path, and proceed on
its way to Lynchburg. If, however, the Federal infantry was discovered
in large force beyond the Court-House, the attempt to break through
was to be abandoned, and a flag dispatched to General Grant requested
an interview for the arrangement of the terms of a capitulation of the
Southern army.

With a heavy heart, General Lee acquiesced in this plan of proceeding,
and soon afterward the council of war terminated--the corps commanders
saluting the commander-in-chief, who returned their bows with grave
courtesy, and separating to return to their own bivouacs.

In spite, however, of the discouraging and almost desperate condition
of affairs, General Lee seems still to have clung to the hope that he
might be able to cut his way through the force in his front. He woke
from brief slumber beside his bivouac-fire at about three o'clock in
the morning, and calling an officer of his staff, Colonel Venable,
sent him to General Gordon, commanding the front, to ascertain his
opinion, at that moment, of the probable result of an attack upon the
enemy. General Gordon's reply was, "Tell General Lee that my old corps
is reduced to a frazzle, and, unless I am supported by Longstreet
heavily, I do not think we can do any thing more."

General Lee received this announcement with an expression of great
feeling, and after a moment's silence said: "There is nothing left but
to go to General Grant, and I would rather die a thousand deaths!"

His staff-officers had now gathered around him, and one of them said:
"What will history say of our surrendering if there is any possibility
of escape? Posterity will not understand it." To these words, General
Lee replied: "Yes, yes, they will not understand our situation; but
that is not the question. The question is, whether it is _right_; and,
if it is right, I take the responsibility."

His expression of buoyant hopefulness had now changed to one of deep
melancholy, and it was evident to those around him that the thought of
surrender was worse to him than the bitterness of death. For the first
time his courage seemed to give way, and he was nearly unmanned.
Turning to an officer standing near him, he said, his deep voice
filled with hopeless sadness: "How easily I could get rid of this, and
be at rest! I have only to ride along the line and all will be over!"

He was silent for a short time after uttering these words, and then
added, with a heavy sigh: "But it is our duty t