A Life of Gen. Robert E. Lee

by John Esten Cooke

This seems to have put an abrupt termination to the examination on that point. To the question whether he had taken an oath of allegiance to the Confederate Government, he replied: "I do not recollect having done so, but it is possible that when I was commissioned I did; I do not recollect whether it was required; if it was required, I took it, or if it had been required, I would have taken it."

If this reply of General Lee be attentively weighed by the reader, some conception may be formed of the bitter pang which he must have experienced in sending in, as he did, to the Federal Government, his application for pardon. The fact cannot be concealed that this proceeding on the part of General Lee was a subject of deep regret to the Southern people; but there can be no question that his motive was disinterested and noble, and that he presented, in so doing, the most remarkable evidence of the true greatness of his character. He had no personal advantage to expect from a pardon; cared absolutely nothing whether he were "pardoned" or not; and to one so proud, and so thoroughly convinced of the justice of the cause in which he had fought, to appear as a supplicant must have been inexpressibly painful. He, nevertheless, took this mortifying step—actuated entirely by that sense of duty which remained with him to the last, overmastering every other sentiment of his nature. He seems in this, as in many other things, to have felt the immense import of his example. The old soldiers of his army, and thousands of civilians, were obliged to apply for amnesty, or remain under civic disability. Brave men, with families depending upon them, had been driven to this painful course, and General Lee seems to have felt that duty to his old comrades demanded that he, too, should swallow this bitter draught, and share their humiliation as he had shared their dangers and their glory. If this be not the explanation of the motives controlling General Lee's action, the writer is unable to account for the course which he pursued. That it is the sole explanation, the writer no more doubts than he doubts the fact of his own existence.

XIX.

GENERAL LEE'S LAST YEARS AND DEATH.

For about five years—from the latter part of 1865 nearly to the end of 1870—General Lee continued to concentrate his entire attention and all his energies upon his duties as President of Washington College, to which his great name, and the desire of Southern parents to have their sons educated under a guide so illustrious, attracted, as we have said, more than five hundred students. The sedentary nature of these occupations was a painful trial to one so long accustomed to lead a life of activity; but it was not in the character of the individual to allow personal considerations to interfere with the performance of his duty; and the laborious supervision of the education of this large number of young gentlemen continued, day after day, and year after year, to occupy his mind and his time, to the exclusion, wellnigh, of every other thought. His personal popularity with the students was very great, and it is unnecessary to add that their respect for him was unbounded. By the citizens of Lexington, and especially the graver and more pious portion, he was regarded with a love and admiration greater than any felt for him during the progress of his military career.

This was attributable, doubtless, to the franker and clearer exhibition by General Lee, in his latter years, of that extraordinary gentleness and sweetness, culminating in devoted Christian piety, which—concealed from all eyes, in some degree, during the war—now plainly revealed themselves, and were evidently the broad foundation and controlling influences of his whole life and character. To speak first of his gentleness and moderation in all his views and utterances. Of these eminent virtues—eminent and striking, above all, in a defeated soldier with so much to embitter him—General Lee presented a very remarkable illustration. The result of the war seemed to have left his great soul calm, resigned, and untroubled by the least rancor. While others, not more devoted to the South, permitted passion and sectional animosity to master them, and dictate acts and expressions full of bitterness toward the North, General Lee refrained systematically from every thing of that description; and by simple force of greatness, one would have said, rose above all prejudices and hatreds of the hour, counselling, and giving in his own person to all who approached him the example of moderation and Christian charity. He aimed to keep alive the old Southern traditions of honor and virtue; but not that sectional hatred which could produce only evil. To a lady who had lost her husband in the war, and, on bringing her two sons to the college, indulged in expressions of great bitterness toward the North, General Lee said, gently: "Madam, do not train up your children in hostility to the Government of the United States. Remember that we are one country now. Dismiss from your mind all sectional feeling, and bring them up to be Americans."

A still more suggestive exhibition of his freedom from rancor was presented in an interview which is thus described:

"One day last autumn the writer saw General Lee standing at his gate, talking pleasantly to an humbly-clad man, who seemed very much pleased at the cordial courtesy of the great chieftain, and turned off, evidently delighted, as we came up. After exchanging salutations, the general said, pointing to the retreating form, 'That is one of our old soldiers, who is in necessitous circumstances.' I took it for granted that it was some veteran Confederate, when the noble-hearted chieftain quietly added, 'He fought on the other side, but we must not think of that.' I afterward ascertained—not from General Lee, for he never alluded to his charities—that he had not only spoken kindly to this 'old soldier' who had 'fought on the other side,' but had sent him on his way rejoicing in a liberal contribution to his necessities."

Of the extent of this Christian moderation another proof was given by the soldier, at a moment when he might not unreasonably have been supposed to labor under emotions of the extremest bitterness. Soon after his return to Richmond, in April, 1865, when the immedicabile vulnus of surrender was still open and bleeding, a gentleman was requested by the Federal commander in the city to communicate to General Lee the fact that he was about to be indicted in the United States courts for treason.[1] In acquitting himself of his commission, the gentleman expressed sentiments of violent indignation at such a proceeding. But these feelings General Lee did not seem to share. The threat of arraigning him as a traitor produced no other effect upon him than to bring a smile to his lips; and, taking the hand of his friend, as the latter rose to go, he said, in his mildest tones: "We must forgive our enemies. I can truly say that not a day has passed since the war began that I have not prayed for them."

[Footnote 1: This was afterward done by one of the Federal judges, but resulted in nothing.]