Forgiveness.
Lee had nothing in common with the little minds that know not how to forgive.
His was the land that had been invaded-his the people who were cut down, ravaged and ruined-his the home that was torn away and spoliated; his was the cause that perished.
He was the
General discrowned of his mighty place, and he the citizen disfranchised.
Yet
Lee forgave, and counselled all to forgive and forget.
The
Greek poet has said:
The firmest mind will fail
Beneath misfortune's stroke, and stunned, depart
From its sage plan of action.
But the mind of
Lee received the rude shock of destiny without a quiver, so the genial currents of his sweet, heroic soul rolled on unruffled, while in their calm, pure depths were reflected the light of heaven.
When a minister once denounced the
North, and the indictment of
General Lee for treason, the
General followed him to the door
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and said: ‘
Doctor, there is a good old book which I read, and you preach from, which says: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which dispitefully use you.”
Do you think your remarks this evening were quite in the spirit of that teaching?’
And he added: ‘I have fought against the people of the
North because I believed they were seeking to wrest from the
South her dearest rights.
But I have never cherished toward them bitter or vindictive feelings, and have never seen the day when I did not pray for them.’
Soon after the passage of those harsh acts of Congress, disfranchising Confederates for participating in the war, and while every Southern breast was filled with indignation, some friends in
General Lee's presence expressed themselves with great bitterness.
The General turned to the table near him, where lay the manuscript of his father's life, which he was then editing, and read these lines:
Learn from yon Orient shell to love thy foe,
And store with pearls the hand that brings thee woe;
Free like yon rock, from base, vindictive pride,
Emblaze with gems the wrist that rends thy side.
Mark where yon tree rewards the stony shower,
With fruit nectarious or the balmy flower;
All Nature cries aloud: shall men do less
Than love the smiter, and the railer bless?
‘These lines,’ said he, ‘were written in
Arabia, and by a Mahomedan, the Poet of Shiraz, the immortal
Hafiz; and ought not we, who profess to be governed by the principles of Christianity, to rise at least to the standard of this Mahomedan poet, and learn to forgive our enemies?’
In the rush of this age, a character so simply meek and so proudly, grandly strong, is scarce comprehensible to the eager, restless competitors for wealth and place and power.
And the ‘practical man,’ as he is called, who ever keeps a keen eye to the main chance, and is esteemed happy just in proportion as fortune favors his schemes of ambition or profit, is apt to attribute weakness to one so void of self-seeking and resentment, and so amiable and gentle in his feelings and conduct towards his fellow-men.
But could he have seen with what patient attention to detail this ceaseless worker dispatched business and brought great results from small materials—with what quick, strong comprehensive grasp he solved difficulties and conquered dangers—what good cheer he gave the toiling; what hope he gave the despondent; what comfort he gave the afflicted.
Aye!
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could he have caught the glance of that eagle eye, and looked on that serene, bold brow which over-awed the field of battle, and then beheld the swift, stern, inspiring energy which propelled its forces to deeds which seemed almost impossible to man—there would have been to him a new revelation.
He would have beheld a character which, to one unacquainted with it, would seem to have been idealized by the genius of the poet rather than to have existed in the flesh, and to have stepped forth from the sanctuary of romance rather than to have belonged to real history.
He would have realized, by contact with this simple gentleman, that the true greatness and the true glory of man lies in those elements which are superior to fortune—that he is most practical who is himself above it, and that happiness, if ever on earth happiness be found, has fixed her temple only in the heart that is without guile, and is without reproach of man or woman.
