University of Virginia Library

2. II.

I should think it impossible even for his worst enemy to
regard the situation of this truly great man at the moment in
question without a certain sympathy and respect. He was not
Commander-in-Chief only, but the whole Southern Confederacy
himself—carrying upon his shoulders the heavy weight of the
public care. Every confidence was felt in the patriotism and
sincere devotion of President Davis to the Southern cause—but

there was a very general distrust of his judgment, and his
administration had not made him popular. Lee, on the contrary,
was the idol almost of the people; and it was to him that the
South looked in this dark hour, calling on him for deliverance.

Up to this moment he had been in a condition to meet his
great responsibility. In a campaign of unexampled fury, dragging
its bloody steps from the Rappahannock to the Appomattox,
he had held his lines against almost overwhelming
assaults, foiling an adversary of acknowledged genius, commanding
a superb army. Against this army, constantly reinforced,
he had continued to hold the works around Petersburg,
and protect the capital; and to him, amid the gloom and depression,
all had looked as to their sole hope. There was no possibility
of General Lee himself escaping a knowledge of this
fact. It was in the faces and the words of men; in the columns
of the newspapers; in the very air that was breathed. Good
men wrote to him not to expose himself, for if he fell all was
over. In brief words, the whole country agreed that in this man
and his army lay the only hope of the Southern Confederacy.

If the reader realizes what I have thus tried to express, he
may form some idea of the crushing ordeal through which
General Lee was, on the 2d of April, called upon to pass.

The brief particulars about to be set down may furnish the
candid historian of the future with material to form an unbiassed
judgment of General Lee and his retreat. I am mistaken if
the narrative, however brief and incomplete, does not show the
great proportions and noble character of the individual—his
constancy under heavy trials, and his majestic equanimity in
face of a misfortune the most cruel, perhaps, which a soldier
can be called on to bear.

Soon after sunrise on the 2d of April the Federal columns,
in heavy mass, advanced from the outer line of works, which
they had carried at daybreak, to attack General Lee in his
inner intrenchments near Petersburg. When the present writer
reached the vicinity of army headquarters, on the Cox road,
west of the city, a Federal column was rapidly advancing to
charge a battery posted in the open field to the right of the

house, and at that time firing rapidly. General Lee was in
the lawn in front of his Headquarters, looking through his
glasses at the column as it moved at a double quick across the
fields; and knowing the terrible significance of the advantage
which the Federal troops had gained, I looked at the General
to ascertain, if possible, what he thought of it. He never appeared
more calm; and if the affair had been a review, he
could not have exhibited less emotion of any description. In
full uniform, with his gold-hilted sword, and perfectly quiet
look, he appeared to be witnessing, with simple curiosity, some
military parade. But this “dress” costume was assumed, it is
said, with another view. He had dressed himself that morning,
I afterwards heard, with scrupulous care, and buckled on
his finest sword, declaring that if he was captured he would be
taken in full harness.

The movement of the Federal column became more rapid,
and the battery was soon charged; but it succeeded in galloping
off under a heavy fire of musketry. The column then
pressed on, and the Federal artillery opened a heavy fire on
the hill, before which the Southern guns—there was no infantry
—withdrew, General Lee retired slowly with his artillery, riding
his well-known iron gray; and one person, at least, in the
company forgot the shell and sharpshooters, looking at the superb
old cavalier, erect as an arrow, and as calm as a May
morning. When he said to an officer near, “This is a bad business,
Colonel,” there was no excitement in his voice, or indeed
any change whatsoever in its grave and courteous tones. A
slight flush came to his face, however, a moment afterwards.
A shell from the Federal batteries, fired at the group, burst
almost upon him, killing a horse near by, and cutting bridle-reins.
This brought a decided expression of “fight” to the
old soldier's face, and he probably felt as he did in Culpeper
when the disaster of Rappahannock bridge occurred—when he
muttered, General Stuart told me, “I should now like to go into
a charge!”

These details may appear trivial. But the demeanour of
public men on great occasions is legitimate, and not uninteresting

matter for history. General Lee's personal bearing
upon this critical occasion, when he saw himself about to be
subjected to the greatest humiliation to the pride of a soldier—
capture—was admirably noble and serene. It was impossible
not to be struck with the grandeur of his appearance—no other
phrase describes it: or to refrain from admiring the princely
air with which the old cavalry officer sat his horse. With his
calm and thoughtful eye, and perfect repose of manner visible
in spite of the restive movements of his horse, frightened by
the firing, it was hard to believe that he saw there was no hope,
—and for himself, would have cared little if one of the bullets
singing around had found its mark in his breast.