Footnote 1
Footnote 2
Footnote 3
Footnote 4
Harry Lee's youngest son Robert would one day marry Washington Parke Custis' daughter and live in the Custis household. In 1908 James Lingan's remains would be moved to what had become the
National Cemetery, and thus continues to stay on Custis' property.
The following evidence of Meigs' personal vendetta against the South in general and
Robert E. Lee in particular may be the most incriminating. When he inspected the new grounds
for the first time in late summer of 1864,
". . .he expected to find the house nearly unapproachable due to the number of
new graves. Instead, he found the mansion much as it had been when it was first
occupied by federal troops. The graves had been neatly arranged some distance
from the house. Furious, Meigs demanded that twenty-six bodies be brought
immediately from Washington, and in the heat of that mid-August day, he
personally supervised the burial of these fallen soldiers around Mrs. Lee's once
famous rose garden only yards from the house." (Peters 26)
In April 1866 Montgomery Meigs-- who by this time had lost a son to a Confederate
patrol-- returned to Mrs. Lee's rose garden to add a new testament to his bitter heart: The Tomb of the Unknown Dead of the Civil War stands adjacent to the graves of previously interred officers, and houses the remains of over two thousand soldiers recovered primarily from land around the two battles of Bull Run. Since most of these remains were limited to skeletons, "it can only be assumed" (Peters 26) that Confederate bones are mixed with those of Union men. In this way Meigs' final act of venom set the stage for the cemetery's future, in which it would no longer be a reminder of sectional violence but rather an awesome symbol of united national honor.
One forgotten footnote to history becomes chronologically relevant at this point.
Unfortunately, its emphasis on civilians means that it does not weave its way into a narrative of early American national symbolism as neatly as one might hope. There were actually two things
that flowed into the District of Columbia in overwhelming numbers after the start of the Civil
War: dying soldiers and escaped slaves, which were ironically known as "contrabands". In a
disturbing parallel, both of these groups were banished to the hills of Arlington. By April 1863
there were 10,000 refugees living in filthy overcrowded facilities within the city, and when
smallpox broke out in the camp at Duff Green's Row the authorities decided to relocate as many
African-Americans as possible (James 91).
The Freedmen's Village was dedicated in
December 1863, a few months before the
cemetery on the other side of the hill. One hundred families moved into a well-planned
community with a hospital, a home for the aged and infirm, and other buildings devoted to
education and small-scale manufactures. Although similar villages would be established during
Reconstruction, the one at Arlington was "a national showcase from its earliest moments" (Reidy
411) which frequently drew members of the Lincoln cabinet to its celebrations. As the war
ended and time went on, the residents of Freedmen's Village became economically prosperous
and politically active (Reidy 423), but as one might guess the neighboring white communities
grew increasingly resentful of them. The Federal government initially provided some measure of
protection: "[t]he irony of former slaves' building a life of freedom on the Lee family's property
tasted sweet to Washington officials" (Reidy 417) and so no effort to force them off the land
occurred until the 1890s, when the government briefly lost Arlington in a Supreme Court
decision to Lee's eldest son Custis. When the property was legally bought from
Custis Lee it was designated a military installation, and so civilians were restricted. Although
other accounts of the Freedmen's Village are far more vivid than the one recounted here, it seems
that its only participation in the development of Arlington as The Nation's Most Sacred Shrine is
found in the Village's extinction. The military was eventually going to need the land for its own
morbid purposes, and a peaceful community of African-Americans had nothing whatsoever to do
with that.
In 1888 Philip Henry Sheridan died and was buried in a plot on the right side of the
mansion's front lawn. The northern states mourned his passing, as he was the last of the three
great Union Generals (the other two being Grant and Sherman). In addition to the squat yet
massive obelisk that marks his grave, one of the original main gates to the cemetery was named
in his honor. This gate consisted of a pediment
with the general's name inscribed upon it, supported by four Ionic columns from the recently demolished War Department. These columns were inscribed with the names of (General Winfield) Scott, Lincoln, Stanton, and Grant. The
other two gates similarly emphasized the greatness of Federal leaders: one was named for
Generals Edward Ord and Godfrey Weitzel, and the other-- the only gate still extant-- in honor or George McClellan. The effort to achieve a balance between individual and collective greatness was begun by these gates, as every time visitors entered the cemetery they were reminded of the greatness of the individual before they were entreated to look upon the fields of white marble tombstones and thus absorb Arlington's overall composition as a memorial to collective bravery and sacrifice.