The last scene has closed upon an illustrious life, a life fraught with lessons of wisdom to the old, and with inspiration to the young of this generation The earth opens this day to receive in its bosom the most precious treasure which has been left to our bereft and stricken people.
The great and good man, whose name has so long been a household word in our land, goes to take his place among the silent congregation of the dead.
Until the day breaks, and the shadows flee away, he is buried from our sight.
His presence is lost to us; but not his heroic virtues and the brilliant deeds which have given his name to history.
Stars have been extinguished in the sky whose light continues to travel through space and linger in our sight; and in the sphere of humanity there are examples of men so elevated above this world
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that when they have ceased to live here they have not ceased to shine; their presence abides with us, and the radiance of their life remains to cheer and bless the world they have forsaken.
The lamented friend whom we commemorate to-day was one of this race of heroes.
His life is an enduring inheritance to his country and to the church of Christ.
Personally, he was a man of rare gifts, physical and mental.
To these were added the advantages of finished culture.
Providence had endowed him for a career of distinction.
The descendant of an honored house—allied by marriage to the family of our great
Washington—he reflected in his character the ennobling influence of his early associations with the great and good.
Habits of temperance, frugality, industry, self-control, formed in youth, adhered to him through life.
With every temptation to luxury, he was an example of moderation; with every incentive to pride and ambition, his tastes were restrained within the limits of an elegant simplicity; and his whole life was one of profound submission to the duties of the hour.
The profession of arms which he had chosen was not likely to make him conspicuous during the reign of peace.
But his great mind had already asserted its power, and won for him a proud distinction among his cotemporaries.
Indeed, his reputation was such at that period that when this institution was first projected, upon a scale of grandeur commensurate with the circumstances which gave it birth, the attention of its founders was directed to him, and the wish was unanimous to make him the head of the institution, to usher it into life, and preside over its destiny.
Providence had chosen for him another sphere.
It is reserved for the convulsions of society to form heroes, as convulsions in nature produce mountains.
The late war, so destructive of everything else, was fruitful in deeds of heroism almost without parallel in history.
Conspicuous above all others in that momentous struggle was your departed chieftain.
A great man was required, and great spirits were ready to gather around him. In what temper of mind he entered into this contest, I can speak with some confidence, from personal interviews with him soon after the commencement of hostilities.
‘Is it your expectation,’ I asked, ‘that the issue of this war will be to perpetuate the institution of slavery?’
‘The future is in the hands of
Providence,’ he replied; ‘but if the slaves in the
South were mine, I would surrender them all, without a struggle, to avert this war.’
I asked him next upon what his calculations were based in so unequal a contest, and how he expected to win success; was he looking to divided counsels
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in the
North, or to foreign interposition?
His answer showed how little he was affected by the hopes and fears which agitated ordinary minds.
‘My reliance is in the help of God.’
‘Are you sanguine of the result?’
I ventured to inquire.
‘At present I am not concerned with results.
God's will ought to be our aim, and I am quite contented that His designs should be accomplished, and not mine.’
What results might be expected when sentiments like these should be developed in action?
Aims so pure and unselfish could not fail to produce in a strong character that intrepidity of soul; that singleness of purpose; that meekness of spirit in the midst of violence and passion; that self-abnegation in the hour of victory; that sublime heroism under adverse fortune, which made him the idol of his friends, and now command the respect and confidence of the civilized world.
Other men have gained great conquests, and filled the nations with their fame, but where do we find a man whose greatness was so pure from every earthly passion, and of whom it may be truly said, that he would have rejoiced to reform and bless the world without its being known that he was in it.
At the close of the war we follow him with admiration unabated to his chosen retirement.
His great mind harbored no resentments.
He uttered no complaints.
He accepted the consequences of the war with a spirit of resignation which few can emulate, but which we all revere.
We thought now that his sun had gone down in night, but we were in error.
The joy and glory of nature are truthfully represented in activity, not in rest.
The tired swan which has winged its distant flight from other scenes, and cleft its way through storm and tempest, does not seek an inglorious rest upon the still and motionless earth, but aims rather to fold its wings upon the lake, and in the quiet action of its waves to exercise and refresh its strength.
The change in the life of this unconquerable man is not one from labor to idle repose and inanity.
He sought activity and usefulness, and he did not seek in vain.
I was seated at the close of day in my
Virginia home, when I beheld through the thickening shades of evening a horseman entering the yard, whom I soon recognized as
General Lee.
The next morning he placed in my hands the correspondence with the authorities of Washington College, at
Lexington.
He had been invited to become president of that institution.
I confess to a momentary feeling of chagrin at the proposed change—shall I say, revulsion?—in his history.
The institution was one of local interest and comparatively unknown to our people.
I named others more conspicuous, which would welcome him with ardor as their
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presiding head.
I soon discovered that his mind towered above these earthly distinctions; that in his judgment the
cause gave dignity to the institution, and not the wealth of its endowment, or the renown of its scholars; that this door and not another was opened to him by
Providence, and he only wished to be assured of his competency to fulfill the trust, and thus to make his few remaining years a comfort and blessing to his suffering country.
I had spoken to his human feelings; he had now revealed himself to me as one ‘whose life was hid with
Christ in God.’
My speech was no longer restrained.
I congratulated him that his heart had been inclined to this great cause, and that he was spared to give to the world this august testimony to the importance of Christian education.
How he listened to my feeble words; how he beckoned me to his side as the fullness of my heart found utterance; how his whole countenance glowed with animation when I spoke of the
Holy Ghost as the great teacher, whose presence was required to make education a blessing, which otherwise might be the curse of mankind; how feelingly he responded, how
eloquently, as I never heard him speak before, can never be effaced from memory, and nothing more sacred mingles with my reminiscences of the dead.
Into this new sphere of duty he entered with that steadfast spirit of devotion which adorned his whole life.
His example was needed to restore the drooping spirits of his countrymen.
He felt it, and lavished all his strength in the effort to make them feel there was something to live for in the future.
With the pale signet of death upon his brow, he toiled for the young under his care.
He fed them with his right hand and ruled them prudently with all his power.
He sought to kindle their ambition, to heal the wounds of their country, and above all things endeavored to raise them to a new and higher life with God.
Behold him, then, while distant nations were applauding his name, walking the daily round of duty, seeking only to do God's will and conquer his own. With what success he addressed himself to this sublime mission, is attested by the rapid growth of the college under his charge, now become one of the most thriving and vigorous institutions in the land.
Very imperfect mention has been made of the religious character of
General Lee.
The lesson ought not to be lost upon a proud and gainsaying world, that its own chosen hero lived and died a Christian, in word and deed.
The world had its portion in him; his own portion was not on earth.
The renown which he had won on the theatre of worldly distinction, he knew to be the breath of popular
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applause, which must soon be hushed in the silence of the tomb.
The principalities and powers of this world, which had invoked his sword for their protection, he knew were doomed to an early oblivion; but in the religion of
Jesus Christ, his faith assured him that he was possessed of ‘an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away.’
The religion of our honored friend was not a creedless religion.
His faith embraced all the doctrines of a pure and primitive Christianity.
He was a communicant in this church.
His children were baptized at her font Her ministers leaned upon his strong arm for support.
The church in the Diocese of
Virginia derived strength from his frequent presence in her councils.
His last act was to preside at a meeting of the vestry of his parish.
Our beloved
Zion was the chief mourner in the funeral procession which followed him to the grave.
A great writer has asserted that every nation is to be judged by its heroes.
His countrymen would all consent to stand before the tribunal of history, and to accept as their representative in war and in peace the chivalrous and sainted
Lee, for ‘God has set him among princes, even the princes of his people.’
It remains for me to say, for the encouragement of the young men assembled before me, that the character which is here portrayed was not one of sudden growth.
The church sheltered his early youth, as it shelters you. He was a good boy before he was a good man. Some youths are tempted to think it manly to defy authority, to be impatient, at least, under its discipline.
It is recorded of
Robert Lee, that during a life of four years at
West Point he never received a demerit, and he found it no hardship, so complete was his subjection to the law of duty.
Others are tempted to think of religion as a great humiliation, and to affect indifference and unbelief as a token of independence.
You mourn one to-day who was known as a devout Christian; and has the knowledg of this fact ever chilled the hearts of men towards him, or quenched one ray of his glory?
Did the valiant men who followed him to the field ever have cause to blush for his lack of heroism, or to wish that he were less a Christian?
True religion adds to every man's power.
It helps to make men heroes, scholars, gentlemen.
The religion of
Christ is stronger than thrones and empires.
It invests a man with honor to be a Christian.
It is the only true honor, and a perishing world will shortly find it to be so. This life is hastening to its end. It is not in our power to arrest the progress of time, but we can improve it. We cannot prolong the bright morning of our days, but we can make
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it productive in permanent results.
We cannot fix the evening rays of life in their shadowy horizon, but we can have our portion in that life which knows no change or decay, which is the ornament of youth, the joy of manhood, the glory of old age. ‘Him that honoreth Me I will honor, and he that despiseth Me, shall be lightly esteemed.’
