THE COUNSEL OF LEE
"A few days after the occupation, some drunken soldiers were heard talking
in the back yard to our negroes, and it was gathered from what they said
that the Federals were afraid General Lee had formed an ambuscade
somewhere in the neighbourhood of the city, and that he might fall upon
them at any time and deliver Richmond out of their hands. How our people
wished it might be so!" Matoaca relates. "Do not buoy yourself up with
that hope, my dear," said her monitor. "There's no hope save in the mercy
of our conquerors. General Lee is a great soldier, an extraordinary
tactician, but he cannot do the impossible. Our army cannot go on fighting
forever without money and without food."
When our beloved general came home, the doctrine he taught by precept and
example was that of peace. "The stainless sword of Lee" had been laid down
in good faith. We had fought a good fight, we had failed, we must accept
the inevitable, we must not lose heart, we must work for our country's
welfare in peace. The very first heard of him in his modest, unheralded
home-returning, he was teaching this.
Young William McCaw, his courier for four years, rode in with him; and
General Lee, before going to his own home, delivered William, safe and
sound, to his father. Dr. McCaw came out when they stopped in front of his
door, and General Lee said:
"Here, Doctor, is your boy. I've brought him home to you."
William was standing beside Traveller, his arm clasped around General
Lee's leg, and crying as if his heart would break. The General put his
hand on William's head and said:
"No more fighting--that's all over. You've been a good fighter, Will--now
I want to see you work for your country's welfare in peace. Be a good boy.
I expect a fine Christian manhood of you. Goodbye," and he rode away to
his own home, where his invalid wife awaited him.
It was good to have them home again, our men in gray; good though they
came gaunt and footsore, ragged and empty-handed. And glad was the man in
gray to cross his own threshold, though the wolf was at the door. Our men
were ready enough for peace when peace--or what they mistook for
peace--came; that is, the mass of them were. They had fought and starved
their fill. The cries of destitute women and children called them home.
They had no time to pause and cavil over lost issues, or to forge new
occasions for quarrel. All they asked now was a chance to make meat and
bread and raiment for themselves and those dependent on them.
Yet some young spirits were restive, would have preferred death to
surrender. The lesson of utter submission came hard. The freeborn
American, fearless of shot and shell, and regarding free speech as his
birthright, found the task of keeping close watch over his tongue
difficult. General Lee knew the mettle of the fiery young courier to whom
he uttered the parting words that have been recorded. To many another
youth just out of armor, he gave the same pacific counsel:
"We have laid down the sword. Work for a united country."
[Illustration: RESIDENCE OF ROBERT E. LEE. 1861-65,
Richmond, Va.
Now the home of the Virginia Historical Society.]
One high-strung lad seeing a Federal soldier treat a lady rudely on the
street (a rare happening in Richmond), knocked him down, and was arrested.
The situation was serious. The young man's father went to General Ord and
said: "See here, General, that boy's hot from the battle-field. He doesn't
know anything but to fight." General Ord's response was: "I'll arrange
this matter for you. And you get this boy out of the city tonight."
There happened to be staying in the same house with some of our friends, a
young Confederate, Captain Wharton, who had come on sick leave to Richmond
before the evacuation, and who, after that event, was very imprudent in
expressing his mind freely on the streets, a perilous thing to do in those
days. His friends were concerned for his safety. Suddenly he disappeared.
Nobody knew what had become of him. Natural conclusion was that free
speech had gotten him into trouble. At last a message came: "Please send
me something to eat. I am in prison."
Ladies came to know if Matoaca would be one of a committee to wait on the
Provost-Marshal General in his behalf. She agreed, and the committee set
out for the old Custom House where the Federals held court. They were
admitted at once to General Patrick's presence. He was an elderly
gentleman, polite, courteous. "I was surprised," says Matoaca, "because I
had expected to see something with hoof and horns."
"General," she said, "we have come to see you about a young gentleman, our
friend, Captain Wharton. He is in prison, and we suppose the cause of his
arrest was imprudent speech. He has been ill for some time, and is too
feeble to bear with safety the hardships and confinement of prison life.
If we can secure his release, we will make ourselves responsible for his
conduct." She finished her little speech breathless. She saw the glimmer
of a smile way down in his eyes. "I know nothing about the case," he said
kindly. "Of course, I can not know personally of all that transpires. But
I will inquire into this matter, and see what can be done for this young
gentleman." Soon after, Captain Wharton called on Matoaca. She could
hardly have left General Patrick's presence before an orderly was
dispatched for his release.
Friction resulted from efforts to ram the oath down everybody's throat at
once. I recite this instance because of the part General Lee took and
duplicated in multitudes of cases. Captain George Wise was called before
the Provost to take the oath. "Why must I take it?" asked he. "My parole
covers the ground. I will not." "You fought under General Lee, did you
not?" "Yes. And surrendered with him, and gave my parole. To require this
oath of me is to put an indignity upon me and my general." "I will make a
bargain with you, Captain. Consult General Lee and abide by his decision."
The captain went to the Lee residence, where he was received by Mrs. Lee,
who informed him that her husband was ill, but would see him. The general
was lying on a lounge, pale, weary-looking, but fully dressed, in his gray
uniform, the three stars on his collar; the three stars--to which any
Confederate colonel was entitled--was the only insignia of rank he ever
wore. "They want me to take this thing, General," said the captain,
extending a copy of the oath. "My parole covers it, and I do not think it
should be required of me. What would you advise?"
"I would advise you to take it," he said quietly. "It is absurd that it
should be required of my soldiers, for, as you say, the parole
practically covers it. Nevertheless, take it, I should say." "General, I
feel that this is submission to an indignity. If I must continue to swear
the same thing over at every street corner, I will seek another country
where I can at least preserve my self-respect."
General Lee was silent for a few minutes. Then he said, quietly as before,
a deep touch of sadness in his voice: "Do not leave Virginia. Our country
needs her young men now."
When the captain told Henry A. Wise that he had taken the oath, the
ex-governor said: "You have disgraced the family!" "General Lee advised me
to do it." "Oh, that alters the case. Whatever General Lee says is all
right, I don't care what it is."
The North regarded General Lee with greater respect and kindness than was
extended to our other leaders. A friendly reporter interviewed him, and
bold but temperate utterances in behalf of the South appeared in the "New
York Herald" as coming from General Lee. Some of the remarks were very
characteristic, proving this newspaper man a faithful scribe. When
questioned about the political situation, General Lee had said: "I am no
politician. I am a soldier--a paroled prisoner." Urged to give his opinion
and advised that it might have good effect, he responded:
"The South has for a long time been anxious for peace. In my earnest
belief, peace was practicable two years ago, and has been since that time
whenever the general government should see fit to give any reasonable
chance for the country to escape the consequences which the exasperated
North seemed ready to visit upon it. They have been looking for some word
or expression of compromise and conciliation from the North upon which
they might base a return to the Union, their own views being considered.
The question of slavery did not lie in the way at all. The best men of the
South have long desired to do away with the institution and were quite
willing to see it abolished. But with them in relation to this subject,
the question has ever been: 'What will you do with the freed people?' That
is the serious question today. Unless some humane course based upon wisdom
and Christian principles is adopted, you do them a great injustice in
setting them free." He plead for moderation towards the South as the part
of wisdom as well as mercy. Oppression would keep the spirit of resistance
alive. He did not think men of the South would engage in guerilla warfare
as some professed to fear, but it was best not to drive men to
desperation. "If a people see that they are to be crushed, they sell their
lives as dearly as possible." He spoke of the tendency towards
expatriation, deploring it as a misfortune to our common country at a time
when one section needed building up so badly, and had, at the best, a
terribly depleted force of young, strong men. Throughout, he spoke of the
North and South as "we," and expressed his own great willingness to
contribute in every way in his power to the establishment of the communal
peace and prosperity.
A brave thing for a "rebel" officer to do, he spoke out for Mr. Davis.
"What has Mr. Davis done more than any other Southerner that he should be
singled out for persecution? He did not originate secession, is not
responsible for its beginning; he opposed it strenuously in speech and
writing."
[Illustration: MRS. ROBERT E. LEE
(Mary Randolph Custis)
Great-granddaughter of Martha Washington]
Wherever he appeared in Richmond, Federal soldiers treated him with
respect. As for our own people, to the day of his death Richmond stood
uncovered when General Lee came there and walked the streets. If, as he
passed along, he laid his hand on a child's head, the child never forgot
it. His words with our young men were words of might, and the cause of
peace owes to him a debt that the Peace Angel of the Union will not
forget.
"THE SADDEST GOOD FRIDAY"