He was taken on a litter and brought by his grieving men all the way to Richmond, where he was taken to the house of his brother-in-law. Those who were present—and there were many—concurred that here was a genuine hero, one whose countenance and attitude did not alter in the face of death. Stuart had long since promised his mother he would never drink alcohol, and even on his deathbed, he took only a few sips of brandy to dull the pain.

Jefferson Davis came to the house, shook Stuart’s hand, and asked if he could be of service. Stuart replied that all he cared about was that he had done his duties and that his family would be cared for. Stuart died on the evening of May 12, 1864. He was thirty-one years old.