Page:History of Woman Suffrage Volume 2.djvu/38

22 country would have rung with praises of the daring deed, and history would have borne the echoes down to future generations.

Not alone on the tented field did the war find its patriotic victims. Many women showed their love of country by sacrifices still greater than enlistment in the army. Among these, especially notable for her surroundings and family, was Annie Carter Lee, daughter of Gen. Robert E. Lee, Commander-in-Chief of the rebel army. Her father and three brothers fought against the Union which she loved, and to which she adhered. A young girl, scarcely beyond her teens when the war broke out, she remained firm in her devotion to the National cause, though for this adherence she was banished by her father as an outcast from that elegant home once graced by her presence. She did not live to see the triumph of the cause she loved so well, dying the third year of the war, aged twenty-three, at Jones Springs, North Carolina, homeless, because of her love for the Union, with no relative near her, dependent for care and consolation in her last hours upon the kindly services of an old colored woman. In her veins ran pure the blood of "Light-Horse Harry" and that of her great aunt, Hannah Lee Corbin, who at the time of the Revolution, protested against the denial of representation to taxpaying women, and whose name does much to redeem that of Lee from the infamy, of late so justly adhering to it. When her father, after the war, visited his ancestral home, .—Visitors to this noted place are so frequent that his appearance attracted no attention. He walked through the dreary hall, and looked in on the wide, vacant rooms, and passing to the front, stood for some time gazing out over the beautiful panorama, with its one great feature, the new dome of the old capitol, surmounted by a bronze statue of Liberty armed, and with her back to him, gazing seaward.

From this he passed to the garden, and looked over the line of the officers' graves that bound its sides, saw the dying flowers and wilted borders and leaf strewn walks, and continuing after a slight pause, he stopped on the edge of the field where the sixteen thousand Union soldiers lie buried in lines, as if they had lain down after a review to be interred in their places. Some negroes were at work here raking up the falling leaves, and one old man stopped suddenly and stared at the visitor as if struck mute with astonishment. He continued to gaze in this way until the stranger, walking slowly, regained his horse and rode away, when he dropped his rake and said to his companions: "Shuah as de Lord, men, dat was ole Massa Lee!"

One hastens to imagine the thoughts and feelings that must have agitated this fallen chief as he stood thus, like Marius amid the ruins of Carthage, on the one spot of all others, to realize the fact of the Lost Cause and its eventful history. About him were the scenes of his youth, the home of his honored manhood, the scenery that gave beauty to the peaceful joys of domestic life. They were nearly all the same, and yet between then and now, came the fierce war, the huge campaigns and hundred battles loud with the roar of mouthing cannons and rattling musketry, and stained into history by the blood of thousands, the smoke of burning houses, the devastation of wide States, and the desolation of the households, and all in vain. He stood there, old before his time, the nationality so fiercely struggled for, unrecognized; the great confederacy a dream, his home a grave-yard, and the capitol he sought to destroy grown to twice its size, with the bronze goddess gazing calmly to the East.—Correspondence of the Cincinnati Commercial, 1866. then turned into a vast national