Desperate as their plight had been for many days, Lee's men had not
wholly abandoned the hope of escape, but when their beloved commander
returned from the Federal lines they saw by his face that the end
had come, and crowding around him, they pressed his hands, even the
strongest among them shedding bitter tears. For a time he was unable
to respond in words to this touching demonstration, but finally, with a
great effort, he mastered his emotion and bravely faced his comrades.
"Men," he said, "we have fought through the war together; I have done my
best for you; my heart is too full to say more."
Brief as these words were, all who heard them realized that Lee saw
no prospect of continuing the struggle and meant to say so. He was, of
course, well aware that the Confederates had many thousand men still in
the field, and that by separating into armed bands they could postpone
the end for a considerable period. But this to his mind was not war
and he had no sympathy with such methods and no belief that they could
result in anything but more bloodshed and harsher terms for the South.
A word from him would have been quite sufficient to encourage the other
commanders to hold out and prolong the cruelly hopeless contest, but he
had determined not to utter it.
Grant was firmly convinced that this would be his attitude, but whether
he would actually advise the abandonment of the cause was another
question, and it was to suggest this course that the Union commander
sought him out on the morning after the surrender. This second interview
occurred between the lines of the respective armies and as the former
adversaries sat conversing on horseback, Grant tactfully introduced the
subject of ending the war.
He knew, he told Lee, that no man possessed more influence with the
soldiers and the South in general than he did, and that if he felt
justified in advising submission his word would doubtless have all the
effect of law. But to this suggestion Lee gravely shook his head.
He frankly admitted that further resistance was useless, but he was
unwilling to pledge himself to give the proposed advice until he had
consulted with the Confederate President, and Grant did not urge him,
feeling certain that he would do what he thought right. Nor was this
confidence misplaced, for though Lee never positively advised a general
surrender, his opinions soon came to be known and in a short time all
the Confederate forces in the field yielded.
But though peace was thus restored, the war had left two countries where
it had found one, and to the minds of many people they could never be
united again. It was then that Lee showed his true greatness, for from
the moment of his surrender he diligently strove by voice and pen and
example to create harmony between the North and South and to help in the
rebuilding of the nation. To those who asked his opinion as to whether
they should submit to the Federal authorities and take the required oath
of allegiance, he unhesitatingly replied, "If you intend to reside in
this country and wish to do your part in the restoration of your state
and in the government of the country, which I think is the duty of every
citizen, I know of no objection to your taking the oath."
He denounced the assassination of Lincoln as a crime to be abhorred by
every American, discountenanced the idea of Southerners seeking refuge
in foreign lands, scrupulously obeyed every regulation of the military
authorities regarding paroled prisoners and exerted all the influence
at his command to induce his friends to work with him for the
reconciliation of the country. Even when it was proposed to indict and
try him for treason he displayed no resentment or bitterness. "I have no
wish to avoid any trial that the Government may order. I hope others may
go unmolested," was his only comment. But no such persecution was to
be permitted, for Grant interfered the moment he heard of it, insisting
that his honor and that of the nation forbade that Lee should be
disturbed in any way, and his indignant protest straightway brought the
authorities to their senses.
In the meanwhile, innumerable propositions reached Lee, offering
him great monetary inducements to lend his name and fame to business
enterprises of various kinds, but although he had lost all his property
and was practically penniless, he would not consent to undertake
work that he did not feel competent to perform and would listen to no
suggestion of receiving compensation merely for the use of his name. His
desire was to identify himself with an institution of learning where he
could be of some public service, and at the same time gain the peaceful
home life of which he had dreamed for so many years. As soon as this was
understood offers came to him from the University of Virginia and the
University of the South at Suwannee, Tennessee, but he feared that his
association with a State institution like the University of Virginia
might create a feeling of hostility against it on the part of the
Federal Government, and the Vice-Chancellorship of the Tennessee
university would have required him to leave his native state.
Finally, the Trustees of Washington College offered him the Presidency
of that institution and the fact that it bore the name of the first
President and had been endowed by him straightway appealed to his
imagination. At one time the college had been in a flourishing condition
but it had suffered severely from the war, much of its property having
been destroyed and only a handful of students remained when he was
invited to take charge of its tottering fortunes. Indeed, the Trustees
themselves were so impoverished that none of them possessed even a
decent suit of clothes in which to appear before Lee and submit their
proposition. Nevertheless, one of them borrowed a respectable outfit for
the occasion and presented the offer with much dignity and effect
and Lee, after modestly expressing some doubts as to whether he could
"discharge the duties to the satisfaction of the Trustees or to the
benefit of the country," accepted the office at a merely nominal salary,
closing his formal acceptance of Aug. 11, 1865, with these words: "I
think it the duty of every citizen in the present condition of the
country to do all in his power to aid in the restoration of peace and
harmony and in no way to oppose the policy of the state or general
Government directed to that object."
This was the key-note of his thought from this time forward. "Life is
indeed gliding away and I have nothing of good to show for mine that is
past," he wrote shortly after assuming his new duties. "I pray I may be
spared to accomplish something for the benefit of mankind and the honor
of God."
It was no easy task to reëstablish an institution practically destitute
of resources in a poverty-stricken community struggling for a bare
subsistence after the ravages of war. But Lee devoted himself body and
soul to the work, living in the simplest possible fashion. Indeed, he
refused to accept an increase in his meager salary, which would have
provided him with some of the ordinary comforts of life, on the
ground that the institution needed every penny of its funds for its
development. But though the work was hard he took keen pleasure in
seeing it grow under his hands, and, little by little, the college
regained its prestige, while with the help of his daughters he made his
new home a place of beauty, planting flowers about the little house and
doing all in his power to make it attractive for his invalid wife.
Thus, for five years he lived far removed from the turmoil of public
life, performing a constant public service by exerting a direct personal
influence upon the students who came under his charge, and by doing
everything in his power to reunite the nation. Suggestions were
constantly made to him to enter politics and had he cared to do so, he
could undoubtedly have been elected to the Governorship of Virginia. But
he steadily declined to consider this, declaring that it might injure
the state to have a man so closely identified with the war at its head
and that he could best help in restoring harmony to the country in the
capacity of a private citizen.
During all this time he took an active interest in his sons, encouraging
them in their efforts to establish themselves and earn their own living,
visiting their farms and advising them in the comradely spirit which had
always characterized his relations with them. Indeed, every moment he
could spare from his collegiate duties was devoted to his family,
and his letters to his children, always cheerful and affectionate and
sometimes even humorously gay, expressed contentment and unselfishness
in every line.
At times it required great self-restraint to avoid bitterness toward the
Government, but even when Congress refused his wife's petition for
the restoration of the mementos of Washington, taken from her home in
Arlington during the war, he refrained from making any public protest
and his private comment showed how completely he subordinated his
personal wishes to the good of the country.
"In reference to certain articles which were taken from Arlington..."
he wrote, "Mrs. Lee is indebted...for the order from the present
Administration for their restoration to her. Congress, however, passed a
resolution forbidding their return. They were valuable to her as having
belonged to her great grandmother (Mrs. General Washington) and having
been bequeathed to her by her father. But as the country desires them
she must give them up. I hope their presence at the capital will keep
in the remembrance of all Americans the principles and virtues of
Washington." [These articles were restored to Lee's family by the order
of President McKinley in 1903.]
Toward the individuals, however, who had looted his house and
appropriated its treasures to their own use, he felt rather differently.
But his rebuke to them was written rather more in sorrow than in anger
and it likewise reflects the regard for his country which was ever the
uppermost thought in his mind.
"...A great many things formerly belonging to General Washington,
bequeathed to Mrs. Lee by her father, in the shape of books, furniture,
camp equipage, etc., were carried away by individuals and are now
scattered over the land," he wrote. "I hope the possessors appreciate
them and may imitate the example of their original owners whose conduct
must at times be brought to their recollection by these silent monitors.
In this way they will accomplish good to the country...."
For his first four years at Washington College Lee accomplished his
arduous duties with scarcely a sign of fatigue, but from that time
forward his health began to fail and though he kept at his work, it told
so heavily upon him that his friends at last persuaded him to take a
vacation. He, accordingly, started south with his daughter in March,
1870. Had he permitted it, his journey would have been one continual
ovation, for this was the first time he had traveled any considerable
distance from his home since the war and people flocked to greet him
from all sides with bands and speeches and cart-loads of flowers
and fruits. Indeed, it was extremely difficult to escape the public
receptions, serenades and other honors thrust upon him, and though he
returned to his duties in somewhat better condition, he was soon obliged
to retire to Hot Springs, Virginia, for another rest, from which he
returned toward the end of the summer vacation apparently restored to
health.
Meanwhile he had undertaken various other duties in addition to his
collegiate work and some two weeks after the reopening of the college he
attended a vestry meeting of the Episcopal Church. At this meeting the
subject of rebuilding the church and increasing the rector's salary was
under discussion and the session lasted for three hours, at the close
of which he volunteered to subscribe from his own meager funds the sum
needed to complete the proposed increase of the clergyman's salary. By
this time it was seven in the evening and he at once returned to his own
house, and finding his family ready for tea, stood at the head of the
table as he usually did to say grace. But no words came from his lips,
and with an expression of resignation on his face he quietly slipped
into his chair and sat there upright as though he had heard an order to
which he was endeavoring to respond by remaining at "attention."
Physicians were immediately called who diagnosed the trouble as
hardening of the arteries combined with rheumatism of the heart, and
though their patient never quite lost consciousness, he gradually fell
asleep, and on October 12, 1870, passed quietly away.
Three days later "Traveller," led by two old soldiers and followed by a
small but distinguished assemblage, accompanied his master to the grave
outside the little chapel which Lee had helped to build for the college
which soon thereafter changed its name to Washington and Lee University.
Nothing could have been more grateful to Lee then to have his name thus
associated with that of the man whom he revered above all other men and
upon whom he had patterned his whole life, and in this graceful tribute
he had his heart's desire.