Misjudged, deprived of command and made to stand inactive in the midst of the stirring scenes of the last days of the Confederacy, Hill was not a man to sulk in his tent. Volunteering successively on the staff of his old friends, Beauregard and Hoke, who appreciated his advice and assistance, he showed himself ever ready to serve the cause in any capacity.
The repeated and urgent requests of both Johnston and Beauregard that Hill should be restored to command, resulted at last in his assignment to duty at Charleston, from which place he fell back with our forces to Augusta.
When the remnant of the grand army of Tennessee reached Augusta in charge of General Stevenson, Johnston ordered Hill to assume command and move in front of the vast and victorious hosts of Sherman. The greeting given him by the little bands of the old legions of Cleburne and Breckinridge now left was a fitting tribute to an old commander whom they loved and admired. Hoping against hope, Hill was the leader above all others to infuse new spirit into the forlorn band devoted to this desperate duty. At every stream and on every eminence in his native State he disputed the ground with Sherman's vanguard till he developed a force that made it madness to contend further. Hill's reputation as a soldier depends in nowise upon successful running. This final retreat was the first and last in which he took a leading part. When once more his foot was planted upon the soil of North Carolina it was eminently fitting that he who heard the first victorious shouts of her first regiment in the first fight in Virginia would lead her brave sons in the last charge of the grand army of the great West within her own borders. Again, as in the last onset of Cox at Appomattox, North Carolina soldiers stood the highest test of the hero by facing danger in a gallant charge when they knew that all hope of success was gone forever.
The last years of General Hill's life were devoted to journalism and to teaching. As the editor of The Land We Love, and subsequently of The Southern Home, he wielded a trenchant pen and was a potent factor in putting down the post-bellum statesmen who proposed to relegate to the shades of private life the heroes and leaders of the Lost Cause. As a teacher, he soon placed himself in touch with his pupils and won their love and confidence, as he did that of the soldiers led by him to battle.
His opinions, whether upon political, religious or scientific subjects, were always the result of thought and study, and were expressed in terse and clear language. As a Christian, he constantly recurred to the cardinal doctrines of Christ's divinity and His complete atonement. He wrote two religious works which evince at once his grace and force as a writer, and his unbounded trust in these fundamental truths. The subject of the one was The Sermon on the Mount; of the other, The Crucifixion.
Unmoved in the presence of danger, schooled to hide his emotion at suffering in the critical time of battle, and forced by a sense of duty to show his bitter scorn for cowardice and treachery, it was the exclusive privilege of his family, his staff and his closest friends to fathom the depths of his true nature. The soldiers who saw him in camp or on the field could as little conceive of the humble Christian who, in the long hours of the night, pleaded with his God to spare their lives and save their souls, as they could of the affectionate father, the loving husband, the sympathizing friend, and the bountiful benefactor of the poor and helpless, known only to the favored few. A writer who in his last days was admitted to the inner circle of his friends, has so beautifully expressed his idea of his true character that I cannot do better than reproduce it as not an overdrawn picture, from the standpoint of one who served on his staff, had free access to his home circle, and observed and studied his motives and conduct:
"Fancy a man in whom the grim determination of a veteran warrior is united to a gentle tenderness of manner which would not be inappropriate to the most womanly of women; ... affix a pair of eyes that possess the most indisputably honest and kindly expression; animate him with a mind clear, deep, and comprehensive, and imbued with a humor as rich as it is deep and effective; infuse man and mind with a soul which in its lofty views compels subordination of the material to the spiritual, and holds a supreme trust in the wisdom and goodness of the Almighty—is zealous in the discharge of duty, and looks with scorn on all that is mean and sinful. Add to all these a carriage that is indomitable, and a love of truth and honor which is sublime, and you have the earthly embodiment of D. H. Hill."
General Hill, though born in South Carolina, lived most of his life in North Carolina, the State of his adoption. In the early part of the war, if there was any hard fighting to do, Hill usually bore the brunt of it. He was essentially a "pounder," was utterly fearless, believed in his cause with his whole heart, despised traitors, and ridiculed those who sought high places as bomb-proofs. It was this habit of thus ridiculing and condemning influential men that occasioned his quarrel with Jefferson Davis, for many of his victims sought to undermine the confidence of the Confederate chief in this grim old soldier. General Joe Johnston knew him, and knew his worth, and, when he was restored to the command of the army fighting Sherman, he gave Hill the prominence which he deserved. Hill's address on the "Old South," delivered in Baltimore, is one of the best and most interesting of its kind ever published. Like Julius Cæsar, he was a good writer as well as a good fighter.