“At last, when the terms of surrender had all been signed, Lee arose, cold and proud, and bowed to each man on our side in the room. And then he went out and passed down that little square in front of the house, and mounted the gray horse that had carried him all over Virginia.
“When he had gone we learned what the low-toned words had meant. General Grant turned and said: ‘You go and ask each man that has three rations to turn over two of them, and send them on to General Lee. His men are on the point of starvation.’”
This calm, proud man was the same who a few hours before had said: “Then there is nothing left me but to go and see General Grant, and I would rather die a thousand deaths.” His superb, proud mien won from the foe only praise and respect.
I must here give you General Fitzhugh Lee’s picture of the two generals at that time:
“Grant, not yet forty-three years old, five feet eight inches tall, shoulders slightly stooped, hair and beard nut-brown, wearing a dark-blue blouse; top-boots, pants inside; dark thread gloves; without spurs or sword, and no marks of rank save the straps of a general.
“Lee, fifty-eight years old, six feet tall, hair and beard silver-gray; a handsome uniform of Confederate gray, buttoned to the throat, with three stars on collar, fine top-boots with spurs, new gauntlets, and at his side a splendid sword.” Lee wore his best in honor of the cause for which he fought.
General Lee never touched tobacco, brandy or whiskey; he was always a sober man. Just as he was starting to the Mexican war, a lady in Virginia gave him a bottle of fine old whiskey, saying that he would be sure to need it, and that it was very fine. On his return home he sent the bottle, unopened, to his friend to convince her that he could get along without whiskey.
General Lee once proposed to treat some of his officers, saying, “I have a demijohn which I know is of the best.” The demijohn was brought, and the cups, held out for the treat, were filled to the brim—not with old “Rye,” but with fresh buttermilk, which a kind lady had sent. The General seemed to enjoy the joke hugely.
Being once asked to a fine dinner, he refused all the good dishes, and said to the lady of the house: “I cannot consent to be feasting while my poor men are nearly starving.”
It was his way to send any nice thing he might have to the sick and wounded in the hospitals.