Address of Mr. Washington, of Tennessee.
Mr. Speaker: On the 15th of last October death again invaded the ranks of this House. The mysterious messenger laid the summons of his cold silent hand upon one who had immeasurably endeared himself to all whose good fortune it had been to know him. To-day we pause amid the rush of a nation's public business to mourn the country's loss and to pay a just tribute to the noble dead. When such a man as our late colleague, Gen. William H.F. Lee, is taken from our midst, a void is made which can nevermore be filled. It is not his visible presence or his tangible body that we shall so much miss. It is the magnetism of a pure mind, the silent, potent influence of a spotless character, the power of a great, good, and noble soul to elevate and dignify all with whom it came in contact that will prove our irreparable loss. No man ever associated with Gen. Lee without feeling the better for it. To have been with him made you feel like one who had drawn a long deep inspiration of pure fresh air into his lungs after breathing the stifling atmosphere of a close room. His thoughts, his conversation, his ideas diffused about him a sound and healthy morality, that was as natural to him as its delicate odor is to the rose. Modest and gentle as a woman; sympathetic as a child; guileless as the day; a logical, well-trained, accurate mind; a horror of injustice; absolutely devoid of resentment; a benignant countenance, and a splendid physique, made him indeed a man among men.
Sir, I believe not only in early training, but in the force of early surroundings and family traditions. Sprung from an illustrious line of statesmen and patriots, who had left their impress on every page of the history, civil and military, of this country from the colonial days to the present; born on those beautiful heights overlooking this city at Arlington, where the house was filled with the sanctified relics and the very atmosphere he breathed in childhood was pregnant with the traditions and precepts of "the Father of his Country;" his mother being the daughter of George Washington Parke Custis, the adopted son of the immortal Washington; his father that world-renowned military commander, the self-poised, calm, patient, dignified, glorious Gen. Robert E. Lee, it would be unnatural not to expect to find the impress of all these on the heart and mind and character and life of Gen. William H.F. Lee.
To some my words of eulogy may appear fulsome; but having known him in public and in private, at home by his own fireside, as well as abroad on the active field of life, I know that my poor words can but fail to do full justice to his true worth. With him the performance of duty was accompanied by no harsh word or cynical expression; on the contrary, his calmness and uniform sweetness of manner were almost poetical. I recall a notable instance in the Fiftieth Congress, when, pressing under the most trying circumstances the passage of a bill for the relief of the Episcopal high school near Alexandria, he was temperate and patient. Standing on the Republican side of this Hall, among those who questioned him, his words fell softly and evenly as snowflakes on the turbulent House, which finally by an almost unanimous vote passed his bill.
He shrank from publicity; therefore he never spoke on this floor unless it was necessary to push a measure intrusted to his charge; then he always acquitted himself with credit. In the committee and among his colleagues his influence was irresistible, because his judgment and integrity were above dispute.
With him a public office was a public trust, which he accepted and administered for his State and his constituents without regard to race, color, or party affiliation. Many times have I seen him, when coming in from his country home in the morning, met at the depot by a dozen or more of his constituents, claiming his attention to their private matters with the Departments of the Government.
The patience and tender care with which he heard and looked after each were paternal and pathetic. His love for little children was intense and beautiful. Nothing made him happier than to fill some little fellow's hands and pockets with candies and fruits, claiming only in return a shy caress. In his home is where his perfectly balanced Christian character shone in its brightest light. As father and husband he was indeed a model man.
I shall attempt no extended biographical sketch; that has already been well done by others. Yet I can not refrain from saying that in every stage of his career Gen. Lee did his whole duty, actuated entirely and solely by the loftiest motives.
A graduate of Harvard at twenty, he was appointed a second lieutenant in the regular Army. Often I have heard him tell of the wearisome march across the plains to California with his regiment, long in advance of civilization and railroads, when most of that journey through the desert was made perilous by roving bands of hostile Indians. Retiring from the Army, he married and settled at the historic White House, in lower Virginia. There he was the typical Southern country gentleman of refinement and culture, taking an active interest in agriculture and the public affairs of his community. When the war between the States summoned Virginia's sons to her defense he again became a soldier.
Throughout the struggle he discharged every duty and was equal to every responsibility placed upon him. His soldiers loved and trusted him as a father, for they knew he would sacrifice no life for empty glory. The saddest chapter in all his life was when—a prisoner of war at Fort Monroe, lying desperately wounded, with the threat of a retaliatory death-sentence suspended over his head, in hourly expectation of its execution—he heard of the fatal illness of his wife and two little children but a few miles away. Earnestly his friends begged that he might be allowed to go and say the last farewell to them on earth. A devoted brother came, like Damon of old, and offered himself to die in "Rooney's" place. War, inexorable war, always stern and cruel, could not accept the substituted sacrifice, and while the sick wounded soldier, under sentence of death, lay, himself almost dying, in the dungeon of the Fort, his wife and children "passed over the river to rest under the trees" and wait there his coming. Yet no word of reproach ever passed his gentle lips. He accepted it all as the fortune of war.