Recollections and Letters of General Robert E. Lee

C >> Captain Robert E. Lee, His Son >> Recollections and Letters of General Robert E. Lee

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Prepared by Brett Fishburne (bfish@atlantech.net)

Recollections and Letters of General Robert E. Lee

by Captain Robert E. Lee, His Son

Contents

Chapter I
Services in the United States Army
Captain Lee, of the Engineers, a hero to his child--The family
pets--Home from the Mexican War--Three years in Baltimore--
Superintendent of the West Point Military Academy--Lieutenant-
Colonel of Second Cavalry--Supresses "John Brown Raid" at Harper's
Ferry--Commands the Department of Taxes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

Chapter II
The Confederate General
Resigns from Colonelcy of First United States Cavalry--Motives for
this step--Chosen to command Virginia forces--Anxiety about his
wife, family, and possessions--Chief advisor to President Davis--
Battle of Manassas--Military operations in West Virginia--Letter
to State Governor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Chapter III
Letters to Wife and Daughters
From Camp on Sewell's Mountain--Quotation from Colonel Taylor's
book--From Professor Wm. P. Trent--From Mr. Davis's Memorial
Address--Defense of Southern ports--Christmas, 1861--The General
visits his father's grave--Commands, under the President, all the
armies of the Confederate States . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Chapter IV
Army Life of Robert the Younger
Volunteer in Rockbridge Artillery--"Four Years with General Lee"
quoted--Meeting between father and son--Personal characteristics
of the General--Death of his daughter Annie--His son Robert raised
from the ranks--the horses, "Grace Darling" and "Traveller"--
Fredricksburg--Freeing slaves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

Chapter V
The Army of Northern Virginia
The General's sympathy for his suffering soldiers--
Chancellorsville--Death of "Stonewall" Jackson--General Fitzhugh
Lee wounded and captured--Escape of his brother Robert--
Gettysburg--Religious revival--Infantry review--Unsatisfactory
commissariat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

Chapter VI
The Winter of 1863-4
The Lee family in Richmond--The General's letters to them from
Camps Rappahannock and Rapidan--Death of Mrs. Fitzhugh Lee--
Preparations to meet General Grant--The Wilderness--Spottsylvania
Court House--Death of General Stuart--General Lee's illness . . . 112

Chapter VII
Fronting the Army of the Potomac
Battle of Cold Harbour--Siege of Petersburg--The General intrusts
a mission to his son Robert--Battle of the Crater--Grant crosses
the James River--General Long's pen-picture of Lee--Knitting socks
for the soldiers--A Christmas dinner--Incidents of camp life . . . 128

Chapter VIII
The Surrender
Fort Fisher captured--Lee made Commander-in-Chief--Battle of Five
Forks--The General's farewell to his men--His reception in
Richmond after the surrender--President Davis hears the news--
Lee's visitors--His son Robert turns farmer . . . . . . . . . . . 144

Chapter IX
A Private Citizen
Lee's conception of the part--His influence exerted toward the
restoration of Virginia--He visits old friends throughout the
country--Receives offers of positions--Compares notes with the
Union General Hunter--Longs for a country home--Finds one at
"Derwent," near Cartersville . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162

Chapter X
President of Washington College
Patriotic motives for acceptance of trust--Condition of college--
The General's arrival at Lexington--He prepares for the removal of
his family to that city--Advice to Robert Junior--Trip to "Bremo"
on private canal-boat--Mrs. Lee's invalidism . . . . . . . . . . . 179

Chapter XI
The Idol of the South
Photographs and autographs in demand--The General's interest in
young people--His happy home life--Labours at Washington College--
He gains financial aid for it--Worsley's translation of Homer
dedicated to him--Tributes from other English scholars . . . . . . 198

Chapter XII
Lee's Opinion upon the Late War
His intention to write the history of his Virginia campaigns--
Called before a committee of Congress--Preaches patience and
silence in the South--Shuns controversy and publicity--Corresponds
with an Englishman, Herbert C. Saunders . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218

Chapter XIII
Family Affairs
The General writes to his sons--To his wife at Rockbridge Baths--
He joins her there about once a week--Distinguised and
undistinguished callers at his Lexington home--He advocates early
hours--His fondness for animals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235

Chapter XIV
An Ideal Father
Letters to Mildred Lee--To Robert--To Fitzhugh--Interviewed by
Swinton, historian of the Army of the Potomac--Improvement in
grounds and buildings of Washington College--Punctuality a
prominent trait of its President--A strong supporter of the
Y.M.C.A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252

Chapter XV
Mountain Rides
An incident about "Traveller"--The General's love for children--
His friendship with Ex-President Davis--A ride with his daughter
to the Peaks of Otter--Mildred Lee's narrative--Mrs. Lee at the
White Sulphur Springs--The great attention paid her husband
there--His idea of life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264

Chapter XVI
An Advisor of Young Men
Lee's policy as college president--His advice on agricultural
matters--His affection for his prospective daughter-in-law--
Fitzhugh's wedding--The General's ovation at Petersburg--his
personal interest in the students under his care . . . . . . . . . 280

Chapter XVII
The Reconstruction Period
The General believes in the enforcement of law and order--His
moral influence in the college--Playful humour shown in his
letters--His opinion of negro labour--Mr. Davis's trial--Letter to
Mrs. Fitzhugh Lee--Intercourse with Faculty . . . . . . . . . . . 299

Chapter XVIII
Mrs. R. E. Lee
Goest to Warm Springs for rheumatism--Her daughter Mildred takes
typhoid there--Removes to Hot Springs--Her husband's devotion--
Visit of Fitzhugh and bride to Lexington--Miss Jones, a would-be
benefactor of Washington College--Fate of Washington relics
belonging to Mrs. Lee's family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318

Chapter XIX
Lee's Letters to His Sons
The building of Robert's house--The General as a railroad
delegate--Lionised in Baltimore--Calls on President Grant--Visits
Alexandria--Declines to be interviewed--Interested in his
grandson--The Washington portraits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339

Chapter XX
The New Home in Lexington
Numerous guests--Further sojourns at different Baths--Death of the
General's brother, Smith Lee--Visits to "Ravensworth" and "The
White House"--Meetings with interesting people at White Sulphur
Springs--Death of Professor Preston . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 357

Chapter XXI
Failing Health
The General declines lucrative positions in New York and Atlanta--
He suffers from an obstinate cold--Local gossip--He is advised to
go South in the spring of 1870--Desires to visit his daughter
Annie's grave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 376

Chapter XXII
The Southern Trip
Letters to Mrs. Lee from Richmond and Savannah--From Brandon--
Agnes Lee's account of her father's greetings from old friends and
old soldiers--Wilmington and Norfolk do him honour--Visits to
Fitzhugh and Robert in their homes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 388

Chapter XXIII
A Round of Visits
Baltimore--Alexandria--A war-talk with Cousin Cassius Lee--
"Ravensworth"--Letter to Doctor Buckler declining invitation to
Europe--To General Cooper--To Mrs. Lee from the Hot Springs--Tired
of public places--Preference for country life . . . . . . . . . . 412

Chapter XXIV
Last Days
Letter to his wife--To Mr. Tagart--Obituary notice in "Personal
Reminiscences of General Robert E. Lee"--Mrs. Lee's account of his
death . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 431

Chapter I
Services in the United States Army

Captain Lee, of the Engineers, a hero to his child--The family pets--
Home from the Mexican War--Three years in Baltimore--Superintendent
of the West Point Military Academy--Lieutenant-Colonel of Second
Cavalry--Supresses "John Brown Raid" at Harper's Ferry--Commands the
Department of Taxes

The first vivid recollection I have of my father is his arrival at
Arlington, after his return from the Mexican War. I can remember
some events of which he seemed a part, when we lived at Fort Hamilton,
New York, about 1846, but they are more like dreams, very indistinct
and disconnected--naturally so, for I was at that time about three
years old. But the day of his return to Arlington, after an absence
of more than two years, I have always remembered. I had a frock or
blouse of some light wash material, probably cotton, a blue ground
dotted over with white diamond figures. Of this I was very proud,
and wanted to wear it on this important occasion. Eliza, my "mammy,"
objecting, we had a contest and I won. Clothed in this, my very
best, and with my hair freshly curled in long golden ringlets, I
went down into the larger hall where the whole household was assembled,
eagerly greeting my father, who had just arrived on horseback from
Washington, having missed in some way the carriage which had been
sent for him.

There was visiting us at this time Mrs. Lippitt, a friend of my
mother's, with her little boy, Armistead, about my age and size, also
with long curls. Whether he wore as handsome a suit as mine I cannot
remember, but he and I were left together in the background, feeling
rather frightened and awed. After a moment's greeting to those
surrounding him, my father pushed through the crowd, exclaiming:

"Where is my little boy?"

He then took up in his arms and kissed--not me, his own child in his
best frock with clean face and well-arranged curls--but my little
playmate, Armistead! I remember nothing more of any circumstances
connected with that time, save that I was shocked and humiliated. I
have no doubt that he was at once informed of his mistake and made
ample amends to me.

A letter from my father to his brother Captain S. S. Lee, United States
Nave, dated "Arlington, June 30, 1848," tells of his coming home:

"Here I am once again, my dear Smith, perfectly surrounded by Mary
and her precious children, who seem to devote themselves to staring
at the furrows in my face and the white hairs in my head. It is not
surprising that I am hardly recognisable to some of the young eyes
around me and perfectly unknown to the youngest. But some of the
older ones gaze with astonishment and wonder at me, and seem at a
loss to reconcile what they see and what was pictured in their
imaginations. I find them, too, much grown, and all well, and I have
much cause for thankfulness, and gratitude to that good God who has
once more united us."

My next recollection of my father is in Baltimore, while we were on
a visit to his sister, Mrs. Marshall, the wife of Judge Marshall. I
remember being down on the wharves, where my father had taken me to
see the landing of a mustang pony which he had gotten for me in
Mexico, and which had been shipped from Vera Cruz to Baltimore in a
sailing vessel. I was all eyes for the pony, and a very miserable,
sad-looking object he was. From his long voyage, cramped quarters
and unavoidable lack of grooming, he was rather a disappointment to
me, but I soon got over all that. As I grew older, and was able to
ride and appreciate him, he became the joy and pride of my life. I
was taught to ride on him by Jim Connally, the faithful Irish servant
of my father, who had been with him in Mexico. Jim used to tell me,
in his quizzical way, that he and "Santa Anna" (the pony's name) were
the first men on the walls of Chepultepec. This pony was pure white,
five years old and about fourteen hands high. For his inches, he
was as good a horse as I ever have seen. While we lived in Baltimore,
he and "Grace Darling," my father's favourite mare, were members of
our family.

Grace Darling was a chestnut of fine size and of great power, which
he had bought in Texas on his way out to Mexico, her owner having
died on the march out. She was with him during the entire campaign,
and was shot seven times; at least, as a little fellow I used to
brag about that number of bullets being in her, and since I could
point out the scars of each one, I presume it was so. My father was
very much attached to her and proud of her, always petting her and
talking to her in a loving way, when he rode her or went to see her
in her stall. Of her he wrote on his return home:

"I only arrived yesterday, after a long journey up the Mississippi,
which route I was induced to take, for the better accommodation of my
horse, as I wished to spare her as much annoyance and fatigue as
possible, she already having undergone so much suffering in my service.
I landed her at Wheeling and left her to come over with Jim."

Santa Anna was found lying cold and dead in the park at Arlington one
morning in the winter of '60-'61. Grace Darling was taken in the
spring of '62 from the White House [My brother's place on the Pamunkey
River, where the mare had been sent for save keeping."] by some
Federal quartermaster, when McClellan occupied that place as his base
of supplies during his attack on Richmond. When we lived in Baltimore,
I was greatly struck one day by hearing two ladies who were visiting
us saying:

"Everybody and everything--his family, his friends, his horse, and
his dog--loves Colonel Lee."

The dog referred to was a black-and-tan terrier named "Spec," very
bright and intelligent and really a member of the family, respected
and beloved by ourselves and well known to all who knew us. My father
picked up his mother in the "Narrows" while crossing from Fort Hamilton
to the fortifications opposite on Staten Island. She had doubtless
fallen overboard from some passing vessel and had drifted out of
sight before her absence had been discovered. He rescued her and
took her home, where she was welcomed by his children an made much of.
She was a handsome little thing, with cropped ears and a short tail.
My father named her "Dart." She was a fine ratter, and with the
assistance of a Maltese cat, also a member of the family, the many
rats which infested the house and stables were driven away or destroyed.
She and the cat were fed out of the same plate, but Dart was not
allowed to begin the meal until the cat had finished.

Spec was born at Fort Hamilton and was the joy of us children, our pet
and companion. My father would not allow his tail and ears to be
cropped. When he grew up, he accompanied us everywhere and was in
the habit of going into church with the family. As some of the little
ones allowed their devotions to be disturbed by Spec's presence, my
father determined to leave him at home on those occasions. So the
next Sunday morning, he was sent up to the front room of the second
story. After the family had left for church he contented himself for
awhile looking out of the window, which was open, it being summer time.
Presently impatience overcame his judgement and he jumped to the ground,
landed safely notwithstanding the distance, joined the family just as
they reached the church, and went in with them as usual, much to the
joy of the children. After that he was allowed to go to church whenever
he wished. My father was very fond of him, and loved to talk to him
and about him as if he were really one of us. In a letter to my mother,
dated Fort Hamilton, January 18, 1846, when she and her children were
on a visit to Arlington, he thus speaks of him:

"...I am very solitary, and my only company is my dogs and cats. But
'Spec' has become so jealous now that he will hardly let me look at
the cats. He seems to be afraid that I am going off from him, and
never lets me stir without him. Lies down in the office from eight
to four without moving, and turns himself before the fire as the side
from it becomes cold. I catch him sometimes sitting up looking at me
so intently that I am for a moment startled..."

In a letter from Mexico written a year later--December 25, '46, to my
mother, he says:

"...Can't you cure poor 'Spec.' Cheer him up--take him to walk with
you and tell the children to cheer him up..."

In another letter from Mexico to his eldest boy, just after the capture
of Vera Cruz, he sends this message to Spec....

"Tell him I wish he was here with me. He would have been of great
service in telling me when I was coming upon the Mexicans. When I
was reconnoitering around Vera Cruz, their dogs frequently told me by
barking when I was approaching them too nearly...."

When he returned to Arlington from Mexico, Spec was the first to
recognise him, and the extravagance of his demonstrations of delight
left no doubt that he knew at once his kind master and loving friend,
though he had been absent three years. Sometime during our residence
in Baltimore, Spec disappeared, and we never knew his fate.

From that early time I began to be impressed with my father's character,
as compared with other men. Every member of the household respected,
revered and loved him as a matter of course, but it began to dawn on
me that every one else with whom I was thrown held him high in their
regard. At forty-five years of age he was active, strong, and as
handsome as he had ever been. I never remember his being ill. I
presume he was indisposed at times; but no impressions of that kind
remain. He was always bright and gay with us little folk, romping,
playing, and joking with us. With the older children, he was just
as companionable, and the have seen him join my elder brothers and their
friends when they would try their powers at a high jump put up in
our yard. The two younger children he petted a great deal, and our
greatest treat was to get into his bed in the morning and lie close
to him, listening while he talked to us in his bright, entertaining
way. This custom we kept up until I was ten years old and over.
Although he was so joyous and familiar with us, he was very firm on
all proper occasions, never indulged us in anything that was not good
for us, and exacted the most implicit obedience. I always knew that
it was impossible to disobey my father. I felt it in me, I never
thought why, but was perfectly sure when he gave an order that it had
to be obeyed. My mother I could sometimes circumvent, and at times
took liberties with her orders, construing them to suit myself; but
exact obedience to every mandate of my father was part of my life and
being at that time. He was very fond of having his hands tickled,
and, what was still more curious, it pleased and delighted him to
take off his slippers and place his feet in our laps in order to
have them tickled. Often, as little things, after romping all day,
the enforced sitting would be too much for us, and our drowsiness
would soon show itself in continued nods. Then, to arouse, us, he
had a way of stirring us up with his foot--laughing heartily at and
with us. He would often tell us the most delightful stories, and
then there was no nodding. Sometimes, however, our interest in his
wonderful tales became so engrossing that we would forget to do our
duty--when he would declare, "No tickling, no story!" When we were a
little older, our elder sister told us one winter the ever-delightful
"Lady of the Lake." Of course, she told it in prose and arranged it
to suit our mental capacity. Our father was generally in his corner
by the fire, most probably with a foot in either the lap of myself or
youngest sister--the tickling going on briskly--and would come in at
different points of the tale and repeat line after line of the poem--
much to our disapproval--but to his great enjoyment.

In January, 1849, Captain Lee was one of a board of army officers
appointed to examine the coasts of Florida and its defenses and to
recommend locations for new fortifications. In April he was assigned
to the duty of the construction of Fort Carroll, in the Patapsco River
below Baltimore. He was there, I think, for three years, and lived
in a house on Madison Street, three doors above Biddle. I used to
go down with him to the Fort quite often. We went to the wharf in
a "bus," and there we were met by a boat with two oarsmen, who rowed
us down to Sollers Point, where I was generally left under the care
of the people who lived there, while my father went over to the Fort,
a short distance out in the river. These days were happy ones for
me. The wharves, the shipping, the river, the boat and oarsmen, and
the country dinner we had at the house at Sollers Point, all made a
strong impression on me; but above all I remember my father, his
gentle, loving care of me, his bright talk, his stories, his maxims
and teachings. I was very proud of him and of the evident respect
for and trust in him every one showed. These impressions, obtained
at that time, have never left me. He was a great favourite in
Baltimore, as he was everywhere, especially with ladies and little
children. When he and my mother went out in the evening to some
entertainment, we were often allowed to sit up and see them off; my
father, as I remember, always in full uniform, always ready and waiting
for my mother, who was generally late. He would chide her gently,
in a playful way and with a bright smile. He would then bid us good-
bye, and I would go to sleep with this beautiful picture in my mind,
the golden epaulets and all--chiefly the epaulets.

In Baltimore, I went to my first school, that of a Mr. Rollins on
Mulberry Street, and I remember how interested my father was in my
studies, my failures, and my little triumphs. Indeed, he was so
always, as long as I was at school and college, and I only wish that
all of the kind, sensible, useful letters he wrote me had been
preserved.

My memory as to the move from Baltimore, which occurred in 1852, is
very dim. I think the family went to Arlington to remain until my
father had arranged for our removal to the new home at West Point.

My recollection of my father as Superintendent of the West Point
Military Academy is much more distinct. He lived in the house which
is still occupied by the Superintendent. It was built of stone,
large and roomy, with gardens, stables, and pasture lots. We, the
two youngest children, enjoyed it all. "Grace Darling" and "Santa
Anna" were there with us, and many a fine ride did I have with my father
in the afternoons, when, released from his office, he would mount his
old mare and, with Santa Anna carrying me by his side, take a five or
ten-mile trot. Though the pony cantered delightfully, he would make
me keep him in a trot, saying playfully that the hammering sustained
was good for me. We rode the dragoon-seat, no posting, and until I
became accustomed to it I used to be very tired by the time I got back.

My father was the most punctual man I ever knew. He was always ready
for family prayers, for meals, and met every engagement, social or
business, at the moment. He expected all of us to be the same, and
taught us the use and necessity of forming such habits for the
convenience of all concerned. I never knew him late for Sunday service
at the Post Chapel. He used to appear some minutes before the rest
of us, in uniform, jokingly rallying my mother for being late, and for
forgetting something at the last moment. When he could wait no longer
for her, he would say that he was off and would march along to church
by himself, or with any of the children who were ready. There he sat
very straight--well up the middle aisle--and, as I remember, always
became very sleepy, and sometimes even took a little nap during the
sermon. At that time, this drowsiness of my father's was something
awful to me, inexplicable. I know it was very hard for me to keep
awake, and frequently I did not; but why he, who to my mind could do
everything right, without any effort, should sometimes be overcome,
I could not understand, and did not try to do so.

It was against the rules that the cadets should go beyond certain limits
without permission. Of course they did go sometimes, and when caught
were given quite a number of "demerits." My father was riding out
one afternoon with me, and, while rounding a turn in the mountain road
with a deep woody ravine on one side, we came suddenly upon three
cadets far beyond the limits. They immediately leaped over a low wall
on the side of the road and disappeared from our view.

We rode on for a minute in silence; then my father said: "Did you know
those young men? But no; if you did, don't say so. I wish boys would
do what was right, it would be so much easier for all parties!"

He knew he would have to report them, but, not being sure of who they
were, I presume he wished to give them the benefit of the doubt. At
any rate, I never heard any more about it. One of the three asked me
the next day if my father had recognised them, and I told him what
had occurred.

By this time I had become old enough to have a room to myself, and,
to encourage me in being useful and practical, my father made me attend
to it, just as the cadets had to do with their quarters in barracks
and in camp. He at first even went through the form of inspecting it,
to see if I had performed my duty properly, and I think I enjoyed this
until the novelty wore off. However, I was kept at it, becoming in
time very proficient, and the knowledge so acquired has been of great
use to me all through life.

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