the construction of harbor defenses in Hampton Roads. As he labored to
make these as strong as possible, he little dreamed that it would be
his problem, a quarter of a century later, to study how he might
demolish them.
From Hampton Roads he was transferred to Washington, and made assistant
to the chief engineer--an agreeable change as it brought him close to
his wife's home. Mounted on a favorite steed he could easily "commute"
back and forth between office and home. On one occasion it is related
that he invited a brother officer, Captain Macomb, out home for the
night, and as the latter had no mount, Lee took him up behind himself,
and down Pennsylvania Avenue they went, saluting other officers whom
they encountered, with great glee. That was one time when a
commutation ticket was good for two.
Five years after graduation he had worked up to a first lieutenancy,
and two years more found him a captain. In 1835 he was appointed on a
commission to fix the boundary line between Michigan and Ohio. A few
months later he was detailed to make an important study of the
Mississippi River and Valley with a view to determining how to prevent
the annual overflows with their consequent damage to property. His
researches were chiefly along the upper river at Illinois. It is said
that while there he was struck with the enormous potential energy of
the current, and reported that if a dam were constructed at a certain
place, a great storehouse of power would be possible. This was long
before the day of the dynamo, by which such power could be harnessed.
Many years later, however, his dream came true, at the place he had
indicated,--the great power dam nearly a mile long blocking the "Father
of Waters" for the first time in his tumultuous career, at Keokuk, Iowa.
Farther down stream, above St. Louis, he began a system of river
improvements which aroused no little opposition among property owners.
The dispute that arose was one of the first things which brought the
name of Robert E. Lee to public attention. But despite the
short-sighted protests of some citizens of St. Louis, Lee went quietly
ahead and carried the work through to the permanent betterment of the
city. "I was sent here to do certain work, and I shall do it," was his
terse comment.
When he had completed his work on the Mississippi, he was sent to New
York to complete the harbor defenses at Fort Hamilton--down at the
gateway of the city. He had been made captain of engineers by this
time, and was looked upon as one of the ablest men in his line of work,
in the army.
It was not long before his mettle was to be tested in actual warfare.
The trouble with Mexico which had been smouldering for several years at
length burst into flame. After the first victories along the border
under General Zach. Taylor, a campaign from the sea was undertaken,
under General Winfield Scott, who landed at Vera Cruz. The purpose was
to march overland to the capital, reducing the country as they went;
and to make this possible the army engineers were in demand. They
answered the call gladly, for the spirit of adventure ran high, and
every army officer welcomed the chance to see active service.
In the corps of engineers we find several names destined to become
famous--Lee, Beauregard, McClellan, Foster, Tower, Stevens, Totten, and
others; while Grant was attached to the commissary of the same army.
It was in effect a training school for the great drama of a few short
years later.
Captain Lee was placed on the personal staff of General Scott, and
given supervision of important road and bridge building. In a letter
to his wife, dated Rio Grande, October 11, 1846, he writes: "We have
met with no resistance yet. The Mexicans who were guarding the passage
retired on our approach. There has been a great whetting of knives,
grinding of swords, and sharpening of bayonets ever since we reached
the river."
This was written while serving with General Wool in northern Mexico.
He took part in the battle of Buena Vista, his first engagement, and
was then summoned to Vera Cruz by Scott. That doughty old General and
former commandant at West Point had all along shown a great partiality
for Lee; and in the campaign which was to follow, we find him
constantly writing of his young staff officer in glowing terms. One
such incident is typical.
Lee had undertaken alone an all-night exploration of a desolate, lava
tract called the Pedregal, which had been shunned by scouts and
troopers alike. It was treacherous country, difficult to traverse, and
possibly infested by the enemy. General Scott writes: "I had
despatched several staff officers who had, within the space of two
hours, returned and reported to me that each had found it impracticable
to penetrate far into the Pedregal during the dark. . . . Captain Lee,
having passed over the difficult ground by daylight, found it just
possible to return to San Augustin in the dark, the greatest feat of
physical and moral courage performed by any individual, in my
knowledge, pending the campaign."
Another General, P. F. Smith, also bears tribute to this and other such
feats: "I wish partially to record my admiration of the conduct of
Captain Lee, of the Engineers. His reconnaissances, though pushed far
beyond the bounds of prudence, were conducted with so much skill that
their fruits were of the utmost value--the soundness of his judgment
and personal daring being equally conspicuous."
At Vera Cruz Lee had the pleasure of meeting his older brother, from
whom he had long been separated. This was Lieutenant Sydney Smith Lee,
who had entered the Navy before Robert went to West Point. Now for the
first time the brothers, sailor and soldier, fought side by side. But
it was with mixed feelings that Robert Lee passed through this
experience. He was brave enough on his own account, but he constantly
trembled for Sydney! He had placed a battery in position to reduce the
town, and thus describes the ensuing action:
"The first day this battery opened Smith served one of the guns. I had
constructed the battery, and was there to direct its fire. No matter
where I turned, my eyes reverted to him, and I stood by his gun
whenever I was not wanted elsewhere. Oh! I felt awfully, and am at a
loss what I should have done had he been cut down before me. I thank
God that he was saved. He preserved his usual cheerfulness, and I
could see his white teeth through all the smoke and din of the fire."
When the soldiers moved inland, after capturing Vera Cruz, the sailors
were left behind, and Lee had to bid his brother farewell.
The records of the six months' campaign in Mexico contain many
references to Lee's skill and bravery. He was then forty years old, in
the hey-dey of his vigor. He would remain in the saddle from dawn to
twilight, if necessary, and never shirked a duty. No wonder that Scott
was proud of him and came to rely upon him more and more.
"At Chapultepec," he writes, "Captain Lee was constantly conspicuous,
bearing important orders till he fainted from a wound and the loss of
two nights' sleep at the batteries."
The campaign certainly showed that Lee was a soldier and the son of a
soldier. He was repeatedly cited for meritorious conduct, and was
brevetted major, lieutenant colonel, and colonel in rapid succession.
This proved not merely his bravery, but his ability in planning
engagements and discovering the weak points of the enemy--features
which he was to turn to such remarkable account in many famous battles
of the Civil War.
When peace with Mexico was declared, Lee was given a welcome furlough,
and went back to Arlington to visit his wife and children. He had been
so constantly away from home, that he failed to recognize his youngest
son, whom he had left an infant. And it is said that he himself was
first recognized by a faithful dog.
His son and namesake, R. E. Lee, in his "Recollections," speaks of his
father's love for animals. He once rescued a dog that was near
drowning in the "Narrows," and it became his devoted follower through
life. In a letter home he writes (one of many such references),
"Cannot you cure poor Spec? (his dog). Cheer him up! Take him to walk
with you--tell the children to cheer him up." We have already spoken
of his favorite horse, "Traveller." After the great War, during which
horse and rider were inseparable, Lee wrote a description and tribute
to his equine friend which must appeal to every true lover of horses.
Lee's two elder sons held true to the family traditions by both
entering West Point. Lee himself was presently sent there by the
government as Superintendent--just twenty-three years after he had
graduated. He served in this capacity for three years, then was given
an assignment to the cavalry, with the rank of lieutenant colonel. For
the next five years his duties took him into several states, chiefly in
the West and Southwest. It was an unsettled time on the Border, both
from the Mexicans at the South, and the Indians in the West, and
constant police duty was necessary. It was arduous and lacked the
thrill of a real campaign, but in any event, it kept Lee from growing
rusty as a soldier. Unconsciously to him and to his Government, it was
shaping him and fitting him for the great drama just ahead.
For slowly but surely the North and the South were drifting apart. At
first the discussion had been political, but now it was growing more
and more personal and bitter. The disputed questions were slavery and
States' Rights. A preliminary cloud in the sky was the fanatical raid
of John Brown, who, in 1859, tried to stir up the negroes of northern
Virginia against their masters. This raid was promptly crushed at
Harper's Ferry, and Lee with his regiment of cavalry assisted in
restoring order, but though
"John Brown's body lay a'mouldering in the grave.
His soul went marching on."
While many Southerners did not own slaves and did not believe in
slavery, the question of States' Rights found them with undivided
front. Had not this doctrine been expressly implied in the Federal
Constitution? Had not this right been invoked more than once in the
North--by the staunch State of Massachusetts, for example, as early as
1809, and as lately as 1842? Thus they reasoned, and when matters at
last reached a breaking point in 1861, the Southern States, following
South Carolina's lead one by one, felt that they were acting only
within their recognized rights.
The actual call to arms brought a heart-breaking time to many homes.
In some it actually parted father and son, or brother and brother.
While it created no such chasm in the Lee family, it brought to Robert
E. Lee the bitterest and most trying decision of his whole life.
Lee had loved his country. He had served her faithfully for thirty-two
years. His actions rather than his words had proved his entire
devotion, but the words too were not lacking, as references to his
letters will show. One such glimpse of his heart is seen in a letter
written from Texas, in 1856. In telling his wife about his Fourth of
July celebration, he says: "Mine was spent after a march of thirty
miles, on one of the branches of the Brazos, under my blanket, elevated
on four sticks driven in the ground, as a sunshade. The sun was fiery
hot, the atmosphere like a blast from a hot-air furnace, the water
salt, still my feelings for my country were as ardent, my faith in her
future as true, and my hope for her advancement as unabated, as they
would have been under better circumstances."
When finally the choice had to be made, between State and Nation, Lee
was sore beset. He had no interest in the perpetuation of slavery.
His views all tended the other way. "In this enlightened age," he
wrote, "there are few, I believe, but will acknowledge that slavery as
an institution is a moral and political evil." He had already set free
his own slaves, and was in favor of freeing "all the slaves in the
South."
But when it came a question of deserting his own State, his beloved
Virginia, the problem was far more difficult. "All night nearly he
paced his chamber," says Thomas Nelson Page, "often seeking on his
knees the guidance of the God he trusted in. But in the morning light
had come. His wife's family were strongly Union in their sentiments,
and the writer has heard that powerful family influences were exerted
to prevail on him to adhere to the Union side. 'My husband has wept
tears of blood,' wrote Mrs. Lee to his old commander, Scott, who did
him the justice to declare that he knew he acted under a compelling
sense of duty."
Lee had no illusions as to the sternness of the contest, and the
sacrifices that he with all others would have to make. His own
beautiful home lay just across the river from Washington. He must have
seen with prophetic vision how it would be seized by the Federal
Government and held for other purposes--an act of confiscation that was
only partially atoned for half a century later. He knew also that
Virginia being a border State would bear the brunt of war.
"I can contemplate no greater calamity for the country than a
dissolution of the Union," he wrote in January. And in April that
dissolution came.
Nor did the fortunes of the War itself swerve him from the belief that
in serving his State, he was doing his highest duty. After it was over
and he had gone into the retirement of work in Washington College, we
find him writing to General Beauregard as follows:
"I need not tell you that true patriotism sometimes requires men to act
exactly contrary at one period to that which it does at another--and
the motive which impels them--the desire to do right--is precisely the
same. History is full of illustrations of this. Washington himself is
an example." (Here he invokes the example that had been his guiding
star since early boyhood.) "He fought at one time against the French
under Braddock, in the service of the King of Great Britain. At
another he fought with the French at Yorktown, under the orders of the
Continental Congress, against him. He has not been branded by the
world with reproach for this; but his course has been applauded."
While Lee was wrestling with his momentous decision, a further
temptation was placed in his path, which he thrust aside. He was
offered the high post of commander-in-chief of the Union forces. This
offer came at a suggestion from Scott that "Colonel Lee would be worth
fifty thousand troops to our side"; and although Lincoln had never met
him, he was glad to accede to the suggestion. Lee quietly remarked in
declining the honor, "I stated as candidly and courteously as I could,
that, though opposed to secession and deprecating war, I could take no
part in an invasion of the Southern States."
Such was the manner of man who was soon chosen to lead the Confederate
armies. Let us pause for a final picture of the man himself, from a
composite by men who knew him.
In physique Lee was every inch a man. He stood five feet eleven inches
in height, weighed 175 pounds, and there was not an ounce of
superfluous flesh on him. He was "as fine-looking a man as one would
wish to see," said General Hunt, "of perfect figure and strikingly
handsome." General Meigs added: "Lee was a man then in the vigor of
youthful strength, with a noble and commanding presence, and an
admirable, graceful, and athletic figure." General Preston remarked
that he had "a countenance which beamed with gentleness and
benevolence." J. S. Wise said, "I have seen all the great men of our
times, except Mr. Lincoln, and I have no hesitation in saying that
Robert E. Lee was incomparably the greatest looking of them all." And
Alexander H. Stephens, when he saw Lee for the first time, and talked
of the newly-born Confederacy, was moved in his enthusiasm to say: "As
he stood there, fresh and ruddy as a David from the sheepfold, in the
prime of manly beauty and the embodiment of a line of heroic and
patriotic fathers and worthy mothers, it was thus I first saw Robert E.
Lee. . . . I had before me the most manly and entire gentleman I ever
saw."
Lee's fame as a general of the first rank has survived the
over-enthusiastic eulogies of his friends and the first caustic
comments of his foes. His strategy has come to be recognized as of the
highest order. To begin with, he had to build his army "from the
ground up," but ended by having one of the most perfect fighting
machines in the history of warfare. His men obeyed him with a devotion
that was almost idolatrous. He suggested the uniform of quiet gray on
account of its protective coloring and against all the army traditions
of ages, that an army should march into action in gaudy and glittering
attire. It was not until the great World War of a later century, that
wise military leaders followed his example and dressed their troops as
inconspicuously as possible.
It is not the province of this short sketch to trace General Lee's
campaigns step by step to the final meeting with Grant at Appomattox.
Army after army was sent to meet him from the North's far greater
resources, only to be baffled or defeated in the South. And it was not
until he forsook his successful tactics of the defensive, and assumed
the offensive on his invasion of Pennsylvania, that he encountered
serious defeat at Gettysburg.
But, after all, the great foe to whom his troops had finally to
succumb, was General Starvation. The resources of the South were
literally exhausted.
"My men are starving," said Lee tersely to Grant; and back of them lay
a suffering land that had literally been "bled white."
It was indeed a bitter lesson that the South had learned, but the
verdict of history is that it was salutary. The Union was greater than
any State or any group of States. It had required a War to rectify
that fatal flaw in the Constitution, but out of the fires of that
terrible conflict was fused a Union "strong and great," that should be
far better fitted to withstand the shock of Time.
Since that bygone day when Lee laid aside his sword forever, and his
men went straggling back to their plowshares, America has become
engaged in two other wars. And among the first to respond to the bugle
call and line up behind "Old Glory" have been the sons and grandsons of
that staunch line of Gray--the men who followed Lee.
If the souls of great soldiers ever come back to earth, we can imagine
no finer picture than the Leader of a Lost Cause again looking up to
the Stars and Stripes and pledging it his silent allegiance. We can
seem to see him on his familiar gray charger at the head of his forces,
fighting again for his beloved country. We can seem to hear his voice
ringing in command:
"On, men of Virginia! On, men of the South! We are Americans all!"
IMPORTANT DATES IN LEE'S LIFE
1807. January 19. Robert Edward Lee born.
1825. Entered West Point.
1829. Graduated second in his class. Made second-lieutenant
in engineers.
1831. Married Mary Custis.
1838. Appointed captain.
1845. Joined General Scott's staff in Mexico.
1848. Made colonel for gallant conduct.
1852. Appointed superintendent of West Point.
1855. Appointed lieutenant-colonel of cavalry, in service
against Indians.
1861. Made general in Confederate Army.
1865. Surrendered to Grant.
1865. Accepted presidency of Washington College, Virginia.
1870. October 12. Died at this college.
NAPOLEON
THE FRIENDLESS BOY WHO WAS TO SWAY MIGHTY ARMIES
"Hayseed! hayseed!"
Thus mocked a group of schoolboys of a mate who stood moodily by and
glowered upon them.
Although their words were not English, "Hayseed!" was what they meant
by the punning French phrase. This boy from the South who did not
speak as they did, or act as they did, and wore cheaper clothes, was
the butt of their ridicule.
"He calls himself 'Napoleone,'" they said. "He means 'La paille au
nez' (straw-nose)."
And the way they rattled it off sounded like his name turned round. No
wonder the Southerner glared.
How this moody and unpopular schoolboy grew from childhood without
intimate friends--without being understood--into a masterful leader of
men is one of the strange puzzles of history. It totally upsets that
other paradox, "The child is father of the man," for there was little
to indicate in the child Bonaparte, the man Napoleon.
He was not even born on the land with which his name is forever
associated, France. He first saw the light of day upon the isle of
Corsica, a rocky point in the blue waters of the Mediterranean, some
fifty miles west of Italy. By treaty, this island passed from Genoese
into French control in 1769; and it will always be a disputed question
as to which flag Napoleon was born under. He always claimed the date
of August 15, 1769, as his natal day, which would make him nominally of
French birth. But the boy Napoleon spoke Italian.
Charles Bonaparte, the future Emperor's father, was not a remarkable
man, although he stood well in his home town of Ajaccio. He practised
law, and must have worked early and late trying to provide for his
large family. His wife, Letitia, a woman of great personal beauty and
force of character, was the mother of thirteen children, Napoleon being
the fourth.
In a family of this size, it was a case of every fellow shift for
himself, which rule Napoleon followed out with a vengeance. He himself
said in later years: "I was self-willed and obstinate, nothing awed me,
nothing disconcerted me. I was quarrelsome, exasperating; I feared no
one. I gave a blow here and a scratch there. Every one was afraid of
me. My brother Joseph was the one with whom I had the most to do. He
was beaten, bitten, scolded. I complained that he did not get over it
soon enough."
His mother alone was able to manage him, but she had other things to do
as well; so it is not strange that he escaped from the leash. He
relates one amusing incident where he was caught red-handed.
In the garden behind their house was a clump of fig trees, which
Napoleon was fond of climbing. His mother forbade him to do so, both
for fear of damage to himself and to the fruit, but the self-willed boy
persisted. "One day when I was idle, and at a loss for something to
do," he relates, "I took it in my head to long for some of those figs.
They were ripe; no one saw me, or could know anything of the matter. I
made my escape, ran to the tree, and gathered the whole. My appetite
being satisfied, I was providing for the future by filling my pockets,
when an unlucky gardener came in sight. I was half-dead with fear, and
remained fixed on the branch of the tree, where he had surprised me.
He wished to seize me and take me to my mother. Despair made me
eloquent; I represented my distress, promised to keep away from the
figs in future, and he seemed satisfied. I congratulated myself on
having come off so well, and fancied that the adventure would never be
known; but the traitor told all. The next day my mother wanted to go
and gather some figs. I had not left any, there was none to be found.
The gardener came, great reproaches followed, and an exposure." The
upshot of it was a sound thrashing!
But despite all the trials that the boy gave his mother, there always
existed between them a strong affection. Napoleon never spoke of her
in after years, except in words of praise. "It is to my mother, to her
good precepts and upright example, that I owe my success and any great
thing I have accomplished." And again: "My mother was a superb woman,
a woman of ability and courage."
The boy's first regular schooling was obtained at a small village
school kept by nuns. We have a picture of him there as a small thin
boy with a shock of unruly hair, a face not always clean, and
"stockings half off." But how many other boys have been guilty of such
conventional sins--only they do not get immortalized in the sober pages
of history!
He next went to a more advanced day school, and then to a seminary
conducted by the Abbé Recco. While not a prize student, he was fond of
geography, history, and mathematics, and even as a lad his wonderful
memory for names and dates began to assert itself. He had what is
known as a photographic mind. When once it had received an impression,
the record was permanent.