“Your obedient servant, R. E. Lee.”
It was proved to the satisfaction of all parties that the mare in question was “Lucy Long,” and my father reimbursed the man who had bought her from some one who had no right to her. She was brought to my place and I recognised her at once. She stayed with me until I was ready to pay my Christmas visit to Lexington. She then was put on the train and sent to Staunton, where I met her. I found there Colonel William Allan, a professor of Washington College, who had a buggy and no horse, and as I had a horse and no buggy, we joined forces and I drove him over to Lexington, “Lucy Long” carrying us with great ease to herself and comfort to us. My father was glad to get her, as he was very fond of her. When he heard how she came over, he was really shocked, as he thought she had never been broken to harness. She lived to be thirty-three years old, and was then chloroformed, because my brother thought she had ceased to enjoy life. For the last ten years of her life she was boarded out in the country, where she did nothing but rest, and until about a year before her death she seemed in good health and spirits.
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.
My sister, after the Christmas holidays, went from “Ashby” to Baltimore, Cousins George and Eleanor Goldsborough taking her with them to their town house. I think my father always wanted his daughters with him. When they were away he missed them, their love, care, and attention. The next letter I find is to Mildred in Baltimore:
“Lexington, Virginia, January 27, 1867.
“My Precious Daughter: Your letter to your mother gave us the satisfactory information of your continued good health, for I feared that your long silence had been caused by indisposition of body, rather than that due to writing. I hope you will not let so long an interval between your letters occur again, for you know I am always longing to hear from you, when I cannot see you, and a few lines, if only to say you are well, will prevent unpleasant apprehensions. I am delighted at your increased bodily dimensions, and your diminished drapery. One hundred and twenty-eight avoirdupois is approximately a proper standard. Seven more pounds will make you all right. But I fear before I see you the unnatural life, which I fear you will lead in Baltimore, will reduce you to skin and bone. Do not go out to many parties, preserve your simple tastes and manners, and you will enjoy more pleasure. Plainness and simplicity of dress, early hours, and rational amusements, I wish you to practise. You must thank Cousins Eleanor and George for all their kindness to you, and remember me to all friends. If you see your uncle Marshall, present my kind regards to him, and my best wishes for his health and happiness. I hope you will see Robert. I heart that he stayed at Mr. Edward Dallam’s when in Baltimore, but do not know whether he will return there from Lynwood. I was sorry to hear that you lost your purse. Perhaps the finder was more in want than you are, and it may be of service to him, and you can do without it. A little money is sometimes useful. You must bear in mind that it will not be becoming in a Virginia girl now to be fine or fashionable, and that gentility as well as self-respect requires moderation in dress and gaiety. While her people are suffering, she should practise self-denial and show her sympathy in their affliction. We are all pretty well. Your poor mother suffers more pain than usual during this inclement weather. Your sister is devoted to the snow and ice, and Agnes is becoming a very good housekeeper. She has received a letter from a gentleman, whose judgement she respects, recommending her to acquire that useful knowledge, and assuring her that it will not only promote domestic happiness, but will add greatly to connubial bliss. This is a great encouragement to her. Our young friends, the law students and cadets, all inquire after you and wish for your return. You know that is my wish and hope, so whenever you are ready to return you will know that I am waiting to receive you. I will leave your mother and sisters to give you all domestic news. Tell Annette I have been looking for her in every stage since her letter last fall, and that I hope for her arrival daily. Nipper is well, and endeavors, by stern gravity, to repress the frivolity of Baxter. All unite in much love, and I am, as ever,
“Your father, R. E. Lee.
“Miss Mildred Lee.”
Just after the intermediate examinations, he writes to Mildred again:
“Lexington, Virginia, February 16, 1867.
“My Precious Daughter: I have wished to answer your letter of the 2d for some days, but have not been able. The intermediate examinations which were in progress when it arrived continued ten entire days, and since their termination the necessary arrangements for the resumption of studies, and the reorganisation of the classes, have occupied my time not devoted to other pressing matters. The students generally passed very creditable examinations. Many of your friends were distinguished. The ordeal through which the higher classes passed was as severe as any I ever witnessed. Colonel Johnston [William Preston Johnston, the son of General Albert Sidney Johnston, who fell at Shiloh. He had recently been elected to the chair of History and Literature at Washington College.] has arrived and entered upon his duties. He is living at the hotel with his wife and six sweet little children, being unable to procure a house, and the college being too poor to build one for him. We have other professors also houseless. Robert has returned to his ‘broken-back cottage,’ though he confesses to having enjoyed great pleasure during his visit to Baltimore. He dwells with delight upon his intercourse with the Misses ——, whom he considers angels upon earth, without wings. His account of them increases my desire to get them to Virginia. Miss —— once promised me to have Fitzhugh. Tell her I will release her from her engagement if she will take Rob. He was also much gratified at being able to spend a week with you, and I am getting very anxious for your return. The winter has passed, the snow and ice have disappeared, and the birds have returned to their favourite resorts in the yard. We have, however, a sea of mud around us, through which we have to plunge, but I hope the pleasant air and sun now visiting us will soon dissipate it. I am glad you are enjoying yourself among such kind friends, but do not remain too long, as you may detain Cousins Eleanor and George from the Eastern Shore. Markie has sent me a likeness of you on porcelain, from the negative taken by the celebrated Plecker, which she carried with her to Philadelphia. It is very good, but I prefer the original.... Everybody seems anxious for your return, and is surprised you can stay so long from your papa. May God bless and keep you, my dear child, is the constant prayer of
“Your devoted father, R. E. Lee.”
Before Mildred returned to Lexington she received one more letter from my father, in which he advises her of the two routes to Lexington, and tells her some college news:
“Lexington, Virginia, February 23, 1867.
“My Precious Daughter: Agnes wishes you to purchase some articles for her, and your mother and sister may have some commissions, which I fear will reduce your purse to an inconvenient collapse. I therefore send a check for —— dollars, which I hope will enable you to gratify their wishes and serve as a reserve for your own wants. I hope you are well and passing your time profitably as well as pleasantly. The cadets are under the impression that you are at the Patapsco Institute, and will expect to find you, on your return, more agreeable than ever. They are labouring so industriously in mental culture that they believe every one is similarly engaged. I went last evening to the celebration of the anniversary of the Washington Society, and was much pleased with the speeches. It was held in the Methodist church, which was filled to overflowing. The institute and Ann Smith [Female Academy] were represented. Your sisters were present, and as they were both absent from breakfast this morning I fear so much learning made them sleepy. They were also at a cadet hop on the 21st, and did not get home till between two and three A. M. on the 22d. I suppose, therefore, they had ‘splendid times’ and very fresh society. We were somewhat surprised the other morning at Mrs. Grady’s committing matrimony. I missed, at our chapel exercises, Captain Grady and our acting chaplain, but did not know at the time what prevented their attendance. I heard afterwards that they had put the happy pair in the stage and sent them on their way rejoicing. She is now Mrs. Richard Norris, and has gone to Baltimore. It will be but fair now that Captain Grady should go to Baltimore and bring us a young lady from there in return for his mother. If you see Miss Armistead, ask her to be ready on short notice, as we are a people of few words in this region, and proceed in all matters in a businesslike way. Agnes, I suppose, has told you of all matters of gaiety and fashion. She has, no doubt, too, kept you advised of the progress of young Baxter and of the deeds of ‘Thomas the Nipper.’ They are both flourishing, and are much admired.... The roads are so muddy that my evening rides have been suspended, and I see nobody.... You must write me when to expect you. The stage from Staunton now crosses during the night, and, when the roads are favourable, arrives about two A. M. When the roads are unfavourable, it gets in generally in time for an early breakfast. The canal-boats have resumed their trips now, so you will have a choice of routes from Richmond, if you conclude to go there. All unite with me in much love, and I am, always,
“Your father, R. E. Lee.”
From Lexington I had gone to Baltimore for a short visit, and had spent a week with Mildred at the home of our cousin, Mr. George Washington Peter, near Ellicott City. Soon after getting back to my farm, I received the following letter from my father, still trying to help me along in my work:
“Lexington, Virginia, February 8, 1867.
“My Dear Son: I was very glad to learn from your letter of the 31st ult. that you had enjoyed your visit to Baltimore, for I feared when you left us that you might have a visit from your shaking enemy. I trust, however, that he has now left you never to return. Still be prudent and watch his approach closely. I hope you may be able to procure some good mules in Richmond, as it is a matter of importance to your operations. If you can get the lime delivered at ten cents, I do not know a more economical application to your land. I believe you will be repaid by the first crop, provided it acts as I think it will. Of this you must judge, and I can only say that if you can accomplish it, and wish to try, I can send you $300, and will send it by draft to you, or to any one in Baltimore that you will designate, as soon as I hear from you. I commend you for not wishing to go in debt, or to proceed faster in your operations than prudence dictates. I think it economy to improve your land, and to begin upon the system you prefer as soon as possible. It is your only chance of success, so let me know. I have to write in haste, as the examination is in progress, and I have to be present. George and Robert both came up to-day in the subjects in which they are respectively weakest, so give them your good wishes. I received yesterday a letter from Mildred regretting your departure from Baltimore, and expressing the pleasure she derived from having been with you even a short week. I hope she will continue well and return to us soon. We are all about as you left us. The weather has moderated and the ice disappeared from the river, though the boats have not yet resumed their trips. Mud predominates now instead of snow.... Wishing you all happiness, I am, Your affectionate father, R. E. Lee.
“Robert E. Lee, Jr.”
The Robert and George mentioned here were two of his nephews whom he was educating at the college, the sons, respectively, of his brothers, Sydney Smith Lee and Charles Carter Lee. They were members of his household and were treated as his own family.
To my brother Fitzhugh he writes at this time the following, chiding him for his extravagance in a Christmas gift, and asking for some data of the movements of his command. It is full of good advice, encouragement, and affection:
“Lexington, Virginia, February 26, 1867.
“My Dear Fitzhugh: You must not think because I write so seldom that you are absent from my thoughts. I think of you constantly, and am every revolving in my mind all that concerns you. I have an ardent desire to see you re-established at your home and enjoying the pleasure of prosperity around you. I know this cannot be accomplished at once, but must come from continuous labour, economy, and industry, and be the result of years of good management. We have now nothing to do but to attend to our material interest which collectively will advance the interests of the State, and to await events. The dominant party cannot reign forever, and truth and justice will at last prevail. I hope I shall be able to get down to see you and Rob during the next vacation. I shall then have a more correct apprehension of existing circumstances, and can follow your progress more satisfactorily. I was very much obliged to you for the nice eye-glasses you sent me Xmas, and asked your mother and the girls to thank you for them, which I hope they did. I fear they are too nice for my present circumstances, and do not think you ought to spend anything, except on your farm, until you get that in a prosperous condition. We have all, now, to confine ourselves strictly to our necessities.... While you are your own manager you can carry on cultivation on a large scale with comparatively less expense than on a small scale, and your profits will of course be greater. I would commence a system of progressive improvement which would improve your land and add steadily to your income. I have received, lately, from Fitz Lee a narrative of the operations of his division of cavalry. I requested Custis to write to you for a report of your operations during the winter of 1863-4 down to April 18, 1865. How are you progressing with it? I know the difficulties of making such a narrative at this time; still, by correspondence with your officers, and by exerting your own memory, much can be done, and it will help me greatly in my undertaking. Make it as full as you can, embracing all circumstances bearing on the campaigns affecting your operations and illustrating the conduct of your division. I hope you will be able to get up to see us this spring or summer. Select the time when you can best absent yourself, that you may feel the freer and enjoy yourself the more.... I wish I were nearer to you all.... Your mother is about the same, busy with her needle and her pen, and as cheerful as ever....
“Affectionately your father, R. E. Lee.
“General Wm. H. F. Lee.”
His desire for accounts from his officers of the movements of their commands shows he still intended to attempt to write his campaigns with the Army of Northern Virginia. Some months later he writes again to my brother, and in it he alludes to the dark cloud of the “reconstruction” days, hanging then over the South:
“Lexington, Virginia, June 8, 1867.
“My Dear Son: Your letter written on your birthday has been welcomed by the whole family, and I assure you that we reciprocate your regrets at the distance which separates us. Although the future is still dark, and the prospects gloomy, I am confident that, if we all unite in doing our duty, and earnestly work to extract what good we can out of the evil that now hangs over our dear land, the time is not distant when the angry cloud will be lifted from our horizon and the sun in his pristine brightness again shine forth. I, therefore, can anticipate for you many years of happiness and prosperity, and in my daily prayers to the God of mercy and truth I invoke His choicest blessings upon you. May He gather you under the shadow of His almighty wing, direct you in all your ways, and give you peace and everlasting life. It would be most pleasant to my feelings could I again, as you propose, gather you all around me, but I fear that will not be in this world. Let us all so live that we may be united in that world where there is no more separation, and where sorrow and pain never come. I think after next year I will have done all the good I can for the college, and I should then like, if peace is restored to the country, to retire to some quiet spot, east of the mountains, where I might prepare a home for your mother and sisters after my death, and where I could earn my daily bread. We will talk of it when we meet. This summer I wish to carry your mother to some of the mineral springs where she might obtain some relief, but it is hard to know where that can be found. She seems now to prefer White Sulphur, merely on the ground, I believe, that she has never tried those waters, and, therefore, they might be of service to her. If she makes up her mind to go, I will endeavour to get her there with one of the girls, at least. Mildred has returned to us, looking very well, and says she has had a very pleasant tour among her friends, and has received a great deal of kindness wherever she has been. She seems to be very contented now at home. I think you did right to defer her visit to us until you had more leisure. I am glad your prospects for a harvest are so good. Every one must look to his material interests now, as labour is our only resource. The completion of the railroad to the Pamunkey will be a great advantage to you in getting to market what you make, and I hope you will put everything to account. I hope Robert is doing well. Mary is in Staunton, where she went a week since to attend Miss Stribling’s wedding.... Miss Mary Stewart is staying with us, and I believe is to remain until July, when her sister Belle is to join her. The examination of the students has been progressing a week and will continue until the 20th. The young men have, so far, done very well on the whole.... Mr. Swinton has paid his visit. He seemed to be gentlemanly, but I derive no pleasure from my interviews with book-makers. I have either to appear uncivil, or run the risk of being dragged before the public.... I am,
“Always as ever, your father, R. E. Lee.
“General Wm. H. Fitzhugh Lee.”
The Pamunkey was the name of the river on which the White House, my brother’s estate, was situated. The railroad from Richmond, torn up during the war, had just been rebuilt to that point. Swinton was the historian of the Federal Amy of the Potomac. He spent some days in Lexington, and, I suppose, sought from my father information on points connected with his history of the movements of General Grant’s army.
My father, as I have said before, commenced almost as soon as he became the president of the college to improve the grounds, roads, walks, fences, etc., and systematically kept up this work up to the time of his death. The walks about the college grounds were in very bad condition, and, in wet weather, often ankle-deep in mud. As a first step toward improving them the president had a quantity of limestone broken up and spread upon the roads and walks. The rough, jagged surface was most uninviting, and horsemen and footmen naturally took to the grass. Seeing Colonel T. L. Preston riding one day across the campus on his way to his classes at the Virginia Military Institute, my father remarked:
“Ah, Colonel, I have depended upon you and your big sorrel to help smooth down my walks!”
Another day, a student who was walking on the grass saw the General not far away, and immediately stepped into the middle of the rocks, upon which he manfully trudged along. A strange lady, going in the same direction, followed in the student’s footsteps, and when the youth came within speaking distance, my father, with a twinkle in his eye, thanked him for setting so good an example, and added, “The ladies do not generally take kindly to my walks.”
The buildings also were altered and renovated, so far as funds for the purpose permitted. He urged the erection as soon as possible of a chapel, which should be of dimensions suitable for the demands of the college. There were other objects calling for a far greater outlay of money than the resources of the college afforded, but he deemed this of great importance, and succeeded in getting appropriations for it first. He hastened the selection of the site and the drawing of the plans, the completion of the work was much retarded owing to the want of funds, but his interest in its erection never flagged. He gave it his personal superintendence from first to last, visiting it often two or three times a day. After it was dedicated, he always attended morning prayers and all other religious exercises held there, unless prevented by sickness. Whenever I was there on a visit I always went with him every morning to chapel. He had a certain seat which he occupied, and you could have kept your watch regulated by the time he entered the doors. As he thought well of the young men who left his drawing-room by ten o’clock, so he placed in a higher estimate those who attended chapel regularly, especially if they got there in proper time. There was no regular chaplain, but the ministers of the different denominations who had churches in the village undertook, by turns, to perform a month’s service. The hour was forty-five minutes past seven o’clock every morning, except Sunday, during the session, save in the three winter months, December, January, and February, when it was one hour later. He was the earnest friend and strong support of the Young Men’s Christian Association, and an annual contributor to its funds. Upon one occasion, at least, he placed in its library a collection of suitable books, which he had purchased with that intention. In his annual reports to the trustees, he always made mention of the association, giving an account of its operations and progress.
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
Since the arrival of “Lucy Long” my father was generally accompanied by one of my sisters in his rides, whenever the weather and the condition of the roads admitted of their going. It took very severe weather to keep him in, though often he could not spare the time, for during the winter months the days were very short. Every Monday afternoon there was a faculty meeting, and the vestry meetings of his church were held two or three times a month. Whenever I was in Lexington I rode with him, and when he was prevented by any of the above-mentioned causes he would ask me to take Traveller out and give him a gallop, which I was delighted to do, and I think I had my revenge for his treatment of me on that ride from Orange to Fredericksburg in the winter of 1862. My father’s affection for his horses was very deep and strong. In a letter written from the Springs one summer, to his clerk in Lexington, he says:
“How is Traveller? Tell him I miss him dreadfully, and have repented of our separation but once—and that is the whole time since we parted.”
I think Traveller appreciated his love and sympathy, and returned it as much as was in a horse’s nature to do. As illustrative of this bond between them, a very pretty story was told me by Mrs. S. P. Lee [Daughter of General W. N. Pendleton, Chief of Artillery of the A. N. Va., and widow of Colonel Edwin Grey Lee, C. S. A.]:
“One afternoon in July of this year, the General rode down to the canal-boat landing to put on board a young lady who had been visiting his daughters and was returning home. He dismounted, tied Traveller to a post, and was standing on the boat making his adieux, when some one called out that Traveller was loose. Sure enough, the gallant gray was making his way up the road, increasing his speed as a number of boys and men tried to stop him. My father immediately stepped ashore, called to the crowd to stand still, and advancing a few steps gave a peculiar low whistle. At the first sound, Traveller stopped and pricked up his ears. The General whistled a second time, and the horse with a glad whinny turned and trotted quietly back to his master, who patted and coaxed him before tying him up again. To a bystander expressing surprise at the creature’s docility the General observed that he did not see how any man could ride a horse for any length of time without a perfect understanding being established between them. My sister Mildred, who rode with him constantly this summer, tells me of his enjoyment of their long rides out into the beautiful, restful country. Nothing seemed to delight him so much.
“I have often known him to give rein to Traveller and to at full speed to the top of some long hill, then turn and wait for me jogging along on Lucy, calling out with merry voice, ‘Come along, Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy, Lucy Long!’ He would question the country people about the roads, where they came from, where they led to, and soon knew every farmer’s name and every homestead in the country. He often said:
“‘I wish I had a little farm of my own, where we could live in peace to the end of our days. You girls could attend to the dairy and the cows and the sheep and wait on your mother and me, for it is time now for us old people to rest and for the young people to work.’”
All the children in the country around were devoted to him, and felt no hesitation in approaching him, after they once knew him. He used to meet his favourites among the little ones on the street, and would sometimes lift them up in front of him to give them a ride on Traveller. That was the greatest treat he could provide. There is a very pretty story told of Virginia Lee Letcher, his god-daughter, and her baby sister, Fannie, which is yet remembered among the Lexington people. Jennie had been followed by her persistent sister, and all the coaxing and the commanding of the six-year-old failed to make the younger return home. Fannie had sat down by the roadside to pout, when General Lee came riding by. Jeannie at once appealed to him:
“General Lee, won’t you please make this child go home to her mother?”
The General immediately rode over to where Fannie sat, leaned over from his saddle and drew her up into his lap. There she sat in royal contentment, and was thus grandly escorted home. When Mrs. Letcher inquired of Jennie why she had given General Lee so much trouble, she received the naive reply:
“I couldn’t make Fan go home, and I thought HE could do anything.” [Daughters of Governor John Letcher—the War Governor of Virginia]
There was a little boy living with his mother, who had come from New York. His father had been killed in our army. The little fellow, now Colonel Grier Monroe, of New York city, was much teased at his playmates calling him “Yankee” when he knew he was not one. One day he marched into my father’s office in the college, stated his case, and asked for redress.
“The next boy that calls you ‘Yankee’ send him to me,” said the General, which, when reported, struck such terror into the hearts of his small comrades that the offense was never repeated.
There was another little boy who was accustomed to clamber up by the side of my father at the morning chapel exercises, and was so kindly treated that, whenever he saw his distinguished friend, he straightway assumed a position beside him. At the college commencement, which was held in the chapel, the little fellow glided from his mother’s side and quietly stole up to the platform. Soon he was nestled at the feet of the dignified president, and, resting his head upon his knees, dropped asleep. General Lee tenderly remained without moving, preferring to suffer from the constrained position rather than disturb the innocent slumberer. This boy is now the Reverend Carter Jones of he Baptist Church.
About this time Ex-President Davis was freed from the confinement of his prison at Fortress Monroe, where he had been for about two years. There was a warm personal friendship between these two men, dating from the time they were cadets at West Point together, and as his unjust and unnecessary imprisonment had pained and distressed none more than my father, so his release gave him corresponding joy. He at once wrote to him the following letter, full of feeling and sympathy:
“Lexington, Virginia, June 1, 1867.
“Honourable Jefferson Davis.
“My Dear Mr. Davis: You can conceive better than I can express the misery which your friends have suffered from your long imprisonment, and the other afflictions incident thereto. To no one has this been more painful than to me, and the impossibility of affording relief has added to my distress. Your release has lifted a load from my heart which I have not words to tell. My daily prayer to the great Ruler of the world is that He may shield you from all future harm, guard you from all evil, and give you that peace which the world cannot take away. That the rest of your days may be triumphantly happy is the sincere and earnest wish of
“Your most obedient, faithful friend and servant,
“R. E. Lee.”
Though my father would take no part in the politics of the country, and rarely expressed his views on questions of that nature then occupying the minds of all, nevertheless, when he deemed it necessary, and to the proper person, he very plainly said what he thought. The following letter to General Longstreet, in answer to one from him written about this time, illustrates what I have said in this connection, and explains itself:
“Lexington, Virginia, October 29, 1867.
“General J. Longstreet, 21 Carondelet Street, New Orleans, La.
“My Dear General: When I received your letter of the 8th of June, I had just returned from a short trip to Bedford County, and was preparing for a more extended visit to the White Sulphur Springs for the benefit of Mrs. Lee’s health. As I could not write such a letter as you desired, and as you stated that you would leave New Orleans for Mexico in a week from the time you wrote, to be absent some months, I determined to delay my reply till my return. Although I have been here more than a month, I have been so occupied by necessary business, and so incommoded by the effects of an attack of illness, from which I have not yet recovered, that this is the first day that I have been able to write to you. I have avoided all discussion of political questions since the cessation of hostilities, and have, in my own conduct, and in my recommendations to others, endeavoured to conform to existing circumstances. I consider this the part of wisdom, as well as of duty; but, while I think we should act under the law and according to the law imposed upon us, I cannot think the course pursued by the dominant political party the best for the interests of the country, and therefore cannot say so or give it my approval. This is the reason why I could not comply with the request in your letter. I am of the opinion that all who can should vote for the most intelligent, honest, and conscientious men eligible to office, irrespective of former party opinions, who will endeavour to make the new constitutions and the laws passed under them as beneficial as possible to the true interests, prosperity, and liberty of all classes and conditions of the people. With my best wishes for your health and happiness, and my kindest regards to Mrs. Longstreet and your children, I am, with great regard, and very truly and sincerely yours,
“R. E. Lee.”
This summer my father paid a visit to the Peaks of Otter, a famous group of mountains in the Blue Ridge range, situated in Bedford County, Virginia. He rode Traveller, and my sister Mildred accompanied him on “Lucy Long.” After visiting the Peaks and ascending the summit, which is 4,000 feet in height, he rode on to Liberty, now Bedford City, ten miles distant, and spent the night at “Avenel,” the home of the Burwells, who were friends and connections of his.
From there the riding party went to Captain Bufurd’s, about twelve miles distant, where they spent the night and the next day. The Captain was a farmer, a great admirer and a staunch upholder of his native State, Viriginia, in her fight for constitutional liberty, from ‘61 to ‘65. He had sent his sons into the army, and had given of his substance freely to support the troops, as well as the poor and needy, the widow and orphan, who had been left in want by the death in battle of their natural protectors and by the ravages of war. In the early years of the struggle, my mother and sisters, when “refugeeing,” had boarded, as they thought and intended at the time, at his home. But when they tried to induce him to accept pay for the shelter and food he had given them for a month or more, he sternly refused. His was a patriotism that hesitated at no sacrifice, and was of a kind and character that admitted of no self-consideration. This trait, so strongly developed in him, attracted the admiration and respect of my father. The visit he paid him was to thank him in person for the kindness extended to his wife and daughters, and also for a very large and handsome horse which he had sent my father the last year, I think, of the war. My sister Mildred tells me what she can recollect of this ride. It is a source of endless regret to us that we cannot recall more. His championship was at all times delightful to his children, and on an occasion of this kind, invigorated by the exercise, inspired by the bright skies and relieved of all harassing cares, he became almost a boy again.
My sister Mildred says:
“We started at daybreak one perfect June day, papa on Traveller, I on Lucy Long, our saddle-bags being our only luggage. He was in the gayest humour, laughing and joking with me as I paced along by his side on quiet ‘Miss Lucy.’ Traveller seemed to sympathise with his master, his springy step, high head, and bright eye clearly showing how happy he was and how much interest he took in this journey. He had to be constantly chided for his restlessness, and was told that it would be well for him to reserve some of his too abundant energy for the latter part of his trip. At midday we dismounted, and, tying our horses while resting on the soft grass under a wild-plum hedge by the roadside, ate our lunch. We then rode on, and soon came to the James River, which was crossed by a ferry-boat. The ferry-man was an old soldier, who of course recognised papa, and refused payment; nor could he be induced to take any. Further on the road, as our horses were climbing a steep rocky ascent, we met some little children, with very dirty faces, playing on the roadside. He spoke to them in his gentle, playful way, alluding to their faces and the desirability of using a little water. They stared at us with open-eyed astonishment, and then scampered off up the hill; a few minutes later, in rounding this hill, we passed a little cabin, when out they all ran with clean faces, fresh aprons, and their hair nicely brushed, one little girl exclaiming, ‘We know you are General Lee! we have got your picture!’
“That night about nine o’clock we reached the little mountain inn at the foot of the Peaks, ate a hearty supper, and soon went to bed, tired out by our thirty-mile ride. Our bedrooms seemed to be a loft, and the beds were of feathers, but I, at last, slept without turning. Next morning, at dawn of day, we set out, accompanied by the master of the house, and rode for a long time up the mountain-side, Lucy following closely behind Traveller. Finally it became impossible to proceed further on horseback, so the horses were fastened to some trees and we climbed the rest of the way to the summit on foot. When the top was reached, we sat for a long time on a great rock, gazing down on the glorious prospect beneath. Papa spoke but a few words, and seemed very sad. I have heard there is now a mark on the rock showing where we sat. The inn-keeper, who accompanied us all the way, told us that we had ridden nearer the top than any other persons up to that time. Regaining our horses, we proceeded on our second day’s journey, which was to end at Liberty, some ten miles distant.
“We had not ridden far, when suddenly a black thunder-cloud arose and in a few minutes a heavy shower broke over us. We galloped back to a log cabin we had just passed. Papa lifted me off of Lucy and, dripping with water, I rushed in, while he led the horse under an adjacent shed, the woman of the house looked dark and glum on seeing the pools of water forming from my dress on her freshly scoured floor, and when papa came in with his muddy boots her expression was more forbidding and gloomy. He asked her permission to wait there until the shower was over, and praised her nice white floor, regretting that we had marred its beauty. At this praise, so becomingly bestowed, she was slightly appeased, and asked us into the best room, which was adorned with colored prints of Lee, Jackson, Davis, and Johnston. When the shower ceased and papa went out for the horses I told her who I was. Poor woman! She seemed stunned and kept on saying: ‘What will Joe say? What will Joe say!’ Joe was her husband, and had been, like every other man in the country, a soldier in the ‘Army of Northern Virginia.’
“The shower over and the sun shining brightly, we rode along joyously through the refreshed hills and dust-laid roads arriving at Liberty in good time, and went to ‘Avenel,’ the pretty home of the Burwells. The comforts of this sweet old place seemed very delicious to me after my short experience of roughing it. Papa was much amused when I appeared in crinoline, my ‘hoops’ having been squeezed into the saddle-bags and brought with me. We remained here the next day, Sunday, and the day after rode on some twelve miles to Captain Buford’s. The Captain, in his shirt-sleeves, received us with open arms, seemed much surprised at my full growth, and said, ‘Why, General, you called her your ‘little girl,’ and she is a real chuck of a gal!’ He showed us his fine Jersey cattle, his rich fields and well-filled barns, and delighted in talking of the time during the war when mama, Mary, and Agnes paid him a visit. He overflowed with kindness and hospitality, and his table fairly groaned with the good things. Papa afterwards constantly quoted his original sayings, especially one on early rising, which was made on the eve of our arrival, when he told us good-night. Papa asked him what time he must be ready for breakfast next morning.
“‘Well, General,’ said the Captain, ‘as you have been riding hard, and as you are company, we will not have breakfast to-morrow until sun-up,’ which meant in those June days somewhere before five o’clock.
“After a day spent pleasantly here, we started next morning early on our return. Halting for a short time in Buchanan, we stopped at Colonel Edmund Pendleton’s who then lived there in an imposing white pillared edifice, formerly a bank. Mrs. Pendelton gave us some delicious apricots from her garden, which my father enjoyed greatly. We then proceeded on the road to Lexington, going by the Natural Bridge, where we had another short rest, and reached home the same night, about ten o’clock, after a forty-mile ride.
“Shortly after this visit Captain Bufurd sent me a fine Jersey cow, on condition that I would get up early every morning and milk her, and also send him a part of the butter I made.”
After my father returned from this trip, he began his arrangements for taking my mother to the Greenbriar White Sulphur Springs. He hoped that the waters and the change might be of service to her general health, even if they should not alleviated the severity of her rheumatic pains. About the first of July, my mother, sister Agnes and Miss Mary Pendleton, with my brother Custis in charge, set out for the White Sulphur Springs. My father, with Professor J. J. White, decided to make the journey to the same place on horseback. They started a day in advance and were at Covington when the ladies, travelling by stage-coach to Goshen, thence by rail, arrived there. After spending the night at Covington, the passengers were put into as many stage-coaches as were necessary, and the long, rough drive over the mountains by “Callahan’s” commenced.
General Lee on Traveller was at once recognised, and when it was found out by his fellow-travellers that Mrs. Lee was with him, attentions and services of all kinds were pressed on her party, and a most enjoyable lunch was sent to the stage reserved for her. Seeing that the other stages were much crowded, while the one reserved for his wife had vacant seats, my father insisted that some of the others should join his party, which they very gladly did. He and Professor White went ahead of the stages on their horses.
At the White Sulphur Springs the “Harrison cottage,” in “Baltimore Row,” had been put at my father’s disposal, and the entire party was soon most pleasantly established there. Mr. W. W. Corcoran, of Washington, Professor White, Miss Mary Pendleton, Agnes and my father and brother had a table together. Almost every day some special dainty was sent to this table. My mother, of course, had her meals served in her cottage. Her faithful and capable servant, Milly Howard, was always most eager for her to appear her best, and took great pride in dressing her up, so far as she was allowed, in becoming caps, etc., to receive her numerous visitors. My father’s usual custom while there was to spend some time in the morning in the large parlour of the hotel, before taking his ride on Traveller. After dinner he went again to the parlour, and also after tea.
Among the company were many old friends and acquaintances from Baltimore, who could not sufficiently testify their pleasure in this renewal of intercourse. Whenever he appeared in the parlour or ballroom he was the centre of attraction, and in vain the young men tried to engage the attention of the young ladies when General Lee was present.
During his visit, a circus came to “Dry Creek,” a neighbouring settlement, and gave an exhibition. The manager rode over to the Springs, came to my father’s cottage, and insisted on leaving several tickets, begging that General Lee would permit him to send carriages for him and any friends he might like to take to his show. These offers my father courteously declined, but bought many tickets, which he presented to his little friends at the Springs.
During the morning he rode over to “Dry Creek,” where the crowds of country people, many of them his old soldiers, feasted their eyes on him to the neglect of the circus. That night a special exhibition was given by the manager to General Lee’s friends, who were taken to seats draped with Confederate colors, red, and white. After the return from the circus, my father invited a large party to his cottage to partake of a huge watermelon sent him by express from Mobile. It weighed about sixty pounds, and its producer thought the only fitting way he could dispose of it was to present it to General Lee.
Every possible attention that love, admiration, and respect could prompt was paid my father by the guests at the Springs, each one seeming anxious to do him homage. My mother and sisters shared it all with him, for any attention and kindness shown them went straight to his heart.
After spending three weeks at “the White,” my father’s party went to the Old Sweet Springs, where they were all made very comfortable, one of the parlours being turned into a bedroom for my mother, so that in her wheeled chair she could go out on the verandas and into the ballroom.
He was taken quite sick there, and, though he rode over from the White Sulphur Springs, was unable to continue his early rides for some time. His room was on the first floor, with a window opening on the end of the building. One morning, when he was very unwell and it was important that he should not be disturbed, Miss Pendleton found a countryman cautiously opening the shutters from the outside. She quickly interfered, saying:
“Go away; that is General Lee’s room.”
The man dropped back, saying mournfully:
“I only wanted to see him.”
On another occasion some country people came to the Springs with plums and berries for sale. Catching sight of him on the piazza, they put down their baskets, took off their hats, and hurrahed most lustily for “Marse Bob”. They were his old soldiers. When he acknowledged their loyalty by shaking hands with them, they insisted on presenting him with their fruit.
About the first week in September my father rode back to Lexington on Traveller, Custis taking my mother and Agnes back over the same tedious journey by stage and rail.
There have been preserved very few letters from him at this time. I found one to me, full of kindness, wholesome advice, and offers of aid, in which he sends his thanks to the President of the York River Railroad for a courtesy tendered him:
“White Sulphur Springs, Greenbriar County, West Virginia,
“August 5, 1867.
“My Dear Son: I received to-day your letter of the 28th ult., inclosing a free ticket over the Richmond & York River Railroad, from its president, Mr. Dudley. Please present him my grateful thanks for this mark of his esteem. I am very glad to hear that the road is completed to the White House, and that a boat connects it with Norfolk, the convenience of the community and the interests of the road will be promoted thereby. It is a difficult undertaking in these times to build a road, and I hope the company will soon be able to finish it to West Point. I suppose you have received before this the letter from your mother and Agnes, announcing our arrival at this place and informing you of the company. The latter has been much increased, and among the arrivals are the Daingerfields, Haxalls, Capertons, Miss Belle Harrison, etc., etc. I told Agnes to tell you how much we wished you were with us, and as an inducement for you to join us, if you could leave home, if you would come, I would pay your expenses. I feel very sensibly, in my old age, the absence of my children, though I recognise the necessity of every one’s attending to his business, and admire him the more for so doing. I am very glad that you and Fitzhugh have, so far, escaped the fever, and hope you may avoid it altogether. Be prudent. I am very sorry that your harvest promises a poor yield. It will be better next year, but you must continue systematically the improvement of the land. I know of no better method than by liming, and if you wish to prosecute it, and are in need of help, I will aid you to the extent of last year or more. So make your arrangements, and let me know your wishes. A farmer’s life is one of labour, but it is also one of pleasure, and the consciousness of steady improvement, though it may be slow, is very encouraging. I think you had better also begin to make arrangements to build yourself a house. If you can do nothing more than prepare a site, lay out a garden, orchard, etc., and get a small house partly finished, so as to inhabit it, it will add to your comfort and health. I can help you in that too. Think about it. Then, too, you must get a nice wife. I do not like you being so lonely. I fear you will fall in love with celibacy. I have heard some very pleasing reports of Fitzhugh. I hope that his desires, if beneficial to his happiness, may be crowned with success. I saw the lady when I was in Petersburg, and was much pleased with her. I will get Agnes or your mother to tell you what occurs at the Springs. There are some 500 people here, very pleasant and kind, but most of my time is passed alone with Traveller in the mountains. I hope your mother may derive some benefit from the waters, but I see none now. It will, at least, afford her some variety, and give her some pleasure, of which there is a dearth with us now. Give much love to Fitzhugh. All unite in love to you. God bless you, my son, prays
“Your affectionate father,
“R. E. Lee.”
Early in September my father sent my mother sister home to Lexington, while he mounted Traveller and rode back by way of the Hot Springs, Healing, and Rockbridge Alum. He was detained by indisposition a day or two at the Healing, and writes to my mother a little note from that place:
“Healing Springs, September 12, 1867.
“My Dear Mary: I arrived here on the 10th, and had expected to resume my journey this morning, but did not feel able. Should nothing prevent, I will leave here to-morrow, but I fear I shall not be able to reach the Rockbridge Alum, which I am told is twenty-nine miles distant. In that event, I will halt on the road, and arrive there on Saturday, lie over Sunday, and reach Lexington on Monday. I am very anxious to get to Lexington, and think nothing on the route will benefit me, as I feel much concerned about the resumption of the college exercises. Mr. John Stewart, Misses Mary and Marian, Mr. Price, and his daughters came over from the Hot yesterday to see me. The Stewarts are there on Miss Belle’s account. Give much love to everybody. I hope you reached Lexington safely and comfortably and that all are well. I hope to see you Monday. Till then, farewell.
“Very truly and affectionately,
“R. E. Lee.”
It is to be regretted that we have no accounts of these rides, the people he met, and what he said to them, where he stayed, and who were his hosts. He was very fond of horseback journeys, enjoyed the quiet and rest, the freedom of mind and body, the close sympathy of his old warhorse, and the beauties of Nature which are to be seen at every turn in the mountains of Virginia. Ah, if we could only obtain some records of his thoughts as he rode all alone along the mountain roads, how much it would help us all in our trials and troubles! He was a man of few words, very loath to talk about himself, nor do I believe any one ever knew what that great heart suffered. His idea of life was to do his duty, at whatever cost, and to try to help others to theirs.