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| Gen. Robert E. Lee and his horse, Traveller. |
Jan. 16 passed without many people realizing that this day
was also the birthday of one of the greatest legends of our times. This was the
birthday of Gen. Robert E. Lee, commander of the Confederate Army during the
hectic days of our Civil War.
Gen. Lee, a legend in his lifetime as a symbol of The Lost Cause,
was also human, just as you and I. Many who knew him said that no one could
ever really know what he was thinking. Those who accompanied him every day
during he war could never guess what his movement might be. But that’s another
story.
Very unusual
He was very unusual in some of the things that he did, and
in some of his habits that he practiced from day to day.
Prior to the war, when his children were young, he enjoyed
having them all get in bed with him and he would read stories to them. They
had, however, to take turns tickling the soles of his feet, which he enjoyed
very much. When the children tired, or became lost in the tales, Gen. Lee would
pause and say, “No tickling, no reading.”
For many months, during the worst fighting of the war, Gen.
Lee had a pet hen which laid an egg under his cot every day. He never forgot to
leave the flap of his tent open for the pet hen to enter. The general saw to it
that the pet hen traveled with the army. The hen was there at the start of the
fateful campaign and invasion which ended at Gettysburg.
When the army of the South began to retreat from the
battlefield at Gettysburg, the pet hen was nowhere to be found. The general joined
the search for his pet. He was not content until the pet hen was discovered. The
pet hen left the battle perched on the seat of the general’s headquarters
wagon.
During the height of battle at Petersburg, Va., Gen. Lee was
seen dismounting under fire, picking up something from the ground, and placing
it in a tree. After the general had ridden away, curious soldiers who had
watched him dismount, found that he had replaced a fallen baby bird in its nest.
Sympathy for a horse
In the opening battle of the Wilderness, right at the tie
when the shelling was at its worst, a courier dashed up to the general with a
dispatch. The courier was scolded severely for having mistreated the horse by
riding so swiftly. Gen. Lee then took a buttered biscuit from his saddlebag and
fed the hungry animal before returning his attention to the battle at hand.
During the terrible moments of the battle of Fredericksburg,
Va., when the Federal infantry was being cut to pieces by the Confederate guns,
Gen. Lee was overheard to say, “It is well that war is so horrible, else we
should grow too fond of it.”
He once stated that the only unfailing friend the Confederacy
ever had was cornfield peas.
It was on Oct. 12, 1870, almost five years after the terrible
conflict between the North and the South had ended, that Gen. Robert E. Lee
died. The cause of the general’s death was diagnosed by the doctors of the day
as “cerebral exhaustion.” In our modern medical terms, it would have been
termed as cerebral thrombosis.
On Oct. 7 and 8, just prior to the general’s death, the
Northern Lights were seen in the night sky. Many took this as a bad omen,
warning of the general’s death.
Fearful lights that never beckon
Save when kings or heroes die.
During the evening of Oct. 11, Gen. Lee’s faithful horse, Traveller,
began neighing in his stable. This was the horse that the general had ridden
throughout the war. Traveller became almost uncontrollable as he tried to get
out of the stable.
At this time, the general seemed to sink into a coma. His
last words were “Tell Hill he must move up.” Then the words “Strike the tent.”
Even in death, Gen. Lee’s troubles were not over. On Oct.
10, a flood swept through the area. The Lexington undertaker, C.M. Koones, was embarrassed
to report that he had no coffins, since the three he had lately imported from
Richmond had been swept away from his river wharf by the flood waters.
Two young men – Charles H. Chittum and Henry Wallace –
volunteered to search for a coffin for the general to be buried in. After many
hours of searching, a coffin was found lodged on a small island, some two miles
downstream.
This was the coffin in which the Confederacy’s greatest figure
was buried. The coffin was too short for the general; he had to be buried
without his shoes.
Farewell, farewell, O’ noble son.
The cause you thought was just,
Those battles fought are memories now;
Your sabers are severed with rust.
So weep no more for comrades gone
Who wait in the eternal sleep.
Your soul has joined those of the brave
Which valor so proudly keeps…
(Singleton, the author
of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of
79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime
resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances
Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in
Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a
U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand,
lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964
and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June
28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to
warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe
County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe
Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that
appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared
in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He is buried in Pineville
Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns
are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County
Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week
for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work
and memory alive.)
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