Memorial Addresses on the Life and Character of William H. F. Lee Part 8

The friends of Gen. LEE enjoy the perfect a.s.surance that in every walk of life, on every occasion when duty called him, his responses were ever marked by a dignified and intelligent performance of the tasks a.s.signed him.

What higher honor can we ask for him than this: that weighty as were the responsibilities that devolved upon him by inheritance and high as the expectations which were the natural implications of this inheritance, he fully and n.o.bly met them. Much as was expected of him, he more than realized the claims and obligations of a n.o.ble lineage. His fellow-citizens and his contemporaries regard his career as an honor and his companions.h.i.+p as a delight and a resource that adds poignancy to their grief in the loss of so loved and valued a friend.

I might refer to the incidents of his military career to ill.u.s.trate his courage and fidelity, but it may not be considered appropriate to the time and the occasion. It is cheering, however, to believe that in this exalted body there is not to be found that spirit of truculent uncharitableness which refuses any credit to an honorable adversary.

Time, which touches all things with mellowing hand, has softened the recollections of past contests, and they who looked upon him as a foe now only remember the glory of the fight, and would join hands with us to weave the garland of his fame.

Securely may the friends and admirers of this n.o.ble character rest in the belief that his name for generations to come will be enrolled in the glorious list of worthies that has for all time made the name of Virginia ill.u.s.trious and among the foremost of all the commonwealths of the ages past.

ADDRESS OF MR. BUTLER, OF SOUTH CAROLINA.

It was my good fortune, Mr. President, to know Gen. WILLIAM H.F. LEE with the intimacy of personal friends.h.i.+p for more than a quarter of a century, and I can pa.s.s no higher encomium upon him than by saying he had all the qualities that const.i.tute a true gentleman, a gentleman in the highest and best sense. He inherited from a very ill.u.s.trious and distinguished ancestry a prestige rarely enjoyed in this country, and yet he was as unpretending, unaffected, and modest as the humblest man.

His self-contained dignity of character never deserted him. His placid, well-balanced, well-poised equanimity always sustained him.

It would be extravagant to say he inherited the commanding abilities of his ill.u.s.trious father, but it would be entirely within the line of a just criticism to affirm that he did inherit many of the highest characteristics and qualities of that great man. In personal demeanor, in that suave, gracious, considerate, self-respecting, and respectful bearing which give a.s.surance of the perfect gentleman he very much resembled his father. He was always approachable and cordial, and yet I doubt if any man ever attempted an improper liberty or ventured undue familiarity with him. His high character and affability of manner protected him against such relations.

In the late civil war we served side by side in the same cavalry corps in the same army almost continuously from the beginning to the end. I therefore had the best opportunities of forming a correct estimate of him as a soldier and man, and it is within the bounds of just judgment to place him among the most distinguished in that brilliant array of American soldiers and men of that eventful period.

I recall with vivid recollection my first a.s.sociation with him at Ashland, Va., in June, 1861, where he was stationed as a young captain of cavalry at a school of instruction. Thence he rose by regular gradations to major-general of division, resigning his sword with that rank.

Gen. LEE never aspired to be what is sometimes called a "das.h.i.+ng"

soldier. He was quite content with the serious, earnest, steady performance of his duties. It would be no compliment to say that a son of Robert E. Lee and grandson of "Light-Horse" Harry Lee had courage.

Such a quality is a necessary ingredient of such a man's character. But his courage was not of that frothy, noisy kind so often paraded to attract attention. In battle he was as steady, firm, and immovable as any soldier who ever wielded a sword or placed a squadron in the field.

In his relations to his subordinates he was the perfection of military propriety, always considerate and kindly, but firm and impartial in the enforcement of discipline.

Towards his equals and superiors in rank he bore himself with a knightly chivalry that at once commanded respect and confidence. How could he have been otherwise, descended from such a n.o.ble sire, with such an example of courtly dignity and untarnished manhood?

After the close of hostilities, having discharged his whole duty as he understood it with fidelity and courage, he retired to his native State, to his farm, and there, by the same quiet, honorable, manly course of conduct devoted himself to the duties of civil life, establis.h.i.+ng by his example a standard of citizens.h.i.+p worthy the great Republic to which he renewed his allegiance.

The people of the Commonwealth of Virginia could not and did not permit a man of his exalted character, sound intellectual qualities, and safe, conservative judgment to remain in private life. His services and example were too valuable to the public, and he was called into the public service, first as senator in the State legislature, later into the lower House of Congress.

There, as elsewhere, he soon took rank among the wisest and safest legislators in the body pursuing the even, modest tenor of his way with that faithful regard for his duty to his const.i.tuents and his country that characterized every relation and position of his life.

Those of us, Mr. President, who were favored with his acquaintance recall with a respect bordering on reverence his commanding figure as he came in this Chamber, his courtly presence, his gentle bearing, persuasive conversation, amiable, respectful manners. The consciousness that we shall never see him again is a sad and depressing reflection, and a mournful reminder that it is only a question of time--how long mortal man can not foretell--when those of us who survive him must obey a similar summons, and disappear, as he has done, from the scenes of life forever.

In paying tributes of respect and affection to departed friends I know how hard it is to impose restraint upon our partiality for them and how strong the temptation to indulge in expressions of exaggerated eulogy.

Knowing Gen. LEE as I did, I can say of him with absolute sincerity and truth that he was as free from the small and petty faults of our nature as any man I have ever known. In his private relations he was literally without guile or deceit. Straightforward, honorable, just in all his dealings, he was a model citizen and faithful friend.

In his public life he proved himself equal to every station. Zealous, attentive, conscientious, untiring, he met every responsibility with fidelity and confidence. He never disappointed a friend, betrayed a trust, or took unfair advantage of an opponent. In a word, Mr.

President, he lived a perfect gentleman, discharged faithfully every duty of life, and died honored and beloved by his friends.

Others have spoken of the life and character of this distinguished man more in detail, more eloquently, with more finished oratory, but I yield to none in the sincerity of my humble tribute to his memory.

ADDRESS OF MR. DOLPH, OF OREGON.

Mr. PRESIDENT: The echoes of the voices of those who p.r.o.nounced eulogies upon the life and character of the late distinguished Senator from Kansas have hardly died away in this Chamber, and we have again laid business aside to pay our tributes to the memory of a late honored member of the House of Representatives and a distinguished son of Virginia.

These sorrowful occasions, which are deprecated by some as involving a loss of the time of the Senate and needless expense to the Government, I can not think are unprofitable to us or to the country. Surely in the mad rush and hurry of business we may be permitted to halt long enough to take notice of the invasion of our ranks by death and to voice our esteem for a departed member. The death of an eminent member of the Senate or of the House is not only a loss to his immediate const.i.tuency, but to the whole country, and, in accordance with a long and honored usage, demands from his former a.s.sociates formal and appropriate action.

After such an hour spent in the contemplation of the common end of all that live, in introspection and retrospection, who of us does not again take up the burdens of life with renewed resolutions to redouble our energies to faithfully discharge every public and private duty.

My acquaintance with Mr. LEE was not intimate. I frequently met him socially, but he did not belong to the party with which I am affiliated, and no fortuitous circ.u.mstance occurred to bring us together in the discharge of public duties. The incidents of his life, his public services, and his domestic relations have been fittingly alluded to by others, and it only remains for me to cast an evergreen upon his grave, to add my poor tribute to his memory, and give expression to the emotions awakened by the occasion and the exercises of the hour. Coming from a long line of distinguished ancestors, serving with marked distinction in the Confederate army until the cause he championed was hopelessly lost, honored by the people of his State by election to high civil positions, in which he did credit to himself and honored them with a rounded character and well-developed manhood, at once the incarnation of gentleness, tenderness, and courage, it is not to be wondered at that sorrow for his death hung over his State like a funeral pall, and all parties vied with each other in giving expression to the universal sense of private and public loss.

He was the son of a distinguished sire, who in life was the idol of the people of Virginia; but he was held in the highest esteem by the people of his State not so much on account of his ill.u.s.trious father as on account of his own ability and worth. His public services and his blameless life, touching, tender, and beautiful, won the tributes to his memory p.r.o.nounced by his colleagues at the other end of this Capitol.

Fortunate, indeed, is the man who can win such admiration from his a.s.sociates.

What higher eulogy can be p.r.o.nounced on any man than that in every station, public and private, he was true to himself and faithful to the people and was equal to the duties of his station? Not every man can become great; genius is the gift of the few, but goodness and fidelity to duty are within the reach of all. He has gone the way of all the living. He has found the level of the grave. Our words of eulogy can not reach him there.

Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flatt'ry soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

Solomon, summing up this question, said:

For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten.

Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the sun.

To human reason the death of him we mourn was untimely. He was born May 31, 1837, and died October 15, 1891. He was therefore in the prime of manhood, and apparently had many years of useful life before him. But death sometimes strangely selects his victims. No season, no station, no age is exempt from his fatal shafts. When death comes to the aged as the end of a fully completed life we regard it as natural. But when death comes to the young, the gifted, and the promising, we with our finite vision look upon it as sad and mysterious. We are constantly reminded that--

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

It is creditable to our humanity that at the grave animosities are buried, and those who speak of the dead remember their virtues and pa.s.s over their frailties.

Death is a mighty mediator. There all the flames of rage are extinguished, hatred is appeased, and angelic pity, like a weeping sister, bends with gentle and close embrace over the funeral urn.

The reconciling grave swallows distinction first that made us foes; there all lie down in peace together.

To the grave, "the world's sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoil,"

we are all hastening. Earth's highest station and meanest place ends in the common receptacle to which we shall all be taken. Dark and gloomy indeed would be the grave without a hope in a personal immortality, a belief that the soul survives the body, and that to this immortal part the tomb is the gate to heaven. When one feels like Theodore Parker when he said:

When this stiffened body goes down to the tomb, sad, silent, and remorseless, I feel there is no death for the man. That clod which yonder dust shall cover is not my brother. The dust goes to its place; man to his own. It is then I feel my immortality. I look through the grave into heaven. I ask no miracle, no proof, no reasoning for me; I ask no risen dust to teach me immortality. I am conscious of eternal life.

Or like Byron when he wrote:

I feel my immortality oversweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep into my ears this truth--thou livest forever!

Death loses its terrors and the grave becomes a welcome goal for weary and buffeted mariners on life's stormy sea--the gate to endless life.

By these oft-repeated scenes in this Chamber; by the frequent visits of the stern messenger to both Houses of Congress to summon a member from his field of labor here to the bar of the Supreme Ruler of the Universe above; by the constant changes going on around us in obedience to the inevitable law of nature, by which death everywhere succeeds to life, we are reminded that we shall not long continue as we now are. It is possible that as we are startled by the announcement of the death of an a.s.sociate we mentally ask ourselves, Who will be called next?

So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.