Mr. SPEAKER: These occasions of tribute-offering in this Hall never fail
to impress me with extreme sadness, increase my awe and reverence of Him
who holds in the hollow of His hand every moment we live and every
breath we draw, and teach me the lesson of our mortality.
These scenes have become very familiar to me, and their frequency
reminds me with terrible force that--
All that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
Most naturally am I more than usually touched and pained by the death of
him which now hangs its somber drapery around the walls of our hearts
and casts its pall over this Chamber. It is a death within the
representative circle of which I am a member. It is the death of a
colleague, a friend, whose presence in that circle always brought
sunshine and never shadow.
Tributes to his memory, clothed in language of beauty and breathing
with love and burning with pathos, have already been paid, and others
will follow; and now, while I can not hope to charm with the tongue of
eloquence or touch the soul with the figures of rhetoric, I come with my
tribute.
It will be plain and unadorned, but it will at least have the merit of
sincerity, and, like the widow's mite, be all that I can give.
WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH LEE, of Virginia, is no more.
How the name of Lee, whenever uttered, wherever chivalry has erected her
altar, sends a thrill like an electric current through every fiber of
the manly man.
How the name of Virginia has been upon every tongue since Queen
Elizabeth, nearly three centuries ago, gave that name to that section
around which to-day historic memories linger and traditions and glories
cluster as thick "as the stars in the crown of night," the section where
Christopher Newport and his devoted followers "builded an altar unto the
Lord and in the savage wilderness" deposited the germ of this mighty
nation, "and where God blessed them as He blessed Noah and his sons,
saying unto them, 'The fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon
every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that
moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea; into your
hand are they delivered.'"
Virginia! The land of legends and lays--the land where the cradle of
republican liberty was rocked, and where, in 1765, the first denial was
heard of the right of the British Parliament to levy taxes upon the
Colonies which kindled the fire of patriotic fervor and led to the
ever-living, soul-inspiring words of her Henry and the raising up of her
Jefferson to heights of imperishable fame and her Washington to the
pinnacle of everlasting renown.
Virginia! The land of battlefields and battle gore, colonial relics and
Revolutionary monuments, spotless fame and unsullied honor; the land of
patriot soldiers and heroes, and of a Yorktown, where the tyrant's head
was bruised and the glorious strife ended which struck from our fathers
the fetters and gave to them and their posterity a country gleaming in
the golden sunlight of republican liberty, and throwing wide open her
gates to the oppressed of every clime.
Virginia! The land of mountains, upon whose summits and in whose gorges
the spirit of freedom roams unfettered and unconquerable; the land of
valleys, which are hung like alcoved aisles with scenes of heroism and
pictures of daring, self-sacrifice, and devotion to principle; the land
of rivers and rivulets, which reflect like mirrors the fields upon which
her blood has been poured out like water upon the ground; the land of
zephyrs and breezes, and where the storm king sometimes dwells, gently
murmuring or in thunder tones proclaiming her glories and her fame; the
land of blue beautiful skies, radiant with the virtues of her daughters
and bespangled with the deeds of her sons; the land of memorials of the
past, that inspire the Virginia youth, whether born in poverty or in
riches, reared in the cottage humble or in the mansion stately, with a
patriotism that knows not section and yet a State love that knows not
bounds.
It was in this land that Richard Henry Lee, the fire and splendor of
whose eloquence burned like a hot iron into the soul of tyranny, and
Francis Lightfoot Lee, both of them signers of the Declaration of
Independence, were born; it was in this land that Arthur Lee, through
whose instrumentality the Colonies secured the friendship and support of
France, and "Light-Horse Harry" Lee, whose legion following his plume,
struck the enemy in the bivouac, on the march, in the lurid glare of
battle, on the flank, and in the front like a thunderbolt from the
skies, were born. It was in this land that Robert Edward Lee, whose
services on the fields of Mexico decked his brow with the warrior's
laurel, and whose leadership of the Confederate armies in the
unfortunate strife between the States made his name immortal, and whose
virtues shine with the brilliancy of a polished diamond, wreath his
character in moral grandeur, and draw pæans and praises from friend and
foe and from every clime where exalted manhood and a spotless life find
devotees, was born; and it was in this land that WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH
LEE, whose memory we are here to perpetuate, was born--all, all of the
same lineage and blood.
What a line of illustrious and distinguished men of one name for one
State to produce. What a line of illustrious men to spring from the old
cavalier family that under the reign of Charles I settled in the county
of Northumberland, between the waters of the Rappahannock and Potomac,
since glorified by the pen of the historian and the lyre of the poet.
WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH LEE! How sweet does that name sound to me. What
recollections does it awaken. How quickly do I find my heart throbbing;
how rapidly my blood rushes through its channels.
Less than a twelvemonth ago he sat in yon seat or moved hither and
thither about this Hall and along these passageways, pausing here and
there to speak a pleasant word or exchange a friendly greeting. His tall
and commanding person, his open, frank, and benevolent face and courtly
bearing marked him among the membership of this House, and would have
marked him in any assemblage, whether in the glittering splendor of
royalty or in the plain dignity of our republican institutions. To see
him once was to remember him forever. His image is as distinct before me
this moment as if he stood in the flesh with his eye beaming forth the
goodness of his nature and his hand outstretched, as was his wont, to
receive mine.
Mr. Speaker, his illustrious father, when the shadows of Appomattox
closed round him, when the darkness of defeat enveloped him, when his
soul was rent and torn and his mind was filled with anguish and his
ragged and tired and worn veterans, reduced to a mere thin skirmish
line, the remnant of an army that had shed unfading luster upon the
American arms and the American soldier, gathered with tear-moistened
cheeks about him to bid him farewell and receive his blessing, gave
utterance to a sentiment just quoted by my colleague [Mr. TUCKER], a
sentiment as grand and noble as was ever written upon any Roman tablet
or carved upon any column of enduring marble that was ever reared in the
flood light of glory:
Duty is the sublimest word in our language.
Yes, Mr. Speaker, thus spoke Robert Edward Lee, the soldier, hero,
Christian, and philanthropist: and when we come to study the life and
character of WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH LEE we are impressed with the fact
that he took duty as his talismanic word, that it was the star that
guided him, and that he followed it as faithfully as the "wise men"
followed the Star from "the East" to Jerusalem and thence to Bethlehem.
We believe that in his youth, on the heights of Arlington, where his
eyes first opened upon the light, he learned at his father's knee and by
his father's daily walk and conversation the great lesson of duty which
steered his course and pointed out his pathway in life.
He was born, as has been said, on the 31st day of May, 1837. In 1857 he
was appointed a second lieutenant in the Sixth Regiment of United States
Infantry, and served in 1858 in the then far West under Albert Sidney
Johnston, whose fame Shiloh echoes and reëchoes along the banks of the
Tennessee. In 1859 he resigned his commission in the Army and returned
to Virginia and located on his estate in the county of New Kent. In
1861, when the Southern tocsin sounded and Virginia's voice was heard
calling for troops, he raised a cavalry company and joined the Army of
Northern Virginia. He rose gradually from captain to major-general of
cavalry; was wounded in the terrific engagement between the Confederate
and Federal cavalry at Brandy Station on the 9th day of June, 1863; was
captured at Hanover Court-House, and was confined at Fort Monroe and
Fort Lafayette until March, 1864, when he was exchanged, and repaired to
his command, and served until the flag which he loved was furled forever
at Appomattox.
From that time forward he cultivated his large estate with much care,
serving one term in the senate of his State, declining a renomination.
In 1886 he was elected to the Fiftieth Congress from the Eighth
Congressional district of Virginia, and again in 1888 to the Fifty-first
Congress, and still again in 1890 to the present Congress.
It was my privilege and pleasure to form his acquaintance in the army
and to watch his flashing blade amid the carnage of battle, observe his
cool courage and intrepid bearing and the love and confidence of his men
upon more than one sanguinary field. He was as calm when the leaden hail
was rattling and as cool when the shells were shrieking and bursting as
he was upon this floor. He was a leader, not a follower of his men; if
they went into the jaws of death, he was at their head. He fared as his
men fared; if their haversacks were empty, his was empty; if they laid
down in the mud, he laid there too; if they sweltered in the summer heat
or shivered in the winter blast, he sweltered or shivered too; and thus
it was he kindled in the breasts of his men intense love for himself and
secured their implicit confidence in his leadership.
The promotions he received, rising from a captain to a major-general,
speak in terms stronger than any words of mine of his courage and valor
and his qualities as a soldier and military chieftain.
As a civilian, pursuing the quiet walks of rural life and devoting
himself to agriculture, the noblest of all arts, he was honored by all
the people and drew to him his neighbors, binding them with the steely
bands of constant friendship. His word was as good as his bond, and the
dusky son of toil as well as the intelligent tenant on his wide
possessions relied upon it with absolute faith; and the most beautiful
tribute that could be paid to his memory was the deep sorrow which
manifested itself in a meeting after his death of those whose brawny
muscle had held the plow-handles and whose toil had made the corn and
the wheat grow on his rich and fertile fields.
In politics he was a Democrat, and he was as pure in the political arena
as in private life. He scorned the ways of the demagogue and the
timeserver, and believed that "men should be what they seem." In the
councils of his State and in the councils of the nation he was found at
all times in full accord with the principles and policy of his party.
As a Representative he was as true to his constituents as any subject to
his sovereign, laboring in season and out of season to serve them, and
even when his strong frame began to weaken and the germs of disease had
been planted in his system he disregarded the warning calls for rest
and continued to bend all his energies in the discharge of his trust,
and I but speak the truth when I say that he fell a martyr to duty.
But, Mr. Speaker, while he was grand as a soldier, pure as a man,
exalted as a citizen, and faithful as a Representative, it was in the
home circle, as husband and father, and not on the battlefield, in civil
life, or in the halls of legislation, that the beauty and loveliness of
his character drew a halo around him.
He loved home, and it had a charm for him which neither pleasures,
honors, nor fame could pluck from his bosom. Blessed by the
companionship of one worthy of all adoration, and who presided like a
queen over his household, entering into all his joys, sharing all his
sorrows, and encouraging all his aspirations, he loved the breezes that
kissed her cheeks, the birds that made sweet music to her ear, the
rivulets that gently murmured her name, the flowers that shed their
fragrance in her bowers, and the stately oaks under which the children
of their union had prattled and the pebbled walks upon which they had
played and gamboled.
Yes, he loved home, and in its sacred circle his presence was like a
sunbeam, brightening every face and warming every heart. He was all
patience, gentleness, kindness, and love, and if there ever was a home
which was a fit emblem of heaven it was Ravensworth, the home of this
distinguished man.
Mr. Speaker, he is gone. He lives now only in memory. In October last,
when the frosts were blighting and the leaves were falling and the
autumnal winds were sighing, after patient waiting for the fatal hour it
came, and God's finger touched him, and the brave soldier, honored
citizen, faithful Representative, devoted husband, and affectionate
father was dead.
He passed away quietly, strong in Christian faith and in the hope of a
blissful eternity.
WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH LEE! His State mourns his death. Within the bosom
of her soil he rests--peacefully rests. In his ancestral land near by
Arlington, historic, revered Arlington, the scene of his childhood and
early manhood, he sleeps--sleeps the sleep that knows no waking.
Earth, that all too soon hath bound him,
Gently wrap his clay!
Linger lovingly around him,
Light of dying day!