As Daniel, Virginia’s great orator, has so fitly said of Robert E. Lee: “Since the Son of Man stood upon the Mount and saw ‘all the kingdoms of the earth and the glory thereof’ stretched before him and turned away from them to the agony and bloody sweat of Gethsemane, and to the Cross of Calvary beyond, no follower of the meek and lowly Saviour can have undergone a more trying ordeal or met it in a higher spirit of heroic sacrifice.”
In that hour of supreme test, trial, and temptation, James Longstreet did not hesitate. He dallied not with dishonor. He was deaf to every call save that of duty. Obedient to the conviction that his first, highest, and holiest obligation was to the land of his birth, he responded to her call, and for four long years “feasted glory till pity cried no more.” His gleaming sword flashed in the forefront of the fighting, till when stricken and scarred with many a wound and with honor unstained he bowed to the stern arbitrament of battle.
When he made his choice and upon bended knee offered his sword as a loving and loyal son to his native South, he thereby avouched himself unto all the ages as one who in every hour of trial and in every sphere of duty would keep his “robes and his integrity stainless unto heaven.”
He then and there gave to the world perpetual and irrefutable proof that his every act since that day, whether as soldier or civilian, was prompted by an exalted sense of duty, performed in obedience to the convictions of an intelligent and deliberate judgment, and approved by a clear conscience, and standing on that high vantage ground he courted truth and defied malice.
No man who rises superior to temptation, and offers his life as an offering upon the altar of duty, and freely sheds his blood in testimony to the sincerity of his convictions, is called upon to explain his conduct “in any sphere of life in which it may please God to place him.”
The exercises of this occasion take color and purpose from that tragic era in which James Longstreet was so conspicuous and honorable a figure; and his record as a soldier is absolutely beyond impeachment. Did he do his duty as a soldier brave and true? Did he bear himself as became a man in the hour of battle? Let history unroll her proud annals and say! Let Williamsburg, Sharpsburg, Gettysburg, Chickamauga, and the Wilderness make reply.
Ask those who met him and his dauntless legion on many a bloody field, and they will tell how often he swept down upon them like an avenging whirlwind. Ask his “boys,” who for four years followed him with unquestioning devotion and with ever-increasing love and admiration, and they will with one accord and with voices tremulous with emotion answer that he never lagged, failed, or faltered.
Hear the testimony of Robert E. Lee, his great commander, who, though dead, yet speaketh: “General Longstreet (at Gaines Mill) perceived that to render the diversion effectual the feint must be converted into an attack. He resolved with characteristic promptness to carry the heights by assault.” After Chickamauga, he says, “My whole heart and soul have been with you and your brave corps in your late battle. Finish your work, my dear General, and return to me. I want you badly, and you cannot get back too soon.”
Let Joseph E. Johnston bear witness to the world of his great subordinate at Williamsburg: “I was compelled to be a mere spectator, for General Longstreet’s clear head and brave heart left no apology for interference. The skill, vigor, and decision of General Longstreet (at Seven Pines) was worthy of the highest praise.”
We have yet further testimony, which in pathos and convincing power excels all speech or written language. It is an historic truth that when the end had come at Appomattox, and those who had so long shared the hardships of the camp and the peril and the glory of the battle-field were about to separate, General Longstreet and his staff proceeded to where General Lee and his staff had gathered for the last time before their final parting, and General Lee grasped the hand and spoke a few kindly words to each member of the group until he reached General Longstreet, when each threw his arms about the other, and as they thus stood clasped together both sobbed like children. When General Lee had recovered his composure, turning to a member of the party who is now in this presence, he said, “Captain, into your care I commend my old war-horse.”