Part 29 (2/2)
”R. E. Lee.”
The ”Markie” referred to in each of the above letters was Martha Custis Williams, a great-niece of my grandfather, Mr. Custis, who had for many years lived at Arlington with her uncle. The ”little children” were her motherless nieces, whom she had brought that summer to the mountains for their health. General Lee had been engaged for some time in bringing out a third edition of his father's ”Memoirs of the War of '76 in the Southern States.” It was now in the hands of his publisher, Mr. Richardson, of New York. To this edition he had added a sketch of the famous ”Light Horse Harry,” written by himself. It was to his publisher's proposition of placing his portrait in the ”Introduction” to the new work that he at first objected, and then agreed, as stated in the two letters just given. The season of '69 is still noted in the annals of the White Sulphur as having had in its unusually large company so many noted and distinguished men. Mr. George Peabody and Mr. W. W. Corcoran, the two great philanthropists, were among them and helped to enlarge the receipts of the concert for the benefit of the little Episcopal church in Lexington, of which General Lee was a member and a vestryman.
by the last of August he was back again in Lexington, making arrangements for the home-coming of his wife and her party from the Baths. Here is part of another letter written soon after his arrival home, some lines of which (apparently relating to the servants) have been partially obliterated by time:
”Lexington, Virginia, August 31, 1869.
”My Dear Mary: I received this evening your note by Miss Mays. You had better come up whenever agreeable to your party...we can only try them and make the best of them. Alice, when she gets well, will return if wanted. If Cousin Julia [Mrs. Richard Stuart, of 'Cedar Grove'] will return with you, you can see her here as well as there, and we can all have that pleasure. If she will not, you had better remain with her as long as she will stay. Mrs. Pratt died to-day at 12:30 P. M.
”I received a letter to-day from Edward Childe saying that he and Blanche would leave Liverpool in the 'Fava' on September 4th, and after spending a few days in the North, would come to Lexington. He will probably reach Boston about September 15th, so that they may be expected here from the 20th to the 30th of September. I am anxious for them to see our daughter and grandson and all our sons. Give my best love to all with you. The girls would send love, but a 'yearling' and a 'leader of the herd' [”Yearling” was a term that originated with us just after the war (when many of the students were ex-soldiers), to distinguish the real boys from the ”Confeds.” From that expression, a professor came to be called a ”leader of the herd.” It was a form of speech that we had kept up amongst ourselves.] occupy them. Affectionately yours,
”R. E. Lee.”
”Mrs. M. C. Lee.”
This session of Was.h.i.+ngton College opened with very favourable prospects. The number of students was larger than ever before, every southern, and some northern States being represented. The new chairs of instruction which had been inst.i.tuted were now in good working order, their professors were comfortably established, and the entire machinery of the inst.i.tution was running well and smoothly. The president commenced to see some of the results of his untiring energy and steady work. He had many plans which lack of funds prevented him from carrying out. One of them was a School of Commerce in which a student, while following the branches which would discipline and cultivate the mind, might also receive special instruction and systematic training in whatever pertained to business in the largest sense of the term. Another was a School of Medicine, the plan for which, with full details, was drawn up under his eye, and kept in readiness until the funds of the inst.i.tution should permit of its being carried into effect.
His meeting with Mr. Peabody at the White Sulphur Springs attracted that gentleman's attention to the college and to his work as its president. To a request for his photograph to be placed in the Peabody Inst.i.tute among the friends of its founder, he sends with the likeness the following note:
”Was.h.i.+ngton College, Virginia, September 25, 1869.
”F. Poole, Secretary Peabody Inst.i.tute, Peabody, Ma.s.sachusetts.
”Dear Sir: In compliance with your request, I send a photograph of myself, the last that has been taken, and shall fell honoured in its being placed among the 'friends' of Mr. Peabody, for, though they can be numbered by millions, yet all can appreciate the man who was ill.u.s.trated his age by his munificent charities during his life, and by his wise provisions for promoting the happiness of his fellow-creatures.
”Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
”R. E. Lee.”
My father's family was now comfortably established in their new home, and had the usual number of friends visiting them this autumn. In due time Edward Childe, Blanche, and ”Duckie,” their little dog, arrived and remained for a week or two. The last-named member of the party was of great interest. He was very minute, very helpless, and received more attention than the average baby. He had crossed the Atlantic in fear and trembling, and did not apparently enjoy the new world. His utter helplessness and the great care taken of him by his mistress, his ill-health and the unutterable woe of his countenance greatly excited my father's pity. After he went away, he often spoke of him, and referred to him, I find, in one of his letters. During this trip to America, Edward and his wife, carrying the wretched ”Duckie” with them, paid their visit to the ”White House.”
This autumn the ”little carriage” my father mentioned having purchased for my mother in Baltimore was put into use. He frequently drove out in it with my mother, his new daughter, and grandson. ”Lucy Long,” under his guidance, carefully carried them over the beautiful hills around Lexington. One afternoon, while paying a visit with his daughter, Tabb, to Colonel William Preston Johnston, who lived two miles down the river, in pulling up a steep ascent to the front door, ”Lucy” fell, choked into unconsciousness by too tight a collar. My father jumped out, hastily got off the harness, and on perceiving the cause of the accident reproached himself vehemently for his carelessness and thoughtlessness. He was very much distressed at this accident, petted his mare, saying to her in soothing tones that he was ashamed of himself for having caused her all this pain after she had been so faithful to him.
His rides on Traveller in which he delighted so much were not so frequent now. He was not so strong as he had been through the spring and summer, and, indeed, during November he had a very severe attack of cold, from which he did not recover for several weeks. However, during the beautiful days of October he was often seen out in the afternoons on his old gray. His favourite route was the road leading to the Rockbridge Baths. A year previous to this time, he would sometimes go as far as the Baths and return in an afternoon, a trip of twenty miles. A part of this road led through a dense forest. One afternoon, as he told the story himself, he met a plain old soldier in the midst of these woods, who, recognising the General, reined in his horse and said:
”General Lee, I am powerful glad to see you, and I feel like cheering you.”
The General replied that this would not do, as they were all alone, only two of them, and there would be no object whatever in cheering. But the old soldier insisted that he must, and, waving his hat about his head, cried out:
”Hurrah for General Lee!” and kept repeating it. As the General rode away he continued to hear the cheers until he was out of sight.
On another afternoon, as Professors White and Nelson, taking a horseback ride, approached the summit of a long hill, they heard behind them the sound of a horse's feet running rapidly. In a few moments General Lee appeared on Traveller at full speed. On joining his friends he reined up and said:
”I thought a little run would be good for Traveller.”
He often gave his horse a ”breather,” as he called it. The animal was so strong and powerful that he chafed at restraint, and, unless ridden regularly and hard, had a very disagreeable, fretful trot. After a good gallop up one of the long Rockbridge hills he would proceed at a quiet walk.
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