XXVI. — THE LAST COUNCIL OF WAR OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA.
On the night of the 8th of April, within a few miles of Appomattox Court-House, took place the last council of war of the army of Northern Virginia.
It was in the open air, beside a camp-fire, near which were spread General Lee’s blankets; for throughout the retreat he had used no tent, sleeping, shelterless like his men, by the bivouac fire.
To this last council of war, none but the corps commanders were invited. Thus the only persons present were Gordon and Longstreet, commanding the skeleton corps of infantry, and Fitzhugh Lee, the cavalry of the army.
Gordon was stretched near Fitzhugh Lee, upon the blankets of the commander-in-chief; Gordon, with his clear complexion, his penetrating eyes, his firm lip, his dark hair, and uniform coat buttoned to his chin—the man to fight and die rather than surrender. Near him lay Fitz Lee, the ardent and laughing cavalier, with the flowing beard, the sparkling eyes, the top-boots, and cavalry sabre—the man to stand by Gordon. On a log, a few feet distant, sat the burly Longstreet, smoking with perfect nonchalance—his heavily bearded face exhibiting no emotion whatever. Erect, within a few paces of these three men, stood General Lee—grave, commanding, unmoved; the fire-light revealing every outline of his vigorous person, clad in its plain gray uniform, the gray beard and mustache, the serene eyes, and that stately poise of the head upon the shoulders, which seemed to mark this human being for command.
All these persons were composed. Their faces were haggard from want of rest, but there was nothing in their expressions indicating anxiety, though some gloom.
“It was a picture for an artist,” said that one of them who described the scene to me afterward. The ruddy light brought out every detail of these martial figures. By that fire on the roadside had assembled for the last time General Robert E. Lee and his corps commanders.
The council was brief.
General Lee succinctly laid before his listeners the whole situation.
His army was on a strip of land between the James River and the enemy. He could not cross the river—if he could not break through the enemy in his front the army was lost. General Grant had understood his situation, and a correspondence had taken place. He would read General Grant’s notes and copies of his own replies.
By the light of the fire, General Lee then proceeded to read the papers alluded too.
Grant had opened the correspondence. “The result of the last week must convince General Lee,” he wrote, “of the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the army of Northern Virginia.” He therefore “asked the surrender” of that army to prevent bloodshed.
Lee had written in reply, requesting Grant to state the terms.
Grant had stated them on this 8th of April, and Lee had replied at once that he “did not intend to propose the surrender of the army of Northern Virginia, but to ask the terms of General Grant’s proposition. To be frank,” he had added, “I do not think the emergency has arisen to call for the surrender.” But he would meet General Grant on the next morning to discuss the whole affair.
There the correspondence had terminated. What was the opinion of his corps commanders?
Their replies were brief and informal. The scene was august but simple. What was determined upon was this—-
That the army should continue its march on the next day toward Lynchburg, breaking through Sheridan’s cavalry which was known to be in front; but in case the Federal infantry, a very different thing from the cavalry, was found to be “up,” then Gordon, who was to lead the advance, should inform the commander-in-chief of that fact, when a flag of truce would be sent to General Grant acceding to the terms of capitulation proposed in his last note to General Lee.
Fitzhugh Lee only stipulated that if he saw that the Federal infantry in his front, rendered surrender inevitable, he should be allowed to go off with his cavalry to save the horses of his men.
This was agreed to, and it will be seen that Fitz Lee availed himself of the conmmander-in-chief’s permission.
So ended that last council of war, by the camp fire.
With grave salutes and a cordial pressure of the brave hands, the famous soldiers took leave of Lee.
As they disappeared he drew his blanket around him and fell asleep by the blazing fire.
It was the night of April 8th, 1865—three years, day for day, from the moment when these lines are written.