Part 93 (1/2)
She turned to the grave again, her gaze fixed on the striking figure of the grief-stricken father, bare-headed, straight as an arrow, his fine face silhouetted against the s.h.i.+ning Southern sky. The mother stood back amid the shadows, in her somber wrappings, her tall figure drooped in pitiful grief.
The leader turned quickly from his personal sorrows to those of his country, his indomitable courage rising to greater heights as dangers thickened.
Two weeks later General Sheridan attempted what Dahlgren tried and failed to accomplish.
The President hurried from his office to his home, seized his pistols, mounted his horse and rode out to join Generals Gracie and Ransom who were placing their skeleton brigades to repulse the attack.
The crack of rifles could be distinctly heard from the Executive Mansion.
The mother called her children to prayers. As little Jeff knelt he raised his chubby face and said with solemn earnestness:
”You had better have my pony saddled, and let me go out and help father--we can pray afterwards!”
In driving Sheridan's cavalry back from Richmond General Stuart fell at Yellow Tavern mortally wounded--the bravest of the brave--a full Major General who had won immortal fame at thirty-one years of age. His beautiful wife, the daughter of a Union General, Philip St. George Cooke, could not reach his bedside before he breathed his last.
The President reverently entered the death chamber and stood for fifteen minutes holding the hand of his brilliant young commander.
They told him that he could not live to see his wife.
”I should have liked to have seen her,” he said gently, ”but G.o.d's will be done.”
The doctor felt his fast fading pulse.
”Doctor, I suppose I'm going fast now,” Stuart said. ”It will soon be over. I hope I have fulfilled my duty to my country and my G.o.d--”
”Your end is near, General Stuart,” the doctor responded softly.
”All right,” was the even answer. ”I'll end my little affairs down here.
To Mrs. Robert E. Lee I give my gold spurs, in eternal memory of the love I bear my glorious Chief. To my staff, my horses--”
He paused and turned to the heavier officer who stood with bowed head.
”You take the larger one--he'll carry you better. To my son I leave my sword--”
He was silent a moment and then said with an effort:
”Now I want you to sing for me the song I love best:
”'Rock of ages cleft for me Let me hide myself in thee'”--
With his fast-failing breath he joined in the song, turned and murmured:
”I'm going fast now--G.o.d's will be done--”
So pa.s.sed the greatest cavalry leader our country has produced--a man whose joyous life was one long feast of good will toward his fellow men.
In spite of all losses, in spite of four years of frightful carnage, in spite of the loss of the Mississippi, the States of Louisiana and Tennessee, the Confederacy was in sight of victory.