am not advised as to the
motives which induced you to adopt the line of retreat which you took, and
am not, perhaps competent to judge of the question, BUT I CERTAINLY
EXPECTED YOU TO RETREAT BY WAY OF THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY [the emphasis is
Dr. Jones’s], and was gratified at the time that you preferred the route
through the mountains of the Ohio—leaving the valley open for
General Early’s advance into Maryland.’”

Before leaving Richmond, my father wrote the following letter to Colonel
Ordway, then Provost Marshal:

“Richmond, Virginia, June 21, 1865.

“Lt.-Col. Albert Ordway, Provost Marshal, Department of Virginia.

“Colonel: I propose establishing my family next week in Cumberland County,
Virginia, near Cartersville, on the James River canal. On announcing my
intention to General Patrick, when he was on duty in Richmond, he stated
that no passport for the purpose was necessary. Should there have been any
change in the orders of the Department rendering passports necessary, I
request that I may be furnished with them. My son, G. W. Custis Lee, a
paroled prisoner with myself, will accompany me. Very respectfully your
obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

The latter part of June, my father, mother, brother Custis, and sisters
went to “Derwent,” the name of the little place which was to be his home
for that summer. They went by canal-boat from Richmond to Cartersville,
and then had a drive of about six miles. Mrs. Cocke lived at “Oakland,”
two miles away, and her generous heart was made glad by the opportunity of
supplying my father and his family with every comfort that it was possible
to get at the time. In his letters to me, still at the White House busy
with our corn, he gives a description of the surroundings:

“…We are all well, and established in a comfortable but small house, in
a grove of oaks, belonging to Mr. Thomas Cocke [Mrs. Cocke’s eldest son].
It contains four rooms, and there is a house in the yard which when fitted
up will give us another. Only your mother, Agnes, and Mildred are with me.
Custis, who has had a return of his attack…is at Mrs. Cocke’s house,
about two miles off—is convalescent, I hope. I have been nowhere as
yet. The weather has been excessively hot, but this morning there is an
agreeable change, with some rain. The country here is poor but healthy,
and we are at a long distance from you all. I can do nothing until I learn
what decision in my case is made in Washington. All unite with me in much
love.

“Very truly, your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

The “case” referred to here was the indictment in June by a grand jury in
Norfolk, Virginia, of Mr. Davis, General Lee, and others, for treason or
something like it.

The Hon. Reverdy Johnson offered his professional services to my father in
this case, but there was no trial, as a letter from General Grant to the
authorities insisted that the parole given by him to the officers and
soldiers of the Army of Northern Virginia should be respected. The
following letter explains itself:

“Near Cartersville, Virginia, July 27, 1865.

“Hon. Reverdy Johnson, Baltimore, Md.

“My Dear Sir: I very much regret that I did not see you on your recent
visit to Richmond, that I might have thanked you for the interest you have
shown in my behalf, and you great kindness in offering me your
professional services in the indictment which I now understand is pending
against me. I am very glad, however, that you had an opportunity of
reading a copy of General Grant’s letter of the 20th inst. to me, which I
left with Mr. Macfarland for that purpose, and also that he might show it
to other officers of the Army of Northern Virginia in my condition. I did
not wish to give it greater publicity without the assent of General Grant,
supposing that, if he desired it made public, he would take steps to have
it done. Should he consent to your request to have it published, I, of
course, have no objection. But should he not, I request that you only use
it in the manner I have above indicated. Again offering you my warmest
thanks for your sympathy and consideration for my welfare, I am, with great
respect,

“Your obedient Servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

In another letter to me he tells of his visit to his brother Charles
Carter Lee in Powhatan County, which was an easy ride from “Derwent.” He
was very fond of making these little excursion, and Traveller, that
summer, was in constant use:

“Near Cartersville, July 22, 1865.

“My Dear Rob: I have just returned from a visit to your Uncle Carter, and,
among my letters, find one from some of your comrades to you, which I
inclose. I was happy to discover from the direction that it was intended
for you and not for me. I find Agnes quite sick, and have sent for the
doctor, as I do not know what to do for her. Poor little thing! she seems
quite prostrated. Custis, I am told, is better. He is still at Mrs.
Cocke’s. The rest of us are well. I saw several of your comrades, Cockes,
Kennons and Gilliams, who inquired after you all. Give my love to F. and
Johnny, in which all here unite, and believe me most truly and
affectionately

“Your father, R. E. Lee.

“Robert E. Lee.”

In another letter he gives an account of a trip that he and Traveller had
taken across the river into Albemarle County:

“Near Cartersville, August 21, 1865.

“My Dear Bertus: I received only a few days ago your letter of the 12th. I
am very sorry to hear of your afflictions, but hope you have shaken off
all of them. You must keep your eyes open, you precious boy, and not run
against noxious vines and fevers. I have just returned from a visit to
Fluvanna. I rode up the gray and extended my peregrinations into
Albemarle, but no further than the Green Mountain neighbourhood. I made
short rides, stopping every evening with some friend, and had a very
pleasant time. I commended you to all the young ladies on the road, but
did not know I was extolling a poisoned beau! You must go up and see Miss
Francis Galt. Tell Fitzhugh I wrote to him before I went away. I am glad
to hear that your corn is so fine, and that you are making preparations to
put in a good crop of wheat. I wish I had a little farm somewhere, to be
at work too. Custis is paying a visit to his friend, Captain Watkins, in
Powhatan. He came up for him last Saturday, and bore him off. He has got
quite well now, and I hope will continue so. Agnes is also well, though
still feeble and thin. Your mother, Life, and myself as usual. We have not
heard for some time from daughter. A report has reached us of her being at
Mr. Burwell’s. Miss Mary Cocke and her brother John paid us a short visit
from Saturday to Monday, and several of our neighbors have been over to
spend the day. We have a quiet time, which is delightful to me, but I fear
not so exhilarating to the girls. I missed Uncle Carter’s visit. He and
his Robert rode up on a pair of colts while I was in Fluvanna, and spent
several days. I wish we were nearer you boys. I want to see you very much,
but do not know when that can be. I hope Johnny is well. I have heard
nothing from his father since we parted in Richmond, but hear that Fitz
has gone to see his mother. All here send their best love to you, and I
pray that every happiness may attend you.

“Your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Robert E. Lee.”

“Bertus” was a contraction of Robertus, my father’s pet name for me as a
child. My afflictions were “poison-oak,” chills, and fever. The letter to
my brother Fitzhugh, here referred to, I also give:

“Near Cartersville, Cumberland County, Virginia, July 29, 1865.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I was very glad to receive, by the last packet from
Richmond, your letter of the 22d. We had all been quite anxious to hear
from you, and were much gratified to learn that you were all well, and
doing well. It is very cheering to me to hear of your good prospects for
corn and your cheerful prospects for the future. God grant they may be
realised, which, I am sure, they will be, if you will unite sound
judgement to your usual energy in your operations. As to the indictments,
I hope you, at last, may not be prosecuted. I see no other reason for it
than for prosecuting ALL who ever engaged in the war. I think, however, we
may expect procrastination in measures of relief, denunciatory threats,
etc. We must be patient, and let them take their course. As soon as I can
ascertain their intention toward me, if not prevented, I shall endeavour
to procure some humble, but quiet, abode for your mother and sisters,
where I hope they can be happy. As I before said, I want to get in some
grass country, where the natural product of the land will do much for my
subsistence…. Our neighbours are very kind, and do everything in the
world to promote our comfort. If Agnes is well enough, I propose to ride
up to ‘Bremo’ next week. I wish I was near enough to see you. Give much
love to Rob and Johnny, the Carters and Braxtons. All here unite in love
and best wishes for you all.

“Most affectionately, your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

Chapter X — President of Washington College

Patriotic motives for acceptance of trust—Condition of college—The
General’s arrival at Lexington—He prepares for the removal of his
family to that city—Advice to Robert Junior—Trip to “Bremo” on
private canal-boat—Mrs. Lee’s invalidism

About this time my father received from the Board of Trustees of
Washington College a notification of his election to the presidency of
that institution, at a meeting of the board held in Lexington, Virginia,
on August 4, 1865. The letter apprising him of the action was presented by
Judge John W. Brockenborough, rector of the college. This was a complete
surprise to my father. He had already been offered the vice-chancellorship
of the “University of the South,” at Sewanee, Tennessee, but declined it
on the ground that it was denominational, and to some suggestions that he
should connect himself with the University of Virginia he objected because
it was a State institution.

Washington College had started as an academy in 1749. It was the first
classical school opened in the Valley of Virginia. After a struggle of
many years, under a succession of principals and with several changes of
site, it at length acquired such a reputation as to attract the attention
of General Washington. He gave it a handsome endowment, and the
institution changed its name from “Liberty Hall Academy” to Washington
College. In the summer of 1865, the college, through the calamities of
civil war, had reached the lowest point of depression it had ever known.
Its buildings, library, and apparatus had suffered from the sack and
plunder of hostile soldiery. Its invested funds, owing to the general
impoverishment throughout the land, were for the time being rendered
unproductive and their ultimate value was most uncertain. Four professors
still remained on duty, and there were about forty students, mainly from
the country around Lexington. It was not a State institution, nor confined
to any one religious denomination, so two objections which might have been
made by my father were removed. But the college in later years had only a
local reputation. It was very poor, indifferently equipped with buildings,
and with no means in sight to improve its condition.

“There was a general expectation that he would decline the position as not
sufficiently lucrative, if his purpose was to repair the ruins of his
private fortune resulting from the war; as not lifting him conspicuously
enough in the public gaze, if he was ambitious of office or further
distinction; or as involving too great labour and anxiety, if he coveted
repose after the terrible contest from which he had just emerged.”
[Professor E. S. Joynes]

He was very reluctant to accept this appointment, but for none of the
above reasons, as the average man might have been. Why he was doubtful of
undertaking the responsibilities of such a position his letter of
acceptance clearly shows. He considered the matter carefully and then
wrote the following letter to the committee:

“Powhatan County, August 24, 1865.

“Gentlemen: I have delayed for some days replying to your letter of the
5th inst., informing me of my election by the board of trustees to the
presidency of Washington College, from a desire to give the subject due
consideration. Fully impressed with the responsibilities of the office, I
have feared that I should be unable to discharge its duties to the
satisfaction of the trustees or to the benefit of the country. The proper
education of youth requires not only great ability, but I fear more
strength than I now possess, for I do not feel able to undergo the labour
of conducting classes in regular courses of instruction. I could not,
therefore, undertake more than the general administration and supervision
of the institution. I could not, therefore, undertake more than the
general administration and supervision of the institution. There is
another subject which has caused me some serious reflection, and is, I
think, worthy of the consideration of the board. Being excluded from the
terms of amnesty in the proclamation of the President of the United
States, of the 29th of May last, and an object of censure to a portion of
the country, I have thought it probable that my occupation of the position
of president might draw upon the college a feeling of hostility; and I
should, therefore, cause injury to an institution which it would be my
highest desire to advance. I think it the duty of every citizen, in the
present condition of the country, to do all in his power to aid in the
restoration of peace and harmony, and in no way to oppose the policy of
the State or general government directed to that object. It is
particularly incumbent on those charged with the instruction of the young
to set them an example of submission to authority, and I could not consent
t be the cause of animadversion upon the college. Should you, however,
take a different view, and think that my services in the position tendered
to me by the board will be advantageous to the college and country, I will
yield to your judgement and accept it; otherwise, I must most respectfully
decline the office. Begging you to express to the trustees of the college
my heartfelt gratitude for the honour conferred upon me, and requesting
you to accept my cordial thanks for the kind manner in which you have
communicated their decision, I am, gentlemen, with great respect, your
most obedient servant, R. E. Lee”

To present a clearer view of some of the motives influencing my father in
accepting this trust—for such he considered it—I give an
extract from an address on the occasion of his death, by Bishop Wilmer, of
Louisiana, delivered at the University of the South, at Sewanee,
Tennessee:

“I was seated,” says Bishop Wilmer, “at the close of the day, in my
Virginia home, when I beheld, through the thickening shades of evening, a
horseman entering the yard, whom I soon recognised as General Lee. The
next morning he placed in my hands the correspondence with the authorities
of Washington College at Lexington. He had been invited to become
president of that institution. I confess to a momentary feeling of chagrin
at the proposed change (shall I say revulsion?) in his history. The
institution was one of local interest, and comparatively unknown to our
people. I named others more conspicuous which would welcome him with
ardour at the presiding head. I soon discovered that his mind towered
above these earthly distinctions; that, in his judgement, the CAUSE gave
dignity to the institution, and not the wealth of its endowment or the
renown of its scholars; that this door and not another was opened to him
by Providence, and he only wished to be assured of his competency to
fulfil his trust and this to make his few remaining years a comfort and
blessing to his suffering country. I had spoken to his human feelings; he
had now revealed himself to me as one ‘whose life was hid with Christ in
God.’ My speech was no longer restrained. I congratulated him that his
heart was inclined to this great cause, and that he was prepared to give
to the world this august testimony to the importance of Christian
education. How he listened to my feeble words; how he beckoned me to his
side, as the fulness of heart found utterance; how his whole countenance
glowed with animation as I spoke of the Holy Ghost as the great Teacher,
whose presence was required to make education a blessing, which otherwise
might be the curse of mankind; how feelingly he responded, how ELOQUENTLY,
as I never heard him speak before—can never be effaced from memory;
and nothing more sacred mingles with my reminiscences of the dead.”

The board of trustees, on August 31st, adopted and sent to General Lee
resolutions saying that, in spite of his objections, “his connection with
the institution would greatly promote its prosperity and advance the
general interest of education, and urged him to enter upon his duties as
president at his earliest convenience.”

My father had had nearly four years’ experience in the charge of young men
at West Point. The conditions at that place, to be sure, were very
different from those at the one to which he was now going, but the work in
the main was the same—to train, improve and elevate. I think he was
influenced, in making up his mind to accept this position, by the great
need of education in his State and in the South, and by the opportunity
that he saw at Washington College for starting almost from the beginning,
and for helping, by his experience and example, the youth of his country
to become good and useful citizens.

In the latter part of September, he mounted Traveller and started alone
for Lexington. He was four days on the journey, stopping with some friend
each night. He rode into Lexington on the afternoon of the fourth day, no
one knowing of his coming until he quietly drew up and dismounted at the
village inn. Professor White, who had just turned into the main street as
the General halted in front of the hotel, said he knew in a moment that
this stately rider on the iron-gray charger must be General Lee. He,
therefore, at once went forward, as two or three old soldiers gathered
around to help the General down, and insisted on taking him to the home of
Colonel Reid, the professor’s father-in-law, where he had already been
invited to stay. My father, with his usual consideration for others, as it
was late in the afternoon, had determined to remain at the hotel that
night and go to Mr. Reid’s in the morning; but yielding to Captain White’s
(he always called him “Captain,” his Confederate title) assurances that
all was made ready for him, he accompanied him to the home of his kind
host.

The next morning, before breakfast, he wrote the following letter to my
mother announcing his safe arrival. The “Captain Edmund” and “Mr. Preston”
mentioned in it were the sons of our revered friend and benefactress Mrs.
E. R. Cocke. Colonel Preston and Captain Frank were her brother and
nephew:

“Lexington, September 19, 1865.

“My Dear Mary: I reached here yesterday about one P.M., and on riding up
to the hotel was met by Professor White, of Washington College, who
brought me up to his father-in-law’s, Colonel Reid, the oldest member of
the trustees of the college, where I am very comfortably quartered. To-day
I will look out for accommodations elsewhere, as the Colonel has a large
family and I fear I am intruding upon his hospitality. I have not yet
visited the college grounds. They seem to be beautifully located, and the
buildings are undergoing repairs. The house assigned to the president, I
am told, has been rented to Dr. Madison (I believe), who has not been able
to procure another residence, and I do not know when it will be vacated,
nor can I tell you more about it. I saw Mrs. and Colonel Preston, Captain
Frank, and his sister. All the family are well. I shall go after breakfast
to inquire after my trunks. I had a very pleasant journey here. The first
two days were very hot, but, reaching the mountain region the third day,
the temperature was much cooler. I came up in four days’ easy rides,
getting to my stopping-place by one P.M. each day, except the third, when
I slept on top of the Blue Ridge, which I reached at three P.M. The
scenery was beautiful all the way. I am writing before breakfast, and must
be short. Last night I found a blanket and coverlid rather light covering,
and this morning I see a fire in the dining-room. I have thought much of
you all since I left. Give much love to the girls and Custis and remember
me to all at ‘Oakland.’

“Most affectionately yours, R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

When he first arrived, the family, very naturally, stood a little in awe
of him. This feeling, however, was soon dispelled, for his simple and
unaffected manners in a short while put them at ease. There were some
little children in the house, and they and the General at once became
great friends. With these kind and hospitable friends he stayed several
days. After being present at a meeting of the board of trustees, he rode
Traveller over to the Rockbridge Baths—eleven miles from Lexington—and
from there writes to my mother, on September 25th:

“…Am very glad to hear of Rob’s arrival. I am sorry that I missed seeing
the latter, but find it was necessary that I should have been present at
the meeting of the board of trustees on the 20th. They adjourned on the
eve of the 21st, and on the morning of the 22d I rode over here, where I
found Annie and Miss Belle [Mrs. Chapman Leigh and Miss Belle Harrison, of
Brandon, both very dear friends and cousins of my father]…. The babies
[Mrs. Leigh’s] are well and sweet. I have taken the baths every day since
my arrival, and like them very much. In fact, they are delightful, and I
wish you were all here to enjoy them…. Annie and Belle go in two, and
sometimes three, times a day. Yesterday I procured some horses and took
them up to the top of Jump Mountain, where we had one of the most
beautiful views I ever saw. To-day I could get but one horse, and Miss
Belle and I rode up Hays Creek Valley, which possessed beauties of a
different kind. I shall return to Lexington on the 29th. I perceive, as
yet, no change in my rheumatic affection…. Tell Custis I am much obliged
to him for his attention to my baggage. All the articles enumerated by him
arrived safely at Colonel Reid’s Thursday morning early. I also received
the package of letters he sent…. I hope he may receive the appointment
at the V. M. I. Everyone interested has expressed a desire he should do
so, and I am more desirous than all of them. If he comes by land, he will
find the route I took very pleasant, and about 108 miles, namely: ‘Bremo’—Dr.
Wilmer’s—Waynesboro’—Greenville. He will find me at the
Lexington Hotel…. I wish you were all here with me. I feel very solitary
and miss you all dreadfully. Give much love to the girls and boys—kind
remembrances to Mrs. P., Miss Louisa, and Mrs. Thos. Cocke. I have no
news. Most affectionately, R. E. Lee.

“P.S.—Annie and Belle send a great deal of love to all. R. E. L.”

These little excursions and the meeting with old friends and dear cousins
were sources of real enjoyment and grateful rest. The pains of the past,
the worries of the present, and the cares for the future were, for the
time being, banished. My father earnestly desired a quiet, informal
inauguration, and his wish was gratified. On October 2, 1865, in the
presence of the trustees, professors and students, after solemn and
appropriate prayer by the Rev. W. S. White, D. D., the oldest Christian
minister in the town [the father of Professor (or “Captain”) White], he
took the oath of office as required by the laws of the college, and was
thus legally inaugurated as its president.

On October 3d he wrote my mother:

“…I am glad to hear that Rob is improving, and hope you had the pleasure
of seeing Mr. Dana [Our old pastor of Christ’s Church, Alexandria, the
trusted friend of my grandmother and mother, who had baptised all the
children at Arlington]…. The college opened yesterday, and a fine set of
youths, about fifty, made their appearance in a body. It is supposed that
many more will be coming during the month. The scarcity of money
everywhere embarrasses all proceedings. General Smith informs me that the
Military Institute will commence its exercises on the 16th inst.; and that
Custis was unanimously elected to the chair of Civil Engineering [The
Virginia Military Institute, a State institution, modelled after the U. S.
Military Academy at West Point, was located in Lexington, and its grounds
adjoined those of Washington College. Since its foundation in 1839, unto
this time, General F. H. Smith had been its superintendent.]. I am living
at the Lexington Hotel, and he must come there if he comes up…. The
ladies have furnished me a very nice room in the college for my office;
new carpet from Baltimore, curtains, etc. They are always doing something
kind…. I came up September 30th from the Baths. Annie and Miss Belle
still there and very well. They expect to be here on the 10th…. You tell
me nothing of the girls. I hope Agnes is getting strong and fat. I wished
for them both at the Baths. Annie and Belle were my only companions. I
could not trespass upon them always. The scenery is beautiful here, but I
fear it will be locked up in winter by the time you come. Nothing could be
more beautiful than the mountains now….

“Most affectionately, R. E. Lee.”

In addition to his duties as college president, my father had to make all
the arrangements for his new home. The house assigned him by the college
was occupied by Dr. Madison, who was to move out as soon as he could.
Carpenters, painters and glaziers had to be put to work to get it into
condition; furniture, carpets, bedding to be provided, a cook procured,
servants and provisions supplied.

My mother was an invalid and absent, and as my sisters were with her,
everything down to the minutest details was done by my father’s directions
and under his superintendence. He had always been noted for his care and
attention to the little things, and that trait, apparent in him when a
mere lad, practised all through his busy and eventful life, stood him in
good stead now. The difficulties to be overcome were made greater by the
scarcity and inaccessibility of supplies and workmen and the smallness of
his means. In addition, he conducted a large correspondence, always
answering every letter. To every member of his family he wrote
continually, and was interested in all our pursuits, advising and helping
us as no one else could have done. Some of his letters to my mother at
this time show how he looked into every matter, great or small, which
related to her comfort and welfare, and to the preparation of her new
home. For example, on October 9th he writes:

“…Life is indeed gliding away and I have nothing of good to show for
mine that is past. I pray I may be spared to accomplish something for the
benefit of mankind and the honour of God…. I hope I may be able to get
the house prepared for you in time to reach here before the cold weather.
Dr. Madison has sent me word that he will vacate the house on the 16th
inst., this day week. I will commence to make some outside repairs this
week, so as to get at the inside next, and hope by the 1st of November it
will be ready for you. There is no furniture belonging to the house, but
we shall require but little to commence with. Mr. Green, of Alexandria, to
whom I had written, says that his manufacturing machinery, etc., has been
so much injured that, although it has been returned to him, he cannot
resume operations until next year, but that he will purchase for us
anything we desire. I believe nothing is manufactured in Richmond—everything
comes from the North, and we might as well write to Baltimore at once for
what we want. What do you think? I believe nothing of consequence is
manufactured here. I will see this week what can be done….”

And again, a few days later, he writes:

“…I hope you are all well, and as comfortable as can be. I am very
anxious to get you all here, but have made little progress in
accomplishing it so far. Dr. M. expects to vacate the house this week, but
I fear it is not certain he can do so…. I engaged some carpenters last
week to repair the roof, fences, stable, etc., but for want of material
they could not make a commencement. There is no lumber here at hand.
Everything has to be prepared. I have not been in the house yet, but I
hear there is much to be done. We shall have to be patient. As soon as it
is vacated, I will set to work. I think it will be more expeditious and
cheaper to write to Renwick [of Baltimore] to send what articles of
furniture will be required, and also to order some carpets from
Baltimore….”

In a postscript, dated the 17th, he says:

“The carpenters made a beginning on the house yesterday. I hope it may be
vacated this week. I will prepare your room first. The rest of us can
bivouac. Love to all. Most affectionately, R. E. Lee.”

On October 19th:

“…I have been over the house we are to occupy. It is in wretched
condition. Mrs. M. has not yet vacated it, but I have some men at work,
though this storm has interrupted their operations and I fear little will
be done this week. I think I can make your room comfortable. The upstairs
is very convenient and the rest of the house sufficiently so. I think you
had better write at once to Brit [the “Brit” mentioned here is Mrs.
Birtannia Kennon, of “Tudor Place,” my mother’s first cousin. She had
saved for us a great many of the household goods from Arlington, having
gotten permission from the Federal authorities to do so, at the time it
was occupied by their forces] to send the curtains you speak of, and the
carpets. It is better to use what we have than to buy others. Their use
where originally intended [Arlington, to that beloved home my mother still
hoped to return] is very uncertain. They have been tossed about for four
years, and may be lost or ruined. They can come by express to Lynchburg,
and then up the canal, or by Richmond. The merchants say the former is the
best way—much more expeditious and but little more expensive.”

Spending the summer on the Pamunkey at the White House, exposed all day in
the fields to the sun, and at night to the malaria from the river and
marshes, I became by the last of September one continuous “chill,” so it
was decided that, as the corn was made, the fodder saved, the wheat land
broken up, and hands not so greatly needed, I should get a furlough.
Mounting my mare, I started on a visit to my mother and sisters, hoping
that the change to the upper country would help me to get rid of the
malaria. When I reached “Derwent” my father had gone to Lexington, but my
mother and the rest were there to welcome me and dose me for my ailments.
There was still some discussion among us all as to what was the best thing
for me to do, and I wrote to my father, telling him of my preference for a
farmer’s life and my desire to work my own land. The following letter,
which he wrote me in reply, is, like all I ever got from him, full of
love, tenderness, and good, sensible advice:

“My Dear Son: I did not receive until yesterday your letter of the 8th
inst. I regret very much having missed seeing you—still more to hear
that you have been suffering from intermittent fever. I think the best
thing you can do is to eradicate the disease from your system, and unless
there is some necessity for your returning to the White House, you had
better accompany your mother here. I have thought very earnestly as to
your future. I do not know to what stage your education has been carried,
or whether it would be advantageous for you to pursue it further. Of that
you can judge. If you do, and will apply yourself so as to get the worth
of your money, I can advance it to you for this year at least. If you do
not, and wish to take possession of your farm, I can assist you a little
in that. As matters now stand, you could raise money on your farm only by
mortgaging it, which would put you in debt at the beginning of your life,
and I fear in the end would swallow up all your property. As soon as I am
restored to civil rights, if I ever am, I will settle up your
grandfather’s estate, and put you in possession of your share. The land
may be responsible for some portion of his debts or legacies. If so, you
will have to assume it. In the meantime, I think it would be better for
you, if you determine to farm your land, to go down there as you propose
and begin on a moderate scale. I can furnish you means to buy a team,
wagon, implements, etc. What will it cost? If you cannot wait to accompany
your mother here, come up to see me and we can talk it over. You could
come up in the packet and return again. If you do come, ask Agnes for my
box of private papers I left with her, and bring it with you; but do not
lose it for your life, or we are all ruined. Wrap it up with your clothes
and put it in a carpet-bag or valise, so that you can keep it with you or
within your sight, and do not call attention to it. I am glad to hear that
Fitzhugh keeps so well, and that he is prospering in his farming
operations. Give him a great deal of love for me. The first thing you must
do is to get well.

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

His letters to his daughters tell, in a playful way, much of his life, and
are full of the quiet humor in which he so often indulged. We were still
at “Derwent,” awaiting the time when the house in Lexington should be
ready. It had been decided that I should remain and accompany my mother
and sisters to Lexington, and that some of us, or all, should go up the
river to “Bremo,” the beautiful seat of Dr. Charles Cocke, and pay a visit
there before proceeding to Lexington. Here is a letter from my father to
his daughter Mildred:

“Lexington, October 29, 1865.

“My Precious Life: Your nice letter gave me much pleasure and made me the
more anxious to see you. I think you girls, after your mother is
comfortable at ‘Bremo,’ will have to come up and arrange the house for her
reception. You know I am a poor hand and can do nothing without your
advice. Your brother, too, is wild for the want of admonition. Col. Blair
is now his ‘fidus Achates,’ and as he is almost as gray as your papa, and
wears the same uniform, all gray, he is sometimes taken for him by the
young girls, who consider your brother the most attentive of sons, and
giving good promise of making a desirable husband. He will find himself
married some of these days before he knows it. You had better be near him.
I hope you give attention to Robert. Miss Sallie will thaw some of the ice
from his heart. Tell her she must come up here, as I want to see her
badly. I do not know what you will do with your chickens, unless you take
them to ‘Bremo,’ and thus bring them here. I suppose Robert would not eat
‘Laura Chilton’ and ‘Don Ella McKay.’ Still less would he devour his
sister ‘Mildred’ [these were the names of some of my sister’s pet
chickens]. I have scarcely gotten acquainted with the young ladies. They
look very nice in the walks, but I rarely get near them. Traveller is my
only companion; I may also say my pleasure. He and I, whenever
practicable, wander out in the mountains and enjoy sweet confidence. The
boys are plucking out his tail, and he is presenting the appearance of a
plucked chicken. Two of the belles of the neighborhood have recently been
married—Miss Mattie Jordan to Dr. Cameron, and Miss Rose Cameron to
Dr. Sherod. The former couple go to Louisburg, West Virginia, and start
to-morrow on horseback, the bride’s trousseau in a baggage wagon; the
latter to Winchester. Miss Sherod, one of the bridesmaids, said she knew
you there. I did not attend the weddings, but have seen the pairs of
doves. Both of the brides are remarkable in this county of equestrianism
for their good riding and beauty. With true affection, Your fond father,

“R. E. Lee.”

To his daughter Agnes, about the same time, he writes:

“Lexington, Virginia, October 26, 1865.

“My Dear Agnes: I will begin the correspondence of the day by thanking you
for your letter of the 9th. It will, I am sure, be to me intellectually
what my morning’s feast is corporeally. It will strengthen me for the day,
and smooth the rough points which constantly protrude in my epistles. I am
glad Robert is with you. It will be a great comfort to him, and I hope, in
addition, will dissipate his chills. He can also accompany you in your
walks and rides and be that silent sympathy (for he is a man of few words)
which is so soothing. Though marble to women, he is so only externally,
and you will find him warm and cheering. Tell him I want him to go to see
Miss Francis Galt (I think her smile will awake some sweet music in him),
and be careful to take precautions against the return of the chills, on
the 7th, 14th, and 21st days…. I want very much to have you all with me
again, and miss you dreadfully. I hope another month will accomplish it.
In the meantime, you must get very well. This is a beautiful spot by
nature—man has done but little for it. Love to all. Most
affectionately,

“Your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

About the first week of November we all went by canal-boat to “Bremo,”
some twenty-five miles up the James River, where we remained the guests of
Doctor and Mrs. Charles Cocke until we went to Lexington. My sister Agnes,
while there, was invited to Richmond to assist at the wedding of a very
dear friend, Miss Sally Warwick. She wrote my father asking his advice and
approval, and received this reply, so characteristic of his playful,
humorous mood:

“Lexington, Virginia, November 16, 1865.

“My Precious Little Agnes: I have just received your letter of the 13th
and hasten to reply. It is very hard for you to apply to me to advise you
to go away from me. You know how much I want to see you, and how important
you are to me. But in order to help you to make up your mind, if it will
promote your pleasure and Sally’s happiness, I will say go. You may inform
Sally from me, however, that no preparations are necessary, and if they
were no one could help her. She has just got to wade through it as if it
was an attack of measles or anything else—naturally. As she would
not marry Custis, she may marry whom she chooses. I shall wish her every
happiness, just the same, for she knows nobody loves her as much as I do.
I do not think, upon reflection, she will consider it right to refuse my
son and take away my daughter. She need not tell me whom she is going to
marry. I suppose it is some cross old widower, with a dozen children. She
will not be satisfied at her sacrifice with less, and I should think that
would be cross sufficient. I hope ‘Life’ is not going to desert us too,
and when are we to see you?… I have received your mother’s letter
announcing her arrival at ‘Bremo.’… Tell your mother, however, to come
when she chooses and when most to her comfort and convenience. She can
come to the hotel where I am, and stay until the house is ready. There is
no difficulty in that, and she can be very comfortable. My rooms are up on
the 3d floor and her meals can be sent to her. Tell Rob the chills will
soon leave him now. Mrs. Cocke will cure him. Give much love to your
mamma, Mildred, Rob, and all at ‘Bremo.’

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Miss Agnes Lee.”

Colonel Ellis, President of the James River and Kanawha Canal Company,
placed at my mother’s disposal his private boat, which enabled her to
reach “Bremo” with great ease and comfort, and when she was ready to go to
Lexington the same boat was again given her. It was well fitted up with
sleeping accommodations, carried a cook, and had a dining-room. It
corresponded to the private car of the present railroad magnate, and,
though not so sumptuous, was more roomy and comfortable. When provisions
became scarce we purchased fresh supplies from any farm-house near the
canal-bank, tied up at night, and made about four miles an hour during the
day. It was slow but sure, and no mode of travel, even at the present day,
could have suited my mother better. She was a great invalid from
rheumatism, and had to be lifted whenever she moved. When put in her
wheel-chair, she could propel herself on a level floor, or could move
about her room very slowly and with great difficulty on her crutches, but
she was always bright, sunny-tempered, and uncomplaining, constantly
occupied with her books, letters, knitting, and painting, for the last of
which she had a great talent.

On November 20th my father writes to her from Lexington:

“I was very glad to hear, by your letter of the 11th, of your safe arrival
at ‘Bremo.’ I feel very grateful to Col. Ellis for his thoughtful
consideration in sending you in his boat, as you made the journey in so
much more comfort. It is indeed sad to be removed from our kind friends at
‘Oakland,’ who seemed never to tire of contributing to our convenience and
pleasure, and who even continue their kindness at this distance. Just as
the room which I had selected for you was finished, I received the
accompanying note from Mrs. Cocke, to which I responded and thanked her in
your name, placing the room at her disposal. The paint is hardly dry yet,
but will be ready this week, to receive the furniture if completed. I know
no more about it than is contained in her note. I was also informed, last
night, that a very handsome piano had been set up in the house, brought
from Baltimore by the maker as a present from his firm or some friends. I
have not seen it or the maker. This is an article of furniture that we
might well dispense with under present circumstances, though I am equally
obliged to those whose generosity prompted its bestowal. Tell Mildred I
shall now insist on her resuming her music, and, in addition to her other
labours, she must practise SEVEN hours a day on the piano, until she
becomes sufficiently proficient to play agreeably to herself and others,
and promptly and gracefully, whenever invited. I think we should enjoy all
the amenities of life that are within our reach, and which have been
provided for us by our Heavenly Father…. I am sorry Rob has a return of
his chills, but he will soon lose them now. Ask Miss Mary to disperse
them. She is very active and energetic; they cannot stand before her…. I
hope Agnes has received my letter, and that she has made up her mind to
come up to her papa. Tell her there are plenty of weddings here, if she
likes those things. There is to be one Tuesday—Miss Mamie Williamson
to Captain Eoff. Beverley Turner is to be married the same night, to Miss
Rose Skinker, and sweet Margaret will also leave us. If they go at three a
night, there will soon be none of our acquaintances left. I told Agnes to
tell you to come up whenever most convenient to you. If the house is
habitable I will take you there. If not, will bring you to the hotel…. I
wish I could take advantage of this fine weather to perform the
journey….”

Chapter XI — The Idol of the South

Photographs and autographs in demand—The General’s interest in young
people—His happy home life—Labours at Washington College—He
gains financial aid for it—Worsley’s translation of Homer dedicated
to him—Tributes from other English scholars

The people of Virginia and of the entire South were continually giving
evidence of their intense love for General Lee. From all nations, even
from the Northern States, came to him marks of admiration and respect.
Just at this time he received many applications for his photograph with
autograph attached. I believe there were none of the little things in life
so irksome to him as having his picture taken in any way, but, when able
to comply, he could not refuse to do what was asked of him by those who
were willing and anxious to do so much for him.

In the following letter the photographs referred to had been sent to him
for his signature, from a supply that my mother generally kept on hand.
She was often asked for them by those who very considerately desired to
save my father the trouble:

“Lexington, November 21, 1865.

“My Dear Mary: I have just received your letter of the 17th, and return
the photographs with my signatures. I wrote to you by the boat of
yesterday morning. I also sent you a packet of letters by Captain
Wilkinson [commander of the canal packet], which also ought to have
reached you to-day. I have nothing to add to my former letters, and only
write now that you may receive the photos before you leave. I answered
Agnes’ letter immediately, and inclosed her several letters. I was in
hopes she had made up her mind to eschew weddings and stick to her pap. I
do not think she can help little Sallie. Besides, she will not take the
oath—how can she get married? The wedding party from this place go
down in the boat to-night to Lynchburg—Miss Williamson and Captain
Eoff. They are to be married in church at eight P. M. and embark at
eleven. I wish them a pleasant passage and am glad I am not of the party.
The scenery along the river will no doubt be cheering and agreeable. I
think the repairs of the house will be completed this week; should the
furniture arrive, it will be habitable next. The weather is still
beautiful, which is in our favour. I am glad Caroline is so promising. I
have engaged no servant here yet, nor have I found one to my liking, we
can get some of some kind, and do better when we can. I have heard nothing
of the wedding at ‘Belmead,’ and do not think Preston will go. Mrs. Cocke
is very well, but the furniture she intends for your room is not yet
completed. It will be more comfortable and agreeable to you to go at once
to the house on your arrival. But if there is anything to make it more
desirable for you to come before the house is ready, you must come to the
hotel. If we could only get comfortable weather in December, it would be
better not to go into the house until it is dry, the paint hard, etc. It
will require all this week to get the wood done; then it must be scoured,
etc., and the furniture properly arranged. Tell Rob he will soon be well.
He must cheer up and come and see his papa. Give my love to Mrs. Cocke,
Miss Mary, etc., etc. Tell Agnes, if she thinks Sallie is IN EXTREMIS, to
go to her. I do not want her to pass away, but it is a great
disappointment to me not to have her with me. I am getting very old and
infirm now, and she had better come to her papa and take care of him.

“Most affectionately yours, R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

My father was always greatly interested in the love affairs of his
relatives, friends, and acquaintances. His letters during the war show
this in very many ways. One would suppose that the general commanding an
army in active operations could not find the time even to think of such
trifles, much less to write about them; but he knew of very many such
affairs among his officers and even his men, and would on occasion refer
to them before the parties themselves, very much to their surprise and
discomfiture. Bishop Peterkin, of West Virginia, who served on the staff
of General Pendleton, tells me of the following instances, in illustration
of this characteristic:

“It was in the winter of 1863-4, when we were camped near Orange Court
House, that, meeting the General after I had come back from a short visit
to Richmond, he asked after my father, and then said, ‘Did you see Miss
——?’ and I replied, ‘No, sir; I did not.’ Then again, ‘Did you
see Miss ——?’ and when I still replied ‘No,’ he added, with a
smile, ‘How exceedingly busy you must have been.’

“Again—at the cavalry review at Brandy Station, on June 8, 1863—we
had galloped all around the lines, when the General took his post for the
‘march past,’ and all the staff in attendance grouped themselves about
him. There being no special orders about our positions, I got pretty near
the General. I noticed that several times he turned and looked toward an
ambulance near us, filled with young girls. At At last, after regiments
and brigades had gone by, the Horse Artillery came up. The General turned
and, finding me near him, said, ‘Go and tell that young lady with the blue
ribbon in her hat that such-and-such a battery is coming.’

“I rode up and saluted the young lady. There was great surprise shown by
the entire party, as I was not known to any of them, and when I came out
with my message there was a universal shout, while the General looked on
with a merry twinkle in his eye. It was evidently the following up on his
part of some joke which he had with the young lady about an officer in
this battery.”

My mother had arranged to start for Lexington on November 28th, via the
canal, but for some reason was prevented on that day. In his next letter,
my father, who was most anxious that she should make the journey before
the bad weather set in, expresses his disappointment at not finding her on
the packet on the expected morning.

“Lexington, Virginia, November 20, 1865.

“My Dear Mary: I am much disappointed that you did not arrive on the boat
last night, and as you had determined when you wrote Saturday, the 25th,
to take the boat as it passed Tuesday, I fear you were prevented either by
the indisposition of yourself or of Robert’s. I shall, however, hope that
it was owing to some less distressing cause. Our room is all ready and
looks remarkably nice. Mrs. Cocke, in her great kindness, seems to have
provided everything for it that you require, and you will have nothing to
do but to take possession. The ladies have also arranged the other rooms
as far as the furniture will allow. They have put down the carpets in the
parlour, dining-room, and two chambers upstairs, and have put furniture in
one room. They have also put up the curtains in the rooms downstairs, and
put a table and chairs in the dining-room. We have, therefore, everything
which is required for living, as soon as the crockery, etc., arrives from
‘Derwent,’ of which as yet I have heard nothing. Neither has the furniture
from Baltimore arrived, and the season is so far advanced that we may be
deprived of that all winter. But with what we now have, if we can get that
from ‘Derwent,’ we shall do very well. There is some report of the packets
between this place and Lynchburg being withdrawn from the line, which
renders me more uneasy about your journey up. This is a bright and
beautiful morning, and there is no indication of a change of weather, but
the season is very uncertain, and snow and ice may be upon us any day. I
think you had better come now the first opportunity. Do not take the boat
which passes ‘Bremo’ Saturday. It reaches Lynchburg Sunday morning,
arriving here Monday night. You would in that case have to lie at the
wharf at Lynchburg all day Sunday. I have heard of Agnes’ arrival in
Richmond, and shall be happy to have ‘Precious Life’ write me again. I
have engaged a man for the balance of the year, who professes to know
everything. He can at least make up fires, and go on errands, and attend
to the yard and stable. I have heard nothing of Jimmy. Give my kind
regards to all at ‘Bremo.’ Custis is well and went to the boat to meet you
this morning. The boat stops one and one-quarter miles from town. Remain
aboard until we come.

“Most affectionately yours, R. E. Lee.

“P.S.—Since writing the foregoing I have received your letter of the
28th. I shall expect you Saturday morning. R. E. L.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

At this time the packet-boat from Lynchburg to Lexington, via the James
River and Kanawha Canal, was the easiest way of reaching Lexington from
the outside world. It was indeed the only way, except by stage from
Goshen, twenty-one miles distant, a station of the Chesapeake & Ohio
R. R. The canal ran from Lynchburg to Richmond, and just after the war did
a large business. The boats were very uncertain in their schedules, and my
father was therefore very particular in his directions to my mother, to
insure her as far as he could a comfortable journey [my father was not
aware, when he wrote such explicit directions about the route, that
Colonel Ellis had again put his boat at my mother’s service].

We did get off at last, and after a very comfortable trip arrived at
Lexington on the morning of December 2d. My father, on Traveller, was
there to meet us, and, putting us all in a carriage, escorted us to our
new home. On arriving, we found awaiting us a delicious breakfast sent by
Mrs. Nelson, the wife of Professor Nelson. The house was in good order—thanks
to the ladies of Lexington—but rather bare of furniture, except my
mother’s rooms. Mrs. Cocke had completely furnished them, and her loving
thoughtfulness had not forgotten the smallest detail. Mrs. Margaret J.
Preston, the talented and well-known poetess, had drawn the designs for
the furniture, and a one-armed Confederate soldier had made it all. A
handsomely carved grand piano, presented by Stieff, the famous maker of
Baltimore, stood alone in the parlour. The floors were covered with the
carpets rescued from Arlington—much too large and folded under to
suit the reduced size of the rooms. Some of the bedrooms were partially
furnished, and the dining-room had enough in it to make us very
comfortable. We were all very grateful and happy—glad to get home—the
only one we had had for four long years.

My father appeared bright and even gay. He was happy in seeing us all, and
in knowing that my mother was comfortably established near to him. He
showed us over the house, and pointed with evident satisfaction to the
goodly array of pickles, preserves, and brandy-peaches which our kind
neighbors had placed in the store-room. Indeed, for days and weeks
afterward supplies came pouring in to my mother from the people in the
town and country, even from the poor mountaineers, who, anxious to “do
something to help General Lee,” brought in hand-bags of walnuts, potatoes,
and game. Such kindness—delicate and considerate always—as was
shown to my father’s family by the people, both of the town and the
country around, not only then but to this day, has never been surpassed in
any community. It was a tribute of love and sympathy from honest and
tender hearts to the man who had done all that he could do for them.

My father was much interested in all the arrangements of the house, even
to the least thing. He would laugh merrily over the difficulties that
appalled the rest of us. Our servants were few and unskilled, but his
patience and self-control never failed. The silver of the family had been
sent to Lexington for safe-keeping early in the war. When General Hunger
raided the Valley of Virginia and advanced upon Lexington, to remove
temptation out of his way, this silver, in two large chests, had been
intrusted to the care of the old and faithful sergeant at the Virginia
Military Institute, and he had buried it in some safe place known only to
himself. I was sent out with him to dig it up and bring it in. We found it
safe and sound, but black with mould and damp, useless for the time being,
so my father opened his camp-chest and we used his forks, spoons, plates,
etc., while his camp-stools supplied the deficiency in seats. He often
teased my sisters about their experiments in cookery and household arts,
encouraging them to renewed efforts after lamentable failures. When they
succeeded in a dish for the table, or completed any garment with their own
hands, he was lavish with his praise. He would say:

“You are all very helpless; I don’t know what you will do when I am gone,”
and “If you want to be missed by your friends—be useful.”

He at once set to work to improve all around him, laid out a vegetable
garden, planted roses and shrubs, set out fruit and yard trees, made new
walks and repaired the stables, so that in a short time we were quite
comfortable and very happy. He at last had a home of his own, with his
wife and daughters around him, and though it was not the little farm in
the quiet country for which he had so longed, it was very near to it, and
it gave rest to himself and those he loved most dearly.

His duties as president of Washington College were far from light. His
time was fully occupied, and his new position did not relieve him from
responsibility, care and anxiety. He took pains to become acquainted with
each student personally, to be really his guide and friend. Their success
gratified and pleased him, and their failures, in any degree, pained and
grieved him, and their failures, in any degree, pained and grieved him. He
felt that he was responsible for their well-doing and progress, and he
worked very hard to make them good students and useful men.

The grounds and buildings of the college soon began to show his care,
attention, and good taste. In all his life, wherever he happened to be, he
immediately set to work to better his surroundings. The sites selected for
his headquarter camps during the war, if occupied for more than a day,
showed his tasteful touch. When superintendent at West Point, the
improvements suggested and planned by him were going on for the three
years he remained there. Very soon after he assumed charge of Arlington,
the place showed, in its improved condition, the effects of his energetic
industry. The college at Lexington was a splendid field for the exercise
of his abilities in this line. The neighbouring Virginia Military
Institute soon followed the example he had set, and after a year the
municipal authorities of Lexington were aroused to the necessity of
bettering their streets and sidewalks, and its inhabitants realised the
need of improving and beautifying their homes. He managed a very large
correspondence, answering every letter when possible, the greater
proportion with his own hand. To the members of his own family who were
away he wrote regularly, and was their best correspondent on home matters,
telling in his charming way all the sayings and doings of the household
and the neighbours.

My sister Agnes had gone to the wedding of Miss Warwick direct from
“Bremo,” and was in Richmond when my father sent her two of the first
letters he wrote after the arrival of my mother in Lexington:

“Lexington, Virginia, December 5, 1865.

“My Worrying Little Agnes: your letter of the 1st received to-night. I
have autographed the photographs and send a gross of the latter and a lock
of hair. Present my love to the recipients and thank them for their
favours. Sally is going to marry a widower. I think I ought to know, as
she refused my son, and I do not wish to know his name. I wonder if she
knows how many children he has. Tell Mr. Warwick I am sorry for him. I do
not know what he will do without his sweet daughter. Nor do I know what I
will do without her, either. Your mother has written—Mildred, too—and
I presume has told you all domestic news. Custis is promenading the floor,
Rob reading the papers, and Mildred packing her dress. Your mamma is up to
her eyes in news and I am crabbed as usual. I miss you very much and hope
this is the last wedding you will attend. Good-bye. Love to everybody.

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.

“Miss Agnes Lee.”

The other is dated nearly a month later, and from this it appears that the
wedding so often referred to is about to take place:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 3, 1866.

“My Precious Little Agnes: I sat down to give my dear little Sally—for
she is dear to me in the broadest, highest sense of the word—the
benefit of Jeremy Taylor’s opinion on hasty marriages. But, on reflection,
I fear it would be words lost, for your mother says her experience has
taught her that when a young woman makes up her mind to get married, you
might as well let her alone. You must, therefore, just thank her for the
pretty inkstand, and say that I’ll need no reminder of her, but I do not
know when I shall make up my mind to stain it with ink. I was very glad to
receive your letter of the 26th, and to think that you were mindful of us.
I know you do not wish to be away, though you are striving to get as far
away as possible. When you reach Norfolk, you will be so convenient to New
York, whence steamers depart almost daily for Europe. Let us know when you
sail. But I do not write to restrain your movements, though you know how
solitary I am without you. I inclose…which, with what I gave Mildred, I
hope will answer your purpose. Send me or bring me the photographs I asked
for. I like them of the last edition; they seem to take with the little
school-girls, and I have nothing else to give them. I hope you will have a
safe and pleasant trip. Tell Mr. Warwick I shall sorrow with him to-night—though
I believe Mrs. Lee is right. Remember me to all friends, and believe me,

“Your devoted father, R. E. Lee.

“Miss Agnes Lee.”

The latter part of January my father was sent by the board of trustees to
Richmond to converse with the Committee on Education of the Virginia
Legislature, then in session, as to some funds of the State held by
Washington College. His mission was, I believe, successful, and great
material aid was gained. He remained no long than was absolutely
necessary, and, returning to his duties at Lexington, encountered a severe
snow-storm. The difficulties he had to overcome are described in the
following letter to his daughter Agnes, whom he had met in Richmond, and
who had gone from there to visit some friends in Norfolk:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 29, 1866.

“My Precious Little Agnes: I have received your letter of the 17th,
transmitting the photographs, for which I am very much obliged. I returned
the one for Miss Laura Lippett, whom I wish I could see once again. It
would be more agreeable to me than any photograph. I had quite a
successful journey up, notwithstanding the storm. The snow increased as we
approached the mountains, and night had set in before we reached Staunton.
The next morning, before sunrise, in spite of the predictions of the wise
ones, I took passage on the single car which was attached to the
locomotive, and arrived at Goshen about 10 A. M., where, after some little
encouragement, the stage-driver attached his horses to the stage, and we
started slowly through the mountains, breaking the track. On reaching the
Baths, the North River was unfordable, but I was ferried across in a
skiff, with all my bundles (I picked up two more in Staunton and one at
Goshen) and packages, and took a stage detained on the opposite bank for
Lexington, where I arrived in good time. I found all as well as usual, and
disappointed at not seeing you with me, though I was not expected. I told
them how anxious you were to come with me, and how you wanted to see them,
but that you looked so wretchedly I could not encourage you. I hope you
are now in Norfolk, and that the fish and oysters will fatten you and cure
your feet!… But get strong and keep well, and do not wear yourself out
in the pursuit of pleasure. I hope you will soon join us, and that
Lexington may prove to you a happy home. Your mother is a great sufferer,
but is as quiet and uncomplaining as ever. Mildred is active and cheerful,
and Custis and I as silent as our wont. Major Campbell Brown is here on a
visit. I am surprised to find him such a talker. I am very sorry to find
that Preston Cocke has been obliged to leave on account of his health. I
have one comfort: my dear nephew will never injure himself by studying. Do
not be alarmed about him…. Remember me to Colonel Taylor, all his
mother’s family, his wife, the Bakers, Seldens, etc. I know none of the
latter but the Doctor, for whom I have always had a great esteem. Your
mother, brother, and Mildred send their best love and kindest wishes. I am
always,

“Your devoted father, R. E. Lee.

“Miss Agnes Lee.”

It was at Dr. Seldon’s house that my sister was visiting. He had been very
kind in offering assistance to my father and mother. I remember well the
supper given me and several of my comrades when we were coming back from
the surrender, and while the Doctor and his family were refugees at
Liberty, now Bedford City, Va. Stopping there one night, weary and hungry,
while looking for quarters for man and beast, I got a note asking me and
my friends to come to their house. An invitation of that kind was never
refused in those days. We went and were treated as if we had been sons of
the house, the young ladies themselves waiting on us. In the morning, when
we were about to start, they filled our haversacks with rations, and Mrs.
Selden, taking me aside, offered me a handful of gold pieces saying that
she had more and that she could not bear to think of my father’s son being
without as long as she possessed any.

The love and devotion shown my father by all the people of the South was
deeply appreciated by him. He longed to help them, but was almost
powerless. I think he felt that something could be done in that direction
by teaching and training their youth, and I am sure this idea greatly
influenced him in deciding to accept the presidency of Washington College.
The advantages to the South of a proper education of her youth were very
evident to him. He strongly urged it wherever and whenever he could. In a
letter written at this time to the Reverend G. W. Leyburn, he speaks very
forcibly on the subject:

“So greatly have those interests [educational] been disturbed at the
South, and so much does its future condition depend upon the rising
generation, that I consider the proper education of its youth one of the
most important objects now to be attained, and one from which the greatest
benefits may be expected. Nothing will compensate us for the depression of
the standard of our moral and intellectual culture, and each State should
take the most energetic measures to revive the schools and colleges, and,
if possible, to increase the facilities for instruction, and to elevate
the standard of learning….”

Again, in a letter to General John B. Gordon, written December, 1867, he
says:

“The thorough education of all classes of the people is the most
efficacious means, in my opinion, of promoting the prosperity of the
South. The material interests of its citizens, as well as their moral and
intellectual culture, depend upon its accomplishment. The text-books of
our schools, therefore, should not only be clear, systematic, and
scientific, but they should be acceptable to parents and pupils in order
to enlist the minds of all in the subjects.”

In a letter to a friend in Baltimore he is equally earnest:

“I agree with you fully as to the importance of a more practical course of
instruction in our schools and colleges, which, calling forth the genius
and energies of our people, will tend to develop the resources and promote
the interests of the country.”

In many other letters at this time and later on, especially in one to
Professor Minor, who had been appointed with him upon a board by the
Educational Society of Virginia, did he urge the importance of education
for the present and future safety, welfare, and prosperity of the country.
Among the many tokens of respect and admiration, love, and sympathy which
my father received from all over the world, there was one that touched him
deeply. It was a “Translation of Homer’s Iliad by Philip Stanhope Worsley,
Fellow of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, England,” which the talented
young poet and author sent him, through the General’s nephew, Mr. Edward
Lee Childe, of Paris, a special friend of Mr. Worsley. I copy the latter’s
letter to Mr. Childe, as it shows some of the motives influencing him in
the dedication of his work:

“My Dear Friend: You will allow me in dedicating this work to you, to
offer it at the same time as a poor yet not altogether unmeaning tribute
of my reverence for your brave and illustrious uncle, General Lee. He is
the hero, like Hector of the Iliad, of the most glorious cause for which
men fight, and some of the grandest passages in the poem come to me with
yet more affecting power when I remember his lofty character and
undeserved misfortunes. The great names that your country has bequeathed
from its four lurid years of national life as examples to mankind can
never be forgotten, and among these none will be more honoured, while
history endures, by all true hears, than that of your noble relative. I
need not say more, for I know you must be aware how much I feel the honour
of associating my work, however indirectly, with one whose goodness and
genius are alike so admirable. Accept this token of my deepest sympathy
and regard, and believe me,

“Ever most sincerely yours,

“P. S. Worsley.”

On the fly-leaf of the volume he sent my father was written the following
beautiful inscription:

and just beneath, by the same hand, the following beautiful verses:

His letter of thanks, and the one which he wrote later, when he heard of
the ill health of Mr. Worsley—both of which I give here—show
very plainly how much he was pleased:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 10, 1866.

“Mr. P. S. Worsley.

“My Dear Sir: I have received the copy of your translation of the Iliad
which you so kindly presented to me. Its perusal has been my evening’s
recreation, and I have never more enjoyed the beauty and grandeur of the
poem than as recited by you. The translation is as truthful as powerful,
and faithfully represents the imagery and rhythm of the bold original. The
undeserved compliment in prose and verse, on the first leaves of the
volume, I received as your tribute to the merit of my countrymen, who
struggled for constitutional government.

“With great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

“Lexington, Virginia, March 14, 1866.

“My Dear Mr. Worsley: In a letter just received from my nephew, Mr.
Childe, I regret to learn that, at his last accounts from you, you were
greatly indisposed. So great is my interest in your welfare that I cannot
refrain, even at the risk of intruding upon your sickroom, from expressing
my sincere sympathy in your affliction. I trust, however, that ere this
you have recovered and are again in perfect health. Like many of your
tastes and pursuits, I fear you may confine yourself too closely to your
reading. Less mental labour and more of the fresh air of Heaven might
bring to you more comfort, and to your friends more enjoyment, even in the
way in which you now delight them. Should a visit to this distracted
country promise you any recreation, I hope I need not assure you how happy
I should be to see you at Lexington. I can give you a quiet room, and
careful nursing, and a horse that would delight to carry you over our
beautiful mountains. I hope my letter informing you of the pleasure I
derived from the perusal of your translation of the Iliad, in which I
endeavoured to express my thanks for the great compliment you paid me in
its dedication, has informed you of my high appreciation of the work.

“Wishing you every happiness in this world, and praying that eternal peace
may be your portion in that to come, I am most truly, Your friend and
servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

That winter, my father was accustomed to read aloud in the long evenings
to my mother and sisters “The Grand Old Bard,” equally to his own and his
listeners’ enjoyment.

Two or three years after this, Professor George Long, of England, a
distinguished scholar, sent my father a copy of the second edition of his
“Thoughts of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.” The first edition of this
translation was pirated by a Northern publisher, who dedicated the book
back to Emerson. This made Long very indignant, and he immediately brought
out a second edition with the following prefatory note:

“…I have never dedicated a book to any man and if I dedicated this, I
should choose the man whose name seemed to me most worthy to be joined to
that of the Roman soldier and philosopher. I might dedicate the book to
the successful general who is now the President of the United States, with
the hope that his integrity and justice will restore peace and happiness,
so far as he can, to those unhappy States which have suffered so much from
war and the unrelenting hostility of wicked men. But as the Roman poet
says,

“‘Victrix causa deis placuit, sed victa Catoni;’

“And if I dedicated this little book to any man, I would dedicate it to
him who led the Confederate armies against the powerful invader, and
retired from an unequal contest defeated, but not dishonoured; to the
noble Virginian soldier whose talents and virtues place him by the side of
the best and wisest man who sat on the throne of the imperial Caesars.”

These two nearly similar tributes came from the best cultured thought of
England, and the London Standard, speaking more for the nation at large,
says:

“A country which has given birth to men like him, and those who followed
him, may look the chivalry of Europe in the face without shame; for the
FATHERLANDS OF SIDNEY AND BAYARD NEVER PRODUCED A NOBLER SOLDIER,
GENTLEMAN, AND CHRISTIAN THAN GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE.”

In a letter to his old friend, Mr. H. Tutweiler, of Virginia, Professor
Long sent the following message to my father, which, however, was never
received by him, it having been sent to my mother only after his death:

“I did not answer General Lee’s letter [one of thanks for the book, sent
by Professor Long through Mr. Tutweiler], because I thought that he is
probably troubled with many letters. If you should have occasion to write
to him, I beg you will present to him my most respectful regards, and my
hope that he will leave behind him some commentary to be placed on the
same shelf with Caesar’s. I am afraid he is too modest to do this. I shall
always keep General lee’s letter, and will leave it to somebody who will
cherish the remembrance of a great soldier and a good man. If I were not
detained here by circumstances, I would cross the Atlantic to see the
first and noblest man of our days.”

Another noble English gentleman, who had shown great kindness to the South
and who was a warm admirer of General Lee, was the Honorable A. W.
Beresford Hope. He, I think, was at the head of a number of English
gentlemen who presented the superb statue of “Stonewall” Jackson by Foley
to the State of Virginia. It now stands in the Capitol Square at Richmond,
and is a treasure of which the whole Commonwealth may justly be proud.
Through Mr. Hope, my father received a handsome copy of the Bible, and, in
acknowledgement of Mr. Hope’s letter, he wrote the following:

“Lexington, Virginia, April 16, 1866.

“Honourable A. W. Beresford Hope, Bedgebury Park, Kent, England

“Sir: I have received within a few days your letter of November 14, 1865,
and had hoped that by this time it would have been followed by the copy of
the Holy Scriptures to which you refer, that I might have known the
generous donors, whose names, you state, are inscribed on its pages. Its
failure to reach me will, I fear, deprive me of that pleasure, and I must
ask the favour of you to thank them most heartily for their kindness in
providing me with a book in comparison with which all others in my eyes
are of minor importance, and which in all my perplexities has never failed
to give me light and strength. Your assurance of the esteem in which I am
held by a large portion of the British nation, as well as by those for
whom you speak, is most grateful to my feelings, though I am aware that I
am indebted to their generous natures, and not to my own merit, for their
good opinion. I beg, sir, that you will accept my sincere thanks for the
kind sentiments which you have expressed toward me, and my unfeigned
admiration of your exalted character. I am, with great respect,

“Your most obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

Chapter XII — Lee’s Opinion upon the Late War

His intention to write the history of his Virginia campaigns—Called
before a committee of Congress—Preaches patience and silence in the
South—Shuns controversy and publicity—Corresponds with an
Englishman, Herbert C. Saunders

My father had a strong desire at this time to write a history of his
campaigns. I think, however, he gradually gave it up when he saw the great
difficulties to be overcome and the labour required to produce anything
worthy of the subject, especially as he began to realise that his strength
was slowly failing—a fact which his letters indicate. Just after the
cessation of hostilities, he had taken some preliminary steps toward
acquiring the necessary material. In a circular letter which he sent out
to a great many of his general officers, he wrote:

“I am desirous that the bravery and devotion of the Army of Northern
Virginia be correctly transmitted to posterity. This is the only tribute
that can now be paid to the worth of its noble officers and soldiers, and
I am anxious to collect the necessary information for the history of its
campaigns, including the operations in the Valley and in Western Virginia,
from its organisation to its final surrender….”

In a letter to the Honourable W. B. Reid, of Philadelphia, he writes on
the same subject:

“…I concur with you entirely as to the importance of a true history of
the war, and it is my purpose, unless prevented, to write the history of
the campaigns in Virginia. With this view, I have been engaged since the
cessation of hostilities in endeavouring to procure the necessary official
information. All my records, reports, returns, etc., etc., with the
headquarters of the army, were needlessly destroyed by the clerks having
them in charge on the retreat from Petersburg, and such as had been
forwarded to the War Department in Richmond were either destroyed in the
conflagration or captured at the South in the attempt to save them. I
desire to obtain some vouchers in support of my memory, or I should
otherwise have made some progress in the narrative, they have not even my
letter or order-books to which to refer. I have thought it possible that
some of my official correspondence, which would be of value to me, might
be found among the captured records in Washington, and that General Grant,
who possesses magnanimity as well as ability, might cause me to be
furnished with copies. I have, however, hesitated to approach him on the
subject, as it is one in which he would naturally feel no interest.”

In a letter to General Early, written in November, 1865, on the same
subject, he says:

“…I desire, if not prevented, to write a history of the campaigns in
Virginia…. Your reports of your operations in ‘64 and ‘65 were among
those destroyed. Can not you repeat them, and send me copies of such
letters, orders, etc., of mine (including that last letter, to which you
refer), and particularly give me your recollections of our effective
strength at the principal battles? My only object is to transmit, if
possible, the truth to posterity, and do justice to our brave soldiers.”

Here is another letter to General Early, written March 16th, containing
references to the same subject, and to two letters of General Early which
had been published in the papers. It is interesting, also, as showing his
moderation in speaking of those who had misrepresented his words and acts:

“My Dear General: I am very much obliged to you for the copies of my
letters, forwarded with yours of January 25th. I hope you will be able to
send me reports of the operations of your commands in the campaign, from
the Wilderness to Richmond, at Lynchburg, in the Valley, Maryland, etc.;
all statistics as regards numbers, destruction of private property by the
Federal troops, etc., I should like to have, as I wish my memory
strengthened on these points. It will be difficult to get the world to
understand the odds against which we fought, and the destruction or loss
of all returns of the army embarrass me very much. I read your letter from
Havana to the New York Times, and was pleased with the temper in which it
was written. I have since received the paper containing it, published in
the City of Mexico, and also your letter in reference to Mr. Davis. I
understand and appreciate the motives which prompted both letters, and
think they will be of service in the way you intended. I have been much
pained to see the attempts made to cast odium upon Mr. Davis, but do not
think they will be successful with the reflecting or informed portion of
the country. The accusations against myself I have not thought proper to
notice, or even to correct misrepresentations of my words or acts. WE
SHALL HAVE TO BE PATIENT and suffer for awhile at least; and all
controversy, I think, will only serve to prolong angry and bitter feeling,
and postpone the period when reason and charity may resume their sway. At
present, the public mind is not prepared to receive the truth. The
feelings which influenced you to leave the country were natural, and, I
presume, were uppermost in the breasts of many. It was a matter which each
one had to decide for himself, as he only could know the reasons which
governed him. I was particularly anxious on your account, as I had the
same apprehensions to which you refer. I am truly glad that you are beyond
the reach of annoyance, and hope you may be able to employ yourself
profitably and usefully. Mexico is a beautiful country, fertile, of vast
resources; and, with a stable government and virtuous population, will
rise to greatness. I do not think that your letters can be construed by
your former associates as reflecting upon them, and I have never heard the
least blame cast by those who have remained upon those who thought it best
to leave the country. I think I stated in a former letter the reasons
which governed me, and will not therefore repeat them. I hope, in time,
peace will be restored to the country, and that the South may enjoy some
measure of prosperity. I fear, however, much suffering is still in store
for her, and that her people must be prepared to exercise fortitude and
forbearance. I must beg you to present my kind regards to the gentlemen
with you, and, with my best wishes for yourself and undiminished esteem, I
am,

“Most truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

That his purpose had been heard of in the outside world is evident from
this reply to a publisher in Cincinnati:

“Near Cartersville, Virginia, August 26, 1865.

“Mr. Joseph Topham, Cincinnati, Ohio.

“My Dear Sir: I have just received your letter of the 17th inst., in
reference to a history of the late war to be written by myself. I cannot,
at present, undertake such a work, but am endeavouring to collect certain
material to enable me to write a history of the campaigns in Virginia. Its
completion is uncertain, and dependent upon so many contingencies that I
think it useless to speak of arrangements for its publication at present.
Thanking you for your kind proposition, I am,

“Very respectfully yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

There were a great many letters of this kind from Northern publishing
houses, and his replies were all of the same character. His failure to
carry out this much cherished wish is greatly to be deplored. How much we
and our children have missed, those who know his truth and honesty of
purpose, his manliness, simplicity, and charity, can best tell.

During the last days of February he was summoned to Washington to appear
before a committee of Congress which was inquiring into the conditions of
things in the Southern States, with a view to passing some of the
so-called reconstruction measures. His testimony was simple, direct, and
dignified, and is well worth reading by all who wish to hear the plain
truth. It was his first appearance in any city save Richmond since the
war, and being at a time of such political excitement, his visit was an
occasion of absorbing interest to the crowds then in the capital.

When in Washington, Armanda, one of the house-servants at Arlington,
called on him but failed to see him. In answer to a letter from her, my
father replies as follows:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 9, 1866.

“Amanda Parks.

“Amanda: I have received your letter of the 27th ult., and regret very
much that I did not see you when I was in Washington. I heard on returning
to my room, Sunday night, that you had been to see me; and I was sorry to
have missed you, for I wished to learn how you were, and how all the
people from Arlington were getting on in the world. My interest in them is
as great now as it ever was, and I sincerely wish for their happiness and
prosperity. At the period specified in Mr. Custis’s will—five years
from the time of his death—I caused the liberation of all the people
at Arlington, as well as those at the White House and Romancoke, to be
recorded in the Hustings Court at Richmond; and letters of manumission to
be given to those with whom I could communicate who desired them. In
consequence of the war which then existed, I could do nothing more for
them. I do not know why you should ask if I am angry with you. I am not
aware of your having done anything to give me offense, and I hope you
would not say or do what was wrong. While you lived at Arlington you
behaved very well, and were attentive and faithful to your duties. I hope
you will always conduct yourself in the same manner. Wishing you health,
happiness, and success in life, I am truly,

“R. E. Lee.”

Shortly after his return to Lexington, he writes to Mrs. Jefferson Davis.
In this letter he expresses such noble sentiments, and is so moderate and
sensible in his views of those who were harassing him and the South, that
all who read it must profit thereby:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 23, 1866.

“My Dear Mrs. Davis: Your letter of the 12th inst. reached Lexington
during my absence at Washington. I have never seen Mr. Colfax’s speech,
and am, therefore, ignorant of the statements it contained. Had it,
however, come under my notice, I doubt whether I should have thought it
proper to reply. I HAVE THOUGHT, FROM THE TIME OF THE CESSATION OF THE
HOSTILITIES, THAT SILENCE AND PATIENCE ON THE PART OF THE SOUTH WAS THE
TRUE COURSE; and I think so still. CONTROVERSY OF ALL KINDS will, in my
opinion, only serve to continue excitement and passion, and will prevent
the public mind from the acknowledgement and acceptance of the truth.
These considerations have kept me from replying to accusations made
against myself, and induced me to recommend the same to others. As regards
the treatment of the Andersonville prisoners, to which you allude, I know
nothing and can say nothing of my own knowledge. I never had anything to
do with any prisoners, except to send those taken on the fields, where I
was engaged, to the Provost Marshal General at Richmond. I have felt most
keenly the sufferings and imprisonment of your husband, and have earnestly
consulted with friends as to any possible mode of affording him relief and
consolation. He enjoys the sympathy and respect of all good men; and if,
as you state, his trial is now near, the exhibition of the while truth in
his case will, I trust, prove his defense and justification. With sincere
prayers for his health and speedy restoration to liberty, and earnest
supplications to God that He may take you and yours under His guidance and
protection, I am, with great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

In further illustration of these views, held so strongly by him and
practised so faithfully throughout his life, the following, written to a
gentleman in Baltimore, is given:

“Lexington, Virginia, April 13, 1866.

“My Dear Sir: Your letter of the 5th inst., inclosing a slip from the
Baltimore “American,” has been received. The same statement has been
published at the North for several years. The statement is not true; but I
have not thought proper to publish a contradiction, being unwilling to be
drawn into a newspaper discussion, believing that those who know me would
not credit it and those who do not would care nothing about it. I cannot
now depart from the rule I have followed. It is so easy to make
accusations against the people at the South upon similar testimony, that
those so disposed, should one be refuted, will immediately create another;
and thus you would be led into endless controversy. I think it better to
leave their correction to the return of reason and good feeling.

“Thanking you for your interest in my behalf, and begging you to consider
my letter as intended only for yourself, I am,

“Most respectfully your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

In this connection I give the following letter thanking Mr. Burr for a
copy of the “Old Guard” which he had sent him, and showing also what, in
his opinion, the South had fought for, and of what true republicanism
consists:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 5, 1866.

“Mr. C. Chauncey Burr.

“My Dear Sir: I am very much obliged to you for your letter of the 27th
ult., and for the number of the ‘Old Guard’ which you kindly sent me. I am
glad to know that the intelligent and respectable people at the North are
true and conservative in their opinions, for I believe by no other course
can the right interests of the country be maintained. All that the South
has ever desired was that the Union, as established by our forefathers,
should be preserved, and that the government as originally organised
should be administered in purity and truth. If such is the desire of the
North, there can be no contention between the two sections, and all true
patriots will unite in advocating that policy which will soonest restore
the country to tranquility and order, and serve to perpetuate true
republicanism. Please accept my thanks for your advocacy of right and
liberty and the kind sentiments which you express toward myself, and
believe me to be, with great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

An interesting view of my father’s desire to keep himself from public
attention is shown by his correspondence with an English gentleman, Mr.
Herbert C. Saunders. The connected interview states his opinions on
several points which are valuable. The copy of these papers was kindly
furnished me by Mr. John Lyle Campbell, the Proctor of Washington and Lee
University:

“Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Virginia, January 19, 1900.

“Capt. Robert E. Lee, West Point, Virginia.

“Dear Capt. Lee: I inclose the copy promised you of the papers found in
General Lee’s desk. The paper seems to have had his careful revision, as
there are a good many passages stricken out and a good many insertions in
what seems to me undoubtedly to be his handwriting; and I was very much
interested in the changes that he made, as they were most characteristic
of him—toning everything down, striking out adjectives, turning
phrases from a personal to a general character, and always adding
simplicity and force to the original. It seems to me most likely that he
was a first disposed to allow the publication, but declined at last, on
August 22d, the full limit of time indicated in Mr. Saunders’s letter. I
am Yours truly,

“(Dict.) Jno. L. Campbell.”

The papers of which the following are copies were found in General Robert
E. Lee’s desk in the President’s office at Washington and Lee University.
On the envelope in which they were inclosed was the following indorsement
in General Lee’s handwriting:

“London, July 31, 1866.

“Herbert C. Sanders asks permission to publish his conversation with me.
August 22d—Refused.”

“3 Bolton Gardens, South Kensington, London, July 31, 1866.

“My Dear General Lee: Presuming on the acquaintance with you which I had
the honour and pleasure of making last November at Lexington, while
travelling in Virginia, I venture now to write to you under these
circumstances. You may remember that, at the time I presented to you my
letter of introduction, I told you that two other Englishmen, friends of
mine, who had come with me to America, were then making a tour through
Georgia, the Carolinas, and some other Southern States. One of them, Mr.
Kennaway, was so much interested with all he saw, and the people at home
have appreciated his letters descriptive of it so well, that he is
intending to publish a short account of his visit. Not having, however,
had an introduction to yourself, he is anxious to avail himself of the
somewhat full accounts I wrote home at the time, descriptive of my most
interesting interview with you, and, with this view, he has asked me to
put into the shape of a letter all those more prominent points which occur
to me as gathered from my letters and my recollection, and which are
likely to interest and instruct the English public. I have, after some
hesitation, acceded to the request—a hesitation caused mainly by the
fact that at the time I saw you I neither prepared my notes with a view to
publication nor did I inform you that there was any chance of what you
told me being repeated. I may add that I never until a month or two ago
had the slightest thought of publishing anything, and, in fact, have
constantly resisted the many applications by my friends that I should let
my letters see the light. My object in now writing to you is to know
whether you have any objection to my giving my friend the inclosed short
account of our interview, as it would, I am convinced, add greatly to the
interest of the narrative. If you have no objection to this, perhaps you
would kindly correct any statements put into your mouth which are not
quite accurate, or expunge anything which might prejudice you with the
public either of the North or the South, if unluckily anything of this
nature should have crept in. My letters, were written a day or two after
the conversation, but you had so much of interest and new to tell me that
I do not feel sure that I may not have confused names of battles, etc., in
some instances. It will be necessary for me to deliver my part of the
performance early in September to the publishers, and, therefore, I should
feel much obliged by your sending me an answer at your earliest
convenience. There will be a mail due here about the first of that month,
leaving the United States on Wednesday, the 22d, and I shall, therefore,
wait till its arrival before sending my letter to Mr. Kennaway; but should
I not hear from you then I shall consider you have no objections to make
or alterations to suggest, and act accordingly. If you have any new facts
which you think it desirable should be known by the public, it will give
me much pleasure to be the medium of their communication.

“I am sure I need scarcely tell you with what keen interest I have read
all the accounts from your continent of the proceedings in Congress and
elsewhere in connection with the reconstruction of the South. I do
sincerely trust it may be eventually effected in a way satisfactory to the
South, and I most deeply deplore the steps taken by the Radical side of
the House to set the two (North and South) by the ears again. President
Johnson’s policy seems to me to be that which, if pursued, would be most
likely to contribute to the consolidation of the country; but I am both
surprised and pained to find how little power the Executive has against so
strong a faction as the Radicals, who, while they claim to represent the
North, do, in fact, but misrepresent the country. I am sure you will
believe that I say with sincerity that I always take great interest in
anything I hears said or that I read of yourself, and I am happy to say
that, even with all the rancour of the Northern Radicals against the
South, it is little they find of ill to say of you.

“Hoping you will not think I am doing wrong in the course I propose to
take, and that your answer may be satisfactory, I remain, my dear General
Lee,

“Yours very sincerely, Herbert C. Saunders.

“General Robert E. Lee.”

“Lexington, Virginia, August 22, 1866.

“Mr. Herbert C. Saunders,

“3 Bolton Gardens, South Kensington, London, England.

“My Dear Mr. Saunders: I received to-day your letter of the 31st ult. What
I stated to you in conversation, during the visit which you did me the
honour to pay me in November last, was entirely for your own information,
and was in no way intended for publication. My only object was to gratify
the interest which you apparently evinced on the several topics which were
introduced, and to point to facts which you might investigate, if you so
desired, in your own way. I have an objection to the publication of my
private conversations, which are never intended but for those to whom they
are addressed. I cannot, therefore, without an entire disregard of the
rule which I have followed in other cases, and in violation of my own
sense of propriety, assent to what you propose. I hope, therefore, you
will excuse me. What you may think proper to publish I hope will be the
result of your own observations and convictions, and not on my authority.
In the hasty perusal which I have been obliged to give the manuscript
inclosed to me, I perceive many inaccuracies, resulting as much, from my
imperfect narrative as from misapprehension on your part. Though fully
appreciating your kind wish to correct certain erroneous statements as
regards myself, I prefer remaining silent to doing anything that might
excite angry discussion at this time, when strong efforts are being made
by conservative men, North and South, to sustain President Johnson in his
policy, which, I think, offers the only means of healing the lamentable
divisions of the country, and which the result of the late convention at
Philadelphia gives great promise of doing. Thanking you for the
opportunity afforded me of expressing my opinion before executing your
purpose, I am, etc.,

“R. E. Lee.”

The following is Mr. Saunders’ account of the interview:

“On only one subject would he take at any length about his own conduct,
and that was with reference to the treatment of the Federal prisoners who
had fallen into his hands. He seemed to feel deeply the backhanded stigma
cast upon him by his having been included by name in the first indictment
framed against Wirz, though he was afterward omitted from the new charges.
He explained to me the circumstances under which he had arranged with
McClellan for the exchange of prisoners; how he had, after the battles of
Manassas, Fredericksburg, and (I think) Chancellorsville, sent all the
wounded over to the enemy on the engagement of their generals to parole
them. He also told me that on several occasions his commissary generals
had come to him after a battle and represented that he had not rations
enough both for prisoners and the army when the former had to be sent
several days’ march to their place of confinement, and he had always given
orders that the wants of the prisoners should be first attended to, as
from their position they could not save themselves from starvation by
foraging or otherwise, as the army could when in straits for provisions.
The General also explained how every effort had always been made by the
Confederates to do away with the necessity of retaining prisoners by
offering every facility for exchange, till at last, when all exchange was
refused, they found themselves with 30,000 prisoners for whom they were
quite unable to do as much as they wished in the way of food. He stated,
furthermore, that many of their hardships arose from the necessity of
constantly changing the prisons to prevent recapture. With the management
of the prisons he assured me he had no more to do than I had, and did not
even know that Wirz was in charge of Andersonville prison (at least, I
think he asserted this) till after the war was over. I could quite
sympathise with him in his feeling of pain under which his generous nature
evidently suffered that the authorities at Washington should have included
him and others similarly circumstanced in this charge of cruelty at the
time that letters written by himself (General Lee), taken in Richmond when
captured, complaining that the troops in his army had actually been for
days together on several occasions without an ounce of meat, were in
possession of the military authorities.

“When discussing the state of feeling in England with regard to the war,
he assured me that it had all along given him the greatest pleasure to
feel that the Southern cause had the sympathies of so many in the ‘old
country,’ to which he looked as a second home; but, in answer to my
questions, he replied that he had never expected us to give them material
aid, and added that he thought all governments were right in studying only
the interests of their own people and in not going to war for an ‘idea’
when they had no distinct cause of quarrel.

“On the subject of slavery, he assured me that he had always been in
favour of the emancipation of the negroes, and that in Virginia the
feeling had been strongly inclining in the same direction, till the
ill-judged enthusiasm (accounting to rancour) of the abolitionists in the
North had turned the southern tide of feeling in the other direction. In
Virginia, about thirty years ago, an ordinance for the emancipation of the
slaves had been rejected by only a small majority, and every one fully
expected at the next convention it would have been carried, but for the
above cause. He went on to say that there was scarcely a Virginian new who
was not glad that the subject had been definitely settled, though nearly
all regretted that they had not been wise enough to do it themselves the
first year of the war. Allusion was made by him to a conversation he had
with a distinguished countryman of mine. He had been visiting a large
slave plantation (Shirley) on the James River. The Englishman had told him
that the working population were better cared for there than in any
country he had ever visited, but that he must never expect an approval of
the institution of slavery by England, or aid from her in any cause in
which that question was involved. Taking these facts and the well-known
antipathy of the mass of the English to the institution in consideration,
he said he had never expected help from England. The people ‘at the South’
(as the expression is), in the main, though scarcely unanimously, seem to
hold much the same language as General Lee with reference to our
neutrality, and to be much less bitter than Northerners generally—who,
I must confess, in my own opinion, have much less cause to complain of our
interpretation of the laws of neutrality than the South. I may mention
here, by way of parenthesis, that I was, on two separate occasions (one in
Washington and once in Lexington), told that there were many people in the
country who wished that General Washington had never lived and that they
were still subjects of Queen Victoria; but I should certainly say as a
rule the Americans are much too well satisfied with themselves for this
feeling to be at all common. General Lee, in the course of this to me most
interesting evening’s seance, gave me many details of the war too long to
put on paper, but, with reference to the small result of their numerous
victories, accounted for it in this way: the force which the Confederates
brought to bear was so often inferior in numbers to that of the Yankees
that the more they followed up the victory against one portion of the
enemy’s line the more did they lay themselves open to being surrounded by
the remainder of the enemy. He likened the operation to a man breasting a
wave of the sea, who, as rapidly as he clears a way before him, is
enveloped by the very water he has displaced. He spoke of the final
surrender as inevitable owing to the superiority in numbers of the enemy.
His own army had, during the last few weeks, suffered materially from
defection in its ranks, and, discouraged by failures and worn out by
hardships, had at the time of the surrender only 7,892 men under arms, and
this little army was almost surrounded by one of 100,000. They might, the
General said with an air piteous to behold, have cut their way out as they
had done before, but, looking upon the struggle as hopeless, I was not
surprised to hear him say that he thought it cruel to prolong it. In two
other battles he named (Sharpsburg and Chancellorsville, I think he said),
the Confederates were to the Federals in point of numbers as 35,000 to
120,000 and 45,000 to 155,000 respectively, so that the mere disparity of
numbers was not sufficient to convince him of the necessity of surrender;
but feeling that his own army was persuaded of the ultimate hopelessness
of the contest as evidenced by their defection, he took the course of
surrendering his army in lieu of reserving it for utter annihilation.

“Turning to the political bearing of the important question at issue, the
great Southern general gave me, at some length, his feelings with regard
to the abstract right of secession. This right, he told me, was held as a
constitutional maxim at the South. As to its exercise at the time on the
part of the South, he was distinctly opposed, and it was not until Lincoln
issued a proclamation for 75,000 men to invade the South, which was deemed
clearly unconstitutional, that Virginia withdrew from the United States.

“We discussed a variety of other topics, and, at eleven o’clock when I
rose to go, he begged me to stay on, as he found the nights full long. His
son, General Custis Lee, who had distinguished himself much during the
war, but whom I had not the good fortune of meeting, is the only one of
his family at present with him at Lexington, where he occupies the
position of a professor in the Military Institute of Virginia. This
college had 250 cadets in it when the war broke out, General ‘Stonewall’
Jackson being one of the professors. At one moment in the war, when the
Federal were advancing steadily up the Shenandoah Valley, these youths
(from 16 to 22 years of age) were marched to join the Confederate Army,
and did good service. In one battle at Newmarket, of which I shall have
occasion to speak later in my letters, they distinguished themselves in a
conspicuous way under the leadership of Colonel Shipp, who is still their
commandant. By a brilliant charge, they contributed, in a great measure,
to turn the tide of affairs, losing nine of their number killed and more
than forty wounded. General Hunter, on a subsequent occasion, when
occupying Lexington with a body of Federal troops, quartered his men in
the Military Institute for several days, and, on leaving, had the building—a
very handsome and extensive one—fired in numerous places, completely
destroying all but the external walls, which now stand. The professors’
houses stood in detached positions, and these, too, with the house of Mr.
Letcher, a former governor of the State, he also burnt to the ground. The
Washington college, the presidency of which General Lee now holds, they
also ransacked, destroying everything it contained, and were preparing it
for the flames, to which they were with difficulty restrained from
devoting it by earnest representations of its strictly educational
nature.”

Chapter XIII — Family Affairs

The General writes to his sons—To his wife at Rockbridge Baths—He
joins her there about once a week—Distinguished and undistinguished
callers at his Lexington home—He advocates early hours—His
fondness for animals

I had before this time gone to my farm in King William County and started
out in life as a farmer. As there was nothing but the land and a few old
buildings left, for several years I had a very up-hill time. My father
encouraged, advised me, and gave me material aid. His letters to me at
this time will show the interest he took in my welfare. In one written
March 16, 1866, after advising me as to steps to be taken in repairing an
old mill on the place, he writes:

“I am clear for your doing everything to improve your property and make it
remunerative as far as you can. You know my objections to incurring debt.
I cannot overcome it…. I hope you will overcome your chills, and by next
winter you must patch up your house, and get a sweet wife. You will be
more comfortable, and not so lonesome. Let her bring a cow and a churn.
That will be all you will want…. Give my love to Fitzhugh. I wish he
were regularly established. He cannot afford to be idle. He will be
miserable.”

My brother Fitzhugh, here referred to, was negotiating to rent his farm,
the White House, to some so-called English capitalists, and had not as yet
established himself. In another letter to me, of May 26, 1866, my father
says:

“…I will state, at the outset, that I desire you to consider Romancoke
with its appurtenances your own; to do with as you consider most to your
interest; to sell, farm, or let; subject, however, to the conditions
imposed by your grandfather’s will, as construed by the decree of the
Court of Appeals of Virginia, which declares, ‘If the legacies are not
paid off by the personal property, hires of slaves, rents, and sale of the
real estate, charged with their payment, at the end of five years, the
portion unpaid remains a charge upon the White House and Romancoke until
paid. The devisees take their estates cum onere.’

“The result of the war having deprived the estates of the benefit of the
hire of the slaves and the sale of Smith’s Island, and the personal
property having all been swept off by the Federal armies, there is nothing
left but the land of the two estates named. A court might make some
deduction from the amount of the legacies to be paid in consideration of
these circumstances, and I should think it would be fair to do so. But of
that I cannot say. Now, with this understanding, make your own
arrangements to suit yourself, and as you may determine most conducive to
your interests. In confirming your action, as the executor or your
grandfather, I must, however, take such measures as may be necessary to
carry out the purpose of his will…. If you are determined to hold the
estate, I think you ought to make it profitable. As to the means of doing
so, you must decide for yourself. I am unable to do it for you, and might
lead you astray. Therefore, while always willing to give you any advice in
my power, in whatever you do you must feel that the whole responsibility
rests with you…. I wish, my dear son, I could be of some advantage to
you, but I can only give you my love and earnest prayers, and commit you
to the keeping of that God who never forgets those who serve Him. May He
watch over and preserve you.

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

In another letter, of June 13th, after telling me of the visit of a cousin
of my mother’s and how much gratification it was to have her with them, he
regrets that he son, who brought his mother up to Lexington, had to hurry
home on account of having left his wife and little son:

“…When you have such pleasing spurs in your flanks, I hope you may be on
the fair road to prosperity. All unite in love to you and Fitzhugh. Ask
the latter if George has yet found a horse to trade with the gray. We miss
him very much [my brother had recently visited Lexington], and want to see
you as badly. You may judge how poorly we are off. The examination has
commenced at Washington College. Three days are over successfully, and I
hope to finish in twelve more. —— has been up in two subjects,
and not got thrown. He has two more. But, in the meantime, I am much
occupied, and will be confined all day. I have no time for letters of
affection, so must tell you good-bye.

“Most affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

This was the first final examination at Washington College since my father
became its president. He worked very hard, and was kept busy attending to
all the details and the putting into practice of several new methods and
systems he had introduced.

That summer he took my mother to the Rockbridge Baths, about eleven miles
from Lexington, to give her the benefit of the waters, which, he hoped,
might give her some relief from the continual pain she suffered. She did
derive benefit, but, unfortunately, had a fall which seriously impeded the
improvement. In reply to a note from my mother telling him of her
misfortune and asking him to send her some medicines, he writes the
following note:

“Lexington, Virginia, August 10, 1866.

“My Dear Mary: On receiving your note, yesterday, I had only time to get
the arnica and send it by the stage. I am very sorry that you received
such a fall, and fear it must have been a heavy shock to you. I am,
however, very thankful that you escaped greater injury, and hope it is no
worse than you describe. I will endeavour to get down to see you to-morrow
evening, and trust I may find you somewhat relieved from its effects. We
are pretty well here. Many people are out of town, and I have not seen
those who are in. Love to the girls.

“Truly and affectionately yours,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

My father was still very busy with his college work, and, after
establishing her there, spent most of the time in Lexington, riding
Traveller over to see her whenever he could get a spare day. Among the few
letters preserved of those written to her at this time, I have a note of
July 16th:

“My Dear Mary: I am glad to see by your letter of yesterday that you are
recovering so well from your fall. I hope you may soon be well again….
Caroline [the cook] got back this morning. Left her daughter better. Says
there is a very good girl in Lynchburg, from General Cocke’s estate,
anxious to live with us. I shall have more conversation with her
[Caroline], and, if satisfied, will write for her, by the boat to-night.
Her father is in Lynchburg, and anxious for her to come…. Tell Mrs.
Cabell I am sorry to have missed seeing her. Where is Katie? I wish she
would send her to see me. I will endeavour to find some one to carry this
to you. Love to all.

“Very affectionately and truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

The mails in those days were not very direct, and private messenger was
often the surest and speediest method of letter-carriage. In the absence
of my mother, my father was trying to better the staff of servants. Their
inefficiency was the drawback to our comfort then, as it is now. Often the
recommendation of some was only the name of the estate from which they
came. A few days later, my father writes again:

“Lexington, Virginia, July 20, 1866.

“My Dear Mary: I was glad to receive your note this morning, and wish it
could have reported a marked improvement in your health. But that, I
trust, will come in time. It has been impossible for me to return to you
this week, and, indeed, I do not see how I can absent myself at all. I
shall endeavour to go to the Baths Monday, and hope during the week you
may be able to determine whether it would be more advantageous for you to
remain there or go further, as I shall have to return here as soon as I
can. I can accomplish nothing while absent. Custis ahs determined to
accompany Mr. Harris to the White Sulphur Monday, and the girls seem
indifferent about leaving home. They ask, properly, what is to become of
it? Mr. Pierre Chouteau, son of Julia Gratiot and Charles Chouteau, will
hand you this. He will remain over Sunday at the Baths, and can tell you
all about St. Louis. I send such letters as have come for you. I have no
news. The heat seems to extend everywhere, but it will be cool enough
after a time. We are as usual, except that ‘Aunt’ Caroline [the cook]
seems more overcome, and Harriet [the maid] indulges in lighter attire. I
fear Mrs. Myers had an awful time. The Elliotts do not seem in haste to
leave town. They are waiting for a cool day to go to the Natural Bridge,
and do not seem to have decided whether to go to the Baths or Alum
Springs. We had an arrival last night from the latter place—General
Colquit and daughters. They return to-morrow. The girls will write of
domestic matters. I received a letter from Rob at Romancoke. He is still
taking cholagogue, but well. Nothing of interest has occurred.

“Affectionately yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

Cholagogue was a fever-and-argue remedy of which I partook largely at that
time. After this letter, my sisters joined my mother at the Baths, my
father still spending most of his time in Lexington, but riding over to
see them whenever he could. He was very busy repairing some of the old
buildings of the college and arranging his work for the next session. Here
is another short note to my mother:

“Lexington, Virginia, August 2, 1866.

“My Dear Mary: Mr. Campbell has just informed me that Cousins George and
Eleanor Goldsborough are with you. Tell them they must not go till I can
get to the Baths. I think the waters of the latter will do them as much
good as anything they can try, and the sight of them will do me great
benefit. I find here much to do, but will endeavour to be with you
to-morrow evening or Saturday morning. Custis has just come, but finding
me occupied with builders, shook hands, got his dinner, and left for the
Institute. So I do not know where he is from or where he will go next. Our
neighbours are generally well, and inquire for you. Colonel Reid better.
Tell the girls, if I find them improving, I will bring them something.
Remember me to Cousins George and Eleanor and all the ladies. I have about
a bushel of letters to answer and other things to do.

“Very affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

On one of his visits to my mother, he took advantage of the comparative
quiet and rest there and wrote me a long letter, which I give her in full:

“Rockbridge Baths, July 28, 1866.

“My Dear Robert: I was very glad to see from your letter of the 2d the
progress you are making in your farm. I hope things may move prosperously
with you, but you must not expect this result without corresponding
attention and labour. I should like very much to visit you, but it will be
impossible. I have little time for anything but my business. I am here
with your mother, waiting to see the effects of these waters upon her
disease, before proceeding to the Warm Springs. She is pleased with the
bath, which she finds very agreeable, and it has reduced the swelling in
her feet and ankles, from which she has been suffering for a long time,
and, in fact, from her account, entirely removed it. This is a great
relief in itself, and, I hope, may be followed by greater. I do not think
she moves with more facility, though I think she walks [on her crutches]
oftener and longer than heretofore, and probably with more confidence. She
has been her too short a time to pronounce positively as to the effects of
the water, and will have to remain three or four weeks before we determine
whether she will go further. I am unwilling for her to lose the whole
summer here unless it promises some advantage, and, after the middle of
next week, unless some marked change takes place, shall take her to the
Warm Springs. Custis has gone to the White Sulphur, but expects to be in
Richmond on August 6th to meet Fitzhugh, with the view of going to the
Warrenton White Sulphur Springs in North Carolina, to witness the erection
of a monument over dear Annie, which the kind people of that country have
prepared for the purpose. My attendance on your mother, which is
necessary, prevents my being present. Agnes and Mildred are here. I think
the baths have been beneficial to them already, though they have not been
here a week. I will leave them to describe the place and visitors. I
applied the dressing of salt to the old meadow at Arlington with the view
of renovating the grass. I believe it is equally good for corn. It was
refuse salt—Liverpool—which I bought cheaply in Alexandria
from the sacks having decayed and broken, but I cannot recollect exactly
how much I applied to the acre. I think it was about two or three bushels
to the acre. You had better consult some work on farming as to the
quantity. I would advise you to apply manure of some kind to all your
land. I believe there is nothing better or cheaper for you to begin with
than shell lime. I would prefer cultivating less land manured in some way
than a large amount unassisted. We are always delighted to hear from you,
and I trust with care you may escape the chills. The incentives I spoke of
were a sweet wife and child. God bless you, my dear son.

“Most affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

My mother continued to improve so much that she did not go that summer to
the Warm Springs. My father spent most of his time in Lexington, but rode
over to the Baths about once a week. There was nothing he enjoyed more
than a good long ride on Traveller. It rested him from the cares and
worries incident to his duties, and gave him renewed energy for his work.
He was often seen that summer along the eleven miles of mountain road
between Lexington and the Baths. He made himself acquainted with the
people living near it, talked to them about their affairs, encouraged and
advised them, and always had a cheery greeting and a pleasant word for
them. The little children along his route soon became acquainted with the
gray horse and his stately rider. College reopened the last of September
and by October he had his wife and daughters with him again. He write to
me on October 18th, trying to help me in my agricultural perplexities:

“…Am glad to hear that you are well and progressing favourably. Your
Uncle Smith says, in a letter just received in which he writes of his
difficulties and drawbacks, ‘I must tell you that if you desire to succeed
in any matter relating to agriculture you must personally superintend and
see to everything.’ Perhaps your experience coincides with his.

“I hope your wheat will reimburse you for your labour and guano. I think
you are right in improving your land. You will gain by cultivating less
and cultivating that well, and I would endeavour to manure every crop—as
to the kind of manure which will be the most profitable, you must
experiment. Lime acts finely on your land and is more lasting than guano.
If you can, get shells to burn on your land, or, if not, shell lime from
Baltimore. I think you would thereby more certainly and more cheaply
restore your fields. I hope your sale of ship-timber may place you in
funds to make experiments. You will have to attend to your contractors.
They will generally bear great attention, and then circumvent you…. I
hope I shall see you this winter, when we can talk over the matter. We are
pretty well. Your mother is better by her visit to the Baths. Mildred
talks of going to the Eastern Shore of Maryland next month, and I fear
will be absent from us all winter. I must refer you to your sisters for
all news. They are great letter-writers, and their correspondence extends
over the globe. Miss Etta Seldon is with us. All our summer visitors have
gone, and some who, I hoped, would have visited us have not come….
Good-bye, my dear son. God bless you….

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

“Robert E. Lee, Jr.”

My uncle, Smith Lee, was farming on the Potomac, and was constantly
sending me messages of condolence through my father. Our experiences were
the same as all others starting to farm under the new order of things. My
father was very hospitable, and it delighted him to have his relatives and
friends come and see him. So many kindnesses had been shown to himself and
family for the last five years that he greatly enjoyed this, his first
opportunity of greeting in his own home those who had so often offered my
mother and sisters the shelter of theirs. The country around Lexington was
most beautiful, and the climate in the summer and autumn all that could be
desired. So, at those seasons, whenever he was at home, there was
generally some one visiting him, nearly always relatives or old and dear
friends. He entertained very simply, made every one feel at home, and was
always considerate and careful of the amusement and welfare of his guests.

People came from all over the world to Lexington to see him. Amongst the
visitors from afar were the marquis of Lorne and the Hon. Mr. Cooper, who
were on a tour through the United States. They came to Lexington to see
General Lee. When they called at the house there happened to be no servant
at hand, and my father, meeting them at the door, received their cards.
Not having on his glasses, he could not read the names, but ushered the
strangers into the parlour, and presented them to Mrs. Lee, without
calling their names. My mother thought the tall, slender youth was a new
student, and entered into conversation with him as such. Struck by his
delicate appearance, she cautioned him against the harsh winter climate of
the mountains, and urged him to be careful of his health. On this, Mr.
Cooper explained who his companion was, and there was much amusement over
the mistake.

The professors and students of the two institutions of learning were
constant visitors, especially in the evenings, when young men came to see
the girls. If his daughters had guests, my father usually sat with my
mother in the dining-room adjoining the drawing-room. When the clock
struck ten he would rise and close the shutters carefully and slowly, and,
if that hint was not taken, he would simply say “Good night, young
gentlemen.” The effect was immediate and lasting, and his wishes in that
matter, finally becoming generally known, were always respected. Captain
W., who had very soon found out the General’s views as to the time of
leaving, was told on one occasion that General Lee had praised him very
much.

“Do you know why?” said the Captain. “It is because I have never been
caught in the parlour at ten o’clock. I came very near it least night, but
got into the porch before the General shut the first blind. That’s the
reason he calls me ‘a fine young man.’”

A young friend who was a cadet at the Virginia Military Institute called
on my sisters one evening, and remarked, just for something to say:

“Do you know this is the first civilian’s house I have entered in
Lexington.”

My father was in the room in the room in his gray Confederate coat, shorn
of the buttons; also my two brothers, Custis and Fitzhugh, both of whom
had been generals in the Confederate Army; so there was quite a laugh over
the term CIVILIAN. I have already mentioned how particular my father was
about answering all letters. It was a great tax on his time, and some of
them must have been a trial to his temper. The following will explain
itself:

“Lexington, Virginia, September 5, 1866.

“A. J. Requier, 81 Cedar St., New York.

“My Dear Sir: I am very much obliged to you for your kind letter of the
22d ult. So many articles formerly belonging to me are scattered over the
country that I fear I have not time to devote to their recovery. I know no
one in Buffalo whom I could ask to reclaim the Bible in question. If the
lady who has it will use it, as I hope she will, she will herself seek to
restore it to the rightful owner. I will, therefore, leave the decision of
the question to her and her conscience. I have read with great pleasure
the poem you sent me, and thank you sincerely for your interest in my
behalf. With great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

Here is another one of many of a similar character:

“Lexington, Virginia, September 26, 1866.

“Mr. E. A. Pollard, 104 West Baltimore St., Baltimore, Md.

“Dear Sir: I return you my thanks for the compliment paid me by your
proposition to write a history of my life. It is a hazardous undertaking
to publish the life of any one while living, and there are but few who
would desire to read a true history of themselves. Independently of the
few national events with which mine has been connected, it presents little
to interest the general reader, nor do I know where to refer you for the
necessary materials. All my private, as well as public, records have been
destroyed or lost, except what is to be found in published documents, and
I know of nothing available for the purpose. Should you, therefore,
determine to undertake the work, you must rely upon yourself, as my time
is so fully occupied that I am unable to promise you any assistance.

“Very respectfully,

“R. E. Lee.”

This autumn my sister Mildred paid a visit to our cousins, Mr. and Mrs.
George Golsborough, living at “Ashby,” near Easton, on the Eastern Shore
of Maryland. She remained away there and elsewhere for several months. My
father’s letters to her, many of which have been preserved, are most
interesting. They show very plainly many beautiful phases of his noble
character and disposition:

“Lexington, Virginia, December 21, 1866.

“My Precious Life: I was very glad to receive your letter of the 15th
inst., and to learn that you were well and happy. May you be always as
much so as is consistent with your welfare here and hereafter, is my daily
prayer. I was much pleased, too, that, while enjoying the kindness of your
friends, we were not forgotten. Experience will teach you that,
notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary, you will never receive
such a love as is felt for you by your father and mother. That lives
through absence, difficulties, and times. Your own feelings will teach you
how it should be returned and appreciated. I want to see you very much,
and miss you at every turn, yet am glad of this opportunity for you to be
with those who, I know, will do all in their power to give you pleasure. I
hope you will also find time to read and improve your mind. Read history,
works of truth, not novels and romances. Get correct views of life, and
learn to see the world in its true light. It will enable you to live
pleasantly, to do good, and, when summoned away, to leave without regret.
Your friends here inquire constantly after you, and wish for your return.
Mrs. White and Mrs. McElwee particularly regret your absence, and the
former sends especial thanks for your letter of remembrance. We get on in
our usual way. Agnes takes good care of us, and is very thoughtful and
attentive. She has not great velocity, but is systematic and quiet. After
to-day, the mornings will begin to lengthen a little, and her trials to
lessen. It is very cold, the ground is covered with six inches of snow,
and the mountains, as far as the eye can reach in every direction, elevate
their white crests as monuments of winter. This is the night for the
supper for the repairs to the Episcopal church. Your mother and sisters
are busy with their contributions. It is to take place at the hotel, and
your brother, cousins, and father are to attend. On Monday night (24th),
the supper for the Presbyterian church is to be held at their
lecture-room. They are to have music and every attraction. I hope both may
be productive of good. But you know the Episcopalians are few in numbers
and light in purse, and must be resigned to small returns…. I must leave
to your sisters a description of these feasts, and also an account of the
operation of the Reading Club. As far as I can judge, it is a great
institution for the discussion of apples and chestnuts, but is quite
innocent of the pleasures of literature. It, however, brings the young
people together, and promotes sociability and conversation. Our feline
companions are flourishing. Young Baxter is growing in gracefulness and
favour, and gives cat-like evidences of future worth. He possesses the
fashionable colour of ‘moonlight on the water,’ apparently a dingy hue of
the kitchen, and is strictly aristocratic in appearance and conduct. Tom,
surnamed ‘The Nipper,’ from the manner in which he slaughters our enemies,
the rats and the mice, is admired for his gravity and sobriety, as well as
for his strict attention to the pursuits of his race. They both feel your
absence sorely. Traveller and Custis are both well, and pursue their usual
dignified gait and habits, and are not led away by the frivolous
entertainments of lectures and concerts. All send united love, and all
wish for your return. Remember me most kindly to Cousins Eleanor and
George, John, Mary, Ida, and all at ‘Myrtle Grove,’ and to other kind
friends when you meet them. Mrs. Grady carried yesterday to Mr. Charles
Kerr, in Baltimore, a small package for you. Be careful of your health,
and do not eat more than half the plum-puddings Cousin Eleanor has
prepared for Xmas. I am glad to hear that you are fattening, and I hope
you will reach 125 lbs. Think always of your father, who loves you dearly.

“R. E. Lee.

“P.S., 22d.—Rob arrived last night with ‘Lucy Long.’ He thinks it
too bad you are away. He has not seen you for two years.

“R. E. Lee.”

“Baxter” and “Tom, the Nipper” were Mildred’s pets. All of us had a
fondness for cats, inherited from my mother and her father, Mr. Custis. My
father was very fond of them in his way and in their place, and was kind
to them and considerate of their feelings. My father was very fond of them
in his way and in their place, and was kind to them and considerate of
their feelings. My mother told of his hearing one of the house-pets,
possibly Baxter or the Nipper, crying and lamenting under his window one
stormy night. The General got out of bed, opened the window, and called
pussy to come in. The window was so high that the animal could not jump up
to it. My father then stepped softly across the room, took one of my
mother’s crutches, and held it so far out of the window that he became wet
from falling rain; but he persuaded the cat to climb up along the crutch,
and into the window, before he thought of dry clothing fo himself. “Lucy
Long” was my father’s mare, which had been lost or stolen at the end of
the war, and which I had just brought back to him. I will give in the
following letter his account of her:

“Lexington, Virginia, September 4, 1866.

“Dr. C. S. Garnett.

“Dear Sir: I am much obliged to you for your letter of the 23d ult. and
the information it contained. The mare about which my son wrote you was
bred by Mr. Stephen Dandridge, of ‘The Bower,’ Berkeley County, Virginia,
and was purchased from him for me by General J. E. B. Stuart in the fall
of 1862—after the return of the army from Maryland. She is nine or
ten years old, about fifteen hands high, square built, sorrel (not
chestnut) colour, has a fast walk, easy pace, and short canter. When I
parted with her she had a full long mane and tail. I rode her in
conjunction with my gray horse from the fall of ‘62 to the spring of ‘64,
when she was sent back for refreshment; and it was in recalling her in the
spring of ‘65 from Mr. Hairston’s, in Henry County, that she got into
Major Paxton’s stables of public horses and went to Danville with them. I
think she might be recognised by any member of the Army of Northern
Virginia, in Essex, unless much changed. I now recollect no distinctive
marks about her except a blaze in her forehead and white hind-legs. My
son, General W. H. F. Lee, residing at the White House, in New Kent, might
recognise her, and also my son Robert, who resides near West Point, in
King William. Captain Hopkins, to whom you refer in your letter, is dead,
but Major Paxton, who had general charge of the public stables, and to
whom I referred you letter, has sent me the accompanying affidavits of two
of the men employed by him. Should their evidence not be satisfactory, he
will procure statements from some of the officers, which probably may be
more definite. I should be obliged to you, if the mare in question is the
one I am seeking for, that you would take steps to recover her, as I am
desirous of reclaiming her in consideration of the donor, General Stuart.

“Your obedient servant, R. E. Lee.”

It was proved to the satisfaction of all parties that the mare in question
was “Lucy Long,” and my father reimbursed the man who had bought her from
some one who had no right to her. She was brought to my place and I
recognised her at once. She stayed with me until I was ready to pay my
Christmas visit to Lexington. She then was put on the train and sent to
Staunton, where I met her. I found there Colonel William Allan, a
professor of Washington College, who had a buggy and no horse, and as I
had a horse and no buggy, we joined forces and I drove him over to
Lexington, “Lucy Long” carrying us with great ease to herself and comfort
to us. My father was glad to get her, as he was very fond of her. When he
heard how she came over, he was really shocked, as he thought she had
never been broken to harness. She lived to be thirty-three years old, and
was then chloroformed, because my brother thought she had ceased to enjoy
life. For the last ten years of her life she was boarded out in the
country, where she did nothing but rest, and until about a year before her
death she seemed in good health and spirits.

Chapter XIV — An Ideal Father

Letters to Mildred Lee—To Robert—To Fitzhugh—Interviewed
by Swinton, historian of the Army of the Potomac—Improvement in
grounds and buildings of Washington College—Punctuality a prominent
trait of its President—A strong supporter of the Y.M.C.A.

My sister, after the Christmas holidays, went from “Ashby” to Baltimore,
Cousins George and Eleanor Goldsborough taking her with them to their town
house. I think my father always wanted his daughters with him. When they
were away he missed them, their love, care, and attention. The next letter
I find is to Mildred in Baltimore:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 27, 1867.

“My Precious Daughter: Your letter to your mother gave us the satisfactory
information of your continued good health, for I feared that your long
silence had been caused by indisposition of body, rather than that due to
writing. I hope you will not let so long an interval between your letters
occur again, for you know I am always longing to hear from you, when I
cannot see you, and a few lines, if only to say you are well, will prevent
unpleasant apprehensions. I am delighted at your increased bodily
dimensions, and your diminished drapery. One hundred and twenty-eight
avoirdupois is approximately a proper standard. Seven more pounds will
make you all right. But I fear before I see you the unnatural life, which
I fear you will lead in Baltimore, will reduce you to skin and bone. Do
not go out to many parties, preserve your simple tastes and manners, and
you will enjoy more pleasure. Plainness and simplicity of dress, early
hours, and rational amusements, I wish you to practise. You must thank
Cousins Eleanor and George for all their kindness to you, and remember me
to all friends. If you see your uncle Marshall, present my kind regards to
him, and my best wishes for his health and happiness. I hope you will see
Robert. I heart that he stayed at Mr. Edward Dallam’s when in Baltimore,
but do not know whether he will return there from Lynwood. I was sorry to
hear that you lost your purse. Perhaps the finder was more in want than
you are, and it may be of service to him, and you can do without it. A
little money is sometimes useful. You must bear in mind that it will not
be becoming in a Virginia girl now to be fine or fashionable, and that
gentility as well as self-respect requires moderation in dress and gaiety.
While her people are suffering, she should practise self-denial and show
her sympathy in their affliction. We are all pretty well. Your poor mother
suffers more pain than usual during this inclement weather. Your sister is
devoted to the snow and ice, and Agnes is becoming a very good
housekeeper. She has received a letter from a gentleman, whose judgement
she respects, recommending her to acquire that useful knowledge, and
assuring her that it will not only promote domestic happiness, but will
add greatly to connubial bliss. This is a great encouragement to her. Our
young friends, the law students and cadets, all inquire after you and wish
for your return. You know that is my wish and hope, so whenever you are
ready to return you will know that I am waiting to receive you. I will
leave your mother and sisters to give you all domestic news. Tell Annette
I have been looking for her in every stage since her letter last fall, and
that I hope for her arrival daily. Nipper is well, and endeavors, by stern
gravity, to repress the frivolity of Baxter. All unite in much love, and I
am, as ever,

“Your father, R. E. Lee.

“Miss Mildred Lee.”

Just after the intermediate examinations, he writes to Mildred again:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 16, 1867.

“My Precious Daughter: I have wished to answer your letter of the 2d for
some days, but have not been able. The intermediate examinations which
were in progress when it arrived continued ten entire days, and since
their termination the necessary arrangements for the resumption of
studies, and the reorganisation of the classes, have occupied my time not
devoted to other pressing matters. The students generally passed very
creditable examinations. Many of your friends were distinguished. The
ordeal through which the higher classes passed was as severe as any I ever
witnessed. Colonel Johnston [William Preston Johnston, the son of General
Albert Sidney Johnston, who fell at Shiloh. He had recently been elected
to the chair of History and Literature at Washington College.] has arrived
and entered upon his duties. He is living at the hotel with his wife and
six sweet little children, being unable to procure a house, and the
college being too poor to build one for him. We have other professors also
houseless. Robert has returned to his ‘broken-back cottage,’ though he
confesses to having enjoyed great pleasure during his visit to Baltimore.
He dwells with delight upon his intercourse with the Misses ——,
whom he considers angels upon earth, without wings. His account of them
increases my desire to get them to Virginia. Miss —— once
promised me to have Fitzhugh. Tell her I will release her from her
engagement if she will take Rob. He was also much gratified at being able
to spend a week with you, and I am getting very anxious for your return.
The winter has passed, the snow and ice have disappeared, and the birds
have returned to their favourite resorts in the yard. We have, however, a
sea of mud around us, through which we have to plunge, but I hope the
pleasant air and sun now visiting us will soon dissipate it. I am glad you
are enjoying yourself among such kind friends, but do not remain too long,
as you may detain Cousins Eleanor and George from the Eastern Shore.
Markie has sent me a likeness of you on porcelain, from the negative taken
by the celebrated Plecker, which she carried with her to Philadelphia. It
is very good, but I prefer the original…. Everybody seems anxious for
your return, and is surprised you can stay so long from your papa. May God
bless and keep you, my dear child, is the constant prayer of

“Your devoted father, R. E. Lee.”

Before Mildred returned to Lexington she received one more letter from my
father, in which he advises her of the two routes to Lexington, and tells
her some college news:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 23, 1867.

“My Precious Daughter: Agnes wishes you to purchase some articles for her,
and your mother and sister may have some commissions, which I fear will
reduce your purse to an inconvenient collapse. I therefore send a check
for —— dollars, which I hope will enable you to gratify their
wishes and serve as a reserve for your own wants. I hope you are well and
passing your time profitably as well as pleasantly. The cadets are under
the impression that you are at the Patapsco Institute, and will expect to
find you, on your return, more agreeable than ever. They are labouring so
industriously in mental culture that they believe every one is similarly
engaged. I went last evening to the celebration of the anniversary of the
Washington Society, and was much pleased with the speeches. It was held in
the Methodist church, which was filled to overflowing. The institute and
Ann Smith [Female Academy] were represented. Your sisters were present,
and as they were both absent from breakfast this morning I fear so much
learning made them sleepy. They were also at a cadet hop on the 21st, and
did not get home till between two and three A. M. on the 22d. I suppose,
therefore, they had ‘splendid times’ and very fresh society. We were
somewhat surprised the other morning at Mrs. Grady’s committing matrimony.
I missed, at our chapel exercises, Captain Grady and our acting chaplain,
but did not know at the time what prevented their attendance. I heard
afterwards that they had put the happy pair in the stage and sent them on
their way rejoicing. She is now Mrs. Richard Norris, and has gone to
Baltimore. It will be but fair now that Captain Grady should go to
Baltimore and bring us a young lady from there in return for his mother.
If you see Miss Armistead, ask her to be ready on short notice, as we are
a people of few words in this region, and proceed in all matters in a
businesslike way. Agnes, I suppose, has told you of all matters of gaiety
and fashion. She has, no doubt, too, kept you advised of the progress of
young Baxter and of the deeds of ‘Thomas the Nipper.’ They are both
flourishing, and are much admired…. The roads are so muddy that my
evening rides have been suspended, and I see nobody…. You must write me
when to expect you. The stage from Staunton now crosses during the night,
and, when the roads are favourable, arrives about two A. M. When the roads
are unfavourable, it gets in generally in time for an early breakfast. The
canal-boats have resumed their trips now, so you will have a choice of
routes from Richmond, if you conclude to go there. All unite with me in
much love, and I am, always,

“Your father, R. E. Lee.”

From Lexington I had gone to Baltimore for a short visit, and had spent a
week with Mildred at the home of our cousin, Mr. George Washington Peter,
near Ellicott City. Soon after getting back to my farm, I received the
following letter from my father, still trying to help me along in my work:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 8, 1867.

“My Dear Son: I was very glad to learn from your letter of the 31st ult.
that you had enjoyed your visit to Baltimore, for I feared when you left
us that you might have a visit from your shaking enemy. I trust, however,
that he has now left you never to return. Still be prudent and watch his
approach closely. I hope you may be able to procure some good mules in
Richmond, as it is a matter of importance to your operations. If you can
get the lime delivered at ten cents, I do not know a more economical
application to your land. I believe you will be repaid by the first crop,
provided it acts as I think it will. Of this you must judge, and I can
only say that if you can accomplish it, and wish to try, I can send you
$300, and will send it by draft to you, or to any one in Baltimore that
you will designate, as soon as I hear from you. I commend you for not
wishing to go in debt, or to proceed faster in your operations than
prudence dictates. I think it economy to improve your land, and to begin
upon the system you prefer as soon as possible. It is your only chance of
success, so let me know. I have to write in haste, as the examination is
in progress, and I have to be present. George and Robert both came up
to-day in the subjects in which they are respectively weakest, so give
them your good wishes. I received yesterday a letter from Mildred
regretting your departure from Baltimore, and expressing the pleasure she
derived from having been with you even a short week. I hope she will
continue well and return to us soon. We are all about as you left us. The
weather has moderated and the ice disappeared from the river, though the
boats have not yet resumed their trips. Mud predominates now instead of
snow…. Wishing you all happiness, I am, Your affectionate father, R. E.
Lee.

“Robert E. Lee, Jr.”

The Robert and George mentioned here were two of his nephews whom he was
educating at the college, the sons, respectively, of his brothers, Sydney
Smith Lee and Charles Carter Lee. They were members of his household and
were treated as his own family.

To my brother Fitzhugh he writes at this time the following, chiding him
for his extravagance in a Christmas gift, and asking for some data of the
movements of his command. It is full of good advice, encouragement, and
affection:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 26, 1867.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: You must not think because I write so seldom that you
are absent from my thoughts. I think of you constantly, and am every
revolving in my mind all that concerns you. I have an ardent desire to see
you re-established at your home and enjoying the pleasure of prosperity
around you. I know this cannot be accomplished at once, but must come from
continuous labour, economy, and industry, and be the result of years of
good management. We have now nothing to do but to attend to our material
interest which collectively will advance the interests of the State, and
to await events. The dominant party cannot reign forever, and truth and
justice will at last prevail. I hope I shall be able to get down to see
you and Rob during the next vacation. I shall then have a more correct
apprehension of existing circumstances, and can follow your progress more
satisfactorily. I was very much obliged to you for the nice eye-glasses
you sent me Xmas, and asked your mother and the girls to thank you for
them, which I hope they did. I fear they are too nice for my present
circumstances, and do not think you ought to spend anything, except on
your farm, until you get that in a prosperous condition. We have all, now,
to confine ourselves strictly to our necessities…. While you are your
own manager you can carry on cultivation on a large scale with
comparatively less expense than on a small scale, and your profits will of
course be greater. I would commence a system of progressive improvement
which would improve your land and add steadily to your income. I have
received, lately, from Fitz Lee a narrative of the operations of his
division of cavalry. I requested Custis to write to you for a report of
your operations during the winter of 1863-4 down to April 18, 1865. How
are you progressing with it? I know the difficulties of making such a
narrative at this time; still, by correspondence with your officers, and
by exerting your own memory, much can be done, and it will help me greatly
in my undertaking. Make it as full as you can, embracing all circumstances
bearing on the campaigns affecting your operations and illustrating the
conduct of your division. I hope you will be able to get up to see us this
spring or summer. Select the time when you can best absent yourself, that
you may feel the freer and enjoy yourself the more…. I wish I were
nearer to you all…. Your mother is about the same, busy with her needle
and her pen, and as cheerful as ever….

“Affectionately your father, R. E. Lee.

“General Wm. H. F. Lee.”

His desire for accounts from his officers of the movements of their
commands shows he still intended to attempt to write his campaigns with
the Army of Northern Virginia. Some months later he writes again to my
brother, and in it he alludes to the dark cloud of the “reconstruction”
days, hanging then over the South:

“Lexington, Virginia, June 8, 1867.

“My Dear Son: Your letter written on your birthday has been welcomed by
the whole family, and I assure you that we reciprocate your regrets at the
distance which separates us. Although the future is still dark, and the
prospects gloomy, I am confident that, if we all unite in doing our duty,
and earnestly work to extract what good we can out of the evil that now
hangs over our dear land, the time is not distant when the angry cloud
will be lifted from our horizon and the sun in his pristine brightness
again shine forth. I, therefore, can anticipate for you many years of
happiness and prosperity, and in my daily prayers to the God of mercy and
truth I invoke His choicest blessings upon you. May He gather you under
the shadow of His almighty wing, direct you in all your ways, and give you
peace and everlasting life. It would be most pleasant to my feelings could
I again, as you propose, gather you all around me, but I fear that will
not be in this world. Let us all so live that we may be united in that
world where there is no more separation, and where sorrow and pain never
come. I think after next year I will have done all the good I can for the
college, and I should then like, if peace is restored to the country, to
retire to some quiet spot, east of the mountains, where I might prepare a
home for your mother and sisters after my death, and where I could earn my
daily bread. We will talk of it when we meet. This summer I wish to carry
your mother to some of the mineral springs where she might obtain some
relief, but it is hard to know where that can be found. She seems now to
prefer White Sulphur, merely on the ground, I believe, that she has never
tried those waters, and, therefore, they might be of service to her. If
she makes up her mind to go, I will endeavour to get her there with one of
the girls, at least. Mildred has returned to us, looking very well, and
says she has had a very pleasant tour among her friends, and has received
a great deal of kindness wherever she has been. She seems to be very
contented now at home. I think you did right to defer her visit to us
until you had more leisure. I am glad your prospects for a harvest are so
good. Every one must look to his material interests now, as labour is our
only resource. The completion of the railroad to the Pamunkey will be a
great advantage to you in getting to market what you make, and I hope you
will put everything to account. I hope Robert is doing well. Mary is in
Staunton, where she went a week since to attend Miss Stribling’s
wedding…. Miss Mary Stewart is staying with us, and I believe is to
remain until July, when her sister Belle is to join her. The examination
of the students has been progressing a week and will continue until the
20th. The young men have, so far, done very well on the whole…. Mr.
Swinton has paid his visit. He seemed to be gentlemanly, but I derive no
pleasure from my interviews with book-makers. I have either to appear
uncivil, or run the risk of being dragged before the public…. I am,

“Always as ever, your father, R. E. Lee.

“General Wm. H. Fitzhugh Lee.”

The Pamunkey was the name of the river on which the White House, my
brother’s estate, was situated. The railroad from Richmond, torn up during
the war, had just been rebuilt to that point. Swinton was the historian of
the Federal Amy of the Potomac. He spent some days in Lexington, and, I
suppose, sought from my father information on points connected with his
history of the movements of General Grant’s army.

My father, as I have said before, commenced almost as soon as he became
the president of the college to improve the grounds, roads, walks, fences,
etc., and systematically kept up this work up to the time of his death.
The walks about the college grounds were in very bad condition, and, in
wet weather, often ankle-deep in mud. As a first step toward improving
them the president had a quantity of limestone broken up and spread upon
the roads and walks. The rough, jagged surface was most uninviting, and
horsemen and footmen naturally took to the grass. Seeing Colonel T. L.
Preston riding one day across the campus on his way to his classes at the
Virginia Military Institute, my father remarked:

“Ah, Colonel, I have depended upon you and your big sorrel to help smooth
down my walks!”

Another day, a student who was walking on the grass saw the General not
far away, and immediately stepped into the middle of the rocks, upon which
he manfully trudged along. A strange lady, going in the same direction,
followed in the student’s footsteps, and when the youth came within
speaking distance, my father, with a twinkle in his eye, thanked him for
setting so good an example, and added, “The ladies do not generally take
kindly to my walks.”

The buildings also were altered and renovated, so far as funds for the
purpose permitted. He urged the erection as soon as possible of a chapel,
which should be of dimensions suitable for the demands of the college.
There were other objects calling for a far greater outlay of money than
the resources of the college afforded, but he deemed this of great
importance, and succeeded in getting appropriations for it first. He
hastened the selection of the site and the drawing of the plans, the
completion of the work was much retarded owing to the want of funds, but
his interest in its erection never flagged. He gave it his personal
superintendence from first to last, visiting it often two or three times a
day. After it was dedicated, he always attended morning prayers and all
other religious exercises held there, unless prevented by sickness.
Whenever I was there on a visit I always went with him every morning to
chapel. He had a certain seat which he occupied, and you could have kept
your watch regulated by the time he entered the doors. As he thought well
of the young men who left his drawing-room by ten o’clock, so he placed in
a higher estimate those who attended chapel regularly, especially if they
got there in proper time. There was no regular chaplain, but the ministers
of the different denominations who had churches in the village undertook,
by turns, to perform a month’s service. The hour was forty-five minutes
past seven o’clock every morning, except Sunday, during the session, save
in the three winter months, December, January, and February, when it was
one hour later. He was the earnest friend and strong support of the Young
Men’s Christian Association, and an annual contributor to its funds. Upon
one occasion, at least, he placed in its library a collection of suitable
books, which he had purchased with that intention. In his annual reports
to the trustees, he always made mention of the association, giving an
account of its operations and progress.

Chapter XV — Mountain Rides

An incident about “Traveller”—The General’s love for children—His
friendship with Ex-President Davis—A ride with his daughter to the
Peaks of Otter—Mildred Lee’s narrative—Mrs. Lee at the White
Sulphur Springs—The great attention paid her husband there—His
idea of life

Since the arrival of “Lucy Long” my father was generally accompanied by
one of my sisters in his rides, whenever the weather and the condition of
the roads admitted of their going. It took very severe weather to keep him
in, though often he could not spare the time, for during the winter months
the days were very short. Every Monday afternoon there was a faculty
meeting, and the vestry meetings of his church were held two or three
times a month. Whenever I was in Lexington I rode with him, and when he
was prevented by any of the above-mentioned causes he would ask me to take
Traveller out and give him a gallop, which I was delighted to do, and I
think I had my revenge for his treatment of me on that ride from Orange to
Fredericksburg in the winter of 1862. My father’s affection for his horses
was very deep and strong. In a letter written from the Springs one summer,
to his clerk in Lexington, he says:

“How is Traveller? Tell him I miss him dreadfully, and have repented of
our separation but once—and that is the whole time since we parted.”

I think Traveller appreciated his love and sympathy, and returned it as
much as was in a horse’s nature to do. As illustrative of this bond
between them, a very pretty story was told me by Mrs. S. P. Lee [Daughter
of General W. N. Pendleton, Chief of Artillery of the A. N. Va., and widow
of Colonel Edwin Grey Lee, C. S. A.]:

“One afternoon in July of this year, the General rode down to the
canal-boat landing to put on board a young lady who had been visiting his
daughters and was returning home. He dismounted, tied Traveller to a post,
and was standing on the boat making his adieux, when some one called out
that Traveller was loose. Sure enough, the gallant gray was making his way
up the road, increasing his speed as a number of boys and men tried to
stop him. My father immediately stepped ashore, called to the crowd to
stand still, and advancing a few steps gave a peculiar low whistle. At the
first sound, Traveller stopped and pricked up his ears. The General
whistled a second time, and the horse with a glad whinny turned and
trotted quietly back to his master, who patted and coaxed him before tying
him up again. To a bystander expressing surprise at the creature’s
docility the General observed that he did not see how any man could ride a
horse for any length of time without a perfect understanding being
established between them. My sister Mildred, who rode with him constantly
this summer, tells me of his enjoyment of their long rides out into the
beautiful, restful country. Nothing seemed to delight him so much.

“I have often known him to give rein to Traveller and to at full speed to
the top of some long hill, then turn and wait for me jogging along on
Lucy, calling out with merry voice, ‘Come along, Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy,
Lucy Long!’ He would question the country people about the roads, where
they came from, where they led to, and soon knew every farmer’s name and
every homestead in the country. He often said:

“‘I wish I had a little farm of my own, where we could live in peace to
the end of our days. You girls could attend to the dairy and the cows and
the sheep and wait on your mother and me, for it is time now for us old
people to rest and for the young people to work.’”

All the children in the country around were devoted to him, and felt no
hesitation in approaching him, after they once knew him. He used to meet
his favourites among the little ones on the street, and would sometimes
lift them up in front of him to give them a ride on Traveller. That was
the greatest treat he could provide. There is a very pretty story told of
Virginia Lee Letcher, his god-daughter, and her baby sister, Fannie, which
is yet remembered among the Lexington people. Jennie had been followed by
her persistent sister, and all the coaxing and the commanding of the
six-year-old failed to make the younger return home. Fannie had sat down
by the roadside to pout, when General Lee came riding by. Jeannie at once
appealed to him:

“General Lee, won’t you please make this child go home to her mother?”

The General immediately rode over to where Fannie sat, leaned over from
his saddle and drew her up into his lap. There she sat in royal
contentment, and was thus grandly escorted home. When Mrs. Letcher
inquired of Jennie why she had given General Lee so much trouble, she
received the naive reply:

“I couldn’t make Fan go home, and I thought HE could do anything.”
[Daughters of Governor John Letcher—the War Governor of Virginia]

There was a little boy living with his mother, who had come from New York.
His father had been killed in our army. The little fellow, now Colonel
Grier Monroe, of New York city, was much teased at his playmates calling
him “Yankee” when he knew he was not one. One day he marched into my
father’s office in the college, stated his case, and asked for redress.

“The next boy that calls you ‘Yankee’ send him to me,” said the General,
which, when reported, struck such terror into the hearts of his small
comrades that the offense was never repeated.

There was another little boy who was accustomed to clamber up by the side
of my father at the morning chapel exercises, and was so kindly treated
that, whenever he saw his distinguished friend, he straightway assumed a
position beside him. At the college commencement, which was held in the
chapel, the little fellow glided from his mother’s side and quietly stole
up to the platform. Soon he was nestled at the feet of the dignified
president, and, resting his head upon his knees, dropped asleep. General
Lee tenderly remained without moving, preferring to suffer from the
constrained position rather than disturb the innocent slumberer. This boy
is now the Reverend Carter Jones of he Baptist Church.

About this time Ex-President Davis was freed from the confinement of his
prison at Fortress Monroe, where he had been for about two years. There
was a warm personal friendship between these two men, dating from the time
they were cadets at West Point together, and as his unjust and unnecessary
imprisonment had pained and distressed none more than my father, so his
release gave him corresponding joy. He at once wrote to him the following
letter, full of feeling and sympathy:

“Lexington, Virginia, June 1, 1867.

“Honourable Jefferson Davis.

“My Dear Mr. Davis: You can conceive better than I can express the misery
which your friends have suffered from your long imprisonment, and the
other afflictions incident thereto. To no one has this been more painful
than to me, and the impossibility of affording relief has added to my
distress. Your release has lifted a load from my heart which I have not
words to tell. My daily prayer to the great Ruler of the world is that He
may shield you from all future harm, guard you from all evil, and give you
that peace which the world cannot take away. That the rest of your days
may be triumphantly happy is the sincere and earnest wish of

“Your most obedient, faithful friend and servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

Though my father would take no part in the politics of the country, and
rarely expressed his views on questions of that nature then occupying the
minds of all, nevertheless, when he deemed it necessary, and to the proper
person, he very plainly said what he thought. The following letter to
General Longstreet, in answer to one from him written about this time,
illustrates what I have said in this connection, and explains itself:

“Lexington, Virginia, October 29, 1867.

“General J. Longstreet, 21 Carondelet Street, New Orleans, La.

“My Dear General: When I received your letter of the 8th of June, I had
just returned from a short trip to Bedford County, and was preparing for a
more extended visit to the White Sulphur Springs for the benefit of Mrs.
Lee’s health. As I could not write such a letter as you desired, and as
you stated that you would leave New Orleans for Mexico in a week from the
time you wrote, to be absent some months, I determined to delay my reply
till my return. Although I have been here more than a month, I have been
so occupied by necessary business, and so incommoded by the effects of an
attack of illness, from which I have not yet recovered, that this is the
first day that I have been able to write to you. I have avoided all
discussion of political questions since the cessation of hostilities, and
have, in my own conduct, and in my recommendations to others, endeavoured
to conform to existing circumstances. I consider this the part of wisdom,
as well as of duty; but, while I think we should act under the law and
according to the law imposed upon us, I cannot think the course pursued by
the dominant political party the best for the interests of the country,
and therefore cannot say so or give it my approval. This is the reason why
I could not comply with the request in your letter. I am of the opinion
that all who can should vote for the most intelligent, honest, and
conscientious men eligible to office, irrespective of former party
opinions, who will endeavour to make the new constitutions and the laws
passed under them as beneficial as possible to the true interests,
prosperity, and liberty of all classes and conditions of the people. With
my best wishes for your health and happiness, and my kindest regards to
Mrs. Longstreet and your children, I am, with great regard, and very truly
and sincerely yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

This summer my father paid a visit to the Peaks of Otter, a famous group
of mountains in the Blue Ridge range, situated in Bedford County,
Virginia. He rode Traveller, and my sister Mildred accompanied him on
“Lucy Long.” After visiting the Peaks and ascending the summit, which is
4,000 feet in height, he rode on to Liberty, now Bedford City, ten miles
distant, and spent the night at “Avenel,” the home of the Burwells, who
were friends and connections of his.

From there the riding party went to Captain Bufurd’s, about twelve miles
distant, where they spent the night and the next day. The Captain was a
farmer, a great admirer and a staunch upholder of his native State,
Viriginia, in her fight for constitutional liberty, from ‘61 to ‘65. He
had sent his sons into the army, and had given of his substance freely to
support the troops, as well as the poor and needy, the widow and orphan,
who had been left in want by the death in battle of their natural
protectors and by the ravages of war. In the early years of the struggle,
my mother and sisters, when “refugeeing,” had boarded, as they thought and
intended at the time, at his home. But when they tried to induce him to
accept pay for the shelter and food he had given them for a month or more,
he sternly refused. His was a patriotism that hesitated at no sacrifice,
and was of a kind and character that admitted of no self-consideration.
This trait, so strongly developed in him, attracted the admiration and
respect of my father. The visit he paid him was to thank him in person for
the kindness extended to his wife and daughters, and also for a very large
and handsome horse which he had sent my father the last year, I think, of
the war. My sister Mildred tells me what she can recollect of this ride.
It is a source of endless regret to us that we cannot recall more. His
championship was at all times delightful to his children, and on an
occasion of this kind, invigorated by the exercise, inspired by the bright
skies and relieved of all harassing cares, he became almost a boy again.

My sister Mildred says:

“We started at daybreak one perfect June day, papa on Traveller, I on Lucy
Long, our saddle-bags being our only luggage. He was in the gayest humour,
laughing and joking with me as I paced along by his side on quiet ‘Miss
Lucy.’ Traveller seemed to sympathise with his master, his springy step,
high head, and bright eye clearly showing how happy he was and how much
interest he took in this journey. He had to be constantly chided for his
restlessness, and was told that it would be well for him to reserve some
of his too abundant energy for the latter part of his trip. At midday we
dismounted, and, tying our horses while resting on the soft grass under a
wild-plum hedge by the roadside, ate our lunch. We then rode on, and soon
came to the James River, which was crossed by a ferry-boat. The ferry-man
was an old soldier, who of course recognised papa, and refused payment;
nor could he be induced to take any. Further on the road, as our horses
were climbing a steep rocky ascent, we met some little children, with very
dirty faces, playing on the roadside. He spoke to them in his gentle,
playful way, alluding to their faces and the desirability of using a
little water. They stared at us with open-eyed astonishment, and then
scampered off up the hill; a few minutes later, in rounding this hill, we
passed a little cabin, when out they all ran with clean faces, fresh
aprons, and their hair nicely brushed, one little girl exclaiming, ‘We
know you are General Lee! we have got your picture!’

“That night about nine o’clock we reached the little mountain inn at the
foot of the Peaks, ate a hearty supper, and soon went to bed, tired out by
our thirty-mile ride. Our bedrooms seemed to be a loft, and the beds were
of feathers, but I, at last, slept without turning. Next morning, at dawn
of day, we set out, accompanied by the master of the house, and rode for a
long time up the mountain-side, Lucy following closely behind Traveller.
Finally it became impossible to proceed further on horseback, so the
horses were fastened to some trees and we climbed the rest of the way to
the summit on foot. When the top was reached, we sat for a long time on a
great rock, gazing down on the glorious prospect beneath. Papa spoke but a
few words, and seemed very sad. I have heard there is now a mark on the
rock showing where we sat. The inn-keeper, who accompanied us all the way,
told us that we had ridden nearer the top than any other persons up to
that time. Regaining our horses, we proceeded on our second day’s journey,
which was to end at Liberty, some ten miles distant.

“We had not ridden far, when suddenly a black thunder-cloud arose and in a
few minutes a heavy shower broke over us. We galloped back to a log cabin
we had just passed. Papa lifted me off of Lucy and, dripping with water, I
rushed in, while he led the horse under an adjacent shed, the woman of the
house looked dark and glum on seeing the pools of water forming from my
dress on her freshly scoured floor, and when papa came in with his muddy
boots her expression was more forbidding and gloomy. He asked her
permission to wait there until the shower was over, and praised her nice
white floor, regretting that we had marred its beauty. At this praise, so
becomingly bestowed, she was slightly appeased, and asked us into the best
room, which was adorned with colored prints of Lee, Jackson, Davis, and
Johnston. When the shower ceased and papa went out for the horses I told
her who I was. Poor woman! She seemed stunned and kept on saying: ‘What
will Joe say? What will Joe say!’ Joe was her husband, and had been, like
every other man in the country, a soldier in the ‘Army of Northern
Virginia.’

“The shower over and the sun shining brightly, we rode along joyously
through the refreshed hills and dust-laid roads arriving at Liberty in
good time, and went to ‘Avenel,’ the pretty home of the Burwells. The
comforts of this sweet old place seemed very delicious to me after my
short experience of roughing it. Papa was much amused when I appeared in
crinoline, my ‘hoops’ having been squeezed into the saddle-bags and
brought with me. We remained here the next day, Sunday, and the day after
rode on some twelve miles to Captain Buford’s. The Captain, in his
shirt-sleeves, received us with open arms, seemed much surprised at my
full growth, and said, ‘Why, General, you called her your ‘little girl,’
and she is a real chuck of a gal!’ He showed us his fine Jersey cattle,
his rich fields and well-filled barns, and delighted in talking of the
time during the war when mama, Mary, and Agnes paid him a visit. He
overflowed with kindness and hospitality, and his table fairly groaned
with the good things. Papa afterwards constantly quoted his original
sayings, especially one on early rising, which was made on the eve of our
arrival, when he told us good-night. Papa asked him what time he must be
ready for breakfast next morning.

“‘Well, General,’ said the Captain, ‘as you have been riding hard, and as
you are company, we will not have breakfast to-morrow until sun-up,’ which
meant in those June days somewhere before five o’clock.

“After a day spent pleasantly here, we started next morning early on our
return. Halting for a short time in Buchanan, we stopped at Colonel Edmund
Pendleton’s who then lived there in an imposing white pillared edifice,
formerly a bank. Mrs. Pendelton gave us some delicious apricots from her
garden, which my father enjoyed greatly. We then proceeded on the road to
Lexington, going by the Natural Bridge, where we had another short rest,
and reached home the same night, about ten o’clock, after a forty-mile
ride.

“Shortly after this visit Captain Bufurd sent me a fine Jersey cow, on
condition that I would get up early every morning and milk her, and also
send him a part of the butter I made.”

After my father returned from this trip, he began his arrangements for
taking my mother to the Greenbriar White Sulphur Springs. He hoped that
the waters and the change might be of service to her general health, even
if they should not alleviated the severity of her rheumatic pains. About
the first of July, my mother, sister Agnes and Miss Mary Pendleton, with
my brother Custis in charge, set out for the White Sulphur Springs. My
father, with Professor J. J. White, decided to make the journey to the
same place on horseback. They started a day in advance and were at
Covington when the ladies, travelling by stage-coach to Goshen, thence by
rail, arrived there. After spending the night at Covington, the passengers
were put into as many stage-coaches as were necessary, and the long, rough
drive over the mountains by “Callahan’s” commenced.

General Lee on Traveller was at once recognised, and when it was found out
by his fellow-travellers that Mrs. Lee was with him, attentions and
services of all kinds were pressed on her party, and a most enjoyable
lunch was sent to the stage reserved for her. Seeing that the other stages
were much crowded, while the one reserved for his wife had vacant seats,
my father insisted that some of the others should join his party, which
they very gladly did. He and Professor White went ahead of the stages on
their horses.

At the White Sulphur Springs the “Harrison cottage,” in “Baltimore Row,”
had been put at my father’s disposal, and the entire party was soon most
pleasantly established there. Mr. W. W. Corcoran, of Washington, Professor
White, Miss Mary Pendleton, Agnes and my father and brother had a table
together. Almost every day some special dainty was sent to this table. My
mother, of course, had her meals served in her cottage. Her faithful and
capable servant, Milly Howard, was always most eager for her to appear her
best, and took great pride in dressing her up, so far as she was allowed,
in becoming caps, etc., to receive her numerous visitors. My father’s
usual custom while there was to spend some time in the morning in the
large parlour of the hotel, before taking his ride on Traveller. After
dinner he went again to the parlour, and also after tea.

Among the company were many old friends and acquaintances from Baltimore,
who could not sufficiently testify their pleasure in this renewal of
intercourse. Whenever he appeared in the parlour or ballroom he was the
centre of attraction, and in vain the young men tried to engage the
attention of the young ladies when General Lee was present.

During his visit, a circus came to “Dry Creek,” a neighbouring settlement,
and gave an exhibition. The manager rode over to the Springs, came to my
father’s cottage, and insisted on leaving several tickets, begging that
General Lee would permit him to send carriages for him and any friends he
might like to take to his show. These offers my father courteously
declined, but bought many tickets, which he presented to his little
friends at the Springs.

During the morning he rode over to “Dry Creek,” where the crowds of
country people, many of them his old soldiers, feasted their eyes on him
to the neglect of the circus. That night a special exhibition was given by
the manager to General Lee’s friends, who were taken to seats draped with
Confederate colors, red, and white. After the return from the circus, my
father invited a large party to his cottage to partake of a huge
watermelon sent him by express from Mobile. It weighed about sixty pounds,
and its producer thought the only fitting way he could dispose of it was
to present it to General Lee.

Every possible attention that love, admiration, and respect could prompt
was paid my father by the guests at the Springs, each one seeming anxious
to do him homage. My mother and sisters shared it all with him, for any
attention and kindness shown them went straight to his heart.

After spending three weeks at “the White,” my father’s party went to the
Old Sweet Springs, where they were all made very comfortable, one of the
parlours being turned into a bedroom for my mother, so that in her wheeled
chair she could go out on the verandas and into the ballroom.

He was taken quite sick there, and, though he rode over from the White
Sulphur Springs, was unable to continue his early rides for some time. His
room was on the first floor, with a window opening on the end of the
building. One morning, when he was very unwell and it was important that
he should not be disturbed, Miss Pendleton found a countryman cautiously
opening the shutters from the outside. She quickly interfered, saying:

“Go away; that is General Lee’s room.”

The man dropped back, saying mournfully:

“I only wanted to see him.”

On another occasion some country people came to the Springs with plums and
berries for sale. Catching sight of him on the piazza, they put down their
baskets, took off their hats, and hurrahed most lustily for “Marse Bob”.
They were his old soldiers. When he acknowledged their loyalty by shaking
hands with them, they insisted on presenting him with their fruit.

About the first week in September my father rode back to Lexington on
Traveller, Custis taking my mother and Agnes back over the same tedious
journey by stage and rail.

There have been preserved very few letters from him at this time. I found
one to me, full of kindness, wholesome advice, and offers of aid, in which
he sends his thanks to the President of the York River Railroad for a
courtesy tendered him:

“White Sulphur Springs, Greenbriar County, West Virginia,

“August 5, 1867.

“My Dear Son: I received to-day your letter of the 28th ult., inclosing a
free ticket over the Richmond & York River Railroad, from its
president, Mr. Dudley. Please present him my grateful thanks for this mark
of his esteem. I am very glad to hear that the road is completed to the
White House, and that a boat connects it with Norfolk, the convenience of
the community and the interests of the road will be promoted thereby. It
is a difficult undertaking in these times to build a road, and I hope the
company will soon be able to finish it to West Point. I suppose you have
received before this the letter from your mother and Agnes, announcing our
arrival at this place and informing you of the company. The latter has
been much increased, and among the arrivals are the Daingerfields,
Haxalls, Capertons, Miss Belle Harrison, etc., etc. I told Agnes to tell
you how much we wished you were with us, and as an inducement for you to
join us, if you could leave home, if you would come, I would pay your
expenses. I feel very sensibly, in my old age, the absence of my children,
though I recognise the necessity of every one’s attending to his business,
and admire him the more for so doing. I am very glad that you and Fitzhugh
have, so far, escaped the fever, and hope you may avoid it altogether. Be
prudent. I am very sorry that your harvest promises a poor yield. It will
be better next year, but you must continue systematically the improvement
of the land. I know of no better method than by liming, and if you wish to
prosecute it, and are in need of help, I will aid you to the extent of
last year or more. So make your arrangements, and let me know your wishes.
A farmer’s life is one of labour, but it is also one of pleasure, and the
consciousness of steady improvement, though it may be slow, is very
encouraging. I think you had better also begin to make arrangements to
build yourself a house. If you can do nothing more than prepare a site,
lay out a garden, orchard, etc., and get a small house partly finished, so
as to inhabit it, it will add to your comfort and health. I can help you
in that too. Think about it. Then, too, you must get a nice wife. I do not
like you being so lonely. I fear you will fall in love with celibacy. I
have heard some very pleasing reports of Fitzhugh. I hope that his
desires, if beneficial to his happiness, may be crowned with success. I
saw the lady when I was in Petersburg, and was much pleased with her. I
will get Agnes or your mother to tell you what occurs at the Springs.
There are some 500 people here, very pleasant and kind, but most of my
time is passed alone with Traveller in the mountains. I hope your mother
may derive some benefit from the waters, but I see none now. It will, at
least, afford her some variety, and give her some pleasure, of which there
is a dearth with us now. Give much love to Fitzhugh. All unite in love to
you. God bless you, my son, prays

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

Early in September my father sent my mother sister home to Lexington,
while he mounted Traveller and rode back by way of the Hot Springs,
Healing, and Rockbridge Alum. He was detained by indisposition a day or
two at the Healing, and writes to my mother a little note from that place:

“Healing Springs, September 12, 1867.

“My Dear Mary: I arrived here on the 10th, and had expected to resume my
journey this morning, but did not feel able. Should nothing prevent, I
will leave here to-morrow, but I fear I shall not be able to reach the
Rockbridge Alum, which I am told is twenty-nine miles distant. In that
event, I will halt on the road, and arrive there on Saturday, lie over
Sunday, and reach Lexington on Monday. I am very anxious to get to
Lexington, and think nothing on the route will benefit me, as I feel much
concerned about the resumption of the college exercises. Mr. John Stewart,
Misses Mary and Marian, Mr. Price, and his daughters came over from the
Hot yesterday to see me. The Stewarts are there on Miss Belle’s account.
Give much love to everybody. I hope you reached Lexington safely and
comfortably and that all are well. I hope to see you Monday. Till then,
farewell.

“Very truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

It is to be regretted that we have no accounts of these rides, the people
he met, and what he said to them, where he stayed, and who were his hosts.
He was very fond of horseback journeys, enjoyed the quiet and rest, the
freedom of mind and body, the close sympathy of his old warhorse, and the
beauties of Nature which are to be seen at every turn in the mountains of
Virginia. Ah, if we could only obtain some records of his thoughts as he
rode all alone along the mountain roads, how much it would help us all in
our trials and troubles! He was a man of few words, very loath to talk
about himself, nor do I believe any one ever knew what that great heart
suffered. His idea of life was to do his duty, at whatever cost, and to
try to help others to theirs.

Chapter XVI — An Advisor of Young Men

Lee’s policy as college president—His advice on agricultural matters—His
affection for his prospective daughter-in-law—Fitzhugh’s wedding—The
General’s ovation at Petersburg—his personal interest in the
students under his care

The college exercises were resumed in the last weeks of September. My
mother and sisters were all back at home. The President’s work, now more
in hand, began to show results. The number of students this session was
largely increased and the outlook of the college was very much brighter.

“He had from the beginning of his presidency a distinct policy and plan
which he had fully conceived and to which he steadily adhered, so that all
his particular measures of progress were but consistent steps in its
development. His object was nothing less than to establish and perfect an
institution which should meet the highest needs of education in every
department. At once, and without waiting for the means to be provided in
advance, he proceeded to develop this object. Under his advice, new chairs
were created, and professors called to fill them, so that before the end
of the first year the faculty was doubled in numbers. Still additional
chairs were created, and finally a complete system of ‘schools’ was
established and brought into full operation. So admirably was the plan
conceived and administered by General lee, that, heterogeneous as were the
students, especially in the early years, each one found his proper place,
and all were kept in line of complete and systematic study. Under this
organisation, and especially under the inspiration of his central
influence, the utmost harmony and utmost energy pervaded all the
departments of the college. The highest powers of both professors and
students were called forth, under the fullest responsibility. The
standards of scholarship were rapidly advanced; and soon the graduates of
Washington College were the acknowledged equals of those from the best
institutions elsewhere, and were eagerly sought after for the highest
positions as teachers in the best schools. The results…were due directly
and immediately, more than to all other causes, to the personal ability
and influence of General Lee as president of the college.”

So wrote Professor Edward S. Joynes in an article published soon after
General lee’s death, in the “University Monthly.” All of this had not been
accomplished as yet, but the work was well advanced, and the results began
to be evident. His health had not been strong since the middle of the
summer, but he never ceased in his endeavour to better the condition of
the college, and to improve the minds, morals, and bodies of the young men
committed to his charge. He writes to me about this time, encouraging me
to renewed efforts, telling me how to better my condition, and advising me
not to be cast down by difficulties:

“Lexington, Viriginia, October 26, 1867.

“My Dear Rob: Your letter of the 10th did not give me a very favourable
account of yourself or your prospects, but I have no doubt it was true and
therefore commendable. We must not, however, yield to difficulties, but
strive the harder to overcome them. I am sorry for the failure of your
crops, your loneliness and uncomfortableness, and wish it were in my power
to visit you and advise with you. But you must come up this winter, when
convenient, and we will discuss the whole matter. Fitzhugh, I hope, will
be married soon, and then he will have more time to counsel with you. I
hope, between you two, you will devise some mode of relief. The only way
to improve your crop is to improve your land, which requires time,
patience, and good cultivation. Lime, I think, is one of the chief
instruments, and I advise you to apply that systematically and
judiciously. I think, too, you had better purchase another pair of mules.
I can help you in these items, and, if you need, can advance you $500.
Then, as regards a house, I can help you in that too, but you must first
select a site and a plan. The first can only be found on the land, and the
latter might be adopted on the progressive principle, commencing with the
minor members, and finishing with the principal ones as convenience or
necessity might authorise. If no better can be found, how would the
present site answer? If you are going to cultivate the lower part of the
farm, it would at least have the advantage of convenience, or if you
thought it better to divide and sell your farm it would answer for one of
the divisions. I am clear for your marrying, if you select a good wife;
otherwise you had better remain as you are for a time. An imprudent or
uncongenial woman is worse than THE MINKS [I had written to him that they
had destroyed all my hens]. I think, upon the whole, you are progressing
very well and have accomplished the worst part. A failure in crops will
occur occasionally to every farmer, even the best, with favourable
surroundings. It serves a good purpose, inculcates prudence and economy,
and excites energy and perseverance. These qualities will overcome
everything. You are very young still, and if you are virtuous and
laborious you will accomplish all the good you propose to yourself. Let me
know if you want the money. We are pretty well. I am better and your poor
mother more comfortable, I think, than she was last year. The girls are as
usual, and Custis is in far better health than he was before his visit to
the Springs. He seems, however, not happy, and I presume other people have
their troubles as well as farmers. God bless you, my son, and may He
guard, guide, and direct you in all you do. All would unite in love did
they know I was writing.

“Truly and affectionately, your father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Robert E. Lee, Jr.”

My brother Fitzhugh was to be married that autumn. This event, so soon to
take place, gave my father great pleasure. He was an earnest advocate of
matrimony, and was constantly urging his sons to take to themselves wives.
With his daughters he was less pressing. Though apparently always willing
to have another daughter, he did not seem to long for any more sons. He
thus writes to my brother when his engagement was formally announced to
him:

“Lexington, Virginia, September 20, 1867.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I have been anxious for some time to write to you, to
express the pleasure I have felt a the prospects of your marriage with
Miss Bolling; but sickness has prevented, and I am still so feeble that I
cannot attend to the pressing business connected with the college. As you
know how deeply I feel all that concerns you, you may feel assured of the
pleasure I derived from your letter to your mother informing her of your
engagement. I have the most pleasing recollection of ‘Miss Tabb,’ and of
her kindness to me, and now that she has consented to by my daughter the
measure of my gratitude is filled to overflowing. I hope she will not
delay the consummation, for I want to see her very much, and I fear she
will not come to see me until then. You must present her my warm love, and
you both must accept my earnest prayers and most fervent wishes for your
future happiness and prosperity. I am glad that your house is progressing
and that your crops promise well. I hope that you soon will be able to
come and see us. Your mother, I hope, has derived some benefit from her
visit to the Springs. Her general health is improved, but I see no
relaxation in her rheumatic complaint. The girls are quite well, and all
send love….

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.

“General William H. F. Lee.”

The young lady who was so soon to become a member of his family was Miss
Mary Tabb Bolling, the daughter of Mr. G. W. Bolling, of Petersburg,
Virginia. Her father had been very kind to General Lee during the eventful
months of the siege of that town, and his daughter had been often to see
him and was a great favourite of his. My brother was especially anxious
that his father should be present at his wedding, and had been urging him
to make his arrangements to come. The sickness to which he frequently
alludes in his recent letters had been annoying him since his return from
the White Sulphur Springs up to this time, and he now writes proposing
that my brother and bride should come to him instead of his going to the
wedding:

“Lexington, Virginia, November 15, 1867.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I received this morning your letter of the 13th, and am
glad to hear of your safe arrival and of the favourable condition of
things at your home. I was afraid your house would not be ready at the
time supposed, but I would not delay the wedding on that account—you
can exist without it. We have one here at your service, though a poor one.
I am obliged to you for having arranged about my clothes. Upon reflection,
I think it better not to go to the White House and Romancoke before the
wedding. You and Robert could hardly pay the necessary attention to
business matters with your hands filled with love and matrimony. I think
of catching up Rob and marrying him to some of my sweethearts while I am
down, so as to prevent the necessity from him to reach Petersburg by the
28th, and we have arranged to commence our journey on Monday night, 25th
inst., at 12 M., so as to reach Richmond Tuesday evening, remain there the
27th and go to Petersburg the 28th. I do not think I shall be able to go
to the White House at all. I should not be able to aid you or Rob, my only
object, and would put you to much trouble…. We are all as you left us,
and miss you and Mildred very much.

“Very affectionately, your father,

“R. E. Lee.

“General William H. F. Lee.”

So it was all settled satisfactorily; my brother gained his point, and my
father arranged his affairs so that he could absent himself without
detriment to his work at the college. He left on the appointed day and
hour, and the morning after arriving in Richmond, writes my mother:

“Exchange Hotel, Richmond, November 26, 1867.

“My Dear Mary: We reached here yesterday about 4 P. M., after a not
uncomfortable journey, and found Fitzhugh waiting for the important event.
I doubt whether his house will be finished, from his account, till
January, though he thinks it will. His plans, I believe, as far as he can
form them, are to leave Petersburg the morning after the wedding for
Baltimore, where they will probably send a week gathering up their
furniture, etc., and after that all is undetermined. I renewed the
invitation for their visit to us, but he could not decide. Robert is
expected to-morrow. Mildred is well and seems to be perfectly happy, as
she had on, last evening, a dress about two yards longer than Norvell’s. I
saw Mr. Davis, who looks astonishingly well, and is quite cheerful. He
inquired particularly after you all. He is at Judge Ould’s. No one seems
to know what is to be done. Judge Chase had not arrived yesterday, but it
was thought probable he would reach here in the ten o’clock train last
night. I have not heard this morning. I will present myself to the court
this morning, and learn, I hope, what they wish of me. Williams Wickham is
here, and will attend the wedding. Annie will also go. Fitzhugh is to go
out to Hickory Hill this morning, and return this afternoon, to pay his
adieux. Mrs. Caskie was not well last evening. The rest as usual, and send
much love. Custis is well, and I have my clothes. I left my sleeve-buttons
in my shirt hanging up in my dressing-room. Ask Cornelia to take care of
them. Mr. Alexander said he would send you up some turkeys, and Colonel
Johnston, that he would help you revise the manuscript. It is time I
should get my breakfast, as I wish to transact some business before going
to court. Give much love to the girls and everybody. I hope you are well
and will want for nothing while I am away. Most truly yours,

“Mrs. M. C. Lee. R. E. Lee.”

General Lee was summoned this time as a witness in the trial of Mr. Davis,
but after some delay a nolle prosequi was filed. General Lee after the war
was asked by a lady his opinion of the position and part Mr. Davis had
taken and acted during the war was asked by a lady of his opinion of the
position and part Mr. Davis had taken and acted during the war. He
replied:

“If my opinion is worth anything, you can ALWAYS say that few people could
have done better than Mr. Davis. I knew of none that could have done as
well.”

On the morning after the wedding he writes to my mother:

“Petersburg, November 29, 1867.

“My Dear Mary: Our son was married last night and shone in his happiness.
The bride looked lovely and was, in every way, captivating. The church was
crowded to its utmost capacity, and the streets thronged. Everything went
off well, and I will enter into details when I see you. Mr. Wickham and
Annie, Mr. Fry, John Wood, and others were present. Mr. Davis was
prevented from attending by the death of Mrs. Howell. The Misses Haxall,
Miss Enders, Miss Giles, etc., came down from Richmond. Fitzhugh lee was
one of the groomsmen, Custis very composed, and Rob suffering from chills.
Many of my acquaintances were present, and everybody was very kind.
Regrets were often expressed that you, Mary, and Agnes were not present. I
believe the plan was for the bride and groom to start on their travels
this morning, but I doubt whether it will be carried out, as I thought I
saw indications of a change of purpose before I left, which I had no doubt
would be strengthened by the reflections of this morning. I shall remain
to-day and return to Richmond to-morrow. I wish to go to Brandon Monday,
but do not know that I can accomplish it. Until leaving Richmond, my whole
time was taken up by the august court, so that I could do nothing nor see
anybody there. Mildred was all life, in white and curls. I am staying at
General Mahone’s and have got hold of one of his needlepens, with which I
can do nothing. Excuse illegibility. No one has descended to breakfast
yet. I received, on arriving here yesterday, at 3 P. M., a kind note from
our daughter asking me to come and see her as soon after my arrival as
convenient, which I did and carried over the necklace, which she
pronounced very pretty. Give my love to all. Most truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

A special car carried General Lee and the other wedding guests from
Richmond to Petersburg. He did not enter into the gay conversation of the
young people, but appeared sad and depressed, and seemed to dread seeing
the town of Petersburg and meeting its people. This feeling was dispelled
by the enthusiastic welcome given him by every one there. General Mahone,
whose guest he was to be, met him at the depot with a carriage and four
white horses. Many of the citizens tried to take out the horses and pull
the carriage into the town, but the General protested, declaring, if they
did so, he would have to get out and help them. The morning after the
wedding he drove out to “Turnbull’s” to see an old woman who had been very
kind to him, sending him eggs, butter, etc., when he had had his
headquarters near by during the siege. On his return he took lunch at Mr.
Bolling’s, and held an impromptu reception, everybody coming in to speak
to him.

That night he went to an entertainment given to the bride at Mr.
Johnson’s. He enjoyed the evening very much and expressed his feeling of
relief at seeing every one so bright and cheerful. He was delighted to
find the people so prosperous, and to observe that they had it in their
hearts to be gay and happy. The next morning he returned to Richmond. He
was escorted to the train in the same way in which he had been received.
All the people turned out to see him leave, and he departed amid
tremendous cheering.

My father enjoyed this visit. It had been a success in every way. His old
friends and soldiers called on him in great numbers, all eager to look on
his face and clasp his hand again. The night of the wedding, the streets
were filled with crowds anxious to see him once more, and many to look on
him for the first time. Where ever he was seen, he was treated with the
greatest love, admiration, and respect. It was with devotion, deep,
sincere, and true, mixed with awe and sadness, that they beheld their old
commander, on foot, in citizen’s dress, grayer than three years ago, but
still the same, passing along the ways where he had so often ridden on
Traveller, with the noise of battle all around. What a change for him;
what a difference to them! But their trust and faith in him were as
unshaken as ever. A glimpse of his feelings at this time is shown in one
of his letters written a few weeks later, which I will give in its proper
place. The day after his return to Richmond he write to my mother:

“Richmond, December 1, 1867.

“My Dear Mary: I returned here yesterday with Custis, Robert and Fitz.
Lee. We left Fitzhugh and his bride in Petersburg. Mildred is with them.
In consequence of being told that the new couple were to leave Petersburg
the morning after the wedding, I had made my arrangements to return here
Saturday. If I had known that they would remain till Monday, as is now
their intention, I should have made my arrangements to stay. Mildred will
come up with them on Monday and go to Mrs. Caskie’s. I proposed to Custis,
Rob, and Fitz to remain in Petersburg till that time, but they preferred
coming with me. I shall go to Brandon to-morrow morning, and will take
Custis and Robert with me. I propose to return here Tuesday, finish my
business Wednesday, spend Thursday at Hickory Hill, take passage for
Lexington Friday, where I hope to arrive Saturday. As far as I could
judge, our new daughter will go to Baltimore December 2d and probably
return here the following Monday. Fitzhugh will go down to the White House
during the week and make arrangements for their sojourn there. He can go
down in the morning and return in the evening. I repeated our invitation
to her to visit us on their return from Baltimore, but she said Fitzhugh
thought it better fo them to defer it till the spring, but she would write
to let us know. I do not think she will come at this time, for she is in
that happy state which causes her to take pleasure in doing what she
thinks he prefers, and he, I think, would like to go to the White House
and arrange for winter. I went up to Caskie’s last evening. Saw Norvell,
but Mr. and Mrs. Caskie were both sick upstairs. The latter is better than
when I last wrote, and free from pain. I paid several visits yesterday
evening, and took Rob with me. Mrs. Triplett’s, Mrs. Peebles’, Mrs.
Brander’s, Mrs. J. R. Anderson’s. At the latter place I met Mrs. Robert
Stannard, who looked, I thought, remarkably well. She is living with Hugh
(her son), on his farm. I also went to Mrs. Dunlop’s and saw there General
and Miss Jennie Cooper. The latter looked remarkably well, but the former
is very thin. They will remain here some weeks. I have not seen Colonel
Allan since my return from Petersburg, but am told that he is better. You
must give a great deal of love to all with you. I am very anxious to get
back, and I hope that you are all well. It is very cold here this morning,
and ice is abundant. Good-bye.

“Truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

The people mentioned here as those he called on were all friends living in
Richmond, with whom my mother had become well acquainted during her stay
there, in war times. There were many others he went to see, for I remember
going with him. He sat only a few minutes at each place—“called just
to shake hands,” he would say. All were delighted to see him. From some
places where he had been well known he could hardly get away. He had a
kind word for all, and his excuse for hurrying on was that he must try to
see so and so, as Mrs. Lee had told him to be sure to do so. He was bright
and cheerful, and was pleased with the great affection shown him on all
sides.

On the day he had appointed—Monday, the 2d of December—we
started in the morning for “Brandon.” We took the steamer down James
River, passing through much of the country where he had opposed McClellan
in ‘62 and Grant in ‘64. Custis and I were with him. He said very little,
as I remember—nothing about the war—but was interested in all
the old homesteads along the route, many of which he had visited in the
days long ago and whose owners had been his relatives and friends. He
expressed great regret at not being able to stop at “Shirley,” which was
the birthplace and home of his mother before she married. He stayed at
“Brandon” one night only, taking the same boat as it returned next day to
Richmond. They were all glad to see him and sorry to let him go, but his
plans had been formed before-hand, according to his invariable custom, and
he carried them out without any change. Spending one day in Richmond, he
went from there to “Hickory Hill,” thence to Lexington, arriving there the
Saturday he had fixed on. I bade him and my brother Custis good-bye in
Richmond, and returned to my home. To my brother, Fitzhugh, after his
return from his wedding trip, he writes:

“Lexington, Virginia, December 21, 1867.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I was very glad last night to receive your letter of
the 18th announcing your return to Richmond. I did not like my daughter to
be so far away. I am glad, however, that you had so pleasant a visit,
which has no doubt prepared you for the enjoyments of home, and will make
the repose of Xmas week in Petersburg doubly agreeable. I had a very
pleasant visit to Brandon after parting with you, which Custis and Robert
seemed equally to enjoy, and I regretted that I could only spend one
night. I passed Shirley both going and returning with regret, from my
inability to stop; but Custis and I spent a day at Hickory Hill on our way
up very agreeably. My visit to Petersburg was extremely pleasant. Besides
the pleasure of seeing my daughter and being with you, which was very
great, I was gratified in seeing many friends. In addition, when our
armies were in front of Petersburg I suffered so much in body and mind on
account of the good townspeople, especially on that gloomy night when I
was forced to abandon them, that I have always reverted to them in sadness
and sorrow. My old feelings returned to me, as I passed well-remembered
spots and recalled the ravages of the hostile shells. But when I saw the
cheerfulness with which the people were working to restore their
condition, and witnessed the comforts with which they were surrounded, a
load of sorrow which had been pressing upon me for years was lifted from
my heart. This is bad weather for completing your house, but it will soon
pass away, and your sweet helpmate will make everything go smoothly. When
the spring opens and the mocking-birds resume their song you will have
much to do. So you must prepare in time. You must give a great deal of
love for me to all at Mr. Bolling’s, to General and Mrs. Mahone, and other
friends. We shall be very glad when you can bring our daughter to see us.
Select the time most convenient to you, and do not let it be long distant.
Tell her I wish to see her very much, as do also her mama and sisters.
Your mother regrets that you did not receive her letter in answer to yours
from Baltimore. She wrote the day of its reception, and addressed it to
New York, as you directed. The box about which you inquired arrived safely
and was much enjoyed. Mary is in Baltimore, where she will probably spend
the winter. As I am so far from Mildred, it will be difficult for her to
make up her mind when to return, so that the whole care of the household
devolves upon Agnes, who is occupied all the morning, teaching our niece,
Mildred…. God bless you all is the prayer of Your devoted father, R. E.
Lee.

“General Wm. H. F. Lee.”

The Christmas of 1867 I spent, as usual, in Lexington with my father. He
had been president of the college now a little more than two years. The
number of professors and students had largely increased. The chapel had
been build, many improvements made to the lecture-rooms and halls, the
grounds improved by the laying out of new roads and walks, the inclosures
renewed, the grass restored to the campus, and new shade trees set out
over the college grounds. The increase in the number of professors
demanded more houses for them. As a move in this direction, the trustees
decided to build a new house for the president, so that the one he now
occupied could be used for one of the faculty. Accordingly, the
appropriations of a sum was made, and my father was authorised to build
according to a plan of his own selection. He took a keen interest in this
matter, and at once commenced designing a new “President’s House” on the
lot which had previously been occupied by an old building devoted to the
same purpose. This was completed in the summer of 1869.

The endowment fund of the college had been increased by liberal
contributions from several philanthropic persons, and also by a better
investment of the resources already belonging to the institution. The fees
from the greater number of students also added much to its prosperity, his
interest in the student individually and collectively was untiring. By the
system of reports made weekly to the president, and monthly to the parent
or guardian, he knew well how each one of his charges was getting on,
whether or not he was progressing, or even holding his own. If the report
was unsatisfactory, the student was sent for and remonstrated with. If
that had no effect, the parents were advised, and requested to urge the
son to try to do better. If the student still persisted in wasting his
time and money, his parents were asked to call him home.

As illustrating how well the president was acquainted with the student,
and how accurate was his remembrance of their individuality, it is related
that on one occasion a name was read out in faculty meeting which was
unfamiliar to him. He asked that it be read out again, and repeated the
name to himself, adding in a tone of self-reproach:

“I have no recollection of a student of that name. It is very strange that
I have forgotten him. I thought I knew every one in college. How long has
he been here?”

An investigation proved that the student had recently entered during his
absence, and that he had never seen him. He won the confidence of the
students, and very soon their affections. He regarded a mass of petty
regulations as being only vexatious, and yet by his tact and firmness his
discipline became most effective. Very seldom was there any breaking of
the laws. He was so honoured and loved that they tried to please him in
all things. Of course, there were exceptions. I give here some letters
written to parents and guardians which will show how he tried to induce
these triflers to become men:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 25, 1866.

“My Dear Sir: I am very glad to learn from your letter of the 13th inst.
that you have written your son in reference to his neglect of his studies.
I am sure your letter and the kind admonition of his mother will have a
beneficial effect upon him. I have myself told him as plainly but as
kindly as I could that it was necessary for him to change his course, or
that he would be obliged to return home. He had promised me that he would
henceforth be diligent and attentive, and endeavour in all things to
perform his duty. I hope that he may succeed, for I think he is able to do
well if he really makes the effort. Will you be so kind as to inform Mrs.
W. that I have received her letter of the 19th? It will give me great
pleasure at all times to aid her son in every way I can, but if he desires
no benefit from his connection with the college it will be to his interest
to return home.

“Very truly your obedient servant, R. E. Lee.”

Here is another letter showing the patience and forbearance of the
president and his earnest desire to help on in life the young men
committed to his charge:

“Washington College, Lexington Virginia, April 20, 1868.

“My Dear Sir: I regret to see, from your letter of the 29th ult., to the
clerk of the faculty, that you have misunderstood their action in
reference to your son. He was not dismissed, as you suppose, from the
college, but every means having been tried by the faculty to induce him to
attend faithfully and regularly to his studies without effect, and great
forbearance having been practised, it was thought best for him, and just
to you, that he should return home. The action of the faculty was
purposely designed, not to prevent his being received into any other
college, or to return to this, should you so desire. The monthly reports
are intended to advise parents of the progress of their sons, and it was
supposed you would have seen the little advancement made by yours in his
studies, and that no further notice was required. The action of the
faculty was caused by no immorality on his part, but by a systematic
neglect of his duties, which no counsel on the part of his professors, or
my own, could correct. In compliance, however, with your wishes, and on
the positive promise of amendment on the part of your son, he has been
received into college, and I sincerely hope that he will apply himself
diligently to his studies, and make an earnest effort to retrieve the time
he has lost. With great respect,

“Your obedient servant, R. E. Lee.”

This letter, too, shows his fatherly interest:

“Washington College, Lexington, Virginia, March 19, 1868.

“My Dear Sir: Before this you have learned the affecting death of your
son. I can say nothing to mitigate your grief or to relieve your sorrow;
but if the sincere sympathy of his comrades and friends and of the entire
community can bring you any consolation, I can assure you that you possess
it in its fullest extent. When one, in the pureness and freshness of
youth, before having been contaminated by sin or afflicted by misery, is
called to the presence of his Merciful Creator, it must be solely for his
good. As difficult as this may be for you now to recognise, I hope you
will keep it constantly in your memory and take it to your comfort; and I
pray that He who in His wise Providence has permitted this crushing sorrow
may sanctify it to the happiness of all. Your son and his friend, Mr.
Birely, often passed their leisure hours in rowing on the river, and, on
last Saturday afternoon, the 4th inst., attempted what they had more than
once been cautioned against—to approach the foot of the dam, at the
public bridge. Unfortunately, their boat was caught by the return-current,
struck by the falling water, and was immediately upset. Their perilous
position was at once seen from the shore, and aid was hurried to their
relief, but before it could reach them both had perished. Efforts to
restore your son’s life, though long continued, were unavailing. Mr.
Birely’s body was not found until the next morning. Their remains were,
yesterday, Sunday, conveyed to the Episcopal church in this city, where
the sacred ceremony for the dead were performed, by the Reverend Dr.
Pendleton, who nineteen years ago, at the far-off home of their infancy,
placed upon them their baptismal vows. After the service a long procession
of the professors and students of the college, the officers and cadets of
the Virginia Military Academy, and the citizens of Lexington accompanied
their bodies to the packet-boat for Lynchburg, where they were place in
charge of Messrs. Wheeler & Baker to convey them to Frederick City.

“With great regard and sincere sympathy, I am,

“Most respectfully, R. E. Lee.”

Chapter XVII — The Reconstruction Period

The General believes in the enforcement of law and order—His moral
influence in the college—Playful humour shown in his letters—His
opinion of negro labour—Mr. Davis’s trial—Letter to Mrs.
Fitzhugh Lee—Intercourse with Faculty

Virginia was at this time still under military rule. The “reconstruction”
days were not over. My father had himself accepted the political situation
after the war, and had advised every one who had sought his advice to do
the same. The following incident and letters will show his acquiescence in
the law of the land, and ready submission to the authorities. In a street
disturbance that spring a student had been shot by a negro, and it was
reported that, in case of the young man’s death, the murderer would be
summarily dealt with by his college-mates. Captain Wagner, the military
commissioner, wrote to General Lee informing him of these reports. He
received the following reply:

“Washington College, Lexington, Virginia, May 4, 1868.

“Captain Wagner, Commissioner District, Lexington, Virginia.

“Sir: Upon investigation of the reports which you communicated to me
yesterday afternoon, I can find no foundation for the apprehension that
the students of Washington college contemplate any attack upon the man
confined in jail for shooting Mr. —— Friday night. On the
contrary, I have been assured by members of the faculty and individual
students that they have heard no suggestion of the kind, and they believe
that no such intention has been entertained or now exists. I think,
therefore, the reports made to you are groundless.

“Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

However, in order to take all precautions and provide against any
disturbance, he wrote as follows to the president of the Young Men’s
Christian Association, whom he knew well and trusted, and who was a man of
much influence with his fellow-students:

“Mr. G. B. Strickler,

“President Young Men’s Christian Association, Washington College.

“I have just been informed by Captain Wagner, Military Commissioner of
this district, that from information received by him, he had reason to
apprehend that, should the wound received by Mr. —— Friday
night prove fatal, the students of Washington College contemplate taking
from the jail the man who shot him and inflicting upon him summary
punishment. I cannot believe that any such act is intended or would be
allowed by the students of Washington College, thought it is possible that
such an intention may have been spoken of amongst them. I think it only
necessary to call the attention of the students to the report to prevent
such an occurrence. I feel convinced that none would countenance such
outrage against law and order, but that all will cheerfully submit to the
administration of justice by the legal authorities. As the readiest way of
communicating with the students, at this hour, on Sunday, I have concluded
to address you this letter that through the members of the Young Men’s
Christian Association the students generally may be informed of the
apprehension entertained by the military authorities; and I earnestly
invoke the students to abstain from an violation of law, and to unite in
preserving quiet and order on this and every occasion.

“Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

The young man recovered, there was no disturbance of any kind, nor was it
believed that there would have been, after this appeal from the president,
even if the wound had proved fatal.

“Nor was it a moral influence alone that he exerted in the college. He was
equally careful of the intellectual interests. He watched the progress of
every class, attended all the examinations, and strove constantly to
stimulate both professors and students to the highest attainments. The
whole college, in a word, felt his influence as an ever-present motive,
and his character was quietly but irresistibly impressed upon it, not only
in the general working of all its departments, but in all the details of
each. Of this influence General Lee, modest as he was, was perfectly
aware, and, like a prudent ruler, he husbanded it with wise economy. He
preferred to confine his direct interposition to purely personal acts, and
rarely—and then only on critical occasions—did he step forward
to present himself before the whole body of students in the full dignity
of his presidential office. On these occasions, which in the latter years
hardly ever occurred, he would quietly post an address to the students, in
which, appealing only to the highest principals of conduct, he sought to
dissuade them from threatened evil. The addresses, which the boys
designated as his ‘general orders,’ were always of immediate efficacy. No
single case ever occurred in which they failed of instant and complete
effect; and no student would have been tolerated by his fellow-students
who would have dared to disregard such an appeal from General Lee.”
[Professor Joynes in “University Monthly”.]

My father had recovered form the spell of sickness of the previous summer
at the Old Sweet Springs, which had weakened and depressed him until about
the time he attended my brother’s wedding. That marriage had been a great
joy to him. His trip there and back, and his visits to “Brandon” and
“Hickory Hill,” the change of climate and scene, seeing old friends and
new places, had all contributed to benefit his health and spirits. I
remember this Christmas of 1867 he seemed particularly bright and
cheerful. I give a letter he wrote me after I had left for my home which
reflects his playful humour and good spirits:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 23, 1868.

“My Dear Robert: I inclose a letter which has just arrived in the mail. It
seems to be from a nice young lady, judging from the style and address. I
hope she is the right one and that her response is favourable. Put in a
good crop, and recollect you may have two to feed after the harvest. We
are doing what we can in this region to supply the springs and streams
that form the lowland rivers. It is still raining, though the snow and ice
have not left us. After your departure, Mr. Gordon brought to me a letter
from Fitzhugh to your mother which had come in the Sunday mail and was
overlooked among the papers. I am sorry it had not been found before you
left, as you would have known their plans. Tell them I am sorry not to
have seen them. We miss you very much. ‘Life’ has it all her own way now,
and expends her energy in regulating her brother and putting your mother’s
drawers and presses to rights. It’s her only vent, and furnishes exercise
for body and mind. There is to be a great fete in your mother’s room
to-day. The Grace Church Sewing Society is to meet there at 10 A. M.—that
is, if the members are impervious to water. I charged the two Mildreds to
be seated with their white aprons on and with scissors and thimbles in
hand. I hope they may have a refreshing time. Good-bye.

“Your father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Robert E. Lee.”

The second Mildred mentioned here was my father’s niece, daughter of
Charles Carter Lee. She was living with my father at this time, going to
school, and was, like her cousin the other Mildred, not very fond of her
needle. His nickname for her was “Powhattie,” derived, I presume, from her
native County of Powhatan. He was very fond of teasing her in his playful
way. Indeed, we all enjoyed that attention from him. He never teased any
one whom he did not especially like.

To his new daughter I find the following letter, written at this time, in
which he shows his affection and admiration for her:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 10, 1868.

“My Beautiful Daughter: I have been wishing to write to you for a long
time, but have supposed that you would be so engrossed with my sons, with
their plans and their projects, that you could not lend an ear to your
papa. But now I must tell you how much I have thought of you, how much I
want to see you, and how greatly I was disappointed at your not getting to
see us at the time you proposed. You must not postpone your visit too
long, or you may not find us here. Our winter, which has been long and
cold, I hope now is over. The gardeners are busy, the grass is growing
green, and the atmosphere warm and inspiring. I presume under its genial
influence you and Fitzhugh are busy improving your new home. I hope
everything is agreeable, and that you are becoming more and more
interested in making those around you happy. That is the true way to
secure your own happiness for which my poor prayers are daily offered to
the throne of the Most High. I have been summoned to Richmond the third
Thursday in this month, as a witness in the trial against Mr. Davis; and
though that will be a painful errand for me, I hope that it will give me
the pleasure of seeing you. I will endeavour to get down some day to the
White House, if it is only to spend Sunday with you. I hope that you will
be able to pay some attention to your poor brother Robert. Do not let his
elder brother monopolise you altogether. You will have to take care of
both till you can find some one like yourself to take Romancoke in hand.
Do you think Miss Anne Banister will consent? Mildred, you know, is the
only one of the girls who has been with us this winter. She has
consequently had her hands full, and considers herself now a great
character. She rules her brother and my nephews with an iron rod, and
scatters her advice broadcast among the young men of the college. I hope
that it may yield an abundant harvest. The young mothers of Lexington
ought to be extremely grateful to her for her suggestions to them as to
the proper mode of rearing their children, and though she finds many
unable to appreciate her system, she is nothing daunted by the obtuseness
of vision, but takes advantage of every opportunity to enlighten them as
to its benefits. Mary and Agnes are still in Baltimore, and are now at the
house of Mrs. Charles Howard. Agnes expects, I believe, to return to the
Peters near Ellicott City, and then go over to the Eastern Shore of
Maryland to visit the Goldsboroughs and other friends. I hardly think
either of them will get back before June. I have recently received a very
pretty picture from a young lady of Baltimore, Miss Mary Jones, whom I met
last summer at the White Sulphur Springs. In one of my morning rides to
the Beaver-dam Falls, near the Sweet Springs, I found her at the foot of
the falls making a sketch of the scene, and on her return home she
finished it and has sent it to me. It is beautifully painted and is a
faithful representation of the Falls. I think you will be pleased with it
when you come up, and agree with me in the opinion that it is the
principal ornament of our parlour. I am sorry to inform you that your poor
mama ahs been suffering more than usual lately from her rheumatic pains.
She took cold in some way, which produced a recurrence of her former
pangs, though she is in a measure now relieved. We often wish for you and
Fitzhugh. My only pleasure is in my solitary evening rides, which give me
abundant opportunity for quiet thought. With a great deal of love to your
husband, I am your sincerely attached father,

“R. E. Lee.”

“Mrs. William H. Fitzhugh Lee.”

The next letter I find is a reply to one of mine, in which I evidently had
been confiding to him my agricultural woes:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 12, 1868.

“My Dear Rob: I am sorry to learn from your letter of the 1st that the
winter has been so hard on your wheat. I hope, however, the present good
weather is shedding its influence upon it, and that it will turn out
better than it promises. You must, however, take a lesson from the last
season. What you do cultivate, do well. Improve and prepare the land in
the best manner; your labour will be less, and your profits more. Your
flat lands were always uncertain in wet winters. The uplands were more
sure. Is it not possible that some unbidden guest may have been feasting
on your corn? Six hundred bushels are are a large deficit in casting up
your account for the year. But you must make it up by economy and good
management. A farmer’s motto should be TOIL AND TRUST. I am glad that you
have got your lime and sown your oats and clover. Do you use the drill or
sow broadcast? I shall try to get down to see you if I go to Richmond, for
I am anxious to know how you are progressing and to see if in any way I
can aid you. Whenever I can, you must let me know. You must still think
about your house and make up your mind as to the site and kind, and
collect the material. I can help you to any kind of plan, and with some
ready money to pay the mechanics. I have presently had a visit from Dr.
Oliver, of Scotland, who is examining lands for immigrants from his
country. He seems to be a sensible and judicious man. From his account, I
do not think the Scotch and English would suit your part of the country.
It would require time from them to become acclimated, and they would
probably get dissatisfied, especially as there is so much mountainous
region where they could be accommodated. I think you will have to look to
the Germans; perhaps the Hollanders, as a class, would be the most useful.
When the railroad shall have been completed to West Point, I think there
will be no difficulty in getting the whites among you. I would try to get
some of our own young men in your employ. I rode out the other day to Mr.
Andrew Cameron’s and went into the field where he was plowing. I took
great pleasure in following the plows around the circuit. He had four in
operation. Three of them were held by his former comrades in the army, who
are regularly employed by him, and, he says, much to his satisfaction and
profit. People have got to work now. It is creditable to them to do so;
their bodies and their minds are benefited by it, and those who can and
will work will be advanced by it. You will never prosper with blacks, and
it is abhorrent to a reflecting mind to be supporting and cherishing those
who are plotting and working for your injury, and all of whose sympathies
and associations are antagonistic to yours. I wish them no evil in the
world—on the contrary, will do them every good in my power, and know
that they are misled by those to whom they have given their confidence;
but our material, social, and political interests are naturally with the
whites. Mr. Davis’ trial was fixed for the last of this month. If Judge
Chase’s presence is essential, I do not see how it can take place, unless
that of Mr. Johnson is to be postponed. I suppose that will be decided
to-day or to-morrow, and then I shall know what to expect. I shall not go
to Richmond unless necessary, as it is always inconvenient for me to leave
home, and I am not at all well. Your poor mother is also more ailing than
she is ordinarily, in consequence of a cold she has taken. But it is
passing away, I trust. I must leave you to her and Mildred for all local
and domestic news. Custis and the boys are well, and ‘Powhattie,’ I hope
has got rid of the chills. We hear regularly from Mary and Agnes, who seem
to be enjoying themselves, and I do not think from their programme that
they will get back to us till summer. All unite in much love, and I am
always, Your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

This same month he writes a long letter to his daughter Agnes, who was
visiting friends in Baltimore. The Annette, Mildred, and Mary he mentions
in this letter were the daughters of Charles Henry Carter, of “Goodwood,”
Maryland, a first cousin of my father:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 28, 1868.

“My Precious Agnes: I was so glad to receive your letter, to learn that
you were well and enjoying yourself among pleasant friends. I hope that
you will soon get through all your visits and come home. Your uncle Smith
says you girls ought to marry his sons, as you both find it so agreeable
to be from home, and you could then live a true Bohemian life and have a
happy time generally. But I do not agree with him; I shall not give my
consent, so you must choose elsewhere. I have written to Annette telling
her of my alarm for her. Now that Mildred is engaged, and she sees how
much Mary is in love, I fear she will pick up an Adonis next, so that she
had better run away to the mountains at once. I am glad that you saw Mr.
Davis. It is a terrible thing to have this prosecution hanging over him,
and to be unable to fix his thoughts on a course of life or apply his
hands to the support of his family. But I hope a kind Providence will
shield and guide him. You must remember me to all my friends, the
Taggarts, Glenns, McKims, Marshalls, etc…. As to the young ladies you
mention, you must tell them that I want to see them very much, and hope
that they will all come to the mountains this summer, and not pass us by
in Lexington. When you go to ‘Goodwood’ and the Eastern Shore, do the same
there for me, and present me to all by name. Tell sweet Sallie Warwick I
think she ought to come to Lexington, if only to show those babies; but in
truth the want to see her more than them, so she may leave them with Major
Poor [her husband], if she chooses. You must see everybody you wish and
enjoy yourself as much as you can, and then come home. I told Mildred to
tell you if you wanted any funds you must let me know and where to send
them. I do not know whether she delivered my message. She has become very
imperious, and may not think you require any. She has been much exercised
of late on the score of servants, but hopes to get some relief on the 1st
proximo from the promised change of Miss Mary Dixon to Miss Eliza Cyrus. I
hope her expectations may be realised. Little Mildred has had a return of
her chills. It has been a sharp attack, and thought it has been arrested,
when I left her this morning I feared she might have a relapse, as this is
her regular day. She was looking remarkably well before it came on, better
than she had ever done, but every cold terminates in this way, however
slight it may be. Colds have been quite prevalent, and there have been two
deaths among the cadets from pneumonia. Fortunately so far the students
have escaped. I am relieved of mine I hope, and your poor mother is, I
hope, better. The storm seems to have subsided, and I trust the bright
weather may ameliorate her pains. Custis, Mildred, and the boys are well,
as are most of our friends in Lexington…. Fitzhugh writes that
everything is blooming at the ‘White House,’ and that his wheat is
splendid. I am in hopes that it is all due to the presence of my fair
daughter. Rob says that things at Romancoke are not so prosperous—you
see, there is no Mrs. R. E. Lee, Jr., there, and that may make the
difference. Cannot you persuade some of those pretty girls in Baltimore to
take compassion on a poor bachelor? I will give them a plan for a house if
they will build it…. All would unite with me in love if they knew I was
writing. You ought to be here to enjoy the birds Captain O. C. H. sends
us. With much love for yourself, and my poor prayers for your happiness, I
am, Your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.”

A few days afterward he writes to his son Fitzhugh, who was now
established very happily in his new house, and warns him not to depend
entirely on sentiment, but to arrange for something material. He also
speaks of Mr. Davis and his trial, which was continually being postponed,
and in the end was dismissed, and gives him some good advice about
importing cattle:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 30, 1868.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I was very glad to receive your letter of the 19th, and
as you are aware of the order of the court postponing Mr. Davis’s trial
till the 14th proximo, I presume that you have not been expecting me down.
I see it stated in the Washington ‘Star’ that the trial is again postponed
till May 4th, but I have seen as yet no order from the court. Mr. and Mrs.
Davis went from Baltimore to New York on Tuesday last, and were to go on
to Canada. He said that he did not know what he should do or what he could
turn his hand to for support. As long as this trial is hanging over him,
of course, he can do nothing. He can apply his mind to nothing, nor could
he acquire the confidence of the business community in anything he might
undertake, from the apprehension of his being interrupted in the midst of
it. Agnes and Mary saw them as they passed through Baltimore. They say Mr.
Davis was well, though he had changed a great deal since they saw him
last. I am very glad that you are so pleased with your house. I think it
must be my daughter that gives it such a charm. I am sure that she will
make everything look bright to me. It is a good thing that the wheat is
doing so well, for I am not sure ‘that the flame you are so rich in will
light a fire in the kitchen, nor the little god turn the spit, spit,
spit.’ Some material element is necessary to make it burn brightly and
furnish some good dishes for the table. Shad are good in their way, but
they do not run up the Pamunkey all the year. I am glad that you are
making arrangements for some cows, and think you are right in getting
those of the best breed. It used to be thought that cows from the North
would not prosper in that lower country, and indeed cows from the upper
part of Virginia did not succeed well, but were apt to become sick and
die; and that the surest process to improve the stock was to purchase
calves of good breed and cross on the native stock. You must, therefore,
be careful and not invest too much. We have had a cold winter, and March
has been particularly harsh. Still, vegetation is progressing and the
wheat around Lexington looks beautiful. My garden is advancing in a small
way. Pease, spinach, and onions look promising, but my hot-bed plants are
poor. The new house, about which you inquire, is in statu quo before
winter. I believe the money is wanting and the workmen cannot proceed. We
require some of that latter article here, as elsewhere, and have but
little…. I heard of you in Richmond the other day, but did not learn
whether my daughter was with you. I wish you would send her up to her papa
when you go away. With much love,

“Your devoted father, R. E. Lee.”

A month later he writes me, telling me that he expects to be in Richmond
the following week, and will try to get down to see us; also telling of
his garden, and horse, and, as he always did, encouraging, cheering me,
and offering help:

“Lexington, Virginia, April 25, 1868.

“My Dear Rob: Your letter of the 21st is just received. I am very glad
that your wheat is improving in appearance, and hope that at harvest it
will yield a fair return for your care and labour. Your corn I am sure
will be more remunerative than the crop of last year, and I trust that at
the end of the year you will find you have advanced in the field of
agriculture. Your mule and provender was a heavy loss. You must make it
up. Replace the first by a good one and I will pay for it. I hope the warm
sun will bring forward the grass to supply the latter. Should I go to
Richmond, next week, as I now expect, I will be prepared to pay for the
mule, and if I do not I will send you a check for the amount. I am sorry
to hear that you have not been well. You must get out of that too…. You
must refresh yourself when you can by going up to the White House to see
your brother and sister. Take a good look at the latter for me…. In our
garden nothing is up but the hardy plans, pease, potatoes, spinach,
onions, etc…. Beets, carrots, salsify, etc., have been sown a long time,
but are not up, and I cannot put in the beans, squash, etc., or set out
the hot-bed plants. But we can wait. I have not been as well this winter
as usual, and have been confined of late. I have taken up Traveller,
however, who is as rough as a bear, and have had two or three rides on
him, in the mud, which I think has benefited me. Mildred sometimes
accompanies me. Your mother, I am glad to say, is better. She has less
pain than when I last wrote, and is more active on her crutches….
Good-bye, my dear son. If I go to Richmond I will try to get to see you.

“Affectionately your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

“R. E. Lee, Jr.”

My father came to Richmond, summoned to attend the trial of Mr. Davis, but
when he arrived he found that it was again postponed. So he went to the
White House and spent several days. I came up from Romancoke and stayed
with him till he left. It was a great pleasure to him to meet his sons and
to see his new daughter in her new home. After his return to Lexington he
wrote to her this letter:

“Lexington, Viriginia, May 29, 1868.

“My Dear Daughter: I have been enjoying the memory, ever since my return,
my visit to the Pamunkey, and whenever I have thought of writing to you
the pleasure I experienced in your company and in that of Fitzhugh and
Robert absorbed the moment I could devote to a letter, and other calls
made me postpone it. But I have thought of you often, and always with
renewed pleasure; and I rejoice at your having around you more comforts
and within your reach more pleasures than I had anticipated. I pray that
both may be increased and be long continued. There is one thing I regret—that
you are so far from us. I know the difficulty of farmers and their wives
leaving home. Their success, and in a measure their pleasure, depend upon
their daily attention to their affairs, and it is almost an impossibility
for us old people to get to you. Yet I trust we may meet this summer some
time, and whenever you can you must come and see us. Our small house will
never be so full that there will not be room for you, or so empty that you
will not be most cordially welcome. Letters received from Mary and Agnes
report them still on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, where they were
detained by the sickness of Agnes. They expected, however, to be able to
return to Baltimore last Tuesday, 26th, where, after a few days’ sojourn,
they were to go to Mrs. Washington Peter’s. I fear, however, that Agnes
might not have been well enough, as she had had an attack of bilious fever
and was much prostrated. Should you find yourself in danger of becoming
sick, you must come right up to your papa. I know you will pine, but I
would rather you should suffer in that way than burn with fever, and while
on that subject I will tell you something that may be of comfort: you may
reasonably expect Fitzhugh soon to follow, so you will not suffer long. I
wish to take your mama to the Warm Springs, and to the Hot or Healing, if
she will go, to try to obtain for her some relief; but we will not leave
home till the last of June or first of July. I am so much occupied that I
feel that I ought never to go away, and every absence accumulates my work.
I had a pleasant visit of three days, to Lynchburg, attending the
Episcopal Convention, and I have not yet brought up my correspondence,
etc. I fear, too, I shall have to go to Richmond next week, as everything
seems to portend the certainty of Mr. Davis’s trial. God grant that, like
the impeachment of Mr. Johnson, it may be dismissed. If I do go, I fear I
shall have no time to visit you. The examinations of the senior classes of
the college are now in progress, and after their completion the
examination of the undergraduates will commence, and will not terminate
till the 15th of June, and the commencement exercises them begin and end
on the 18th. So you see how necessary it is for me to be here and that I
shall be obliged to hasten back as soon as permitted. I wanted, if
possible, to pass one day at ‘Shirley’—I have not been there for ten
years. It was the loved home of my mother, and a spot where I have passed
many happy days in early life, and one that probably I may never visit
again. But I do not know that I shall be able. We are all as usual, and
all would send much love if they knew I was writing. Mildred is very
happing in the company of Miss Charlotte Haxall, and Custis retains his
serenity of character. Our young members of the family are looking forward
to their return to Powhatan as soon as the college exercises close, which
I hope will bring some relief to me also. I see that you have been much
visited of late, but you know that no one wants to see you as much as I
do. Tell Fitzhugh that his old friend, Miss Helen Peters, has come to
Lexington, from New York, to pass the summer. She is now Mrs. Taylor and
has brought with her two babies. She is as cordial and affectionate as
ever. Give much love to Fitzhugh and Rob, and believe me always your
devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. Wm. H. Fitzhugh Lee.”

My father was back at the college in full time for the “final
examinations.” He always made it a point to be present, and took his full
share of sitting in the rooms while the students were working on their
papers. When occasion offered, somewhat to the surprise of the learned
faculty, he showed himself thoroughly conversant with each and every
department. Even with Greek he seems somewhat familiar, and would question
the students as to their knowledge of this language, much to their
astonishment.

The commencement exercises of the college began about June 1st and lasted
a week. At this time, the town was crowded with visitors, and my father
had his house full, generally of young girls, friends of my sisters who
came to assist at the “final ball,” the great social event connected with
this college exercise. He seemed to enjoy their society as much as the
young men did, though he could not devote so much time to them as the boys
did, and I know that the girls enjoyed his society more than they did that
of their college adorers. On the occasion of an entertainment at his
house, in going amongst his guests, he approached a young lady, a great
belle, completely surrounded by her admirers—students, cadets, and
some old “Confeds.” He stopped and began to rally her on her conquests,
saying:

“You can do as you please to these other young gentlemen, but you must not
treat any of my OLD SOLDIERS badly.”

Those who have never known him cannot imagine the charm of his manner, the
brightness of his smile, and the pleasant way he had of speaking,
especially to young people and little children. His rebukes to the young
were administered in the kindest, gentlest way, almost persuasively, but
he could be stern when the occasion demanded. Colonel William Preston
Johnston, a member of his faculty and a very dear and trusted friend,
says:

“In his intercourse with his faculty he was courteous, kind, and often
rather playful in manner. We all thought he deferred entirely too much to
the expression of opinion on the part of the faculty, when we would have
preferred that he should simply indicate his own views or desire. One
characteristic of General Lee I noted then and have often recalled: I
never saw him take an ungraceful posture. No matter how long or fatiguing
a faculty meeting might be, he always preserved an attitude in which
dignity, decorum, and grace were united. He was a very well built man,
with rounded body and limbs, and seemed without the slightest affectation
of effort to sit or stand or walk just as a gentleman should. He was never
in a hurry, and all his gestures were easy and significant. He was always
an agreeable companion. There was a good deal of bonhomie and pleasantry
in his conversation. He was not exactly witty, nor was he very humorous,
though he gave a light turn to table-talk and enjoyed exceedingly any
pleasantry or fun, even. He often made a quaint or slightly caustic
remark, but he took care that it should not be too trenchant. On reading
his letters one discovers this playful spirit in many of them, as, for
instance, in his letter to the spiritualist who asked his opinion of Von
Moltke and the French war. He wrote in reply a most courteous letter in
which he said that ‘the question was one about which military critics
would differ, that his own judgement about such matters was poor at best,
and that inasmuch as they had the power to consult (through their mediums)
Caesar, Alexander, Napoleon, Wellington, and all of the other great
captains who had ever lived, he could not think of obtruding his opinion
in such company.’ General Lee did not talk politics, but he felt very
deeply the condition of the country, and expressed to me several times in
strong terms his disapproval of the course of the dominant party.”

There is a story told of my father which points to his playful manner here
alluded to. At a certain faculty meeting they were joking Mr. Harris, who
so long and so ably filled the chair of Latin, about his walking up the
aisle of the Presbyterian church with the stem of his pipe protruding from
his pocket. Mr. Harris took out the offending stem and began cutting it
shorter. My father, who had been enjoying the incident, said:

“No, Mr. Harris, don’t do that; next time leave it at home.”

Sometimes he deemed it advisable to be a little stern. One of the young
professors went off for a few days without asking the president’s
permission. On his return the General met him very stiffly, saying:

“Mr. ——, I congratulate you on your return to your friends and
duties. I was not aware of your absence until I heard it by chance.”

Mr. —— told this on himself, and added that it was the last
time he ever went away without a formal leave of absence. His
particularity in little things has often been commented on. He applied it
to all his affairs. Dr. Kirkpatrick, Professor of Moral Philosophy, came
into the president’s office and asked for a certain paper. My father told
him where it could be found. After a while, turning to the doctor he said:

“Did you find the paper?”

“Yes, General,” replied the Doctor.

“Did you return it to the place where you found it?”

“Yes, General.”

At another time he asked Professor Harris to look at a catalogue on the
table. The Professor took up a new one, wrapped ready for the mail, and
was about to tear the cover off, when my father, hastily handing him one
already opened, said:

“Take this, if you please.”

My mother used to say that he could go, in the dar, and lay his hand on
any article of his clothing, or upon any particular paper, after he had
once arranged them, provided they had not been disturbed. One of his
“quaint or slightly caustic remarks,” alluded to by Colonel Johnston, I
recall as told to me. He met a lady friend down in the town, who bitterly
complained that she could get nothing to eat in Lexington suitable for
Lent—no fish, no oysters, etc.

“Mrs. ——,” the General replied, “I would not trouble myself so
much about special dishes; I suppose if we try to abstain from SPECIAL
SINS that is all that will be expected of us.”

Chapter XVIII — Mrs. R. E. Lee

Goes to Warm Springs for rheumatism—Her daughter Mildred takes
typhoid there—Removes to Hot Springs—Her husband’s devotion—Visit
of Fitzhugh and bride to Lexington—Miss Jones, a would-be benefactor
of Washington College—Fate of Washington relics belonging to Mrs.
Lee’s family

That summer my father determined to take my mother to the Warm Springs, in
Bath County, Virginia, hoping that the baths there might be of service to
her, and purposing, if she was not benefited, to go to the Hot Springs,
five miles distant. He was most anxious that his new daughter should join
her there and go with him to any place she might select and come back with
them to Lexington. In the following letter to his son he tells of his
plans for the summer:

“Lexington, Virginia, July 1, 1868.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I received yesterday your letter of the 28th ultimo,
and regret very much to learn of Tabb’s indisposition. I hope that she
will soon be well, and I wish very much she would join us in the mountains
and return here with us. In my letter to her about the time when she went
to her sister’s wedding, which I hope she got, I told her of my wishes on
the subject, and believe gave her our general plans. I can now say with
more distinctness that, unless something now unforeseen should prevent, I
will take your mother to the Warm Sprints, from the 10th to the 15th
inst., and after trying the water there about two weeks, if not
favourable, will take her over to the Hot. After seeing her comfortably
established, I will then go anywhere Tabb desires—to the Healing or
the White Sulphur or Sweet. I intend to go myself to the White Sulphur for
about a fortnight, to drink the water, and will take Mildred with me.
Agnes, having gone last summer, will not care to go, I presume, and can
remain with her mother. Mildred has been quite sick for the past week, but
is now much better, and in a week will be strong enough for the journey, I
think. If not, we shall have to delay our departure a little. Agnes was
also sick on the Eastern Shore of Maryland about three weeks, and, I am
told, looks badly. She is now at the University of Virginia, and will be
home in a few days and go with us to the Springs. You must arrange your
plans to suit your interests and convenience, coming to us when you can
and staying as long as you can. You know the interest I take in your
prosperity and advancement, which cannot be assured without earnest
attention to your business on your part, and therefore I never urge you to
act contrary to your own judgement in reference to them. As to my
daughter, Tabb, tell her if she will trust herself to her papa she shall
never want anything he can do for her, and I think she will find the
prediction in my letter to her verified. She might join us at Goshen and
go with us, or come here. Why did she not come up with her father? I went
to see him last evening, but he was out. Your mother, I presume, has told
you of home affairs. She has become nervous of late, and broods over her
troubles so much that I fear it increases her sufferings. I am therefore
the more anxious to give her new scenes and new thoughts. It is the
principal good I anticipate. Love to Rob. Custis still talks of visiting
you, but I have not heard of his having fixed the day of his departure. He
is quite well. With my best love to my daughter T—— and the
same to yourself, I am,

“Most affectionately your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

The morning he left Lexington he, while waiting for the stage, writes as
follows to a great favourite of his, a friend of Mildred’s, who had been
on a visit to her that summer:

“Lexington, Virginia, July 14, 1868.

“…The stage is at the door to carry us to Goshen, and if Mrs. Lee’s
strength permits, we hope to reach the Warm Springs to-night. After two or
three week’s trial of its waters we shall go to the Hot, where, leaving
Agnes to take care of her mother, I shall take Mildred to the White
Sulphur, and hope to meet you at Covington and carry you along. Will you
not come?… Mildred is quite well again and is flying about this morning
with great activity. Agnes is following with slower steps, Mrs. Lee is
giving her last injunctions to Sam and Eliza. Letitia [my mother’s maid]
is looking on with wonder at the preparations, and trying to get a right
conception of the place to which she is going, which she seems to think is
something between a steel-trap and a spring-gun. Custis is waiting to help
his mother into the stage, and you see how patient I am. To add interest
to the scene, Dr. Barton has arrived to bid adieu and to give Mildred an
opportunity of looking her best. I believe he is the last rose of summer.
The others, with their fragrance and thorns, have all departed….”

A few days after their arrival at the Warm Springs Mildred was taken ill
with typhoid fever, and during many anxious weeks my father and Agnes were
her only nurses. My mother’s room was on the first floor of the
“Brockenborough Cottage,” my sister’s in the second, so she could not get
upstairs to her room. Mildred was very fanciful—would not have no
one but my father to nurse her, and could not sleep unless she had his
hand in hers. Night after night he sat by her side, watching over her and
attending to every want with gentleness and patience. He writes to the
same young lady, at Mildred’s request:

“Warm Springs, Virginia, July 30, 1868.

“…She [Mildred] has been so anxious to write to you, and so uneasy at
her inability to do so, that I hope you will permit me to tell you the
reason. She has been quite sick and is so still—confined to her bed
with low fever, which retains its hold very pertinaciously. She took cold
a few days after our arrival, from some imprudence, and she is very much
enfeebled. She has been more comfortable the last day or two, and I hope
is better, but I presume he recovery will necessarily be slow. You know
she is very fanciful, and as she seems to be more accessible to reason
from me, I have come be her chief nurse and am now writing in her room,
while she is sleeping…. This is a beautiful valley, and we have quite a
pleasant company—Mr. and Mrs. Chapman and their three daughters from
Alabama; Mrs. Coleman and her two daughters from Baltimore; some ladies
from Richmond, Washington, Kentucky, Iowa, etc., and an ever-changing
scene of faces. As soon as Mildred is strong enough, we will go to the
Hot, after which, if she desires it, I will take her to the White. Mrs.
Lee and Agnes are improving slightly, I am glad to say. We hear of many
friends at the Hot, Healing, and White, and hope we shall reach these
respective waters before they depart…. The Harrisons have written me
that they will be here on the 14th proximo, but unless Mildred’s recovery
is much retarded it will be too late for me to see them. The Caskies will
be at the Hot about the same time…. I am,

“Your most sincerely,

“R. E. Lee.” On August 3d from the same place, he writes to my brother
Fitzhugh:

“…this was the day I had appointed to go to the Hot, but Mildred is too
sick to move. She was taken more than a fortnight since,…and her attack
seems to have partaken of a typhoid character. She has had since a low and
persistent fever, which retains its hold. She is very feeble, but, in the
doctor’s opinion, somewhat better. I myself see little change, except that
she is now free from pain. I cannot speak of our future movements. I fear
I shall have to abandon my visit to the White. Your mother and Agnes are
better than when they arrived. The former bathes freely, eats generously,
and sleeps sweetly. Agnes, though feeble, is stronger. I am the same, and
can see no effects of the waters upon myself. Give much love to my sweet
daughter and dear sons. All unite with me in this message…. I am, as
ever and always,

“Your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

Another letter to my brother, Fitzhugh, from the Warm Springs, tells of
his daughter’s convalescence. Smith’s Island, of which he writes, belonged
to my grandfather’s estate, of which my father was executor. He was trying
to make some disposition of it, so that it might yield a revenue. It is
situated on the Atlantic just east of Cape Charles, in Northampton County,
Virginia.

“Warm Springs, Virginia, August 14, 1868.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I received, yesterday, your letter of the 9th, and, as
your mother informed you of Mildred’s condition, I deferred replying to it
until to-day. I am glad to inform you that she is better, and that the
doctor pronounces her convalescent this morning. He says her progress must
necessarily be slow, but with care and prudence he sees nothing to prevent
her recovery, unless something unforeseen occurs. I hope, therefore, we
may dismiss our anxiety. As regards Smith’s Island, I should be very glad
if you could go over and see it, and, if you think proper, make such
disposition of it as you and Robert think most advantageous. See Mr.
Hamilton S. Neale (Eastville, Northampton County, Virginia) and consult
with him on the subject and let me know your determination. I think you
will find him kind and intelligent. I have visited the island twice in my
life, a long while ago, and thought that, if a person lived on it, he
might, by grazing, planting and fishing, make a comfortable living. You
and Robert might, if you choose, buy the island from the estate. I fear
the timber, etc., has been cut from it. I never thought it as valuable as
your grandfather did. You will have to go to Norfolk, take the steamer to
Cherrystone, where, I suppose, you can find a conveyance to Eastville. You
know Cobb’s Island has been a fashionable bathing-place. John Lewis wrote
that the beach was delightful and fare excellent, and that they had
sail-vessels there at the disposal of visitors. But Mr. Neale and Mr. John
Simpkins, the present agent, can put you in the way of visiting the
island, and you might carry my sweet daughter, Tabb, over and give her a
surf bath. But do not let the mosquitoes annoy her. Give her much love
from me. I am writing in Mildred’s room, who is very grateful for your
interest in her behalf. She is too weak to speak. I hope Rob had a
pleasant trip. Tell me Custis’s plans. I have not heard from him. Your
mother and Agnes unite in love to you, Rob, and Tabb. I have a fan in one
hand, while I wield a pen with the other, so excuse brevity. Most
affectionately yours, R. E. Lee.

“P.S.—George and Eleanor Goldsborough and Miss Mary G——
express themselves as much pleased with Cobb’s Island. I do not know how
far it is east of Smith’s Island. R. E. Lee.”

His daughter being convalescent, he carried out his plan, and went over to
the White Sulphur Springs, after he had placed my mother and sisters at
the Hot Springs. In a letter from there, on August 28th, he writes:

“…The place looks beautiful—the belles very handsome, and the
beaux very happy. All are gay, and only I solitary. I am all alone. There
was a grand fancy masked ball last night. The room was overflowing, the
music good, as much spring in the boards as in the conversation, and the
german continued till two o’clock this morning. I return to the Hot next
week, and the following to Lexington. Mildred is much better, but says she
has forgotten how to write. I hope that she will be strong enough to
return with me…. I am, Truly and affectionately yours, R. E. Lee.”

They all returned to Lexington early in September, in time for the opening
of the college. Mildred was still weak and nervous, nor did she recover
her normal strength for several months. She was always my father’s pet as
a little girl, and during this illness and convalescence he had been very
tender with her, humoring as far as he could all of her fancies. Not long
before that Christmas, she enumerated, just in fun, all the present she
wished—a long list. To her great surprise, when Christmas morning
came she found each article at her place a the breakfast-table—not
one omitted.

His sympathy with all who were suffering, ill, and afflicted was warm and
sincere. Colonel Shipp, now superintendent of the Virginia Military
Institute, was the commandant of cadets when my father came to Lexington.
He tells me that the he was ill for some weeks, laid up in his room, which
was next to that of my brother Custis. He hardly knew General Lee, and had
spoken to him only a few times, but my father went to see him quite often,
would sit by him, talk to him, and seemed much interested in his getting
well. He said that he would consult Mrs. Lee (“who is a great doctor”),
and he finally brought a bottle of something in which sudor-berries were
the chief ingredient. Colonel Shipp found out afterward that the
sudor-berries had been sent from the White House, and that my mother had
concocted the medicine.

On one occasion, calling at Colonel Preston’s, he missed two little boys
in the family circle, who were great favourites of his, and on asking for
them he was told that they were confined to the nursery by croup. The next
day, though the weather was of the worst description, he went trudging in
great storm-boots back to their house, carrying in one hand a basket of
pecan nuts and in the other a toy, which he left for his little sick
friends.

To my mother, who was a great invalid from rheumatism for more than ten
years, he was the most faithful attendant and tender nurse. Every want of
hers that he could supply he anticipated. His considerate fore-thought
saved her from much pain and trouble. During the war he constantly wrote
to her, even when on the march and amidst the most pressing duties. Every
summer of their life in Lexington he arranged that she should spend
several months at one of the many medicinal springs in the neighbouring
mountains, as much that she might be surrounded by new scenes and faces,
as for the benefit of the waters. Whenever he was in the room, the
privilege of pushing her wheeled chair into the dining-room and out on the
verandas or elsewhere about the house was yielded to him. He sat with her
daily, entertaining her with accounts of what was doing in the college,
and the news of the village, and would often read to her in the evening.
For her his love and care never ceased, his gentleness and patience never
ended.

This tenderness for the sick and helpless was developed in him when he was
a mere lad. His mother was an invalid, and he was her constant nurse. In
her last illness he mixed every dose of medicine she took, and was with
her night and day. If he left the room, she kept her eyes on the door till
he returned. He never left her but for a short time. After her death the
health of their faithful servant, Nat, became very bad. My father, then
just graduated from West Point, took him to the South, had the best
medical advice, a comfortable room, and everything that could be done to
restore him, and attended to him himself.

I can find few family letters written by my father at this time. Those
which have been preserved are to my brother Fitzhugh, and are mostly about
Smith’s Island and the settling up of my grandfather’s estate. The last of
September he writes:

“Lexington, Virginia, September 28, 1868.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: Your report of the condition of Smith’s Island
corresponds with my own impressions, based upon my knowledge of the island
and the reports of others. I think it would be advantageous, under present
circumstances, to make sale of the island as soon as a fair price can be
obtained, and I have so instructed Mr. Hamilton S. Neale, who has
consented to act as my agent…. I should like this while matter arranged
as soon as possible, for my life is very uncertain, and its settlement now
may avoid future difficulties. I am very glad to hear that you and Rob
have continued well, and that my daughter is improving. Give my love to
them both. The loss of your fine cows is a serious one, and I believe you
will have to procure them in your vicinity and improve them. Get some
calves this fall of a good breed. We hope that we shall see you this fall.
Your mother is as comfortable as usual, and Mildred is improving. Custis,
Mary, and Agnes are well, and all would send love, did they know I was
writing.

“Very affectionately your father, R. E. Lee.”

This autumn he had a visit from his nephew, Edward Lee Childe. Edward
lived in Paris, and had crossed over in the summer to see my father and
mother. He made a very pleasant impression on everybody, and was much
pleased with his visit. Here is a letter written by my father to my
brother just after Edward left:

“Lexington, Virginia, October 14, 1868.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I have returned to Mr. Hamilton S. Neale the
advertisement of the sale of Smith’s Island, with my approval, and have
requested him to advertise in the Northern and Richmond papers, etc., and
to send out such other notices as he deems best calculated to attract
attention to the property, and to take every measure to enhance the value
of the island and to procure for your grandfather’s estate the full
benefit of the sale…. I have heard from Mr. Compton that my daughter
Tabb has returned to the White House in improved health, which I am very
glad of. I hope that you will soon be able to bring her up to see us. Do
not wait until the weather becomes too cold. Our mountain atmosphere in
winter is very harsh. So far, the weather has been delightful. Your cousin
Edward left us last Thursday evening on his way to see you. We enjoyed his
visit greatly. Agnes and I rode down to the Baths last Saturday to see the
Harrisons, and returned Sunday evening. They were well, and somewhat
benefited by their visit. Mr. George Ritchie’s death no doubt threw a
shade of sadness over the whole party on Mrs. Harrison’s account, though
all were charming and Miss Belle very sweet. We are about the same—your
poor mother comfortable, Mildred improving. All would unite in love to you
and yours, did they know I was writing. Give much love to my dear
daughter, Tabb, and tell her that I want to see her very much.

“Truly and affectionately your father,

“General W. H. Fitzhugh Lee. R. E. Lee.”

In a few days, he writes again, still about Smith’s Island, but adds much
about the family and friends:

“Lexington, Virginia, October 19, 1868.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I received your letter of the 12th the day I last wrote
to you. I am glad we agree that $—— should be the minimum
limit for the price of Smith’s Island. You will see by my letter referred
to that it has been so fixed. December 22d is the day proposed by Mr.
Neale as the time of public sale, which was approved by me, though I
feared the notice might be too short. Still there are good reasons for the
sale being made without unnecessary delay. I think November, which you
suggest, would not afford sufficient notice. I would recommend that you
and Robert attend the sale, and be governed by circumstances in what you
do. I would go myself, but it would be a long, hard journey for me at that
season of the year, and I do not see any material good that I can do. Mr.
Neale kindly offered to meet me at Cherrystone landing and take me to his
house, but I shall decline in your favour. I am sorry that Edward did not
get down to see you, for I wanted him to see my daughter, Tabb. I am sure
he has seen none like her in Paris. He left here with the purpose of
visiting you and his uncle Smith, and I do not know what made him change
his mind. I hope that you will get in a good crop of wheat, and get it in
well. The latter is very important and unless accomplished may deprive you
of the whole benefit of your labour and expense. We shall look anxiously
for your visit. Do not put it off too late or the weather may be
unfavourable. Our mountain country is not the most pleasant in cold
weather, but we will try and make you warm. Give my love to Tabb, and tell
her I am wanting to see her all the time. All unite in love to her and
you. Your mother is about the same, very busy, and full of work. Mildred
is steadily improving, and is able to ride on horseback, which she is
beginning to enjoy. Mary and Agnes very well. We see but little of Custis.
He has joined the mess at the institute, which he finds very comfortable,
so that he rarely comes to our table to breakfast now. The rest of the
time he seems to be occupied with his classes and studies. Remember me to
Rob. I hear of a great many weddings, but his has not been announced yet.
He must not forget his house. I have not, and am going to take up the plan
very soon. Mildred says a good house is an effective card in the
matrimonial game. She is building a castle in the air. The Harrisons
propose leaving the Baths to-morrow. George arrived a week ago. I did not
get down Saturday to see them as I wished. I hope the health of the whole
party has been improved. I wish I could spend this month with you. That
lower country is delightful to me at this season, and I long to be on the
water again, but it cannot be. With much love,

“R. E. Lee.

“General Wm. H. Fitzhugh Lee.”

The last of October he went to Staunton on some business. He rode
Traveller, and Colonel Wm. Allan rode with him. It was the time of the
Augusta Agricultural Fair, and while there he visited the exhibition and
was received by the people with great demonstrations of delight. A student
standing by remarked dryly:

“I don’t see why the Staunton people make all this to do over General Lee;
why, in Lexington, he SENDS for me to come to see him!”

In a letter of November 2d he mentions this little journey:

“…I have recently paid a visit to Staunton and saw the young people
there. They seemed very happy in their fair, and the beaux with their
belles. I rode over on Traveller and was accompanied by Colonel Allan. The
former was delighted at the length of the road, and the latter relieved
from an obstinate cold from which he was suffering. On the second morning,
just as the knights were being marshalled to prove their prowess and
devotion, we commenced our journey back to Lexington, which we reached
before nine P. M., under the light of a beautiful moon.”

At this time his son Fitzhugh and his new daughter paid their
long-promised visit, which he enjoyed immensely. My mother and sisters
were charmed with her, and the entire community vied in paying her
attention. My father was proud of his daughter-in-law and much gratified
at his son’s marriage. He was delighted with the manner in which she
adapted herself to the ways of all her new relations, with her sweet
attention to my mother, and, above all, with her punctuality. She had been
warned beforehand by her husband that, to please his father, she must be
always ready for family prayers, which were read every morning by him just
before breakfast. This she succeeded in doing, never failing once to be on
time. As breakfast was at seven o’clock, it was no small feat for one not
accustomed to such early hours. She said afterward that she did not
believe that General Lee would have an entirely high opinion of any
person, even General Washington, if he could return to earth, if he were
not ready for prayers! After a delightful visit of three weeks my brother
and his wife returned home. Just as the latter was packing, my father came
into her room and filled all the space in the top of her trunk with pecan
nuts, which some friends had sent him from the South.

The hour fixed for the service in the college chapel was, as I have said,
a quarter to eight o’clock every morning except Sunday. In the three
winter months, December, January, and February, it was one hour later. As
the president never failed to attend, when not prevented by sickness or
absence, it was necessary to have an early breakfast. After chapel he went
to his office and was seated at his desk by eight o’clock, where he
remained, unless called out by public business, till two P.M. This room
was open to all in the college who had business with him. The new students
were required to report to him here in person, and from their first
interviews we obtained a knowledge of the young men of which he availed
himself in their future career in the college. As president, he was always
disposed to be lenient with students who were reported for disorderly
conduct or for failure in their studies or duties. He would say to the
faculty, when they seemed to think it necessary to send a student home:

“Don’t you think it would be better to bear with him a little longer?
Perhaps we may do him some good.”

Being sent for to this office was anything but pleasant to the students.
Lewis, one of the janitors, went around with the names of those the
president wanted to see, written by his own hand on a long slip of paper.
He carried the paper in one hand, a pencil in the other, and when he could
find the one he wanted in a crowd of his comrades, he took special
pleasure in serving his notice, and would say in his solemn, sepulchral
voice:

“Mr. ——, the president wants to see you at the office.”

Then Mr. —— took the pencil and made a cross-mark opposite his
name, which was evidence of his having received his summons. What
transpired at these interviews was seldom known, except as the student
himself might reveal it; for unless it became necessary to summon the
delinquent a second time, the president never alluded to the subject. An
old student writes me the following account of his experience in the
president’s office:

“I was a frolicsome chap at college, and, having been absent from class an
unreasonable number of times, was finally summoned to the General’s
office. Abject terror took possession of me in the presence of such wise
and quiet dignity; the reasons I had carefully prepared to give for my
absence stood on their heads, or toppled over. In reply to General Lee’s
grave but perfectly polite question, I stammered out a story about a
violent illness, and the conscious that I was at that moment the picture
of health, I hastened on with something about leaving my boots at the
cobbler’s, when General Lee interrupted me: ‘Stop, Mr. M——,’
he said; ‘stop, sir! ONE GOOD REASON IS ENOUGH.’ But I could not be
mistaken about the twinkle in the old hero’s eyes!”

Only a few cases required more than one summons to appear at the office.
No instance is known where a student complained of injustice or harshness,
and the effect on his mind was that of greater respect and admiration for
the president.

The new house was approaching completion, and my father was much
interested in the work, going there very often and discussing with the
workmen their methods. That Christmas I spent two weeks in Lexington, and
many times my father took me all over the new building, explaining all the
details of his plan. All of his family were here together this Christmas
except Fitzhugh and his wife, an occurrence rather rare of late years. My
father’s health was unusually good, and he was bright and almost gay. He
rode out often, taking me with him, as it was too cold for the girls. He
also took me around with him visiting, and in the mild festivities of the
neighbours he joined with evident pleasure. My visit ended all too soon,
and the first week of January I started back to the “low country.” Soon
after my departure, he forwarded a letter to me with the accompanying one
of his own:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 14, 1869.

“My Dear Rob: The accompanying letter was inclosed to me by Lawrence
Butler [The grandson of Nellie Custis, my grandfather’s sister, who
married Lawrence Lewis, the favourite nephew of Washington] with the
request that I would forward it, as he did not know your address, and urge
you to be present at his wedding. I do not know that I can say more,
except to inform you that he says he has the very girl for you if you will
come on. You must therefore decide the question according to your best
judgment. General Hoke, from North Carolina, has also sent you his
wedding-cards. We have missed you very much since your departure, and
wished you back. I hope you got home comfortably and found all well. Drive
all your work with judgment and energy, and when you have decided about
the house, let me know. Tell Fitzhugh I have signed the insurance policy
and sent it to Mr. Wickham for his signature, with the request that he
forward it to Grubb & Williams. The weather still continues pleasant,
and I fear we shall suffer for it by the late spring. There has so far
been a great lack of snow, and consequently the wheat is exposed to the
great changes of temperature. We are all as you left us. Custis, I think,
looks better. No news. Mail heavy this morning. Love to F——
and T——. With great affection,

“Your father,

“R. E. Lee.

“R. E. Lee, Jr.”

Some one wrote to General Lee suggesting that General Grant, then
president of the United States, should be invited to Washington College.
His reply was as follows:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 8, 1869.

“My Dear Sir: I am much obliged to you for you letter of the 29th ult.,
which I am sure has been prompted by the best motives. I should be glad if
General Grant would visit Washington College, and I should endeavour to
treat him with the courtesy and respect due the President of the United
States; but if I were to invite him to do so, it might not be agreeable to
him, and I fear my motives might be misunderstood at this time, both by
himself and others, and that evil would result instead of good. I will,
however, bear your suggestion in mind, and should a favourable opportunity
offer I shall be glad to take advantage of it. Wishing you happiness and
prosperity, I am, Very respectfully,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

A lady living in New York wrote to General Lee in 1867, asking for a
catalogue of Washington College and a copy of its charter and laws. She
wished also to know whether or not the college was sectarian, and, if so,
of what denomination. She intimated that she desired to make a donation to
some institution of learning, and was rather inclined to select the
Episcopal Theological Seminary, near Alexandria, Virginia. The president
sent her the following reply to her letter:

“Lexington, Virginia, June 24, 1867.

“Miss Ann Upshur Jones, No. 156 Lafayette Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y.

“My Dear Madam: I have had the honour to receive your letter of the 17th
inst., and I send to your address a catalogue of Washington College and a
copy of its charter and laws. On the thirty-seventh page of the former,
and the eleventh of the latter, you will find what is prescribed on the
subject of religion. I do not know that it ever has been sectarian in its
character since it was chartered as a college; but it certainly is not so
now. Located in a Presbyterian community, it is natural that most of its
trustees and faculty should be of that denomination, though the rector,
president, and several of the professors are members of the Episcopal
Church. It is furthest from my wish to divert any donation from the
Theological Seminary at Alexandria, for I am well acquainted with the
merits of that institution, have a high respect for its professors, and am
an earnest advocate of its object. I only give you the information you
desire, and wish you to follow your own preferences in the matter. With
great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

In 1869 she wrote again, stating that she proposed breaking up
housekeeping, that she had no family to whom to give her books, furniture,
and silver, that she did not wish to sell them nor store them away, and
had therefore determined to present them to the “greatest living man,” and
she begged him to accept them, or, if his house was already furnished, to
make use of them in his college. To this letter he replied:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 13, 1869.

“My Dear Miss Jones: After long and diligent inquiry I only this moment
learned your address, and have been during this time greatly mortified at
my inability to acknowledge the receipt and disposition of your valuable
and interesting donation to Washington College. The books were arranged in
the library on their arrival, the globes in the philosophical department,
while the furniture, carpets, sofas, chairs, etc., have been applied to
the furnishing of the dais of the audience-room of the new chapel, to the
comfort and ornament of which they are a great addition. I have yet made
no disposition of the plate and tableware, and they are still in the boxes
in which they came. I inclose the resolution of thanks passed by the Board
of Trustees of the College at their annual meeting, to which I beg to add
my personal acknowledgments and grateful sense of your favour and kindness
to this institution. It would give me great pleasure if you would visit
Lexington at the commencement in June next, the third Thursday, that I
might then show you the successful operation of the college. Mrs. Lee
joins me in sentiments of esteem and regard, praying that the great and
merciful God may throw around you His protecting care and love. I am, with
great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.

“Miss Ann Upshur Jones, No. 38 Union Square, New York.”

The plate, tableware, and a curious old work-table, for which no place
could be found in the college, valuable only on account of their antiquity
and quaintness, he finally allowed to be called his own.

When my mother hurriedly left her home in the spring of 1861, she found it
impossible to carry away the valuable relics of General Washington which
her father had inherited from Mount Vernon, and which had been objects of
great interest at Arlington for more than fifty years. After the Federal
authorities took possession of the place, the most valuable of these Mount
Vernon relics were conveyed to Washington City and placed in the Patent
Office, where they remained on exhibition for many years labelled
“Captured from Arlington.” They were then removed to the “National
Museum,” where they are now, but the card has been taken off. In 1869, a
member of Congress suggested to my mother that she should apply to
President Johnson to have them restored to her. In a letter from my father
to this same gentleman, this bit of quiet humour occurs:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 12, 1869.

“…Mrs. Lee has determined to act upon your suggestion and apply to
President Johnson for such of the relics from Arlington as are in the
Patent Office. From what I have learned, a great many things formerly
belonging to General Washington, bequeathed to her by her father, in the
shape of books, furniture, camp equipage, etc., were carried away by
individuals and are now scattered over the land. I hope the possessors
appreciate them and may imitate the example of their original owners,
whose conduct must at times be brought to their recollection by these
silent monitors. In this way they will accomplish good to the country….”

He refers to this same subject in a letter to the honourable George W.
Jones, Dubuque, Iowa:

“…In reference to certain articles which were taken from Arlington,
about which you inquire, Mrs. Lee is indebted to our old friend Captain
James May for the order from the present administration forbidding their
return. They were valuable to her as having belonged to her
great-grandmother (Mrs. General Washington), and having been bequeathed to
her by her father. But as the country desires them, she must give them up.
I hope their presence at the capital will keep in the remembrance of all
Americans the principles and virtues of Washington….”

To the Honourable Thomas Lawrence Jones, who endeavoured to have the order
to restore the relics to Mrs. Lee executed, the following letter of thanks
was written:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 29, 1869.

“Honourable Thomas Lawrence Jones,

“Washington City, District of Columbia.

“My Dear Sir: I beg to be allowed to tender you my sincere thanks for your
efforts to have restored to Mrs. Lee certain family relics in the Patent
Office in Washington. The facts related in your speech in the House of
Representatives on the 3d inst., so far as known to me, are correct, and
had I conceived the view taken of the matter by Congress I should have
endeavoured to dissuade Mrs. Lee from applying for them. It may be a
question with some whether the retention of these articles is more ‘an
insult,’ in the language of the Committee on Public Buildings, ‘to the
loyal people of the United States,’ than their restoration; but of this I
am willing that they should be the judge, and since Congress has decided
to keep them, she must submit. However, her thanks to you, sir, are not
the less fervent for your kind intercession in her behalf, and with
highest regards, I am, with great respect,

“Your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

Washington’s opinion of this transaction, if it could be obtained, would
be of interest to many Americans! [These relics were restored to the
family in 1903 by the order of President McKinley.]

Chapter XIX — Lee’s Letters to His Sons

The building of Robert’s house—The General as a railroad delegate—Lionised
in Baltimore—Calls on President Grant—Visits Alexandria—Declines
to be interviewed—Interested in his grandson—The Washington
portraits

My father, being very anxious that I should build a good house on my farm,
had agreed to supply the necessary means, and was interested in my plans
and estimates. In a letter of February 18th, after a long and full
explanation of the arrangements for the purchase of Smith’s Island by
Fitzhugh and myself, he writes:

“…I am glad that you are considering the construction of your house and
taking steps in the matter. Let me know how you advance, the amount of its
cost, etc., and when I can help you…. The fine weather we have had this
winter must have enabled you to advance in your farm work and put you
ahead in that, so you will come out square, I hope. We are as usual, your
poor mother about the same, the girls well, and I tolerable. All unite in
much love.

“Truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

A week later he writes to me on the same subject:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 27, 1869.

“My Dear Son: I am glad you have obtained a good pair of oxen. Try to get
another pair to work with them. I will make good the deficit in my
contribution. Your fences will be a great advantage to you, and I am
delighted at the good appearance of your wheat. I hope it will continue to
maturity. It is very probable, as you say, however, that it may fail in
the grain. Should you find it so, would it not be well next year to
experiment with phosphates? That must be the quality the land lacks. Have
you yet heard from Mr. West about your house? What are the estimates? Let
me know. The difficulty I fear now will be that the burning of the bricks
may draw you away from your crops. You must try not to neglect them. What
would the bricks cost if purchased? Ask F—— to cut the lumber
for you. I will furnish the funds to pay for it. I hope the break in the
mill will not prove serious, and that you may be able to make up your
delay in plowing occasioned by the necessary hauling. I am very glad to
hear that you and F—— can visit each other so easily. It will
be advantageous to communicate with each other, as well as a pleasure. I
suppose Tabb has not returned to the White House yet. I am delighted to
hear that she and her boy are so well. They will make everything on the
Pamunkey shine. We are all as usual.

“General Breckenridge [General John C. Breckenridge, of Kentucky,
ex-secretary of War of the Confederate South, had two sons at Washington
College at this time. One of them was since United States Minister a the
Court of St. Petersburg.] is on a visit to his sons and has been with us
to-day. He will return to Baltimore Monday. He looks well, seems cheerful,
and talks hopefully. All unite in love to you, and your acquaintances
inquire regularly after you. I think of you very often, and wish I were
nearer and could assist you. Custis is in better health this winter than
he has been, and seems content, though his sisters look after him very
closely. I have no news and never have. General B—— saw
Fitzhugh Lee in Alexandria. He told him he was a great farmer now, and
when he was away, his father, who had now taken to the land, showed
uncommon signs of management. Good-bye, my dear son. May you enjoy every
happiness prays your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Robert E. Lee, Jr.”

The completion of the railroad from the “White House” to “West Point” made
communication between Fitzhugh and myself very easy. On February 11th, my
father had become the proud and happy possessor of a grandson, which event
gave him great joy. Mr. West, an architect of Richmond, had drawn me up
plans and estimates for a house. My father had also sent me a plan drawn
by himself. These plans I had submitted to several builders and sent their
bids to him to examine and consider. In the following letter, he gives me
his opinion:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 21, 1869.

“My Dear Rob: I have received your two letters of the 3d and 9th insts.,
and would have answered the former before, but had written a few days
before its date, and as our letters had been crossing each other, I
determined to let them get right.

“First, as to Smith’s Island, I merely want to fulfil the conditions of
the sale as prescribed in the published notice. I should have required
them of any other purchasers, and must require them of you….

“Now as for the house: The estimates of your bidders are higher than I
anticipated, and I think too high by at least $1,000. You see, there is
about $1,000 difference between the highest and lowest of their offers you
sent me. What does F—— say about it? I am confident that the
could build that house here for but little over $2,000, including
materials, and I could to it there, if I could get two good workmen. But
you are unaccustomed to building, and I would not advise you to undertake
it, unless you could engage a proper foreman. If, therefore, I were in
your place, I should reject all the offers, unless the one you had not
received when you wrote suited better. I would not, however, give up my
house, but procure the bricks either by purchase or by making them on the
ground, as was most advantageous, and the shingles in the same way, and
get all the lumber and flooring prepared. While preparing the necessary
materials, I would see the builder that made the lowest offer, or any
other that I preferred, and get him to revise his estimate and cut it
down, leaving him a margin for profit; and when satisfied with his offer,
accept it and set him to work.

“Now as for the means: I understood when you were here that you could
manage the materials—that is, make arrangements for procuring the
bricks, lumber, shingles, and flooring. Indeed, you might also get the
lime and sand cheaper, perhaps, than the builder, and make a deduction on
his bill. I can let you have funds to pay your contractor. If I did not
understand you rightly—that is, if you cannot procure the materials,
I can help you in them too. In fact, if you desire so much, I can let you
have the whole amount, $3,500. you can have the use of it without
interest, and return it to me when I require it, or sooner if you are
able, as I take it from the fund I was saving for a homestead for your
mother. At present, I cannot use it, and it is of no advantage to me,
except its possession. Will that suit you? If it does not, let me know
what will, and you shall have that, too. You must feel that it gives me
pleasure to do anything I can for you, and if I had only myself to
consider, you should have it unconditionally, but I must consider one
person above all. I want you to do, therefore just as you prefer. I want
you to have the comfort of a house, but I do not wish to force one upon
you, against your will or against your judgement. I merely wish you to
feel that you can procure one without inconveniencing me. The only
hesitation I have on the subject is that I think you ought to get a better
house for $3,500 than I fear you will get. The house according to the
first plan, in my opinion, ought not to cost more than that sum. But if
you think the estimate is a fair one, and are satisfied, accept it and set
to work. But consult Fitzhugh, and let me know when you want the money,
and in what sums. Now that is plain, I hope, so keep this letter for
reference, as I have not time to take a copy.

“We are all pretty well. Your mother has been troubled by a cold, but is
over it I hope. The girls are well, and have as many opinions with as few
acts as ever; and Custis is so-so. We have had accounts of Lawrence
Butler’s wedding, and all were as gay as a flock of snow-birds. They
regretted your absence. I will ask your mother to send you reports. I am
tolerable and wish I could get down to see you. I had hoped to go down
this spring, but I fear the dilatoriness of the workmen in finishing the
house, and the necessity of my attending to it, getting the ground
inclosed and preparing the garden, will prevent me. I shall also have to
superintend the moving. In fact, it never seems convenient for me to go
away. Give much love to F——, my daughter Tabb, and grandson. I
wonder what he will think of his grandpa. All unite in love, and I am, as
always,

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.

“Robert E. Lee, Jr.”

In April, there are two letters written on the same day, to each of his
sons, Fitzhugh and myself. I had determined for many reasons to postpone
building my house for the present, which decision my father regrets. In
the matter of Smith’s Island, the arrangements proposed by my brother and
myself for its purchase was agreed to by him:

“Lexington, Virginia, April 17, 1869.

“My Dear Rob: I have written to Fitzhugh, informing him of my agreement to
al the propositions in your joint letter, which I hope will be
satisfactory to you. You can read my letter to him, so I will not repeat.
I am sorry that you have concluded not to build, but if, in your judgment
that is the best course, I must be content. I do not wish you to hamper
yourself with obligations, but to my mind building in the way proposed
would not be onerous to you and would have given you the use of a house
some years prior to the time that you may be able to erect one, and thus
have added to your comfort, health, and probable ability to increase your
resources from your farm. But I hoe you have decided wisely, and should
circumstances occur to cause you to change your views, you must not fail
to let me know; for I shall at all times stand ready to help you to the
extent of my ability, which I am now obliged to husband, lest I may become
a burden to others. I am very glad to learn that your farm is promising
better in the second cultivation of the fields, and feel assured that if
treated judiciously it will recover its fertility and be remunerative. If
you can perceive that you are progressing, though with a slow and regular
step, you have cause for congratulation and encouragement; for there are
many, I am sorry to say, that are worse off now than when they commenced
at the end of the war, and have to begin again. Industry with economy must
prevail in the end. There seems to be a necessity for my going to
Baltimore next Tuesday, but I feel so poorly now that I do not know that I
shall be able. If I do go, it will interfere materially with my proposed
visit to you and Fitzhugh this spring, and I fear will put an end to it. I
shall be obliged to spend some days in Alexandria on my return, and could
not then delay my return here. I hope to see you both some time this
summer, and, if I cannot get to you, you must come to me. I have been
confined to this house for more than a week with a bad cold, the effects
of which still cling to me, and thought I am better this morning, I am
suffering. Your mother, too, I am sorry to say, has been suffering from
the same cause, and has had to resort to medicine, as well as myself. You
know that is bad for old people. Agnes has not been well, but Mildred is
herself, and surrounded by her two fresh broods of kittens she would not
call the king her uncle…God bless you, my dear son, prays

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.

“R. E. Lee, Jr.”

The letter to his son Fitzhugh is mostly upon business, but some of it
relates to more interesting matters:

“Lexington, Virginia, April 17, 1869.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I expect to go to Baltimore next Tuesday, if well
enough. The Valley Railroad Company are very anxious for me to accompany
their delegation to that city with a view of obtaining from the mayor or
council a subscription for their road, and, though I believe I can be of
no service to them, they have made such a point of it that it would look
ill-mannered and unkind to refuse. I wish I could promise myself the
pleasure of returning by the ‘White House,’ but I cannot. If I go to
Baltimore, I must take time to pay certain visits and must stop a while in
Alexandria. I shall, therefore, from there be obliged to return here. If I
could stop there on my way to Baltimore, which I cannot for want of time,
I would then return by the ‘White House.’ I shall hope, however, to see
you and Rob during the summer, if I have to go down immediately after
commencement. But it is so inconvenient for me to leave home now that I
cannot say…. Poor little Agnes also has been visited by Doctor Barton of
late, but she is on the mend. ‘Life’ holds her own. Both of her cats have
fresh broods of kittens, and the world wags cheerily with her. Custis is
well, and Mary is still in New York, and all unite with me in much love to
you and my daughter Tabb and my grandson. I hope the latter has not formed
the acquaintance of his father in the same manner as Warrington Carter’s
child.

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.

“General Wm. H. Fitzhugh Lee.”

In order to induce the city of Baltimore to aid them in building their
railroad from Staunton to Salem, the Valley Railroad Company got together
a large delegation from the counties through which it was proposed the
line should pass, and sent it to that city to lay the plans before the
mayor and council and request assistance. Among those selected from
Rockbridge County was General Lee. Lexington at this time was one of the
most inaccessible points in Virginia. Fifty miles of canal, or
twenty-three of staging over a rough mountain road, were the only routes
in existence. The one from Lynchburg consumed twelve hours, the other,
from Goshen (a station on the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad), from seven
to eleven. On one occasion, a gentleman during his first visit to
Lexington called on General Lee and on bidding him good-bye asked him the
best way to get back to Washington.

“It makes but little difference,” replied the General, “for whichever
route you select, you will wish you had taken the other.”

It was, therefore, the desire of all interested in the welfare of the two
institutions of learning located in Lexington that this road should be
built. My father’s previous habits of life, his nature and his tastes made
him averse to engaging in affairs of this character; but because of the
great advantage tot he college, should it be carried through, and a the
earnest request of many friends of his and of the road, he consented to
act. General John Echols, from Staunton, Colonel Pendleton, from Buchanan,
Judge McLaughlin, from Lexington, were amongst those who went with him.
While in Baltimore he stayed at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Tagart,
whom he had met several summers at the White Sulphur Springs.

The delegation was invited to the floor of the Corn and Flour Exchange, to
meet the business men of the city. My father, for the same reasons given
above, earnestly desired to be excused from this part of the programme,
and asked some of his friends to see Mr. John W. Garrett, the president of
the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, who had the delegation in charge, and
try to have it so arranged. Mr. Garrett, however, was very positive.

“General Lee is a most interesting man; I think he had better come,” was
the message brought back to him.

As he appeared on the floor, which was filled with a great crowd, he was
greeted with deafening cheers, and was soon surrounded by the thousands
who had assembled there to see him. Everywhere that he appeared in the
city he received an ovation. Sunday intervening, he attended services in
the morning at St. Paul’s church on Charles Street. When it became known
that General Lee was there, large numbers collected to see him come out,
waiting patiently and quietly until the congregation was dismissed. As he
appeared at the door, all heads were uncovered and kept so until he had
passed through the long lines extending down the street.

A reception was given by Mr. Tagart in his honour. There his friends
crowded to see him, and the greatest affection and deference were shown
him. He had lived in Baltimore about twenty years before this time, and
many of his old friends were still there; besides, Baltimore had sent to
the Army of Northern Virginia a large body of her noble sons, who were
only too glad to greet once more their former commander. That he was still
“a prisoner on parole,” disfranchised from all civil rights, made their
love for him stronger and their welcome the more hearty. On his return to
Lexington, he was asked how he enjoyed his visit. With a sad smile, he
said:

“Very much; but they would make too much fuss over the old rebel.”

A few days after he came home, when one of his daughters remonstrated with
him about the hat he was wearing, he replied:

“You don’t like this hat? Why, I have seen a whole cityful come out to
admire it!”

There is only a short note to my mother that I can find written during
this trip:

“Baltimore, April 27, 1869.

“My Dear Mary: I am still at Mr. Tagart’s, but propose going to-morrow to
Ella’s, and thence to Washington’s, which will consume Wednesday and
Thursday. If not obliged to return here, which I cannot tell till this
evening or to-morrow morning, I will then go to Washington, where I shall
be obliged to spend a day or two, and thence to Alexandria, so I shall not
be able to return to Lexington till the last of next week. What has become
of little Agnes? I have seen many of our old friends, of whom I will tell
you on my return. I have bought you a little carriage, the best I could
find, which I hope will enable you to take some pleasant rides. All send
love. Give mine to Mildred, and Custis, and all friends. I am just about
starting to Mrs. Baker’s.

“Truly and affectionately, R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

The “Ella” mentioned was Mrs. Sam George, of Baltimore, who as a girl had
always been a pet and favourite of my father. She was a daughter of his
first cousin, Mr. Charles Henry Carter, of “Goodwood,” Prince George
County, Maryland, and a schoolmate of my sister Mary. Their country place
was near Ellicott City. He went there to see her, and from there to
“Lynwood,” near by, the seat of Washington Peter, my mother’s first cousin
and an intimate friend of us all.

On Saturday, my father, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Tagart, went to
Washington on an early train. They drove immediately to the Executive
Mansion and called on the President. This meeting was of no political
significance whatever, but simply a call of courtesy. It had been
intimated to General Lee that it would be most agreeable to General Grant
to receive him. Mr. and Mrs. Tagart went with him, and they met there Mr.
Motley, the newly appointed Minister of England. The interview lasted
about fifteen minutes, and neither General Lee nor the President spoke a
word on political matters. While in Washington my father was the guest of
Mrs. Kennon, of Tudor Place, Georgetown Heights. On Sunday he dined with
Mrs. Podestad and her husband, the Secretary of the Spanish Legation, who
were old friends and relatives.

After leaving Washington, he stopped in Alexandria for several days, as
the guest of Mrs. A. M. Fitzhugh. It was at her country place,
“Ravensworth,” about ten miles from town, that his mother had died, and
there, in the old ivy-covered graveyard, she was buried. Mrs. Fitzhugh was
the wife of my mother’s uncle, Mr. William Henry Fitzhugh, who, having no
children, had made my mother his heir. The intimacy between “Arlington”
and “Ravensworth” was very close. Since Mr. Fitzhugh’s death, which
occurred some thirty years prior to this time, my father and mother and
their children had been thrown a great deal with his widow, and “Aunt
Maria,” as we called her, became almost a member of the family. She had
the greatest love and admiration for “Robert,” sought his advice in the
management of her estate, and trusted him implicitly. His brother, Admiral
Sidney Smith lee, came up from “Richland,” his home on the Potomac near
Acquia Creek, to meet him, and he found at Mrs. Fitzhugh’s “Aunt Nannie”
[Mrs. S. S. Lee] and her son Fitz. Lee. This was the first time they had
met each other since their parting in Richmond just after the war.

On his arrival in Alexandria my father had walked up from the wharf to
“Aunt Maria’s.” He was recognised by a number of citizens, who showed him
the greatest deference and respect. So many of his friends called upon him
at Mrs. Fitzhugh’s that it was arranged to have a reception for him at the
Mansion House. For three hours a constant stream of visitors poured into
the parlours. The reception was the greatest ovation that any individual
had received from the people of Alexandria since the days of Washington.
The next day, in Bishop Johns’ carriage, he drove out to Seminary Hill to
the home of Mr. Cassius F. Lee, his first cousin, where he spent the
night. In the afternoon he went to see the bishop and his family—General
Cooper and the Reverend Dr. Packard. The next morning, with Uncle Smith,
he attended Ascension-Day services at Christ church, and was afterward
entertained at a dinner-party given by Mr. John B. Daingerfield. Before he
left Alexandria he called on Mr. John Janney, who was president of the
Virginia Convention in 1861, when, as Colonel Lee, he appeared before it
and accepted the command of the Virginia forces, organised and to be
organised.

One evening a correspondent of the New York “Herald” paid him a visit for
the purpose of securing an interview. The General was courteous and
polite, but very firm. He stood during the interview, and finally
dismissed the reporter, saying:

“I shall be glad to see you as a friend, but request that the visit may
not be made in your professional capacity.”

The same correspondent had tried to interview him, for his paper, while he
was in Baltimore, but had failed.

My father was much amused at an occurance that took place during this
visit. Late one afternoon a visitor was announced. As the General was very
tired, Uncle Smith Lee volunteered to relieve him. The visitor was found
to be an Irishwoman, very stout and unprepossessing, who asked if she
could see the General. The Admiral bowed, intimating that he was the
desired person, when she said:

“My boy was with you in the war, honey, and I must kiss you for his sake.”
And with that she gave the Admiral an embrace and a kiss. Mr. Cassius Lee,
to whom he told this, suggested that he should take General Fitz. Lee
along to put forward in such emergencies.

My father’s first letter after his return to Lexington was the following:

“Lexington, Virginia, May 11, 1869.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I reached here last Saturday, bringing Agnes and Miss
Peyton with me from Staunton. Found everybody well and Custis better. I
had, upon, the whole, a pleasant visit, and was particularly glad to see
again our old friends and neighbours in Alexandria and vicinity; though
should have preferred to enjoy their company in a more quiet way. Your
Uncle Smith came up to meet me, and your Aunt Nannie and Fitz. were there.
I had not seen them since I parted from them in Richmond after the war. I
wish I could have visited you and Rob and have seen my daughter and
grandson; but that pleasure, I trust, is preserved for a future day. How
is the little fellow? I was much relieved after parting from you to hear
from the doctors that it was the best time for him to have the
whooping-cough, in which opinion the ‘Mim’ concurs. I hope that he is
doing well. Bishop Whittle will be here Friday next and is invited to stay
with us. There are to be a great many preparatory religious exercises this
week. A great feeling of religion pervades the young in the community,
especially at the Virginia Military Institute. All send love.

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.”

Since his establishment in Lexington, General Lee had been a member of the
vestry of Grace (Episcopal) church. At the council of 1868, which met at
Lynchburg, he had been sent as a delegate, and spent three days there.
This year the council was to meet in Fredericksburg, and he was again
elected to represent his church. This was a busy time with him. The
examinations were commencing, his new home was about ready to move into,
and the preparations for the commencement exercises had to be made; yet he
accepted the trust imposed upon him by his church and took a week out of
his valuable time to perform it. In his next letter to his son, after
writing on some Smith’s Island business, he tells him of his proposed
journey to Fredericksburg and of his regret at not being able to visit him
as he had intended:

“Lexington, Virginia, May 22, 1869.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: The weather here has been very hard on the corn-fields,
and I hear of many having to be replanted. The wheat, so far, is very
promising, and I am glad to hear that yours and Rob’s is equally so. I
have been elected by our little church to represent it at the coming
convention, and have concluded to go. I shall leave for Fredericksburg
Tuesday, June 1st, and shall endeavour while there to spend a night with
your Uncle Smith, the only visit I shall be able to make him. It is very
inconvenient for me to be absent at this time. The examination of the
senior classes is in progress, and I must hasten back to attend as many as
I can. The new house is about finished. The contractors say they will
deliver the keys on Monday, the 31st inst. I will make arrangements to
have it cleaned out during the week, so as to be able to move in on my
return. The commencement, a busy time with me, is approaching, and we must
try to be prepared; I shall not, therefore, be able to pay you a visit at
this time, but hope Custis and I will be able to do so after the close of
the session. I met Bishop Whittle at Lynchburg last convention, and was
much pleased with him. My favourable impressions were much strengthened
and increased by this visit here.

“I am so glad to learn that my little grandson is getting on so well with
his whooping-cough. You must kiss him and his mother for me. We are all
about the same. Your mother is becoming interested in her painting again,
and is employing her brush for the benefit of our little church, which is
very poor. She yet awhile confines herself to coloring photographs, and
principally to those of General and Mrs. Washington, which are sold very
readily. The girls are well, and have Miss Peyton with them still. Custis,
I hope, is better. He is getting over some of his confinement with his
classes now, which I hope will be of benefit to him. Give my love to
Robert and tell my daughter Tabb I long to see her. All unite with me in
affectionate love. I am,

“Truly your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

These photographs that were being coloured by my mother were from the
original portraits of General Washington by Peale and of Mrs. Washington
by W——. These paintings hung at Mt. Vernon until the death of
Mrs. Washington, and were then inherited by my grandfather, Mr. Custis.
They were at “Arlington” till ‘61, when they were removed to
“Ravensworth,” where they remained until the end of the war. When they
were being sent to Lexington, the boat carrying them on the canal between
Lynchburg and Lexington sank. These pictures, with many others belonging
to my mother, were very much injured and had to be sent to a restorer in
Baltimore, who made them as good as ever, and they were finally safely
hung in the president’s house in Lexington, and are now in the library of
the university. My mother coloured the photographs of these originals, and
sold a great many, on account of their association rather than their
merit.

There must have been some change of date in my father’s plans, for though
he said he would start on June 1st for Fredericksburg, his first and only
letter from there was written on May 28th:

“Fredericksburg, May 28, 1869.

“My Dear Mary: I reached here Tuesday night, the night after the morning I
left you, about twelve o’clock and found Major Barton at the depot, who
conducted me to his house. The town seems very full of strangers, and I
have met many acquaintances. I have seen no one yet from ‘Cedar Grove,’
and cannot learn whether any of them are coming. They are no doubt in
distress there, for you may have heard of the death of Charles Stuart, on
his way from Arkansas. He died at Lynchburg of congestive chills. Harriott
Cazenove (his sister) went on to see him, but he died before her arrival.
Rosalie, I heard, was at ‘Cedar Grove,’ Turbeville in Essex. I have
delivered all your packages but Margaret’s. Cassius Lee and all from the
seminary are here. Sally came up from Gloucester, and also Mrs.
Taliaferro. But I must tell you of all occurrences upon my return, and of
all whom I have met. All friends inquire very particularly and
affectionately after you, particularly your cousin, Mrs. ——,
who turns up every day at all assemblies, corners, and places, with some
anxious question on her mind upon which some mighty—thought to me
hidden—importance depends. Fitz. Lee arrived to-day, though I have
not seen him yet. If I can accomplish it, I will go to ‘Richland’
to-morrow, Saturday, and spend Sunday, and take up my line of march
Monday, in which event I hope to reach Lexington Wednesday morning, or
rather Tuesday night, in the stage from Goshen. I may not be able to get
away from the council before Monday. In that case, I shall not arrive
before Wednesday night. Tell the girls there are quantities of young girls
here and people of all kinds. I hope that you are all well, and that
everything will be ready to move into our new house upon my arrival. I am
obliged to stop. I am also so much interrupted and occupied that, though I
have tried to write ever since my arrival, I have been unable. Love to
all.

“Very affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

“Cedar Grove” was the plantation of Dr. Richard Stuart, in King George
County, some fifty miles from Fredericksburg. His wife, a Miss Calvert, of
“Riversdale,” Maryland, was a near cousin of my mother, had been her
bridesmaid, and the two families had been intimate all their lives. All
the persons mentioned by my father were cousins and friends, several of
them old neighbours from Alexandria and the Theological Seminary near by.

From Fredericksburg, after the completion of his duties at the council, he
went to “Richland” on the Potomac, near Acquia Creek, where his brother
Smith was then living. This meeting was a great pleasure to them both, for
two brothers were never more devoted. This was the last time they saw one
another alive, as Smith died two months afterward.

Chapter XX — The New Home in Lexington

Numerous guests—Further sojourns at different Baths—Death of
the General’s brother, Smith Lee—Visits to “Ravensworth” and “The
White House”—Meetings with interesting people at White Sulphur
Springs—Death of Professor Preston

On my father’s return to Lexington the new house was ready. It adjoined
the one he had been occupying, so the distance was not great and the
transfer was easily accomplished. It was much larger and more comfortable
than the one given up. My mother’s room was on the first floor and opened
out on the veranda, extending three sides of the house, where she could
she could be rolled in her chair. This she enjoyed intensely, for she was
very fond of the open air, and one could see her there every bright day,
with Mrs. “Ruffner,” a much petted cat, sitting on her shoulder or cradled
in her lap. My father’s favourite seat was in a deep window of the
dining-room, from which his eyes could rest on rolling fields of grass and
grain, bounded by the ever-changing mountains. After his early and simple
dinner, he usually took a nap of a few minutes, sitting upright in his
chair, his hand held and rubbed by one of his daughters. There was a new
stable, warm and sunny, for Traveller and his companion, “Lucy Long,” a
cow-house, wood-shed, garden, and yard, all planned, laid out, and built
by my father. The increased room enabled him to invite a great number to
visit him, and this summer the house was full.

In answer to a letter from me on business, which reached him during
commencement week, he writes:

“Lexington, Viriginia, June 19, 1869.

“My Dear Son: I have just receive your letter of the 10th, and have only
time for a word…. I hope all things are going well with you both. With
the improvement of your farm, proceeds will increase, and, with
experience, judgment, and economy, will augment greatly. You will have to
get married if you wish to prosper, and must therefore make arrangements
to build your house this fall. If I live through this coming week, I wish
to pay you and F—— a visit the week following, about July 1st.
I am trying to persuade Custis to accompany me, but he has not yet
responded. I am very much occupied with examinations, visitors,
arrangements, etc.

“All are well, and would send love if accessible. Mildred is full of
housekeeping and dresses, and the house is full of young ladies—Misses
Jones, Albert, Burwell, Fairfax, and Wickham; others in expectation.
Good-bye,

“Affectionately your father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Robert E. Lee, Jr.

Ten days later, he writes to his son, Fitzhugh, giving up his proposed
visit to him at this time, expressing his regrets at the necessity, and
telling his reasons for so doing:

“Lexington, Viriginia, June 30, 1869.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: This is the day that I had proposed to visit you, but I
find it impossible to get away. I find a great deal to do in closing up
the past session and in preparing for the new. In addition, our college
officers have all been changed—proctor, clerk, treasurer, librarian—and
the new incumbents enter upon their duties to-morrow. I shall have to be
with them some days to initiate and install them. That would only delay
me, but then on the 15th proximo the Educational Association of Virginia
will meet here, and I should not be able to return in time. As I have
never attended any of their meetings when elsewhere, if I were to go away
when appointed here it would look as if I wished to avoid them, which is
not the case. After that is over, I must locate your poor mother at the
Baths [Rockbridge Baths], which she has made up her mind to visit, and
prepare to go myself to the White Sulphur, the waters of which I want to
drink for three or four weeks. So I do not see how I could get to the
Pamunkey before fall. I want to get there very much to see you all, and,
as far as my personal predilections are concerned, would rather go there
than to the White; but the doctors think it would not be so beneficial to
me, and I am obliged now to consider my health. I propose, therefore, that
you bring Tabb and the baby up to the mountains and leave them either at
the Baths with ‘the Mim’ or with me, if you cannot remain. Tell Rob, if he
can, he must also come and see us. If he were here, now, he would find
very pleasant company, Misses Jones, Albert, Kirkland, Burwell, Fairfax,
and Wickham, all in the house, with others out of it. They are so much
engaged with the collegiates that Custis and I see but little of them, but
he could compete with the YEARLINGS, which we cannot. Tell my daughter
Tabb, her father is here, very well, and dined with us yesterday. Give my
much love to grandson. He must not forget me. I have a puppy and a kitten
for him to play with. All send love.

“Truly your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

“General William H. Fitzhugh Lee.”

In a letter dated Lexington, Viriginia, July 9th, he gives a further
account of his plans for the summer:

“…I have delivered your letter to Mildred, who has just returned from a
visit to the University of Virginia, where she saw a great many persons
and met with a great deal of pleasure. She ought to be, and I believe is,
satisfied with commencements for this year, having participated in three.
I am sorry to tell you that I cannot go down to the Pamunkey this summer
as I had intended;… I had hoped to be able, after the conclusion of the
commencement exercises of Washington College, to visit the Pamunkey, and
to return by the 15th inst. so as to be present at the Convention of the
Teachers of Virginia, which assembles here on that day; but I was detained
here so long that I found I would be unable to accomplish what I desired.
Custis, who was to have accompanied me, will go down in a day or two….

“About the 20th of this month I shall go to the Rockbridge Baths with Mrs.
Lee, who wishes to try the waters again, and after seeing her comfortably
located, if nothing prevents, I shall go with Mildred and Agnes to the
White Sulphur for a few weeks…. It is delightfully quiet here now. Both
institutions have closed, and all are off enjoying their holiday. I should
like to remain, if I could. Colonels Shipp and Harding have gone to get
married, report says. Colonel Lyle and Captain Henderson, it is said, will
not return. Captain Preston having been appointed professor at William and
Mary, we shall necessarily lose him, but Colonel Allen will be back, and
all the rest. We are as well as you left us. The girls had several friends
at commencement. All have departed except Miss Fairfax and Miss Wickham.
The election is over and the town tranquil.”

The quiet and rest which he so much desired, and which he was enjoying
when he wrote, did not long remain his. He had just gotten my mother
comfortably settled at the Baths, when he received the news of the sudden
death of his brother Smith. He went at once to Alexandria, hoping to be in
time for the burial. From there he writes my mother:

“Alexandria, July 25, 1869.

“My Dear Mary: I arrived here last evening, too late to attend the burial
of my dear brother, an account of which I have clipped from the Alexandria
Gazette and inclose to you. I wish you would preserve it. Fitz. and Mary
went up to ‘Ravensworth’ the evening of the funeral services, Friday, 23d,
so that I have not seen them, but my nephew Smith is here, and from him I
have learned all particulars. The attack of his father was short, and his
death apparently unexpected until a short time before it occurred. Mary
[General Lee’s eldest daughter] was present, and I hope of some comfort to
her uncle and assistance to her aunt. Fitz. came here the afternoon of his
father’s death, Thursday, 22d, made all arrangements for the funeral, went
out to ‘Ravensworth’ to announce the intelligence to our aunt. He carried
down, Friday morning, on the steamer, Mrs. Cooper and Jennie, to stay with
his mother, and returned that afternoon with his father’s remains, which
were committed to earth as you will see described.

“John returned the next morning, yesterday, in the mail-boat, to his
mother, with whom Dan stayed. Robert arrived this morning and has gone to
‘Ravensworth’ to announce my arrival. I shall remain here until I see or
hear from Fitz., for, as you will see by the Gazette’s account, the last
resting-place of the body has not been determined upon. Fitz., I
understand, wishes it interred at Hollywood, Richmond; Nannie a the
cemetery here, where her father, mother, and daughter are buried; and Mrs.
Fitzhugh at ‘Ravensworth.’ I think Nannie’s wishes should be consulted. I
shall probably leave to-day or to-morrow, and, after seeing all that
remains to us of our dear brother deposited in its last earthly home, and
mingling my sorrow for a brief season with that of his dear wife and
children, I shall return to you. Please send the letter after perusal to
Agnes and Mildred, as I shall be unable to write to them. I am staying at
the Mansion House. Our Aunt Maria did not come down to the funeral
services, prevented, I fear, by her rheumatic attack. May God bless us all
and preserve us for the time when we, too, must part, the one from the
other, which is now close at hand, and may we all meet again at the
foot-stool of our merciful God, to be joined by His eternal love never
more to separate.

“Most truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

The loss of his brother was a great sorrow to him. They were devoted to
each other, having always kept warm their boyish love. Smith’s admiration
for and trust in my father were unbounded, and it was delightful to see
them together and listen to the stories of the happy long ago they would
tell about each other. No one could be near my Uncle Smith without feeling
his joyful influence. My sister Mary, who knew him long and well, and who
was much attached to him, thus writes:

“No one who ever saw him can forget his beautiful face, charming
personality, and grace of manner which, joined to a nobility of character
and goodness of heart, attracted all who came in contact with him, and
made him the most generally beloved and popular of men. This was
especially so with women, to whom his conduct was that of a preux
chevalier, the most chivalric and courteous; and, having no daughters of
his own, he turned with the tenderest affection to the daughters of his
brother Robert.”

After all the arrangements connected with this sad event had been
completed, my father went up to “Ravensworth” to see “Aunt Maria,” who had
always been a second mother to his brother. There, amid the cool shades of
this lovely old home, he rested for a day or two from the fatigues of
travel and the intense heat. During this visit, as he passed the room in
which his mother had died, he lingered near the door and said to one
present:

“Forty years ago, I stood in this room by my mother’s death-bed! It seems
now but yesterday!”

While here he determined to go back to Lexington via Richmond, and to run
down thence to the “White House” to see his grandson. He arrived there on
Friday, July 30th. On Sunday he wrote to my mother:

“White House, New Kent, August 1, 1869.

“My Dear Mary: I arrived here on Friday last and found them all well. Our
daughter Tabb has not been altogether well, and shows its effects. Her
baby, I think, would also be improved by mountain air. I have therefore
persuaded her to accompany me and join you at the Baths. We shall leave
Richmond, if nothing prevents, on Tuesday morning, 3d inst., and hope to
reach the Baths that evening in the stage from Goshen. I have written to
Mr. Peyton, requesting him to prepare a good room for Tabb and her little
family as near you as convenient, and trust we may reach there in health
and comfort at the time appointed. I hope I shall find you well and
comfortable, and Markie in the enjoyment of every good. How are the poor
little children? My previous letters will have informed you of everything
important. I will supply all omissions when I see you. Custis is here,
much improved. I have not yet seen Rob. Farmers here are threshing out
their wheat, which occupies them closely. Fitzhugh’s is turning out well,
and he hopes to gather a fair crop. Robert came up last Wednesday with his
friend Mr. Dallam, and went down Thursday. He was very well. Custis
arrived Saturday week. Mr. Kepler is here and will preach at St. Peter’s
this morning. I hope to attend. Mr. Kepler says his health is much
improved. Fitzhugh doses him with cholagogue. Good-bye. Affectionately
yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

St. Peter’s was the old Colonial church a few miles away, in which General
Washington and Mrs. Custis were married about one hundred years prior to
this time. Mr. Kepler, the pastor, preached there twice a month. He lived
in Richmond, and, to keep him free from fever-and-ague, my brother dosed
him freely with cholagogue whenever he came down into the malarial
country. I came up from Romancoke Sunday morning, arriving in time to be
present at the christening of my nephew, which ceremony was decided on
rather hurriedly in order that the grandfather might stand as godfather.
After returning from the morning service at St. Peter’s, where we all
went, it was decided that the mother and child should go to the mountains
with my father. As there were some preparations for the summer to be made,
his daughter and her baby went to Petersburg that afternoon, agreeing to
meet the General in Richmond Monday night and start for the Rockbridge
Baths Tuesday morning. On Monday, he writes to a friend, with whom he had
intended to stop for a day on his way back to Lexington:

“White House, New Kent County, August 1, 1869.

“…I had promised myself the pleasure of seeing you on my way to
Lexington, of spending with you one short day to cheer and refresh me; but
I shall travel up in a capacity that I have not undertaken for many years—as
escort to a young mother and her infant, and it will require the
concentration of all my faculties to perform my duties even with tolerable
comfort to my charge…. I go up with my daughter, I may say this time,
too, my youngest daughter [his daughter-in-law, Mrs. W. H. F. Lee], to
place her with her mama at the Rockbridge Baths, the waters of which I
hope will invigorate both mother and child, who have been wearied and
weakened by the long attack of whooping-cough from which the latter has
suffered. I came down from Richmond to spend Sunday and was fortunate
enough to find here my three sons, but I am sorry to say but one
daughter…. Most truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

Monday night was spent in Richmond. It was soon known that General Lee was
at the Exchange Hotel, and great numbers came to call upon him, so that he
was compelled to hold an informal reception in the large parlours. The
next day, with his “new daughter” and her baby, he started for the Baths,
where they arrived safely the same night. Then he proceeded to carry out
his original plan for the summer, and went with his two daughters to the
White Sulphur Springs. From there he writes to his wife:

“White Sulphur Springs, Greenbrier County, West Virginia,

“August 10, 1869.

“My Dear Mary: I received this morning your addenda to Annie Wickham’s
letter inclosing Custis’s. I also received by same mail a letter from Mr.
Richardson, reiterating his request to insert my portrait in my father’s
Memoirs, saying that it was by the desire ‘of many mutual friends’ on the
ground of its ‘giving additional interest to the work, and increasing its
sale.’ That may or may not be so; at any rate, I differ from them.
Besides, there is no good portrait accessible to him, and the engraving in
the ‘Lee Family’ I think would be an injury to any book. His recent
proposition of inserting my portrait where the family history is given
takes from it a part of my obligation, and if it were believed that such
an addition would add to the interest of the book, I should assent. I have
so told him, and that I would write to you for your suggestions, and to
ask whether you could send him a portrait worth inserting. What do you
think?

“There is to be a grand concert her to-night for the benefit of our church
in Lexington. It is gotten up by Miss Mary Jones and other kind people
here, and the proposition is so favourably received that I hope a handsome
sum will be realised.

“The girls are well. I do not know how long they will continue so. They
seem to be foot-free. A great many visitors were turned off last night—no
room for them! A grand ball in honour of Mr. Peabody is to come off
to-morrow, after which it is supposed there will be more breathing-space.
I have seen Mr. and Mrs. Charles Ridgely of ‘Hampton’ since I wrote, also
numerous other acquaintances. I should prefer more quiet. How is my
daughter Tabb? Mother and son are improving, I trust. I hope you and
Markie are also doing well. No change in myself as yet. The girls would
send love if I could find them. Affectionately yours,

“Mrs. R. E. Lee. R. E. Lee.”

A few days later he writes:

“White Sulphur Springs, August 14, 1869.

“My Dear Mary: I received last night your letter of the 13th—very
prompt delivery—and ma very glad to learn of the well-doing of all
with you. I am particularly pleased to hear that our daughter and grandson
are improving, and should you find them not benefiting I wish you would
urge them to try some other springs, for I have it greatly to heart that
they should receive all possible advantage from their summer trip. I hope
Markie will be benefited by the Red Sweet. The water is considered a great
tonic, but I fear none will be warm enough for her but the HOT. If I
cannot get over to see her, I will notify her of our departure from here,
which will be in about two weeks. I have received a letter from Fitz. Lee,
saying that Mary would leave ‘Richlands’ last Tuesday, 10th inst., for
‘Ravensworth,’ which I presume she did, as his letter was postmarked that
day at Acquia Creek, and was probably mailed by him, or one of the boys,
on putting her aboard the mail-boat. You will be glad to learn that the
proceeds of the concert for our church at Lexington netted $605, which has
been subsequently increased to $805 by Messrs. Corcoran and Peabody with a
donation of $100 from each. For all of this I am extremely grateful.

“As regards the portrait for Mr. Richardson, you must do as you please. I
shall not write to him any more on the subject. Unless the portrait is
good and pleasing, I think it will be an injury to the book. I have had a
visit since commencing this letter from a Mr. William BATH, of New
Orleans, who showed me a wreath, made in part, she says, of my, your and
Mildred’s hair, sent her by you more than two years ago. She says she sent
you a similar one at the time, but of this I could tell her nothing, for I
recollect nothing about it. She says her necessities now compel her to put
her wreath up to raffle, and she desired to know whether I had any
objection to her scheme, and whether I would head the list. All this, as
you may imagine, is extremely agreeable to me, but I had to decline her
offer of taking a chance in her raffle.

“Miss Mary Jones has gone to the Sweet. Tell Miss Belle I wish she were
coming here. I shall be glad to see Mrs. Caskie. Mildred has her picture.
The girls are always busy at something, but never ready. The Stuarts have
arrived. Mrs. Julia is improving perceptibly. Love to all.

“R. E. Lee.”

The “Markie” referred to in each of the above letters was Martha Custis
Williams, a great-niece of my grandfather, Mr. Custis, who had for many
years lived at Arlington with her uncle. The “little children” were her
motherless nieces, whom she had brought that summer to the mountains for
their health. General Lee had been engaged for some time in bringing out a
third edition of his father’s “Memoirs of the War of ‘76 in the Southern
States.” It was now in the hands of his publisher, Mr. Richardson, of New
York. To this edition he had added a sketch of the famous “Light Horse
Harry,” written by himself. It was to his publisher’s proposition of
placing his portrait in the “Introduction” to the new work that he at
first objected, and then agreed, as stated in the two letters just given.
The season of ‘69 is still noted in the annals of the White Sulphur as
having had in its unusually large company so many noted and distinguished
men. Mr. George Peabody and Mr. W. W. Corcoran, the two great
philanthropists, were among them and helped to enlarge the receipts of the
concert for the benefit of the little Episcopal church in Lexington, of
which General Lee was a member and a vestryman.

by the last of August he was back again in Lexington, making arrangements
for the home-coming of his wife and her party from the Baths. Here is part
of another letter written soon after his arrival home, some lines of which
(apparently relating to the servants) have been partially obliterated by
time:

“Lexington, Virginia, August 31, 1869.

“My Dear Mary: I received this evening your note by Miss Mays. You had
better come up whenever agreeable to your party…we can only try them and
make the best of them. Alice, when she gets well, will return if wanted.
If Cousin Julia [Mrs. Richard Stuart, of ‘Cedar Grove’] will return with
you, you can see her here as well as there, and we can all have that
pleasure. If she will not, you had better remain with her as long as she
will stay. Mrs. Pratt died to-day at 12:30 P. M.

“I received a letter to-day from Edward Childe saying that he and Blanche
would leave Liverpool in the ‘Fava’ on September 4th, and after spending a
few days in the North, would come to Lexington. He will probably reach
Boston about September 15th, so that they may be expected here from the
20th to the 30th of September. I am anxious for them to see our daughter
and grandson and all our sons. Give my best love to all with you. The
girls would send love, but a ‘yearling’ and a ‘leader of the herd’
[“Yearling” was a term that originated with us just after the war (when
many of the students were ex-soldiers), to distinguish the real boys from
the “Confeds.” From that expression, a professor came to be called a
“leader of the herd.” It was a form of speech that we had kept up amongst
ourselves.] occupy them. Affectionately yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

This session of Washington College opened with very favourable prospects.
The number of students was larger than ever before, every southern, and
some northern States being represented. The new chairs of instruction
which had been instituted were now in good working order, their professors
were comfortably established, and the entire machinery of the institution
was running well and smoothly. The president commenced to see some of the
results of his untiring energy and steady work. He had many plans which
lack of funds prevented him from carrying out. One of them was a School of
Commerce in which a student, while following the branches which would
discipline and cultivate the mind, might also receive special instruction
and systematic training in whatever pertained to business in the largest
sense of the term. Another was a School of Medicine, the plan for which,
with full details, was drawn up under his eye, and kept in readiness until
the funds of the institution should permit of its being carried into
effect.

His meeting with Mr. Peabody at the White Sulphur Springs attracted that
gentleman’s attention to the college and to his work as its president. To
a request for his photograph to be placed in the Peabody Institute among
the friends of its founder, he sends with the likeness the following note:

“Washington College, Virginia, September 25, 1869.

“F. Poole, Secretary Peabody Institute, Peabody, Massachusetts.

“Dear Sir: In compliance with your request, I send a photograph of myself,
the last that has been taken, and shall fell honoured in its being placed
among the ‘friends’ of Mr. Peabody, for, though they can be numbered by
millions, yet all can appreciate the man who was illustrated his age by
his munificent charities during his life, and by his wise provisions for
promoting the happiness of his fellow-creatures.

“Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

My father’s family was now comfortably established in their new home, and
had the usual number of friends visiting them this autumn. In due time
Edward Childe, Blanche, and “Duckie,” their little dog, arrived and
remained for a week or two. The last-named member of the party was of
great interest. He was very minute, very helpless, and received more
attention than the average baby. He had crossed the Atlantic in fear and
trembling, and did not apparently enjoy the new world. His utter
helplessness and the great care taken of him by his mistress, his
ill-health and the unutterable woe of his countenance greatly excited my
father’s pity. After he went away, he often spoke of him, and referred to
him, I find, in one of his letters. During this trip to America, Edward
and his wife, carrying the wretched “Duckie” with them, paid their visit
to the “White House.”

This autumn the “little carriage” my father mentioned having purchased for
my mother in Baltimore was put into use. He frequently drove out in it
with my mother, his new daughter, and grandson. “Lucy Long,” under his
guidance, carefully carried them over the beautiful hills around
Lexington. One afternoon, while paying a visit with his daughter, Tabb, to
Colonel William Preston Johnston, who lived two miles down the river, in
pulling up a steep ascent to the front door, “Lucy” fell, choked into
unconsciousness by too tight a collar. My father jumped out, hastily got
off the harness, and on perceiving the cause of the accident reproached
himself vehemently for his carelessness and thoughtlessness. He was very
much distressed at this accident, petted his mare, saying to her in
soothing tones that he was ashamed of himself for having caused her all
this pain after she had been so faithful to him.

His rides on Traveller in which he delighted so much were not so frequent
now. He was not so strong as he had been through the spring and summer,
and, indeed, during November he had a very severe attack of cold, from
which he did not recover for several weeks. However, during the beautiful
days of October he was often seen out in the afternoons on his old gray.
His favourite route was the road leading to the Rockbridge Baths. A year
previous to this time, he would sometimes go as far as the Baths and
return in an afternoon, a trip of twenty miles. A part of this road led
through a dense forest. One afternoon, as he told the story himself, he
met a plain old soldier in the midst of these woods, who, recognising the
General, reined in his horse and said:

“General Lee, I am powerful glad to see you, and I feel like cheering
you.”

The General replied that this would not do, as they were all alone, only
two of them, and there would be no object whatever in cheering. But the
old soldier insisted that he must, and, waving his hat about his head,
cried out:

“Hurrah for General Lee!” and kept repeating it. As the General rode away
he continued to hear the cheers until he was out of sight.

On another afternoon, as Professors White and Nelson, taking a horseback
ride, approached the summit of a long hill, they heard behind them the
sound of a horse’s feet running rapidly. In a few moments General Lee
appeared on Traveller at full speed. On joining his friends he reined up
and said:

“I thought a little run would be good for Traveller.”

He often gave his horse a “breather,” as he called it. The animal was so
strong and powerful that he chafed at restraint, and, unless ridden
regularly and hard, had a very disagreeable, fretful trot. After a good
gallop up one of the long Rockbridge hills he would proceed at a quiet
walk.

The tenderness in my father’s heart for children I have already often
remarked upon. One afternoon two little girls, the daughters of two of his
professors, were riding on a gentle old horse up and down one of the back
streets of the town, fearing to go too far from home. The General,
starting out on his afternoon ride, came up with them, and knowing them
well, said gaily:

“Come with me, little girls, and I will show you a beautiful ride.”

Only too delighted, they consented to go. He took them out beyond the
fair-grounds, from which point there is one of the grandest stretches of
mountain scenery in the world. One of the little maidens had her face tied
up, as she was just recovering from the mumps. He pretended that he was
much alarmed lest his horse should catch them from her, and kept saying:

“I hope you won’t give Traveller the mumps!” and “What shall I do if
Traveller gets the mumps?”

An hour later, this party was seen returning, the two little girls in
sun-bonnets on the one old, sleepy horse, and General Lee by their side on
Traveller, who was stepping very proudly, as if in scorn of his lowly
companion. My father took the children to their homes, helped them
dismount, took a kiss from each, and, waving a parting salute, rode away.
It was such simple acts of kindness and consideration that made all
children confide in him and love him.

Soon after the attack of cold mentioned above, he writes to his son
Fitzhugh, then at the “White House” with his family:

“Lexington, Virginia, December 2, 1869.

“My Dear Fitzhugh:… Your letters to Custis told us of your well-doing. I
want to see you all very much, and think the sight of my daughter and
grandson would do me good. I have had a wretched cold, the effects of
which have not left me, but I am better. The doctors still have me in
hand, but I fear can do no good. The present mild weather I hope will be
beneficial, enabling me to ride and be in the open air. But Traveller’s
trot is harder to me than it used to be and fatigues me. We are all as
usual—the women of the family very fierce and the men very mild.
Custis has been a little unwell, but is well regulated by his sisters.
Neither gaiety nor extravagance prevails amongst us, and the town is
quiet. Our community has been greatly grieved at the death of Mr. Frank
Preston, to whom I was much attached and for whom I had a high esteem.
Give my love to Bertus. Tell him I hope Mrs. Taylor will retain one of her
little daughters for him. She always reserves the youngest of the flock
from Custis, as he is not particular as to an early date.

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.

“General William H. F. Lee.”

Frank Preston, at the time of his death, was professor of Greek at William
and Mary College. He had been, prior to his appointment to that position,
an assistant professor at Washington College. He was a native of
Lexington, a son of Colonel Thomas L. Preston, who was for so long a time
professor at the Virginia Military Institute. A brilliant scholar, trained
in the best German universities, and a gentleman in the highest sense of
the word. Frank had served his State in the late war, and had left an arm
on the heights of Winchester. On hearing of his death, President Lee
issued the following announcement:

“Washington College, November 23, 1869.

“The death of Professor Frank Preston, a distinguished graduate, and late
Associate Professor of Greek in this college, has caused the deepest
sorrow in the hearts of the institution.

“Endowed with a mind of rare capacity, which had been enriched by diligent
study and careful cultivation, he stood among the first in the State in
his pursuit in life.

“We who so long and so intimately possessed his acquaintance, and so fully
enjoyed the privilege of his companionship, feel especially his loss, and
grieve profoundly at his death; and we heartily sympathise with his
parents and relations in their great affliction, and truly participate in
the deep sorrow that has befallen them.

“With the view of testifying the esteem felt for his character and the
respect due to his memory, all academic exercises will be suspended for
the day, and the faculty and students are requested to attend in their
respective bodies his funeral services at the Presbyterian church, at
eleven o’clock, to pay the last sad tribute of respect to his earthly
remains, while cherishing in their hearts his many virtues.

“R. E. Lee, President.”

Chapter XXI — Failing Health

The General declines lucrative positions in New York and Atlanta—He
suffers from an obstinate cold—Local gossip—He is advised to
go South in the spring of 1870—Desires to visit his daughter Annie’s
grave

After General Lee had accepted the presidency of Washington College, he
determined to devote himself entirely to the interest and improvement of
that institution. From this resolution he never wavered. An offer that he
should be a the head of a large house to represent southern commerce, that
he should reside in New York, and have placed at his disposal an immense
sum of money, he declined, saying:

“I am grateful, but I have a self-imposed task which I must accomplish. I
have led the young men of the South in battle; I have seen many of them
die on the field; I shall devote my remaining energies to training young
men to do their duty in life.”

To a request from some of his old officers that he should associate
himself with a business enterprise in the South, as its president, he
replied with the following letter:

“Lexington, Virginia, December 14, 1869.

“General J. B. Gordon, President, “Southern Life Insurance Company,
Atlanta, Georgia.

“My Dear General: I have received your letter of the 3d inst., and am duly
sensible of the kind feelings which prompted your proposal. It would be a
great pleasure to me to be associated with you, Hampton, B. H. Hill, and
the other good men whose names I see on your list of directors, but I feel
that I ought not to abandon the position I hold at Washington College at
this time, or as long as I can be of service to it. Thanking you for your
kind consideration, for which I know I am alone indebted for your
proposition to become president of the Southern Life Insurance Company,
and with kindest regards to Mrs. Gordon and my best wishes for yourself, I
am,

“Very truly yours,

“R. E. Lee.”

His correspondence shows that many like positions were made to him.

The Christmas of ‘69, neither my brother nor myself was with him. Knowing
of our plans in that respect, he wrote before the holidays to Fitzhugh,
wishing us both the compliments of the season and a pleasant time in the
visits we were going to make:

“Lexington, Virginia, December 18, 1869.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I must begin by wishing you a pleasant Christmas and
many, many Happy New Years, and may each succeeding year bring to you and
yours increasing happiness. I shall think of you and my daughter and my
grandson very often during the season when families are generally united,
and though absent from you in person, you will always be present in mind,
and my poor prayers and best wishes will accompany you all wherever you
are. Bertus will also be remembered, and I hope that the festivities of
‘Brandon’ will not drive from his memory the homely board at Lexington. I
trust that he will enjoy himself and find some on to fill that void in his
heart as completely as he will the one in his—system. Tell Tabb that
no one in Petersburg wants to see her half as much as her papa, and now
that her little boy has his mouth full of teeth, he would not appear so
LONESOME as he did in the summer. If she should find in the ‘Burg’ a
‘Duckie’ to take his place, I beg that she will send him up to me.

“I duly received your letter previous to the 12th inst., and requested
some of the family who were writing about that time to inform you. When I
last wrote, I could not find it on my table and did not refer to it. ‘The
Mim’ says you excel her in counting, if you do not in writing, but she
does not think she is in your debt. I agree with you in your views about
Smith’s Island, and see no advantage in leasing it, but wish you could
sell it to advantage. I hope the prospects may be better in the spring.
Political affairs will be better, I think, and people will be more
sanguine and hopeful. You must be on the alert. I wish I could go down to
see you, but think it better for me to remain here. To leave home now and
return during the winter would be worse for me. It is too cold for your
mother to travel now. She says she will go down in the spring, but you
know what an exertion it is for her to leave home, and the inconvenience
if not the suffering, is great. The anticipation, however, is pleasing to
her and encourages hope, and I like her to enjoy it, though am not
sanguine that she will realise it. Mildred is probably with you, and can
tell you all about us. I am somewhat reconciled to her absence by the
knowledge of the benefit that she will be to Tabb. Tell the latter that
she [Mildred] is modest and backward in giving advice, but that she has
mines of wealth on that subject, and that she [Tabb] must endeavour to
extract from her her views on the management of a household, children,
etc., and the proper conduct to be observed toward husbands and the world
in general. I am sure my little son will receive many wise admonitions
which he will take open-mouthed. I have received a letter from your Uncle
Carter telling me of his pleasant visit to you and of his agreeable
impressions of his nephew and new niece. He was taken very sick in
Richmond and delayed there so long that he could not be present at Wm.
Kennon’s wedding, and missed the festivities at his neighbour Gilliam’s
and at Norwood. Indeed, he had not recovered his strength when Lucy wrote
a few days ago, and her account makes me very uneasy about him. I am glad
Rob has so agreeable a neighbour as General Cooke, and I presume it is the
North Carolina brigadier [A Virginian—son of General St. George
Cooke, of the Federal Army, who commanded a North Carolina brigade in A.
P. Hill’s corps, A. N. Va.]. When you go to Petersburg, present my kind
regards to Mr. and Mrs. Bolling, ‘Miss Melville,’ and all friends. All
here unite with me in love to you, Tabb, and the boy, in which Mildred is
included.

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.

“General William H. F. Lee.”

In a note, written the day after, acknowledging a paper sent to him to
sign, he says:

“…I wrote to you yesterday, Saturday, in reply to your former letter,
and stated the reasons why I could not visit you. Your mother has received
Mildred’s letter announcing her arrival in Richmond and will write to her
there. I can only repeat my love and prayers that every blessing may
attend you and yours. We are as usual.

“Truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“General William H. F. Lee.”

The attack of cold from which my father suffered in October had been very
severe. Rapid exercise on horseback or on foot produced pain and
difficulty in breathing. After he was considered by most of his friends to
have gotten well over it, it was very evident to his doctors and himself
that there was a serious trouble about the heart, and he often had great
weariness and depression. He complained but little, was often very bright
and cheerful, and still kept up his old-time fun and humour in his
conversation and letters, but his letters written during this year to his
immediate family show that he was constantly in pain and had begun to look
upon himself as an invalid. To Mildred, who was in Richmond on a visit to
friends, he writes jokingly about the difficulty experienced by the family
in finding out what she meant in a letter to him:

“Lexington, Virginia, January 8, 1870.

“My Precious Life: I received you letter of the 4th. We held a family
council over it. It was passed from eager hand to hand and attracted
wondering eyes and mysterious looks. It produced few words but a deal of
thinking, and the conclusion arrived at, I believe unanimously, was that
there was a great fund of amusement and information in it if it could be
extracted. I have therefore determined to put it carefully away till your
return, seize a leisure day, and get you to interpret it. Your mother’s
commentary, in a suppressed soliloquy, was that you had succeeded in
writing a wretched hand. Agnes thought that it would keep this cold
weather—her thoughts running on jellies and oysters in the
storeroom; but I, indignant at such aspersions upon your accomplishments,
retained your epistle and read in an elevated tone an interesting
narrative of travels in sundry countries, describing gorgeous scenery,
hairbreadth escapes, and a series of remarkable events by flood and field,
not a word of which they declared was in your letter. Your return, I hope,
will prove the correctness of my version of your annals…. I have little
to tell. Gaiety continues. Last night there was a cadet hop. Night before,
a party at Colonel Johnston’s. The night preceding, a college
conversazione at your mother’s. It was given in honour of Miss Maggie
Johnston’s visit of a few days to us. You know how agreeable I am on such
occasions, but on this, I am told, I surpassed myself.

“On New year’s Day the usual receptions; many of our friends called. Many
of my ancients as well as juniors were present, and all enjoyed some good
Norfolk oysters. I refer you to Agnes for details. We are pretty well. I
think I am better. Your mother and sisters as usual. Custis busy with the
examination of the cadets, the students preparing for theirs. Cadet Cook,
who was so dangerously injured by a fall from his window on the 1st, it is
hoped now will recover. The Misses Pendleton were to have arrived this
morning, and Miss Ella Heninberger is on a visit to Miss Campbell. Miss
Lizzie Letcher still absent. Messrs. Anderson, Baker, W. Graves, Moorman,
Strickler, and Webb have all been on visits to their sweethearts, and have
left without them. ‘Mrs. Smith’ is as usual. ‘Gus’ is as wild as ever
[“Mrs. Smith” and “Gus” were the names of two of the pet cats of my
sister. “Gus” was short for Gustavus Adolphus.]. We catch our own rats and
mice now, and are independent of cats. All unite in love to you.

“Your affectionate father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Miss Mildred Lee.”

A month later he writes again to this daughter in the same playful strain,
and sends his remembrances to many friends in Richmond:

“Lexington, Virginia, February 2, 1870.

“My Precious Life: Your letter of the 29th ultimo, which has been four
days on the road, reached me this morning, and my reply, unless our mails
whip up, will not get to you before Sunday or Monday. There is no danger,
therefore, of our correspondence becoming too brisk. What do the young
girls do whose lovers are at Washington College or the Institute? Their
tender hearts must always be in a lacerated and bleeding condition! I hope
you are not now in that category, for I see no pining swains among them,
whose thoughts and wishes are stretching eagerly toward Richmond. I am
glad you have had so pleasant a visit to the Andersons. You must present
my regards to them all, and I hope that Misses Ellen and Mary will come to
see you in the summer. I am sure you will have an agreeable time at Brook
Hill. Remember me to all the family, and tell Miss Belle to spare my
friend Wilkins. He is not in a condition to enjoy the sufferings which she
imposes on her Richmond beaux. Besides, his position entitles him to
tender treatment.

“I think it time that you should be thinking of returning home. I want to
see you very much, and as you have been receiving instruction from the
learned pig, I shall expect to see you much improved. We are not reduced
to apply to such instructors at Lexington. Here we have learned professors
to teach us what we wish to know, and the Franklin Institute to furnish us
lectures on science and literature. You had better come back, if you are
in search of information on any subject. I am glad that Miss ‘Nannie’ Wise
found one occasion on which her ready tongue failed her. She will have to
hold it in subjection now. I should like to see Miss Belle under such
similar circumstances, provided she did not die from suppressed ideas.
What an awful feeling she must experience, if the occasion should ever
come for her to restrain that active member! Although my friend Wilkins
would be very indulgent, I think he would want her to listen sometimes.
Miss Pendleton has just been over to give us some pleasing news. Her
niece, Miss Susan Meade, Philip’s daughter, is to be married next month to
a Mr. Brown, of Kentucky, who visited her two year ago upon the
recommendation of the Reverend Charles Page, found her a school-girl, and
has waited until she became a woman. He is rich, forty-nine, and has six
children. There is a fair start in the world for a young woman! I
recommend her example to you. We are all as usual, and ‘Mrs. Smith’ is
just the same. Miss Maggie Johnston, who has been staying with us
occasionally for a few days at a time, is now on a visit to us. There is
to be an anniversary celebration of the societies of the Institute on
Friday, and a student’s party on Monday night, and a dance at the College
Hotel. To-morrow night your mother has an evening for some young students.
Gaiety will never cease in Lexington so long as the ladies are so
attractive and the men so agreeable. Surprise parties are the fashion now.
Miss Lucy Campbell has her cousin, Miss Ella Heninberger, staying with
her, who assists her to surprise and capture too unwary youths. I am sorry
to hear of Mrs. Ould’s illness. If you see her, present me most kindly to
her; also to Mrs. George Randolph. Do beware of vanilla cream. Recollect
how far you are from home, and do not tamper with yourself. Our
semi-annual examination has been in progress for a fortnight. We shall
conclude on Saturday, which will be a great relief for me, for, in
addition to other things, I have to be six hours daily in the examination
rooms. I was sorry that I could not attend Mr. Peabody’s funeral, but I
did not feel able to undertake the journey, especially at this season. I
am getting better, I hope, and feel stronger than I did, but I cannot walk
much farther than to the college, though when I get on my horse I can ride
with comfort. Agnes accompanies me very often. I must refer you to her and
your mother for all local news. Give my love to Fitzhugh, and Tabb, and
Robert when you see them, and for yourself keep an abundance. I have
received letters from Edward and Blanche. They are very anxious about the
condition of political affairs in France. Blanche sent you some receipts
for creams, etc. You had better come and try them.

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.

“Miss Mildred Lee.”

The following letter to his son, Fitzhugh, further shows his tender
interest in his children and grandson:

“Lexington, Viriginia, February 14, 1870.

“My Dear Fitzhugh:…I hope that you are all well and that you will not
let any one spoil my grandson. Your mother has written all the family and
Lexington news. She gathers much more than I do. I go nowhere but to the
college, and when the weather permits I ride in the mountains. I am
better, I think, but still troubled. Mildred, I hope, is with you. When
she gets away from her papa, she does not know what she wants to do, tell
her. You have had a fine winter for work, and later you will have a
profitable season. Custis is well and very retired; I see no alarming
exhibition of attention to the ladies. I have great hopes of Robert. Give
much love to my daughter Tabb and to poor little ‘Life.’ I wish I could
see you all; it would do my pains good. Poor little Agnes is not at all
well, and I am urging her to go away for a while. Mary as usual.

“Affectionately your father, R. E. Lee.

“General W. H. F. Lee.”

After waiting all winter for the improvement in his health, my father,
yielding at last to the wishes of his family, physician, and friends,
determined to try the effect of a southern climate. It was thought it
might do him good, at any rate, to escape the rigours of a Lexington
March, and could do no harm. In the following letters to his children he
outlines his plans and touchingly alludes to the memory of his daughter
Annie, who died in 1862 and was buried at Warrenton Springs, North
Carolina:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 21, 1870.

“My Dear Daughter: The doctors and others think I had better go to the
South in the hope of relieving the effects of the cold, under which I have
been labouring all the winter. I think I should do better here, and am
very reluctant to leave home in my present condition; but they seem so
interested in my recovery and so persuasive in their uneasiness that I
should appear obstinate, if not perverse, if I resisted longer. I
therefore consented to go, and will take Agnes to Savannah, as she seems
anxious to visit that city, or, perhaps, she will take me. I wish also to
visit my dear Annie’s grave before I die. I have always desired to do so
since the cessation of active hostilities, but have never been able. I
wish to see how calmly she sleeps away from us all, with her dear hands
folded over her breast as if in mute prayer, while her pure spirit is
traversing the land of the blessed. I shall diverge from the main route of
travel for this purpose, and it will depend somewhat upon my feelings and
somewhat upon my procuring an escort for Agnes, whether I go further
south.

“I am sorry not to be able to see you before I go, but if I return, I hope
to find you here well and happy. You must take good care of your mother
and do everything she wants. You must not shorten your trip on account of
our departure. Custis will be with her every day, and Mary is with her
still. The servants seem attractive. Good-bye, my dear child. Remember me
to all friends, and believe me,

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.

“Miss Mildred Lee.”

“Lexington, Virginia, March 22, 1870.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: Your letter of the 17th inst. has been received. Lest I
should appear obstinate, if not perverse, I have yielded to the kind
importunities of my physicians and of the faculty to take a trip toward
the South. In pursuance of my resolution, I shall leave here Thursday next
in the packet-boat, and hope to arrive in Richmond on Friday afternoon. I
shall take with me, as my companion, Agnes, who has been my kind and
uncomplaining nurse, and if we could only get down to you that evening we
would do so, for I want to see you, my sweet daughter, and dear grandson.
But as the doctors think it important that I should reach a southern
climate as soon as practicable, I fear I shall have to leave my visit to
you till my return. I shall go first to Warrenton Springs, North Carolina,
to visit the grave of my dear Annie, where I have always promised myself
to go, and I think, if I accomplish it, I have no time to lose. I wish to
witness her quiet sleep, with her dear hands crossed over her breast, as
if it were in mute prayer, undisturbed by her distance from us, and to
feel that her pure spirit is waiting in bliss in the land of the blessed.
From there, according to my feelings, I shall either go down to Norfolk or
to Savannah, and take you if practicable on my return. I would ask you to
come up to Richmond, but my movements are unknown to myself, as I cannot
know the routes, schedules, etc., till I arrive there, but I have promised
not to linger there longer than necessary; so I must avoid temptation. We
are all as usual. Your mother still talks of visiting you, and when I urge
her to make preparations for the journey, she replies rather disdainfully
she has none to make; they have been made years ago. Custis and Mary are
well, and Mildred writes that she will be back by April 1st. We are having
beautiful weather now, which I hope may continue. From

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.”

To his daughter Mildred he writes again, giving her the minutest details
as to the routes home. This is very characteristic of him. We were always
fully instructed, all the roads of life were carefully marked out for us
by him:

“Lexington, Virginia, March 23, 1870.

“My Dear Daughter: I wrote to you the other day, telling you of my
intention of going South and of my general plan as far as formed. This
morning your letter of the 21st arrived…. I hope you will get back
comfortably and safely, and if you can fall in with no escort, you had
better go as far as Alexandria, the first stage of your journey. Aunt
Maria, Cassius Lee, the Smiths, etc., would receive you. If you wish to
come by Goshen, you must take the train from Alexandria on Tuesday,
Thursday, or Saturday, so as to arrive here about twelve o’clock at night.
By taking the train from Alexandria on the alternate days, Monday,
Wednesday, or Friday, you will reach Staunton that evening by four P. M.,
remain all night, and come over by daylight the following day in the
stage. By taking the train from Alexandria to Lynchburg, Mondays,
Wednesdays, or Fridays, you will reach there the same afternoon, about
four P. M., then go IMMEDIATELY to the packet-boat, and you will arrive
here next morning. This last is the EASIEST route, and the best if you
find no escort. Tell all the conductors and captains that you are my
runaway daughter, and they will take care of you. I leave to-morrow
evening on the packet-boat. I told you that Agnes would accompany me. Tell
my cousins Washington, Jane, and Mary that I wish I were going to see
them. I should then anticipate some pleasure. But the doctors say I must
turn my face the other way. I know they do not know everything, and yet I
have often had to do what I was told, without benefit to myself, and I
shall have to do it again. Good-bye, my dear daughter. All unite in love.

“Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.

“Miss Mildred Lee.”

Chapter XXII — The Southern Trip

Letters to Mrs. Lee from Richmond and Savannah—From Brandon—Agnes
Lee’s account of her father’s greetings from old friends and old soldiers—Wilmington
and Norfolk do him honour—Visits to Fitzhugh and Robert in their
homes

It is to be regretted that so little was written by my father while on
this trip. In the letters extant he scarcely refers to his reception by
the people at different points visited. His daughter Agnes tells more, and
we can imagine how tenderly and joyfully he was greeted by his old
soldiers, their wives, children and friends. He was very unwilling to be
made a hero anywhere, and most reluctant to show himself to the crowds
assembled at every station along his route, pressing to catch sight of
him.

“Why should they care to see me?” he would say, when urged to appear on
the platform of the train; “I am only a poor old Confederate!”

This feeling, natural to him, was probably intensified at that time by the
state of his health. On Sunday he writes to my mother of his trip to
Richmond and of his stay there:

“Richmond, Virginia, March 29, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I reached here Friday afternoon, and had a more comfortable
journey than I expected. The night aboard the packet was very trying, but
I survived it, and the dust of the railroad the following day. Yesterday
the doctors, Huston, McCaw, and Cunningham, examined me for two hours, and
I believe, contemplate returning to-day. They say they will make up their
opinion and communicate it to Doctor Barton, who will write me what to do.
In the meantime they desire me to continue his prescriptions. I think I
feel better than when I left Lexington, certainly stronger, but am a
little feverish. Whether it is produced by the journey, or the toddies
that Agnes administers, I do not know. I have not been able to see
anybody, nor was I able to get the groceries yesterday. Agnes thinks you
will have enough to last till I get back here, when I will select them and
send them up. Should you want any particular article, write to Messrs.
Bacon & Lewis for it. I saw, yesterday morning, Mr. John Stewart and
Miss Mary [Miss Mary Stewart, of “Brook Hill,” afterward Mrs. Thomas
Pinckney, of South Carolina.], who had called to see Agnes but found she
was out. Miss Mary looked very sweet, and inquired about you all. Agnes
rode out there yesterday afternoon and saw all the family. I am told all
our friends here are well. Many of my northern friends have done me the
honour to call on me. Among them ‘Brick Pomeroy.’ The like to see all that
is going on. Agnes has gone to church with Colonel Corley. I was afraid to
go. The day is unfavourable, and I should see so many of my old friends,
to whom I would like to speak, that it might be injurious to me. I was in
hopes that Fitzhugh might make his appearance yesterday, when we should
have learned all about those below, but he did not. I hear that they are
all well, however. I expect to continue our journey to-morrow, if nothing
prevents, though I have not yet got the information I desire about the
routes. Still, I will get on. I will leave to Agnes to tell about herself.
Love to all, Truly, R. E. Lee.”

The next letter that I find is written from Savannah:

“Savannah, Georgia, April 2, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I reached here yesterday evening and have borne the journey
much better than I expected. I think I am stronger than when I left
Lexington, but otherwise can discover no difference. I have had a tedious
journey upon the whole, and have more than ever regretted that I undertook
it. However, I have enjoyed meeting many friends, and the old soldiers
have greeted me very cordially. My visit to dear Annie’s grave was
mournful, yet soothing to my feelings, and I was glad to have the
opportunity of thanking the kind friends for their care of her while
living and their attention to her since her death. I saw most of the
ladies of the committee who undertook the preparation of the monument and
the inclosure of the cemetery, and was very kindly received by all the
citizens of Warrenton, and, indeed, at all the towns through which we
passed. Yesterday, several gentlemen from Savannah met the train in which
we came from Augusta—General Lawton, Mr. Andrew Lowe, Mr. Hodgson,
etc., etc. I found they had arranged among themselves about my sojourn, so
I yielded at once, and, after depositing Agnes at General Lawton’s, I came
off to Mr. Lowe’s, where I am now domiciled. His house is partially
dismantled and he is keeping house alone, so I have a very quiet time.
This morning I took a short drive around the city with Agnes and Miss
Lawton, and on returning called on Mrs. Elliot, who has her two widowed
daughters living with, Mrs. Elliot and Mrs. Habersham. I also went to see
Mrs. Gordon, Mrs. Gilmer, and Mrs. Owen, and then returned to the Lowes’,
where I find he has invited some gentlemen to meet me at dinner—General
Joe Johnston, General Lawton, General Gilmer, Colonel Corley, etc. Colonel
Corley has stuck to me all the journey, and now talks of going to New
Orleans. The weather to-day is rather cool and raw, with an easterly wind,
and if it continues I will go on to Florida next week. The woods are
filled with flowers, yellow jasmine covering all the trees, etc., and
fresh vegetables everywhere. I must leave Agnes to give you all the
details. The writing-desk is placed in a dark corner in this handsome
house, prepared for younger eyes than mine, and I can hardly see what I
write. All friends inquire after you, Custis, Mary, and Mildred. Give my
love to all, and believe me,

“Most truly, R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

The Colonel Corley mentioned in the above letters had been on General
Lee’s staff, as chief quartermaster, from the time he assumed command of
the Army of Northern Virginia until the surrender. His voluntary service
as escort on this trip, so delicately offered and performed, was highly
appreciated by his old commander. A letter from his daughter to her
mother, written the next day tells many particulars of their journey, but
still leaves much to be desired:

“Savannah, Georgia, April 3, 1870.

“…I hardly know where to commence, I have so little time to write. We
left Richmond Monday, 2 P. M. We reached Warrenton at ten o’clock and were
taken to their house by Mr. and Mrs. White, who met us at the depot. The
next morning papa and I drove with Captain White’s horses to the cemetery.
Mrs. White gave me a quantity of beautiful white hyacinths, which she said
were for you, too, and I had brought some grey moss that Kitty Stiles had
given me. This I twined on the base of the monument. The flowers looked
very pure and beautiful. The place is just as it is in Mr. Hope’s picture
(which I have). It was a great satisfaction to be there again. We did not
go to the springs, a mile off. Returning, we stopped at Mr. Joe Jones’s
(old Mr. J——‘s son). They insisted on our taking dinner. He
has eleven children, I think, and there were numberless others there. They
loaded me with flowers, the garden full of hyacinths and early spring
flowers. Mrs. Jones is a very nice lady, one of those who were foremost in
erecting the monument. We then stopped at the farm of the Jones’s, who
were at the springs when we were there in the autumn of 1862, and Mrs. J——
knew me at once, and asked affectionately after you. Saw Patty and Emma—all
the daughters married except Patty and the youngest. Mr. J——
is very infirm—eighty-three years old. That evening a number of
persons came to see us, Mrs. Alston and Miss Brownlow, two others of the
committee of ladies. Every one was very kind. Indeed, I wish you could
travel with papa, to see the affection and feeling shown toward him
everywhere. We spent that night in the sleeping-car, very handsome and
comfortable, but the novelty, I suppose, made us wakeful. At Raleigh and
another place the people crowded to the depot and called ‘Lee! Lee!’ and
cheered vociferously, but we were locked up and ‘mum.’ Everywhere along
the road where meals were provided the landlords invited us in, and when
we would not get out, sent coffee and lunches. Even soldiers on the train
sent in fruit, and I think we were expected to die of eating. At Charlotte
and Salisbury there were other crowds and bands. Colonel Corley joined us
at C., having asked to go to Savannah with us. The train stopped fifteen
minutes at Columbia. Colonel Alexander Haskell took charge of the crowd,
which in spite of the pouring rain, stood there till we left. General E.
Porter Alexander was there, and was very hearty in his inquiries after all
of us. His little girl was lifted into the car. Namesakes appeared on the
way, of all sizes. Old ladies stretched their heads into the windows at
way-stations, and then drew back and said ‘He is mightily like his
pictures.’ We reached Augusta Wednesday night. The mayor and council met
us, having heard a few minutes before that papa was on the train. We were
whirled off to the hotel, and papa decided to spend Thursday there. They
had a reception the whole of the morning. Crowds came. Wounded soldiers,
servants, and working-men even. The sweetest little children—namesakes—dressed
to their eyes, with bouquets of japonica—or tiny cards in their
little fat hands—with their names. Robert Burwell, of Clarke, who
married Miss Clayton there; Randall, author of ‘My Maryland’; General
McLaws, Wright, Gardner, and many others. Saw the Misses Boggs, General B——‘s
sisters. Miss Rebecca knew Mrs. Kirkpatrick very well, and asked after
her. Miss Russell, with whose father and sisters we had been at the White
Sulphur, helped us to receive. She is very tall and handsome, and was
superb in a white lace shawl, a moire-antique with a train. The Branch
brothers rather took possession of me. Melville, who was at the Institute
[Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Virginia] and knew the Letchers
very well, drove me in and around town—at the rate of a mile a
minute. Another brother took me to the ‘Skating Rink’ at night…a
serenade that night. At some point on the way here Generals Lawton and
Gilmer, Mr. Andrew Lowe, and others, got on the cars with us. Flowers were
given us at various places. I so much enjoyed the evidences of spring all
along our route—more and more advanced as we proceeded. The jasmine,
though passing away, was still in sufficient abundance, in some places, to
perfume the air. The dark marshes were rich in tall magnolia trees,
beautiful red buds, and other red blossoms I did not know. The jasmine and
the trees hanging with gray moss—perfectly weird-looking—have
been the least luxuriant places in the interim. Savannah is green with
live-oaks—and filled with trees and shrubbery. I wish you could see
a large marble table in the parlour, where I am writing, with a pyramid of
jasmine in the centre and four large plates full at the corners, almost
covering the square, all sent me Saturday. The Lawtons are as kind as
possible, wanted papa to stay here, but Mr. Andrew Lowe had arranged to
take him to his house at bed-time. So he lost the benefit of a serenade
from two bands, alternating, which we enjoyed—General Lawton telling
the crowd General Lee had retired from fatigue. Papa has borne the journey
and the crowds far better than I thought he would and seems stronger.
(Monday.) It seems impossible to finish this—I inclose some scraps
which will tell our story. Crowds of persons have been coming to see me
ever since I came. Saw Mrs. General Johnston—Nannie Hutchenson—of
course, and Reverend and Mrs. Moore yesterday. They left to-day….
Colonel Corley has taken Corinne [Corinne Lawton] and me on a beautiful
drive this morning to ‘Bonaventure,’ which is to be a cemetery, and to
several places in its vicinity. I never saw anything more impressive and
beautiful than the avenues of live-oaks, literally covered with long gray
moss, arching over the roads. Tell Messrs. Owen and Minis I have seen
their families, who are very kind to us. General and Mrs. Gilmer asked
especially after Custis…. We think of going to Florida in a few days.
Haven’t heard from you.

“Agnes.”

This is the only letter from his daughter Agnes, written at this time,
that can be found. My father, in his letters to his family, left “details”
and “particulars” for her to describe, and doubtless she did so.
Unfortunately, there is but this single letter.

On April 17th, he writes again from Savannah to my mother:

“My Dear Mary: I have received your letter of the Wednesday after our
departure and am glad to hear that you are well and getting on so
comfortably. The destruction of the bridge is really a loss to the
community, and I fear will inconvenience Mildred in her return. However,
the spring is now advancing and they ought to be able to get up the new
bridge. I hope I am a little better. I seem to be stronger and to walk
with less difficulty, but it may be owing to the better streets of
Savannah. I presume if any change takes place it will be gradual and slow.
Please say to Doctor Barton that I have received his letter and am obliged
to him for his kind advice. I shall begin to-day with his new
prescriptions and will follow them strictly. To-morrow I expect to go to
Florida, and will stop first at Amelia Island. The visitors to that region
are coming out, saying the weather is uncomfortably hot. If I find it so,
I shall return. Savannah has become very pleasant within the last few
days, and I dare say I shall do as well here as elsewhere. The spring,
however, is backward. I believe I told you that I was staying with Mr.
Andrew Lowe, who is very kind, and where I am very comfortable. I am going
to be separated from Agnes, and have received invitations from several of
the inhabitants where we could be united. But it is awkward to change.
Agnes has been sick, too, since her arrival, which has made me the more
anxious to be with her. You know she is like her papa—always wanting
something. She is, however, better to-day, as I learn, though I have not
seen her yet. I saw her twice yesterday. She was better then and came down
to Mrs. Lawton’s room, so I hope she will be well enough to go with me to
Amelia Island. The Messrs. Mackay got down from Etowa last evening, both
looking very well, and have reopened their old house in Broughton Street,
which I am glad of. I have see Mrs. Doctor Elliot and family, the
Andersons, Gordons, etc., etc., and all my former acquaintances and many
new ones. I do not think travelling in this way procures me much quiet and
repose. I wish I were back…. Give my love to her [his daughter Mary] and
to Custis, and tell the latter I hope that he will be able to keep Sam in
the seeds he may require. Praying a merciful God to guard and direct you
all, I am,

“Most affectionately, R. E. Lee.

“P. S.—I received a letter from F——: all well.

“R. E. L.” Sam was the gardener and man-of-all-work at Lexington. My
father took great interest in his garden and always had a fine one. Still,
in Savannah, he again writes to his wife acknowledging the letters
forwarded to him and commenting on the steps being taken:

“Savannah, Georgia, April 11, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I received yesterday your letters of the 3d and 6th,
inclosing Reverend Mr. Brantley’s and daughter’s and Cassius Lee’s. I
forwarded the petition to the President, accompanying the latter, to
Cassius, and asked him to give it to Mr. Smith. Hearing, while passing
through Richmond, of the decision of the Supreme Court referred to, I sent
word to Mr. Smith that if he thought the time and occasion propitious for
taking steps for the recovery of Arlington, the Mill, etc., to do so, but
to act quietly and discreetly. I presume the petition sent you for
signature was the consequence. I do not know whether this is a propitious
time or not, and should rather have had an opportunity to consult friends,
but am unable to do so. Tell Custis that I wish that he would act for me,
through you or others, for it is mainly on his account that I desire the
restitution of the property. I see that a resolution has been introduced
in Congress ‘to perfect the title of the Government to Arlington and other
National Cemeteries,’ which I have been apprehensive of stirring, so I
suppose the matter will come up anyhow. I did not sign the petition, for I
did not think it necessary, and believed the more I was kept out of sight
the better. We must hope for the best, speak as little and act as
discreetly as possible.

“The reverend Dr. Brantley was invited by the faculty of the college to
deliver the baccalaureate sermon next June, and I invited him and his
daughter, in the event of his accepting, to stay with us. Do you know
whether he has accepted? I should have gone to Florida last Friday as
proposed, but Agnes was not well enough. She took cold on the journey or
on her first arrival, and has been quite sick, but is better now. I have
not seen her this morning, but if she is sufficiently recovered we will
leave here to-morrow. I have received a message saying that she was much
better. As regards myself, my general health is pretty good. I feel
stronger than when I came. The warm weather has also dispelled some of the
rheumatic pains in my back, but I perceive no change in the stricture in
my chest. If I attempt to walk beyond a very slow gait, the pain is always
there. It is all true what the doctors say about its being aggravated by
any fresh cold, but how to avoid taking cold is the question. It seems
with me to be impossible. Everything and anything seems to give me one. I
meet with much kindness and consideration, but fear that nothing will
relieve my complaint, which is fixed and old. I must bear it. I hope that
you will not give over your trip to the ‘White House,’ if you still desire
to make it. I shall commence my return above the last of April, stopping
at some points, and will be a few days in Richmond, and the ‘White House’
if able. I must leave to Agnes all details. Give much love to Custis,
Mary, and Mildred. Tell the latter I have received her letters. Remember
me to all friends.

“Most sincerely yours, R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

After visiting Cumberland Island and going up to the St. John’s River as
far as Palatka, and spending the night at Colonel Cole’s place near there,
they returned to Savannah. Colonel Cole was on General Lee’s staff as
chief commissary during the time he commanded the Army of Northern
Virginia, and was a very dear friend of us all:

“Savannah, Georgia, April 18, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I have received your letter of the 13th, and am glad to
learn that you propose visiting the ‘White House,’ as I feared my journey
might prevent you. I am, however, very anxious on the subject, as I
apprehend the trip will be irksome and may produce great inconvenience and
pain. I hope you received my letter of the 11th, written just before my
departure for Florida. In case you did not, I will state that I forwarded
your petition to Cassius Lee as received, not thinking my signature
necessary or advantageous. I will send the money received from the
‘University Publishing Company’ to Carter, for whom I intend it [This was
the money that came to General Lee from his new edition of his father’s
“Memoirs of the War in the Southern Department of the United States.”]. I
returned from Florida Saturday, 16th, having had a very pleasant trip as
far as Palatka on the St. John’s. We visited Comberland Island, and Agnes
decorated my father’s grave with beautiful fresh flowers. I presume it is
the last time I shall be able to pay to it my tribute of respect. The
cemetery is unharmed and the grave is in good order, though the house of
Dungeness has been burned and the island devastated. Mr. Nightingale, the
present proprietor, accompanied me from Brunswick. Mr. Andrew Lowe was so
kind as to go with us the whole way, thinking Agnes and I were unable to
take care of ourselves. Agnes seemed to enjoy the trip very much, and has
improved in health. I shall leave to her all details. We spent a night at
Colonel Cole’s, a beautiful place near Palatka, and ate oranges from the
trees. We passed some other beautiful places on the river, but could not
stop at any but Jacksonville, where we remained from 4 P. M. to 3 A. M.
next morning, rode over the town, etc., and were hospitably entertained by
Colonel Sanderson. The climate was delightful, the fish inviting and
abundant. We have returned to our old quarters, Agnes to the Lawtons’ and
I to the Lowe’s. We shall remain here this week, and will probably spend a
few days in Charleston and Norfolk, if we go that way, and at ‘Brandon’
and ‘Shirley’ before going to the ‘White House,’ where we shall hope to
meet you. I know of no certain place where a letter will catch me before I
reach Richmond, where the doctors desire me to spend a few days that they
may again examine me. Write me there whether Fitzhugh is too full to
receive us. It will depend upon my feelings, weather, etc., whether I make
the digression by Norfolk. Poor little Agnes has had, I fear, but little
enjoyment so far, and I wish her to have all the pleasure she can gather
on the route. She is still weak and seems to suffer constantly from the
neuralgia. I hope I am better, I know that I am stronger, but I still have
the pain in my chest whenever I walk. I have felt it also occasionally of
late when quiescent, but not badly, which is new. To-day Doctors Arnold
and Reed, of this city, examined me for about an hour. They concur in the
opinion of the other physicians, and think it pretty certain that my
trouble arises from some adhesion of the parts, not from injury of the
lungs and heart, but that the pericardium may not be implicated, and the
adhesion may be between the pleura and ——, I have forgotten
the name. Their visit was at the urgent entreaty of friends, which I could
not well resist, and perhaps their opinion is not fully matured. I am
continuing the prescriptions of Doctors Barton and Madison. My rheumatic
pains, either from the effects of the medicine or the climate, or both,
have diminished, but the pain along the breast bone ever returns on my
making any exertion. I am glad Mildred has returned so well. I hope that
she will continue so. After perusal, send this letter to one of the
children to whom you may be writing, that Doctors Barton, etc., may be
informed how I am getting along, as I have been unable to write to them or
to any one at Lexington. I have so many letters to write in answer to kind
invitations, etc., and so many interruptions, that my time is consumed.
Besides, writing is irksome to me. Give my love to Fitzhugh, Tabb, and
Robert and to Custis, Mary, and Mildred when you write. Agnes said she was
going out to return some of her numerous visits to-day, and I presume will
not be able to write. She has had but little comfort in her clothes. Her
silk dress was spoiled on the way, and she returned it to Baltimore, but
has learned that they can do nothing with it, so she will have to do
without it, which I presume she can do. I hope you may reach the ‘White
House’ comfortably. I will apprise you of my movements from time to time.
I hope my godson will know you. Tell him I have numbers of his namesakes
since I left Virginia, of whom I was not aware. I hope they will come to
good.

“With great affection,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

From the following letters—all that I can find relating to this part
of the journey—it appears that the travellers started for Virginia,
stopping at Charleston, Wilmington, and Norfolk. Of their visit to
Charleston I can find no record. He and Agnes stayed at the beautiful home
of Mr. Bennet, who had two sons at the college, and a lovely daughter,
Mary Bennet. I remember Agnes telling me of the beautiful flowers and
other attentions lavished upon them.

At Wilmington they spent a day with Mr. and Mrs. Davis. His coming there
was known only to a few persons, as its announcement was by a private
telegram from Savannah, but quite a number of ladies and gentlemen secured
a small train and went out on the Southern Road to meet him. When they met
the regular passenger-train from Savannah, General Lee was taken from it
to the private one and welcomed by his many friends. He seemed bright and
cheerful and conversed with all. He spoke of his health not being good,
and on this account begged that there would be no public demonstration on
his arrival, nor during his stay at Wilmington.

On reaching that place, he accompanied Mr. George Davis [Attorney General
in Mr. Davis’s cabinet] to his house and was his guest during his sojourn
in the city.

Mrs. Davis was a Miss Fairfax, daughter of Dr. O. Fairfax, of Alexandria,
Virginia. They had been and were very old and dear friends and neighbours.
The next morning my father walked out and called on Bishop Atkinson, with
whom he had been well acquainted when they both lived in Baltimore, some
twelve years before, the one as rector of St. Peter’s (Episcopal) church,
the other as Captain of the United States Engineers, in charge of the
harbour defenses of the city.

There was a dinner given to my father that day at Mr. Davis’s home, and a
number of gentlemen were present. He was looking very well, but in
conversation said that he realised there was some trouble with his heart,
which he was satisfied was incurable.

The next day, May 1st, he left for Norfolk, Virginia, where Dr. and Mrs.
Selden were the kind entertainers of his daughter and himself. Agnes told
me that in going and returning from church the street was lined with
people who stood, hats off, in silent deference. From Norfolk they visited
“Lower” and “Upper Brandon” on the James River, the homes of the
Harrisons; then “Shirley,” higher up the river. Then they proceeded by way
of Richmond to the “White House,” my mother having arrived there from
Lexington a short time previously. The General wrote from “Brandon” to his
wife:

“‘Brandon’, May 7, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: We have reached this point on our journey. Mrs. Harrison
and Miss Belle are well and very kind, and I have been up to see Mr.
William Harrison and Mr. George and their families. The former is much
better than I expected to find him, and I hope will recover his health as
the spring advances. The ladies are all well, and Miss Gulie is very
handsome. Agnes and I went over to see Warrenton Carter and his wife this
morning. They are both very well, and everything around them looks
comfortable and flourishing. They have a nice home, and, as far as I could
see, everything is prospering. Their little boy was asleep, but we were
invited in to see him. He is a true Carter. Mrs. Page, the daughter of
General Richardson, is here on a visit, and Mrs. Murdock, wife of their
former pastor, arrived this morning. We are to go up to Mr. George
Harrison’s this evening, where the children are to have some tableaux, and
where we are expected to spend the evening. In Norfolk we saw all our
friends, but I did not succeed in getting out to Richard Page’s as I
desired, on account of the heavy rain on the appointed day and engagements
that interfered on others. Agnes and Mrs. Selden rode out, however, and
saw all the family. Everybody inquired kindly after you, down to Bryan,
and all sent their love. ‘Brandon’ is looking very beautiful, and it is
refreshing to look at the river. The garden is filled with flowers and
abounds in roses. The yellow jasmine is still in bloom and perfumes the
atmosphere. I have not heard from you or from Lexington since I left
Savannah. I hope all are well. I am better, I trust; am getting fat and
big, but am still rigid and painful in my back. On Tuesday night I expect
to go to ‘Shirley,’ and on Thursday, 12th inst., to Richmond, and on
Friday to the ‘White House,’ unless I hear that you are crowded, in which
case I will submit myself to the doctors for two or three days, as they
desire, and then go down. Agnes now says she will accompany me to the
‘White House,’ so that I shall necessarily pass through Richmond, as our
baggage renders that route necessary. Therefore, unless something
unforeseen prevents, I shall be with you on Friday next. All unite in
love. Agnes, I hope, is better than when she left Lexington, but is not
strong. You must give a great deal of love to Fitzhugh, Tabb, my grandson
Robert, and all with you.

“Most truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“P. S. —Monday. Your note of the 6th with Colonel Allen’s letter has
just been received. I am very sorry to hear of Tabb’s sickness. I hope
that she will be well by the time of my arrival. I shall be glad to see
Markie.

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

On the same date, he writes to his daughter Mildred at Lexington:

“‘Brandon,’ May 7, 1870.

“My Dear Daughter: Miss Jennie is putting up her mail and says that my
letter must go with it, so I have but a few minutes to inform you that we
have reached this point on our way home. We stayed a day in Wilmington
with the Davises after leaving Charleston, and several with the Seldens in
Norfolk, and shall on Tuesday next go up to ‘Shirley,’ and then to the
‘White House.’ Agnes threatens to abandon me at ‘Shirley,’ and I wish that
you were there to take her place. I am better, I hope, certainly am
stronger and have less pain, but am far from comfortable, and have little
ability to move or do anything, though am growing large and fat. Perhaps
that is the cause. All here are well and send love. Miss Belle very sweet;
all very kind. I rode yesterday to the other ‘Brandons,’ and saw all the
inhabitants. Captain Shirley spent the day here. Mr. Wm. Harrison much
better, and Miss Gulie very pretty. They have some visitors. It is quiet
and delightful here, the river is beautiful. Agnes will write when she
finds ‘time,’ which is a scarce commodity with her. I had intended to
write before breakfast, the longest portion of the day, but walked out and
forgot it. We have little time after breakfast. Give much love to Mary and
Custis. I hope that you are all well and comfortable. I was very glad to
receive your letter the morning I left Savannah, and I hope that ‘Mrs.
Smith’ and Traveller are enjoying themselves. I hope to get back to
Lexington about the 24th, but will write. After paying my visit to the
‘White House’ I will have to spend some days in Richmond and at the
doctors’ request, as they wish to examine me again and more thoroughly. I
hope all are well at the college. Remember me to all there and in
Lexington.

“With affectionate love, Your father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Miss Mildred Lee.”

The “White House,” my brother’s home at that time, is on the Pamunkey
River, about twenty-five miles north of “Shirley.” From my father’s letter
it is evident he had thought of driving over, instead of going by boat and
rail through Richmond. This plan was abandoned when his daughter
determined to accompany him, as a lady’s baggage, even in those days, was
too voluminous for private conveyance. Mr. Wm. Harrison lived at “Upper
Brandon” and Mr. George Harrison at “Middle Brandon.” The mistress of
“Lower Brandon,” the old historic home, was Mrs. Isabella Ritchie
Harrison, widow of the late George Harrison. Miss Jennie, referred to in
the above letter, was Miss Virginia Ritchie, sister of Mrs. Harrison. She
had succeeded in having a post-office established at “Lower Brandon” and
herself made postmistress. This was done for the convenience of the
“Brandons” and the immediate neighbourhood. The proceeds Miss Jennie gave
to the “Brandon” church.

Of his visit to “Shirley,” his mother’s home when she was a girl, and
where she was married to “Light Horse Harry,” I can find no account
written at the time. It is a few hours from “Brandon” to “Shirley” by
steamer on the beautiful James, and they arrived there Tuesday, May 10th,
and left the following Thursday by steamer for Richmond. So says the “Home
Journal” kept at “Shirley.” All the country came to see him, and there was
a large party to dinner. One of the daughters of the house, then a young
girl, says:

“I can only remember the great dignity and kindness of General Lee’s
bearing, how lovely he was to all of us girls, that he gave us his
photographs and write his name on them. He liked to have us tickle his
hands, but when Cousin Agnes came to sit by him that seemed to be her
privilege. We regarded him with the greatest veneration. We had heard of
God, but here was General Lee!”

My mother was now at the “White House.” I will here introduce portions of
a letter of the 9th and 13th of May from her to her daughter in Lexington,
telling of my father’s arrival on the 12th:

“‘White House,’ May 9, 1870.

“Fitzhugh took us on a delightful drive this morning, dear Mildred, to
Tunstall’s, where we got your letter, and Markie got nine, including
yours, so we were much gratified with our excursion. The road was fine,
with the exception of a few mud-holes, and the woods lovely with wild
flowers and dogwood blossoms and with all the fragrance of early spring,
the dark holly and pine intermingling with the delicate leaves just
brought out by the genial season, daisies, wild violets, and heart’s-ease.
I have not seen so many wild flowers since I left Arlington….

“Thirteenth.—I determined, after commencing this, to wait and see
your papa, who arrived last evening with Agnes. He looks fatter, but I do
not like his complexion, and he seems still stiff. I have not yet had time
to hear much of their tour, except a grand dinner given them at Mr.
Benet’s. Your papa sends his love, and says he will be in Lexington
somewhere about the 24th….

“There is no news. The country becomes more lovely each day. The locust
trees are in full bloom, and the polonia, the only tree left of all that
were planted by poor Charlotte and myself. How all our labours have come
to naught. The General has just come in. Robbie is riding on his knee,
sitting as grave as a judge. He says now ‘Markie,’ ‘Agnes,’ and many other
words, and calls me ‘Bonne Mama.’ We expect Rob this morning….

“Yours affectionately,

“M. C. Lee.”

At this time my father was persuaded to make me a visit. He had been
invited before, when at different times he had been to the “White House,”
but something had hitherto always prevented his coming; now he decided to
come. My “Romancoke” farm was situated in King William County, on the
opposite side of the Pamunkey River, and some fifteen miles east of “White
House.” We arrived there in the afternoon, having come down by the
steamer, which at that time ran from “White House” to Baltimore.
“Romancoke” had been always a dependency of the “White House,” and was
managed by an overseer who was subordinate to the manager on the latter
estate. There was on it only a small house, of the size usual in our
country for that character of property. I had taken possession in 1866,
and was preparing to build a more comfortable residence, but in the
meantime I lived in the house which had been occupied by the different
overseers for about seventy-five years. Its accommodations were very
limited, simple, and it was much out of repair. Owing to the settling of
the underpinning in the centre, it had assumed a “sway-backed” outline,
which gave it the name of the “broken-back house.” No repairs had been
attempted, as I was preparing to build a new home.

My father, always dignified and self-contained, rarely gave any evidence
of being astonished or startled. His self-control was great and his
emotions were not on the surface, but when he entered and looked around my
bachelor quarters he appeared really much shocked. As I was much better
off in the matter of housekeeping than I had been for four years, I
flattered myself that I was doing very well. I can appreciate fully now
what he must have felt at the time. However, he soon rallied and concealed
his dismay by making kindly fun of my surroundings. The next day at dinner
he felt obliged to remark on my china, knives, and forks, and suggested
that I might at least better my holdings in that line. When he got back to
Richmond he sent me a full set of plated forks and spoons, which I have
been using from that day to this. He walked and drove over the farm,
discussed my plans for improvement, and was much interested in all my
work, advising me about the site of my new house, new barns, ice-house,
etc. He evidently enjoyed his visit, for the quiet and the rest were very
refreshing.

About thirty miles, as the crow flies, from my place, down York River, is
situated, in Gloucester County, “White Marsh,” an old Virginia home which
then belonged to Dr. Prosser Tabb, who with his wife and children was
living there. Mrs. Tabb was a near cousin of my father, and as a little
girl had been a pet and favourite. His affection and regard for her had
lasted from his early manhood. He had seen but little of her since the
war, and when “Cousin Rebecca,” as we called her, learned he was to be at
the “White House,” she wrote begging him to pay her a visit. This he had
agreed to do if it was possible.

While at the “White House,” we had consulted together as to the best
method of accomplishing this trip, and we determined to make it from
“Romancoke.” So I drove him to West Point, and there got aboard the
Baltimore steamer, taking my horse and trap with us. At Cappahoosic, a
wharf on the York, we landed and drove the nine miles to “White Marsh,”
arriving at “supper time,” as we still say in Virginia—i.e., about
7:30 P. M.

When General Lee got off on the wharf, so great was the desire of the
passengers and crew to see him, that they all went to the side of the
boat, which caused her to list so that I was unable to get my horse out
through the gangway until the captain had ordered every one to the other
side. As the sun went down, it became chilly and I drove quite rapidly,
anxious to get my father out of the night air as soon as possible. He said
nothing at the time, nor did I know that he noticed my unusual speed. But
afterward he remarked on it to several persons, saying:

“I think Rob drives unnecessarily fast.”

We were expected, and were met at the door by all the family and guests. A
hearty welcome was given us. After supper he was the centre of the circle
in the drawing-room, and made the acquaintance of the children of the
house and of the friends and relatives of the family who were there. He
said little, but all listened eagerly to what he did say, and were charmed
with his pleasant smile and gracious manner. “Cousin Rebecca” introduced
him to her son-in-law, Captain Perrin, mentioning that he had been wounded
in the war and was still lame from the effects. The General replied that
at any rate he was all right now, for he had a pair of strong young feet
to wait upon him, indicating his young wife.

As was customary in this section of Virginia, the house was full of
visitors, and I shared my father’s room and bed. Though many a year had
passed since we had been bedfellows, he told me that he remembered well
the time when, as a little fellow, I had begged for this privilege. The
next day he walked about the beautiful gardens, and was driven over the
plantation and shown the landscapes and water views of the immediate
neighborhood. Mr. Graves, Dr. Tabb’s overseer, who had the honour of being
his coachman, fully appreciated it, and was delighted when my father
praised his management. He had been a soldier under the General, and had
stoutly carried his musket to Appomatox, where he surrendered it. When
told of this by Dr. Tabb, my father took occasion to compliment him on his
steadfast endurance and courage, but Graves simply and sincerely replied,

“Yes, General, I stuck to the army, but if you had in your entire command
a greater coward than I was, you ought to have had him shot.”

My father, who was greatly amused at his candour, spoke of it when he got
back from his drive saying “that sort of a coward makes a good soldier.”

That the drive had fatigued him was quite apparent to Cousin Rebecca, who
begged him to go and lie down to rest, but he declined, though, finally,
at her request, he consented to take a glass of wine. Mrs. Tabb was
anxious to give a general reception that day in his honour, so that all
the old soldiers in the country could have an opportunity of shaking hands
with him, but at the General’s request the idea was abandoned.

Several persons were invited to meet him at dinner, among them the Rev.
Mr. Phillips, an Englishman, the rector of Abingdon, an old Colonial
church in the country. He and his wife were ardent admirers of General
lee, and had often expressed a great desire to see him, so Mrs. Tabb
kindly gave them this opportunity. They were charmed with him, and,
writing to their friends in England, declared:

“The greatest event in our lives has occurred—we have seen General
Lee.”

One of his young cousins, in talking with him, wondered what fate was in
store for “us poor Virginians.” The General replied with an earnest,
softened look:

“You can work for Virginia, to build her up again, to make her great
again. You can teach your children to love and cherish her.”

I was struck with the tenderness of his manner to all these cousins, many
of whom he had never seen before, and the real affection and interest he
manifested toward them. He seemed pleased and touched by their love and
kindness. I think he enjoyed this visit, but it was plain that he was
easily fatigued.

To catch our steamer the next morning, an early start was necessary.
Arrangements were made the night before, and all good-byes said, for we
had to leave the house about five o’clock. That night he was very restless
and wakeful, and remarked that it was generally so with him whenever he
had to get up at an unusual hour, as he was always uneasy lest he might be
late. However, we got off in full time—made the connection with our
steamer, and returned immediately to the “White House.” I left the steamer
at West Point to take my horse home, after which I joined him at the
former place.

After a short stay at the “White House,” he started for Lexington,
stopping over in Richmond for a few days. From there he writes to his
daughter Mildred in Lexington:

“Richmond, Virginia, May 23, 1870.

“My Precious Daughter: I came up from the ‘White House’ this morning with
Agnes, but she threatens to divorce herself from me, and we have already
separated. She is at Dr. Fairfax’s and I am at Mr. Mcfarland’s. She
promises, however, to see me occasionally, and if I can restore our
travelling relations even at costly sacrifice I shall be happy to take her
along with me. I find I shall be detained here too long to take the
Wednesday’s boat from Lynchburg, but, if not prevented by circumstances
now not foreseen, I shall take the Friday’s boat, so as to reach Lexington
SATURDAY morning, 28th inst. If Sam is well enough, and it should be
otherwise convenient, he could meet me with Lucy and the carriage or with
Traveller. If not, I will get a seat up in the omnibus. Your mother
proposes to leave in the boat for Bremo on the 1st proximo, spend one week
there, and then continue her journey to Lexington. Agnes has not yet made
up her mind whether she will go with me, her mother, or remain for a
while. I hope to find you well, though alone. I must reserve all accounts
till we meet, which I am very anxious should take place as soon as
practicable. I am improving, I think, in general health, but cannot tell
certainly as to the difficulty in my chest, as I have been unable to test
my progress. I had a pleasant visit to F—— and Robert, and
enjoyed rest there, which I wanted. Love to Custis and kind regards to all
friends. I hope that I shall find all well and doing well. All at the
‘White House’ send love. Poor Tabb is still sick. Markie Williams is with
your mother. Robert came up with us, but returns this evening. I have seen
Dr. Houston this morning, and I am to have a great medicine talk
to-morrow.

“Your devoted father,

“R. E. Lee.

“Miss Mildred Lee.”

Chapter XXIII — A Round of Visits

Baltimore—Alexandria—A war-talk with Cousin Cassius Lee—“Ravensworth”—Letter
to Doctor Buckler declining invitation to Europe—To General Cooper—To
Mrs. Lee from the Hot Springs—Tired of public places—Preference
for country life

Judged by what he says of himself, my father’s trip South did him no
permanent good. The rest and change, the meeting with many old friends,
the great love and kindness shown him by all, gave him much pleasure, and
for a time it was thought he was better; but the main cause of his
troubles was not removed, though for a while held in check.

During the month of June he remained in Lexington, was present at the
final examinations of the college, and attended to all his duties as
usual. On July 1st he went to Baltimore in order to consult Dr. Thomas H.
Buckler about his health.

While there he stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Tagart.

My mother had returned to Lexington after her visit to “Bremo,” together
with my sister Agnes. To her, on July 2d, he writes:

“Baltimore, Maryland, July 2, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I reached her yesterday evening at 9:15 P. M. Found Mr.
Tagart at the depot waiting for me, where he had been since eight o’clock,
thanks to his having a punctual wife, who regulates everything for him, so
that he had plenty of time for reflection. I believe, however, the delay
was occasioned by change of schedule that day, of which Mrs. Tagart was
not advised. We arrived at Alexandria at 5:00 P. M., and were taken to
Washington and kept in the cars till 7:45, when we were sent on. It was
the hottest day I ever experienced, or I was in the hottest position I
ever occupied, both on board the packet and in the railroad cars, or I was
less able to stand it, for I never recollect having suffered so much. Dr.
Buckler came in to see me this morning, and examined me, stripped, for two
hours. He says he finds my lungs working well, the action of the heart a
little too much diffused, but nothing to injure. He is inclined to think
that my whole difficulty arises from rheumatic excitement, both the first
attack in front of Fredericksburg and the second last winter. Says I
appear to have a rheumatic constitution, must guard against cold, keep out
in the air, exercise, etc., as the other physicians prescribe. He will see
me again. In the meantime, he has told me to try lemon-juice and watch the
effect. I will endeavour to get out to Washington Peter’s on the 4th and
to Goodwood as soon as Dr. B—— is satisfied. Mr. and Mrs.
Tagart are very well and send regards. The messenger is waiting to take
this to the office. It is raining, and I have not been out nor seen any
one out of the house. I hope all are well with you, and regret that I was
obliged to come away. Tell the girls I was so overcome that I could not
get up this morning till 8:00 A. M. Give much love to everybody, and
believe me most truly,

“R. E. Lee.”

The advantages of early rising my father ever held out to his daughters,
so that he knew they would enjoy hearing of his being late in getting down
in the morning. During this visit to Baltimore he took advantage of his
proximity to many old friends to visit them.

His next letter is from Alexandria to my mother:

“Alexandria, Virginia, July 15, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I arrived here last evening from Goodwood, and was glad to
hear from Burke this morning that our Aunt Maria was as well as usual. I
wish to get out to Cassius Lee’s this afternoon, and will spend to-morrow
on the Hill in visiting General Cooper, Mr. Mason, the Bishop, etc. [“Aunt
M——” was Mrs. Fitzhugh of “Ravensworth,” and “Burke,” her
coloured servant; Cassius Lee, my father’s cousin; General S. S. Cooper,
Adj. General of the C. S. armies; Mr. J. M. Mason, Senator in U. S. and C.
S. Congress; the Bishop, Bishop Johns of Virginia, all at that time living
on the “Hill”—or Seminary Hill—about two miles from
Alexandria.] Next week I shall go to Ravensworth and from there think I
shall proceed to Lexington. It is so hot that I shall be obliged to forego
my visit to Nannie and the ‘White House.’ It is intensely hot here and I
am unable to bear the heat now. I took cold yesterday in the cars or
elsewhere and am full of pains this morning, and was unable to sleep last
night.

“I have seen Mr. Smith [Mr. Francis L. Smith was my father’s lawyer. The
matter referred to which caused the remark, “The prospect is not
promising,” was the chance of getting back the estate of Arlington from
the U. S. Government. Mr. Smith and Mr. Cassius Lee were my father’s
advisers in this matter. “Nannie” was the widow of Captain S. S. Lee, my
father’s brother.] this morning and had with him a long business talk, and
will see him again after seeing Cassius. The prospect is not promising. I
got your letter at Charles’s. Thank Agnes for hers. All were well there
and on West River, and sent you all messages of love. I will give all
particulars when we meet. I am at the Mansion House, where it is piping
hot. I had felt better until I caught fresh cold, but no one can avoid it
in such weather. Love to all. I cannot fix yet the day of my return, but
it will be the last week in July.

“I hope Custis has got off, though I shall not be able to see him.

“Most truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

Mr. Cassius Lee was my father’s first cousin. They had been children
together, schoolmates in boyhood, and lifelong friends and neighbours. He
was my father’s trusted adviser in all business matters, and in him he had
the greatest confidence. Mr. Cazenove Lee, of Washington, D. C., his son,
has kindly furnished me with some of his recollections of this visit,
which I give in his own words:

“It is greatly to be regretted that an accurate and full account of this
visit was not preserved, for the conversations during those two or three
days were most interesting and would have filled a volume. It was the
review of a lifetime by two old men. It is believed that General Lee never
talked after the war with as little reserve as on this occasion. Only my
father and two of his boys were present. I can remember his telling my
father of meeting Mr. Leary, their old teacher at the Alexandria Academy,
during his late visit to the South, which recalled many incidents of their
school life. They talked of the war, and he told of the delay of Jackson
in getting on McClellan’s flank, causing the fight at Mechanicsville,
which fight he said was unexpected, but was necessary to prevent McClellan
from entering Richmond, from the front of which most of the troops had
been moved. He thought that if Jackson had been at Gettysburg he would
have gained a victory, ‘for’ said he, ‘Jackson would have held the heights
which Ewell took on the first day.’ He said that Ewell was a fine officer,
but would never take the responsibility of exceeding his orders, and
having been ordered to Gettysburg, he would not go farther and hold the
heights beyond the town. I asked him which of the Federal generals he
considered the greatest, and he answered most emphatically ‘McClellan by
all odds.’ He was asked why he did not come to Washington after second
Manassas.

“‘Because,’ he replied, ‘my men had nothing to eat,’ and pointing to Fort
Wade, in the rear of our home, he said, ‘I could not tell my men to take
that fort when they had had nothing to eat for three days. I went to
Maryland to feed my army.’

“This led to a statement of the mismanagement of the Confederate
Commissary Department, of which he gave numerous instances, and mentioned
his embarrassments in consequence. He was also very severe in his
criticism of the newspapers, and said that patriotism did not seem to
influence them in the least, that movements of the army were published
which frustrated their plans, and, as an instance, he told of Longstreet’s
being sent to the Western Army and the efforts that were made to keep the
movement secret, but to no purpose, the papers having heralded it at once
to friend and foe alike. I also remember his saying that he advocated
putting the negroes in the army, and the arguments he advanced in favour
of it. My father remarked at table one day that he could not have starved
in the Confederate service if he could have gotten bread and milk.

“‘No,’ replied the General, ‘but frequently I could not get even that.’

“His love of children was most marked, and he never failed to show them
patient consideration. On the occasion of this visit, his answers to all
our boyish questions were given with as much detail and as readily as if
we had been the most important men in the community. Several years before
the war I remember that my sister, brother, and myself, all young
children, drove over to Arlington Mills, and that while going there
Colonel Lee rode up on a beautiful black horse. He impressed my childish
fancy then as the handsomest and finest horseman I had ever seen—the
beau-ideal of a soldier. Upon seeing us he at once stopped, spoke to each
of us, and took my sister, then about ten years of age, upon his horse
before him, and rode with us for two miles, telling her, I remember, of
his boy Robby, who had a pony, and who should be her sweetheart. Often
have I seen him on the road or street or elsewhere, and though I was ‘only
a boy,’ he always stopped and had something pleasant to say to me.”

The Mr. Leary mentioned here was my father’s teacher when a boy in
Alexandria. His regard and esteem for him was very high, as is shown in
the following letter:

“Lexington, Virginia, December 15, 1866.

“Mr. Wm. B. Leary.

“My Dear Sir: Your visit has recalled to me years long since passed, when
I was under your tuition and received daily your instruction. In parting
from you, I beg to express the gratitude I have felt all my life for the
affectionate fidelity which characterised your teaching and conduct toward
me. Should any of my friends, wherever your lot may be cast, desire to
know your qualifications as a teacher, I hope you will refer them to me;
for that is a subject on which I can speak knowingly and from experience.
Wishing you health, happiness, and prosperity, I am, affectionately,

“Your friend,

“R. E. Lee.”

His next letter is from “Ravensworth,” where he went after his visit to
the “Seminary Hill:”

“Ravensworth, Virginia, July 20, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I arrived here yesterday from Alexandria and found Aunt
Maria well in general health, but less free to walk than when I last saw
her. She is cheerful and quiet, but seems indisposed to try any of the
healing baths, or, indeed, any of the remedies resorted to in cases of
similar character, and seems to think nothing will be of avail. I hope in
time that she will be relieved. Her niece, Mrs. Goldsborough, the daughter
of her sister Wilhelmina, is with her. She seems to be a nice little lady—has
a big boy of eight months, and is expecting her husband to-morrow, so
nothing need be said more on her account. Mr. Dickens was over last
evening, and reports all well with him. All the family are to be over this
evening, so I cannot say more of them. Ravensworth is looking very well—I
mean the house and grounds, but little of the farm seems to be cultivated,
and is growing up with pines. I received your letter directed to
Alexandria after my return from my visit to Cassius, also Colonel
Williamson’s. Resolutions will not build the church. It will require
money. Mr. Smith did not give so favourable an account of Mr. Price as did
Mr. Green. I did not see Mr. P——, for it would have been of no
avail without having the plans, etc., and I cannot wait here to receive
them. I shall have to send them, or to invite him to Lexington after my
return. I propose to leave here, if nothing prevents, on Monday, 25th
inst. If I go by Goshen, I hope to reach Lexington that night, or Tuesday
morning after breakfast. I have heard a rumour that the water has been
withdrawn from the canal above Lynchburg for the purpose of repairs. If
that is so, I shall have to go by Goshen. My cold continues, but is
better. The weather is very hot and to me is almost insupportable. At 6:00
P. M. yesterday, the thermometer in Ravensworth hall marked 86 degrees.
This morning, when I first went out, it stood at 84 degrees. Thank Agnes
for her letter. I cannot respond at this time. The letter you forwarded
from Mrs. Podestad describes the sickness her children have passed
through. She is now with them at Capon, and Miss Emily has gone to visit
Mrs. Barksdale in Greenbrier. Mrs. P—— says she will be ready
to visit you any time after the middle of August that you will notify her.
I am glad all are well with you, and hope the garden will give you some
vegetables. I am anxious to get back and see you all. Give much love to
the girls, including the Misses Selden. Tell them they must not leave till
I return, that I am hurrying back as fast as rheumatism will let me. I
have abandoned my visit to Nannie and the boys on the Pamunkey. Tell them
it is too hot and that I am too painful. Aunt M—— sends love
to all. Remember me to all friends. I must leave details till I return.

“Most truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. R. E. Lee.”

The building of the church here referenced to was the Episcopal church in
Lexington, which it was proposed to take down and replace with a larger
and better building. My father was a vestryman, and also a member of the
building committee.

Dr. Buckler, whom my father had consulted in July, was at this time on a
visit to Baltimore, having lived abroad with his family since 1866. When
about to return to Paris he wrote and asked my father to accompany him.

This invitation he was obliged to decline.

“Lexington, Virginia, August 5, 1870.

“My Dear Doctor: I have just received your letter of the 4th inviting me
to accompany you across the Atlantic, and I return you my cordial thanks
for your kind solicitation for my health and comfort. There is no one whom
I would prefer to have as a companion on the voyage, nor is there one, I
am sure, who would take better care of me. But I cannot impose myself upon
you. I have given you sufficient trouble already, and you must cure me on
this side of the Atlantic. If you are the man I take you for, you will do
so. You must present my warmest thanks to your wife for her remembrance of
me and her kind offer of the hospitalities of her house. Should I ever be
able to visit Europe I shall certainly accept them, but I hope she will
soon return to this country and that you will bring her up to the
mountains to us. We are all peaceable here now and she will find that we
are not as bad as we have been reported to be, and every one will extend
to her a hearty welcome, whereas Europe is now convulsed with the horrors
of war or the agony of its expectancy, and I fear for a season is destined
to feel the greatest calamity that can befall a people. I am pursuing your
directions and hope that I am deriving benefit from them. I have made my
arrangements to visit the Hot Springs, Virginia, on Monday next, as you
recommended, and trust I may find relief from them. My rheumatic pains
continue, but have diminished, and that in my shoulder, I think, has
lessened under the application of the blister. I shall endeavour to be
well by the fall. The letter you inclosed to me was from Mrs. Smith on the
Hudson—and not from Mr. Henry White, as you supposed. Good-bye, my
dear doctor; may you have a prosperous voyage and find your family all
well on your arrival, and may your own health be entirely restored. My
family unite with me in every kind wish, and I am most truly,

“Your friend,

“R. E. Lee.

“Dr. Thomas H. Buckler.”

This letter to General Cooper (Adjutant General of the Confederate States
Army), written at this time, explains itself, and is one of many witnesses
of my father’s delicate consideration for old soldiers in distress:

“Lexington, Virginia, August 4, 1870.

“General S. Cooper, Alexandria, Virginia.

“My Dear General: Impressed, with all the people of the South, with your
merits and services, I have with them admired your manly efforts to
support your family, and have regretted that more remunerative occupation,
better suited to your capacities and former habits, had not presented
itself. This has been a subject of conversation with some of us here, and
when in Savannah last spring I presented it to General Lawton, Colonel
Cole, and others, and suggested that efforts be made to raise a sum for
the relief of any pressing necessity. The idea was cordially adopted, and
it was hoped that an amount would be contributed that would enable you to
receive some relaxation. I have received a letter from General Lawton
regretting the smallness of the sum collected, $300, and explaining the
delay that had occurred, the general poverty of the people, the many calls
upon them, and the disposition to procrastinate when facts are not known
to them personally. To this sum I have only been able to add $100, but I
hope it may enable you to supply some immediate want and prevent you from
taxing your strength too much. You must also pardon me for my moving in
this matter, and for the foregoing explanation, which I feel obliged to
make that you might understand the subject.

“With my best wishes for your health and happiness and for the useful
prolongation of your honourable life, I am, with true regard,

“Your friend and servant,

“R. E. Lee.”

He remained at Lexington only for a short time, as it was decided that he
should go to the Hot Springs, Virginia, where he could try their famous
waters for his rheumatism. On the day of his arrival he writes to my
mother:

“Hot Springs, Bath County, Virginia, August 10, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: We reached here this morning about 9:30 A. M., Captain
White and I, after as pleasant a journey as we could have expected. After
taking the cars at Goshen, the old route by Milboro’ rose up so strong
before me that we determined to adhere to it. Reached the Bath Alum about
4:00 P. M., where we passed the night and were in luck in finding several
schools or parts of them rusticating on alum-water. Mrs. Heath was in
charge of the detachment from Dr. Phillips’s [a well known girl’s school
at Staunton]. They presented a gay and happy appearance. This morning we
breakfasted at the Warm and had the attention of Richard. There is a small
party there, Admiral Louis Goldsborough and his wife and Miss West amongst
them. Here thee is quite a company. Mrs. Lemmon from Baltimore, her
daughter Mrs. Dobbin, Mrs. General Walker, wife of the ex-Secretary of War
of the Confederacy, Mrs. and Miss. Sivent, etc., etc.

“Dr. and Mrs. Cabell are here, and the Tandys and Mrs. Mac regret that you
are not with me…I saw Mrs. Maise at the Warm, and her sister from
Kentucky, Mrs. Tate. Rev. Mr. Mason and the Daingerfields have a girls’
school in the village. The Warm seems to be retrograding. I hope the new
man, Edward, has arrived. Tell him to take good care of the cow, and ask
the girls to see to it and the garden, etc. I saw Mrs. Caskie at the
Baths. She looks very well. Her niece, Gay, is with her, a pretty child.
Mrs. Myers and her children are also there. Mrs. Asher also. Small
company, but select. All pleased with Mr. Brown [the manager of the
hotel]. Tell the girls I have no one to rub me now. Shall miss them in
this and other ways much. Dr. Cabell says I must continue my medicines and
commence with the hot spout to-morrow. He has great confidence in the
waters, and says that 95 out of 100 patients that he has treated have
recovered. I shall alternate the spout with the boiler. But he says the
great error is that people become impatient and do not stay long enough. I
hope I may be benefited, but it is a tedious prospect. I hope that you all
will continue well. If you wish to go to the Baths, or to come here, you
must do so and write me what you want, if there is anything I can do or
get for you. Give love to all the girls and remembrances to all friends.
Tell our neighbours that I was so occupied the last days I was in
Lexington that I had not time to bid them adieu. If you want more money
let me know. God bless you and preserve you all. Good-bye, dear Mary.

“Most truly,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

The Richard mentioned had been lately his house servant at Lexington, and
Edward was a new man he had engaged for the garden and stable. The letters
written to my mother and others of his family from the Hot Springs at this
time were frequent, and I give them in full, as they tell all we know now
of his visit there:

“Hot Springs, Bath County, Virginia, August 14, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I received this morning the last letters forwarded by you.
The first batch arrived yesterday. I am glad to hear that you all continue
well. I hope my letter of the 10th, announcing my arrival, has reached
you. It should have done so, it seems to me, previously to your note of
Friday. I have but little more to say than I had them. I have taken four
baths, Hot Spout, which seems to agree with me very well, but it is too
soon yet to look for results. I receive the water on my shoulder, back,
and chest. The sensation is pleasant, and so far I have succeeded in
preventing taking cold. The atmosphere, however, is damp, and temperature
variable. When the sun shines, it is hot; but when it rains, which is the
usual condition of the weather, the former the exception, it is cool. Mrs.
Sledge and party are here, the former improved. She was much better, went
over to the White and Sweet, retrograded, and returned. Will stay here
September. Many of our invalids are improving. Society has a rather solemn
appearance, and conversation runs mostly on personal ailments, baths, and
damp weather. There were some pretty tableaux last evening. The Misses
Tardy, Mrs. Dobbin, and the little girls, the performers. Mr. Washington
[William Washington, a well known painter of that day, who was for a short
time professor of painting and drawing at the Virginia Military Institute
at Lexington] is here. He looks well, is quiet, and has been copying
points of scenery in the neighbourhood. I do not know whether he was in
search of health or the picturesque. The latter is more easily found in
these mountains than the former. Captain White is well and sends
remembrances to all. I hope Edward has arrived and is an improvement on
the present occupant of the situation. If he does not present himself,
retain Henry till I come. I will endeavour to find some one. You do not
mention the cow; she is of more interest to me than the cats, and is
equally destructive of rats. I am glad the girls are well; what are they
troubling about now? I wish they were with me. I find many ladies here for
neuralgia. Mrs. General Walker has been much benefited, also others. If
little Agnes should desire to try the effects of the waters, tell her to
come on, I will take care of her. I suppose Tabb will go with her husband.
I am sorry Fitzhugh is complaining. I have written to Rob and Miss Lottie
[Miss Charlotte Haxall, afterward Mrs. Robert E. Lee, Jr., who died in
1872]. I heard of Charles Carter’s [Charles Carter, of “Goodwood,”
Maryland, was my father’s first cousin. Mildred and Ella, two of his
daughters] passing up the road to the White, and Mildred preceded him a
week. Ella, I hear, is much improved. I shall not go to the White unless
specially called by something now unknown, but will remain here till the
end of the month, if I find it profitable, and then return to Lexington. I
hope the college is prospering. What does Mrs. Podestad say? I understand
that Markie Peter [Mrs. Peter was a near cousin of my mother, and with her
as a little girl our associations had been very near] and child are
occupying her old quarters at the Lomaxes near Warrenton. I have a merry
time with my old cronies, tell Mildred. I am getting too heavy for them
now. They soon drop me. I am getting uneasy about Edward and Blanche. The
reverses of the French, which seem to be light, appear to have demoralised
the nation. May God help all in affliction and keep and guard you and all
with you, is my constant prayer.

“Truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.”

“Hot Springs, Bath County, Virginia, August 19, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I received this morning your letters of the 14th and 18th,
inclosing Dr. Buckler’s, and was informed by Colonel Turner that he had
brough the package to which you referred. He has not yet sent it to me,
but, no doubt, will in time. I am sorry that Edward has not kept his
engagement, for I liked his appearance and recommendations, though perhaps
they are deceptive. You had better retain Harry till I come, unless you
fall in with a better. I am glad that you are all well. You have such
industrious little daughters that I am sure all will go well. Thank Agnes
for her letter and say to her that I have not seen Mr. Vanmeter or Blair,
but gave the letter to the former to Colonel White, who will send it to
him when he finds out his position. Mr. Thom arrived this morning and Mr.
John Jones and family rode over from the Healing. They are there for a
sick child. My old friend, Dr. Broaddus, and the Reverend Mr. Jones also
presented themselves…. I have been trying the Boiler for four days—and
the Spout the five preceding. I do not perceive any benefit yet, though
some little change in the seat of my pains. I will continue till the
middle of next week, the 29th, when, if no decided improvement takes
place, I think of going over to the Healing. Dr. Houston thinks that it
will be beneficial, whereas, Dr. Cabell recommends this. I am obliged to
be in Staunton on the 30th ult. to attend a meeting of the Valley Railroad
Company, so I shall leave here on the 29th for that purpose. After getting
through with that business, I shall return to Lexington. I am sorry that I
shall be called away, but I fear my stay here would be of no avail.
Colonel White is well and sends regards to all. I am glad that the cow is
better. She stands next in my affections to Traveller…. I hope that
Agnes’s neuralgia is better, and as she has not accepted my proposition I
presume she declines. Hot bathing is not agreeable to me either in its
operations or effects, but I see daily evidences of its good results on
others. I wish that it suited your case. You must try and get some one in
Sally’s place if Tabb, etc., come, and make them all comfortable. If you
want more money, let me know in time. Send over to Mr. Leyburn for the
flour, when you want it. Mr. Bowie, I suspect, can arrange it for you. I
fear Captain Brooks’s house will not be ready for occupancy this fall. I
hope that General Smith will begin Custis’s in time. I heard of him on his
way to Edward Cocke’s the other day. Mr. Washington is still here. Better,
I think. Again love to all.

“Most truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“P.S.—Mr. Turner has just sent me the package.

“R. E. L.”

To his son Fitzhugh, who was at the “White House” with his family:

“Hot Springs, Bath County, Virginia, August 20, 1870.

“My Dear Fitzhugh: I am very sorry to learn from your letter of the 18th,
received this morning, that Tabb is sick. I hope that it will be of short
duration and that she will soon throw off the chills. The mountain
doctors, however, do not understand them as well as the lowland, and are
apt to resort to the old practice. I wish that I could get to the White to
see you, but my time is too limited, owing to the late day that I was able
to leave Lexington. I propose staying here till the 29th inst., which will
only make my sojourn here two and a half weeks, and then going to
Staunton, where I am obliged to attend a meeting of the Valley Railroad
Company on the 30th. I hope that I shall not be detained there longer than
a day or two, when I will return to Lexington, where I hope to find you
all. You must tell Mr. and Mrs. Podestad, Mr. Carter, Ella, etc., how
sorry I am not to see them at the White, but that I hope they will call at
Lexington. I wrote to Ella on my first arrival here, but presume my letter
failed to reach her. You did not mention how her health was. I am much
concerned at Tabb’s indisposition, but am glad to hear that the baby is
well. Give my love to both, and I trust you will all be benefited by the
mountain air. My personal health is good, but I see no change in my
rheumatic attack, which is principally confined to my chest and back. I
inclose a note from your mother, transmitted on the supposition that I
would write to you. Professor White is with me and I have some few
acquaintances, but I am anxious to return. I am glad that Bertus has had a
short visit to the Orange. He says that he will come to Rockbridge in
September. Custis will be there by the first, and we shall all, I hope, be
together again.

“Affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

“Hot Springs, Bath County, Virginia, August 23, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I have received your various notes of the 17th and 18th,
and I am glad to hear of your well-being. Our good cow will be a loss to
us, but her troubles are all over now, and I am grateful to her for what
she has done for us. I hope that we did our duty to her. I have written to
Mr. Andrew Cameron to inquire about a young cow he has of mine, and asked
him to let you know if she is giving milk. If his report is good, you had
better send for her. She is, however, young, and will require very gentle
treatment. Caution Henry on that point. I have told him, Mr. C——,
also, that you would send for the horses, which I wish you would do as
soon as you can see that they will be properly cared for. Tell Henry to be
particularly gentle and kind to them, or the gray will give him great
trouble. He must wash them clean, and not pull out their manes and tails.
The girls will have to exercise them till Custis comes. I suppose we may
give up expecting Edward. Retain Henry till you can find someone better.
You had also better engage some woman or man for a month as a dining-room
servant. I think Easter has not intention of coming to us before October,
and she will not come then if Mr.—— can keep her. You will
have so many friends staying with you that you cannot make them
comfortable unless you have more servants. As I stated in a previous
letter, I shall go to Staunton on the 29th. I hope I shall be detained but
a few days. Lest your funds may run low, I send you a check…. The girls
can get it cashed. I may be detained, but I hope to return in time to see
our children and friends. I have been here a fortnight to-day. I hope that
I am better, but am aware of no material change, except that I am weaker.
I am very anxious to get back. It is very wearying at these public places
and the benefit hardly worth the cost. I do not think I can even stand
Lexington long. Colonels Allan and Johnston [Professors Wm. Allan and
William Preston Johnston of Washington College. The former afterward
principal of the McDonough School, near Baltimore, Maryland; the latter
president of Tulane University, New Orleans] arrived this evening on
horseback and have given me all Lexington news. Mr. Sledge and his wife,
from Huntsville, brother of the Colonel, also arrived, and a Mr. and Mrs.
Leeds, from New Orleans, with ten children, mostly little girls. The
latter are a great addition to my comfort. I have written to Fitzhugh and
Mrs. Podestad. Robert, you know, said he would make his annual visit the
first week in September. Tell the girls they must make preparations to
welcome all. Mrs. Walker, wife of the former Secretary of War in the
Confederacy, is here with her son, whom she says she is anxious to place
in the college, and wishes to visit Lexington with that view. I have
offered my escort and invited her to stay with us. I do not know whether
she will go with me. The girls will have to prepare my room for some of
the visitors, and put me anywhere. I can be very comfortable in the
library. Tell the little creatures they must work like beavers and get a
supply of eggs and chickens. Recollect there is flour at Leyburn’s mill
when you want it. Thank Mildred for her letter. Remember me to all, and
believe me,

“Always yours affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.

“Mrs. M. C. Lee.

“P.S.—I send you an order for the horses. Tell Henry to take with
him a bridle and halter. You must write for the cow if you want her. R. E.
Lee.”

Mr. Andrew Cameron owned a fine farm near Lexington, and kindly took care
of my father’s horses when he was away in the summer; also at different
times supplied him with a cow and took care of any calf, if there happened
to be one, till it was of service. My father constantly rode out to see
him, and enjoyed talking farming as they rode together over his fields.
His delight in every aspect of Nature was real and ever present. These
letters show, too, his care and consideration for animals.

His letter to his daughter Agnes is in lighter vein. His playful moods, so
usual with his children, never entirely left him.

“Hot Springs, Bath County, Virginia, August 23, 1870.

“My Dear Agnes: I have received both of your letters, the last the 17th,
and thank you for them as well as for your care of my room and clothes.
The former I understand is used for a multiplicity of purposes, and the
cats and kittens have the full run of my establishment. Guard me against
‘MISS SELDEN’ [Mildred’s kitten], I pray you. I am sorry that you are not
with me, as it possibly may have benefitted your neuralgia. But if MISS
BELLE is with you, I am sure she will be of greater service, and tell her
she must remain till I come, that she may cure me. That you may have some
other inducements than your flowers and weeds to take you out of doors, I
will write to your mother and send for the horses as soon as she can make
arrangements to have them cared for, and then you and Mildred and Miss
Belle, the one on Traveller, the other on Lucy, can scour the country and
keep us in eggs and chickens. I am sorry for the death of our good cow,
but glad that she is out of misery…. I do not think any of your friends
are here. Mr. Washington has been vibrating between this place and the
Healing, but does not seem to be well. Miss Alman, from Salem,
Massachusetts, whom you may recollect as having been at the White last
summer, is here with her father and mother. Miss Mollie Jourdan left
to-day, and Colonel Robert Preston arrived. The Chestnuts and Le Verts are
still here. I hope that you are well and that all is well with you. When
Custis comes, ask him to see to the horses and the cow and that they are
gently treated and properly fed. I know nothing of Henry’s capacity in
that way. I hope to be home next week and am very anxious to get back.

“Your father,

“R. E. Lee.”

Chapter XXIV — Last Days

Letter to his wife—To Mr. Tagart—Obituary notice in “Personal
Reminiscences of General Robert E. Lee”—Mrs. Lee’s account of his
death

The following is the last letter that I can find written by my father to
my mother. He was back in Lexington early in September, and was never
separated from her again while he lived:

“Hot Springs, August 27, 1870.

“My Dear Mary: I have received your letter of the 22d. I should remain
here a week longer if time permitted, as I have felt in the last few days
better than I have yet, but I am obliged to be in Staunton on the 30th and
therefore must leave Monday, 29th. I should not have time to return here.
The college opens on September 15th, and I wish to see that all things are
prepared. Possibly the little improvement now felt will continue. If not,
I shall have to bear my malady. I am truly sorry to hear of Edwin Lee’s
death [Colonel Edwin Grey Lee was a near cousin. He had distinguished
himself in the late war. At its commencement he had volunteered, and was
made a 2d. lieutenant in the Second Virginia regiment, “Stonewall
Brigade.” From that rank he quickly rose to be lieutenant colonel of the
33d Virginia, in the same brigade. In 1862 his health, which was very
feeble, compelled him to resign, but after a short time he again entered
the service, though he never became strong enough to serve actively in the
field. General lee’s opinion of his abilities was very high.]. He was a
true man, and, if health had permitted, would have been an ornament as
well as a benefit to his race. He certainly was a great credit to the
name. Give my sincere sympathy to his wife and family. You have never
mentioned anything of Dr. Grahame. I have heard that he was in a critical
condition. I saw Colonels Allan and Johnston. They only stayed a day, and
went on to the White. I have heard of them on their return, and presume
they will reach Lexington to-morrow. Mr. George Taylor, who has been a
month at the White, arrived here to-day. Both he and his wife are well.
The company is thinning, though arrivals occur daily. Mr. Middleton and
his daughter and son, from Washington, whom you may recollect, also came.
But I hope to see you so soon that I will defer my narrative. I am glad
that Mary is enjoying herself and that Rob is so happy. May both long
continue so. I will endeavour to get the muslin, but fear I shall not
succeed. I trust I may not be detained in Staunton more than a day or two.
In that event, you may expect me Thursday, September 1st, but I cannot say
as to time. I hope that I shall find you all well. Give my love to Agnes
and Mildred, and Custis, if he has arrived. Colonel Turner is very well.
Tell his wife that he was exhibited to-day at the Healing as a specimen of
the health of the Hot. In my last I gave you my views about the servants
and sent you a check for ——, which I hope that you have
received. Most truly and affectionately,

“R. E. Lee.”

His last letter was written on the morning of the day he was taken ill,
September 28th. It was to Mr. Tagert, of Baltimore, at whose home he had
stayed the previous summer. Its tone was cheerful and hopeful, and he
wrote that he was much better and stronger.

“Lexington, Virginia, September 28, 1870.

“My Dear Mr. Tagart: Your note of the 26th reached me this morning, and
see how easy it is ‘to inveigle me into a correspondence.’ In fact, when a
man desires to do a thing, or when a thing gives a man pleasure, he
requires but small provocation to induce him to do it. Now I wanted to
hear how you and Mrs. Tagart were, what you were doing, and how you had
passed the summer, and I desired to tell you so. That is the reason I
write. In answer to your question, I reply that I am much better. I do not
know whether it is owing to having seen you and Doctor Buckler last
summer, or to my visit to the Hot Springs. Perhaps both. But my pains are
less, and my strength greater. In fact, I suppose I am as well as I shall
be. I am still following Doctor B——‘s directions, and in tie I
may improve still more. I expect to have to visit Baltimore this fall, in
relation to the Valley Railroad, and in that event I hope to see you, if
you will permit me. I am glad to hear that you spent a pleasant summer.
Colonel —— and I would have had a more agreeable one had you
been with us at the Hot, and as every place agrees so well with Mrs.
Tagert, I think she could have enjoyed as good health their as at
Saratoga, and we should have done better. Give my sincere regards to Mrs.
Tagart, and remember me to all friends, particularly Mr. ——.
Tell —— his brother is well and handsome, and I hope that he
will study, or his sweethearts in Baltimore will not pine for him long.
Captain —— is well and busy, and joins in my remembrances.
Mrs. Lee and my daughters unite with me in messages to you and Mrs.
Tagart, and I am most truly yours, R. E. Lee.

“S. H. Tagart, Esq.”

When my brother Fitzhugh and I reached Lexington, my father was no more.
He died the morning of our arrival—October 12th. He had apparently
improved after his first attack, and the summoning of my brother and
myself had been put off from day to day. After we did start we were
delayed by the floods, which at that time prevailed over the State. Of his
last illness and death I have heard from my family.

The best account of those last days was written by Colonel William Preston
Johnston for the “Personal Reminiscences of General Robert E. Lee,” by the
Rev. J. W. Jones, published in 1874. Colonel Johnston was an intimate
friend of the General and a distinguished member of the faculty of his
college. He was also one of the watchers by his dying bedside. I,
therefore, give it in full:

“The death of General Lee was not due to any sudden cause, but was the
result of agencies dating as far back as 1863. In the trying campaign of
that year he contracted a severe sore throat, that resulted in rheumatic
inflammation of the sac inclosing his heart. There is no doubt that after
this sickness his health was more or less impaired; and although he
complained little, yet rapid exercise on foot or on horseback produced
pain and difficulty breathing. In October, 1869, he was again attacked by
inflammation of the heart-sac, accompanied by muscular rheumatism of the
back, right side, and arms. The action of the heart was weakened by this
attack; the flush upon the face deepened, the rheumatism increased, and he
was troubled with weariness and depression.

“In March, 1870, General Lee, yielding to the solicitations of friends and
medical advisors, make a six-weeks’ visit to Georgia and Florida. He
returned greatly benefited by the influence of the genial climate, the
society of friends in those States, and the demonstrations of respect and
affection of the people of the South; his physical condition, however, was
not greatly improved. During this winter and spring he had said to his
son, General Custis Lee, that his attack was mortal; and had virtually
expressed the same belief to other trusted friends. And, now, with that
delicacy that pervaded all his actions, he seriously considered the
question of resigning the presidency of Washington College, ‘fearful that
he might not be equal to his duties.’ After listening, however, to the
affectionate remonstrances of the faculty and board of trustees, who well
knew the value of his wisdom in the supervision of the college and the
power of his mere presence and example upon the students, he resumed his
labours with the resolution to remain at his post and carry forward the
great work he had so auspiciously begun.

“During the summer he spent some weeks at the Hot Springs of Virginia,
using the baths, and came home seemingly better in health and spirits. He
entered upon the duties of the opening collegiate year in September with
that quiet zeal and noiseless energy that marked all his actions, and an
unusual elation was felt by those about him at the increased prospect that
long years of usefulness and honour would yet be added to his glorious
life.

“Wednesday, September 28, 1870, found General lee at the post of duty. In
the morning he was fully occupied with the correspondence and other tasks
incident to his office of president of Washington College, and he declined
offers of assistance from members of the faculty, of whose services he
sometimes availed himself. After dinner, at four o’clock, he attended a
vestry-meeting of Grace (Episcopal) church. The afternoon was chilly and
wet, and a steady rain had set in, which did not cease until it resulted
in a great flood, the most memorable and destructive in this region for a
hundred years. The church was rather cold and damp, and General Lee,
during the meeting, sat in a pew with his military cape cast loosely about
him. In a conversation that occupied the brief space preceding the call to
order, he took part, and told with marked cheerfulness of manner and
kindliness of tone some pleasant anecdotes of Bishop Meade and
Chief-Justice Marshall. The meeting was protracted until after seven
o’clock by a discussion touching the rebuilding of the church edifice and
the increase of the rector’s salary. General Lee acted as chairman, and,
after hearing all that was said, gave his own opinion, as was his wont,
briefly and without argument. He closed the meeting with a characteristic
act. The amount required for the minister’s salary still lacked a sum much
greater than General Lee’s proportion of the subscription, in view of his
frequent and generous contributions to the church and other charities, but
just before the adjournment, when the treasurer announced the amount of
the deficit still remaining, General Lee said in a low tone, ‘I will give
that sum.’ He seemed tired toward the close of the meeting, and, as was
afterward remarked, showed an unusual flush, but at the time no
apprehensions were felt.

“General Lee returned to his house, and, finding his family waiting tea
for him, took his place at the table, standing to say grace. The effort
was valid; the lips could not utter the prayer of the heart. Finding
himself unable to speak, he took his seat quietly and without agitation.
His face seemed to some of the anxious group about him to wear a look of
sublime resignation, and to evince a full knowledge that the hour had come
when all the cares and anxieties of his crowded life were at an end. His
physicians, Doctors H. S. Barton and R. L. Madison, arrived promptly,
applied the usual remedies, and placed him upon the couch from which he
was to rise no more.

“To him henceforth the things of this world were as nothing, and he bowed
with resignation to the command of the Master he had followed so long with
reverence. They symptoms of his attack resembled concussion of the brain,
without the attendant swoon. There was marked debility, a slightly
impaired consciousness, and a tendency to doze; but no paralysis of motion
or sensation, and no evidence of suffering or inflammation of the brain.
His physicians treated the case as one of venous congestion, and with
apparently favourable results. Yet, despite these propitious auguries
drawn from his physical symptoms, in view of the great mental strain he
had undergone, the gravest fears were felt that the attack was mortal. He
took without objection the medicines and diet prescribed, and was strong
enough to turn in bed without aid, and to sit up to take nourishment.
During the earlier days of his illness, though inclined to doze, he was
easily aroused, was quite conscious and observant, evidently understood
whatever was said to him, and answered questions briefly but
intelligently; he was, however, averse to much speaking, generally using
monosyllables, as had always been his habit when sick.

“When first attacked, he said to those who were removing his clothes,
pointing at the same time to his rheumatic shoulder, ‘You hurt my arm.’
Although he seemed to be gradually improving until October 10th, he
apparently knew from the first that the appointed hour had come when he
must enter those dark gates that, closing, open no more on the earth. In
the words of his physician, ‘he neither expected nor desired to recover.’
When General Custis Lee made some allusion to his recover, he shook his
head and pointed upward. On the Monday morning before his death, Doctor
Madison, finding him looking better, tried to cheer him. ‘How do you feel
to-day, General?’ General Lee replied slowly and distinctly: ‘I feel
better.’ The doctor then said: ‘You must make haste and get well;
Traveller has been standing so long in the stable that he needs exercise.’
The General made no reply, but slowly shook his head and closed his eyes.
Several times during his illness he put aside his medicine, saying, ‘It is
of no use,’ but yielded patiently to the wishes of his physicians or
children, as if the slackened chords of being still responded to the touch
of duty or affection.

“On October 10th, during the afternoon, his pulse became feeble and rapid,
and his breathing hurried, with other evidences of great exhaustion. About
midnight he was seized with a shivering from extreme debility, and Doctor
Barton was obliged to announce the danger to the family. On October 11th,
he was evidently sinking; his respiration was hurried, his pulse feeble
and rapid. Though less observant, he still recognised whoever approached
him, but refused to take anything unless prescribed by his physicians. It
now became certain that the case was hopeless. His decline was rapid, yet
gentle; and soon after nine o’clock, on the morning of October 12th, he
closed his eyes, and his soul passed peacefully from earth.

“General Lee’s physicians attributed his death in great measure to moral
causes. The strain of his campaigns, the bitterness of defeat aggravated
by the bad faith an insolence of the victor, sympathy with the subsequent
sufferings of the Southern people, and the effort at calmness under these
accumulated sorrows, seemed the sufficient and real causes that slowly but
steadily undermined his health and led to his death, yet to those who saw
his composure under the greater and lesser trials of life, ad his justice
and forbearance with the most unjust and uncharitable, it seemed scarcely
credible that his serene soul was shaken by the evil that raged around
him.

“General Lee’s closing hours were consonant with his noble and disciplined
life. Never was more beautifully displayed how a long and severe education
of mind and character enables the soul to pass with equal step through
this supreme ordeal; never did the habits and qualities of a lifetime,
solemnly gathered into a few last sad hours, more grandly maintain
themselves amid the gloom and shadow of approaching death. The reticence,
the self-contained composure, the obedience to proper authority, the
magnanimity, and the Christian meekness, that marked all his actions,
still preserved their sway, in spite of the inroads of disease and the
creeping lethargy that weighted down his faculties.

“As the old hero lay in the darkened room, or with the lamp and
hearth-fire casting shadows upon his calm, noble front, all the missing
grandeur of his form, and face and brow remained; and death seemed to lose
its terrors and to borrow a grace and dignity in sublime keeping with the
life that was ebbing away. The great mind sank to its last repose, almost
with the equal poise of health. The few broken utterances that evinced at
times a wandering intellect were spoken under the influence of the
remedies administered; but as long as consciousness lasted there was
evidence that all the high, controlling influences of his whole life still
ruled; and even when stupor was laying its cold hand on the intellectual
perceptions, the moral nature, with its complete orb of duties and
affections, still asserted itself. A southern poet has celebrated in song
these last significant words, ‘Strike the tent’: and a thousand voices
were raised to give meaning to the uncertain sound, when the dying man
said, with emphasis, ‘Tell Hill he must come up!’ These sentences serve to
show most touchingly through what fields the imagination was passing; but
generally his words, though few, were coherent; but for the most part,
indeed, his silence was unbroken.

“This self-contained reticence had an awful grandeur, in solemn accord
with a life that needed no defense. Deeds which required no justification
must speak for him. His voiceless lips, like the shut gates of some
majestic temple, were closed, not for concealment, but because that within
was holy. Could the eye of the mourning watcher have pierced the gloom
that gathered about the recesses of that great soul it would have
perceived a presence there full of an ineffable glory. Leaning trustfully
upon the all-sustaining Arm, the man whose stature, measured by mortal
standards, seemed so great, passed from this world of shadows to the
realities of the hereafter.”

A letter from my mother to a dear friend tells the same sad story:

“…My husband came in. We had been waiting tea for him, and I remarked:
‘You have kept us waiting a long time. Where have you been?’ He did not
reply, but stood up as if to say grace. Yet no word proceeded from his
lips, and he sat down in his chair perfectly upright and with a sublime
air of resignation on his countenance, and did not attempt to a reply to
our inquiries. That look was never forgotten, and I have no doubt he felt
that his hour had come; for though he submitted to the doctors, who were
immediately summoned, and who had not even reached their homes from the
same vestry-meeting, yet his whole demeanour during his illness showed one
who had taken leave of earth. He never smiled, and rarely attempted to
speak, except in dreams, and then he wandered to those dreadful
battle-fields. Once, when Agnes urged him to take some medicine, which he
always did with reluctance, he looked at her and said, ‘It is no use.’ But
afterward he took it. When he became so much better the doctor said, ‘You
must soon get out and ride your favorite gray!’ He shook his head most
emphatically and looked upward. He slept a great deal, but knew us all,
greeted us with a kindly pressure of the hand, and loved to have us around
him. For the last forty-eight hours he seemed quite insensible of our
presence. He breathed more heavily, and at last sank to rest with one
deep-drawn sigh. And oh, what a glorious rest was in store for him!”

RECOLLECTIONS AND LETTERS

OF

GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE

by Captain Robert E. Lee, His Son

DETAILED CONTENTS

Chapter I Services in the United States Army Captain Lee, of the

Chapter II The Confederate General Resigns from Colonelcy of First

Chapter III Letters to Wife and Daughters From Camp on Sewell’s

Chapter IV Army Life of Robert the Younger Volunteer in Rockbridge

Chapter V The Army of Northern Virginia The General’s sympathy for

Chapter VI The Winter of 1863-4 The Lee family in Richmond—The

Chapter VII Fronting the Army of the Potomac Battle of Cold

Chapter VIII The Surrender Fort Fisher captured—Lee made

Chapter IX A Private Citizen Lee’s conception of the part—His influence

Chapter X President of Washington College Patriotic motives for

Chapter XI The Idol of the South Photographs and autographs in

Chapter XII Lee’s Opinion upon the Late War His intention to write

Chapter XIII Family Affairs The General writes to his sons—To his wife

Chapter XIV An Ideal Father Letters to Mildred Lee—To Robert—To

Chapter XV Mountain Rides An incident about “Traveller”—The General’s

Chapter XVI An Advisor of Young Men Lee’s policy as college

Chapter XVII The Reconstruction Period The General believes in

Chapter XVIII Mrs. R. E. Lee Goes to Warm Springs for rheumatism—Her

Chapter XIX Lee’s Letters to His Sons The building of Robert’s

Chapter XX The New Home in Lexington Numerous guests—Further sojourns

Chapter XXI Failing Health The General declines lucrative positions

Chapter XXII The Southern Trip Letters to Mrs. Lee from Richmond and

Chapter XXIII A Round of Visits Baltimore—Alexandria—A war-talk with

Chapter XXIV Last Days Letter to his wife—To Mr. Tagart—Obituary

Chapter I — Services in the United States Army

Chapter II — The Confederate General

Chapter III — Letters to Wife and Daughters

Chapter IV — Army Life of Robert the Younger

Chapter V — The Army of Northern Virginia

Chapter VI — The Winter of 1863-4

Chapter VII — Fronting the Army of the Potomac

Chapter VIII — The Surrender

Chapter IX — A Private Citizen

Chapter X — President of Washington College

Chapter XI — The Idol of the South

Chapter XII — Lee’s Opinion upon the Late War

Chapter XIII — Family Affairs

Chapter XIV — An Ideal Father

Chapter XV — Mountain Rides

Chapter XVI — An Advisor of Young Men

Chapter XVII — The Reconstruction Period

Chapter XVIII — Mrs. R. E. Lee

Chapter XIX — Lee’s Letters to His Sons

Chapter XX — The New Home in Lexington

Chapter XXI — Failing Health

Chapter XXII — The Southern Trip

Chapter XXIII — A Round of Visits

Chapter XXIV — Last Days

Chapter IX A Private Citizen Lee’s conception of the part—His
influence

Chapter XIII Family Affairs The General writes to his sons—To his
wife

Chapter XV Mountain Rides An incident about “Traveller”—The
General’s

Chapter XX The New Home in Lexington Numerous guests—Further
sojourns

Chapter XXIII A Round of Visits Baltimore—Alexandria—A
war-talk with