Such was the last great charge at Gettysburg.  Lee had concentrated in it all his strength, it seemed.  When it failed, the battle and the campaign failed with it.

[Illustration:  Lee at Gettysburg.]

XIX.

LEE AFTER THE CHARGE.

The demeanor of General Lee at this moment, when his hopes were all reversed, and his last great blow at the enemy had failed, excited the admiration of all who witnessed it, and remains one of the greatest glories of his memory.

Seeing, from his place on Seminary Ridge, the unfortunate results of the attack, he mounted his horse and rode forward to meet and encourage the retreating troops.  The air was filled with exploding shell, and the men were coming back without order.  General Lee now met them, and with his staff-officers busied himself in rallying them, uttering as he did so words of hope and encouragement.  Colonel Freemantle, who took particular notice of him at this moment, describes his conduct as “perfectly sublime.”  “Lee’s countenance,” he adds, “did not show signs of the slightest disappointment, care, or annoyance,” but preserved the utmost placidity and cheerfulness.  The hurry and confusion of the scene seemed not to move him in any manner, and he rode slowly to and fro, saying in his grave, kindly voice to the men:  “All this will come right in the end.  We’ll talk it over afterward, but in the mean time all good men must rally.  We want all good and true men just now.”

Numbers of wounded passed him, some stretched on litters, which men wearing the red badge of the ambulance corps were bearing to the rear, others limping along bleeding from hurts more or less serious.  To the badly wounded Lee uttered words of sympathy and kindness; to those but slightly injured, he said:  “Come, bind up your wound and take a musket,” adding “my friend,” as was his habit.

An evidence of his composure and absence of flurry was presented by a slight incident.  An officer near him was striking his horse violently for becoming frightened and unruly at the bursting of a shell, when General Lee, seeing that the horse was terrified and the punishment would do no good, said, in tones of friendly remonstrance:  “Don’t whip him, captain, don’t whip him.  I’ve got just such a foolish horse myself, and whipping does no good.”

Meanwhile the men continued to stream back, pursued still by that triumphant roar of the enemy’s artillery which swept the whole valley and slope of Seminary Ridge with shot and shell.  Lee was everywhere encouraging them, and they responded by taking off their hats and cheering him—­even the wounded joining in this ceremony.  Although exposing himself with entire indifference to the heavy fire, he advised Colonel Freemantle, as that officer states, to shelter himself, saying:  “This has been a sad day for us, colonel, a sad day.  But we can’t expect always to gain victories.”