THE SOLDIERS’ CEMETERY.
A mile and a quarter southeast from the town is the National Cemetery of
Chattanooga. An area of seventy-five acres has there been set apart by
the military authorities for the burial of the soldiers who died in
hospitals or fell on battle-fields in that region renowned for
sanguinary conflicts. It occupies a hill which seems to have been shaped
by Providence for this purpose: its general form is circular, and it
rises with undulations, showing a beautiful variety of curves and
slopes, to a superb summit, which swells like a green dome over all.
General Thomas, commanding the Division of the Tennessee, was nominally
the director of the cemetery works. But he appears to have left all in
the hands of Mr. Van Horne, chaplain of the post, who, in addition to
his other duties, assumed the responsible task of laying out the grounds
and supervising the interments. His plan has certainly the merit of
originality, and will prove, in the end, I have no doubt, as beautiful
as it is unique. Copying nothing from the designs of other cemeteries,
he has taken Nature for his guide. The outline of each separate section
is determined by its location. Here, for example, is a shield,—the rise
of the ground and the natural lines of depression suggesting that form.
In the centre of each section is a monument; immediately surrounding
which are the graves of officers, in positions according to their
numbers and rank; while around the latter are grouped the graves of
private soldiers, in lines adapted to the general shape of the section.
The paths and avenues follow the hollows and curves which sweep from the
base in every direction towards the summit. This is surrounded by a
single circular avenue; and is to be crowned, according to the
chaplain’s plan, with a grand central monument, an historic temple
overlooking the whole.
The place will abound in groups of trees, verdant lawns and slopes,
magnificent vistas, and concealed views designed to surprise the visitor
at every step. Outcropping ledges and bold, romantic rocks afford a
delightful contrast to the green of the trees and grass, and to the
smoothness of the slopes.
Beside the avenue which girds the base of the hill is a cave with
galleries and chambers sculptured in a variety of forms by the action of
water on the limestone rock. The chaplain, who accompanied me on my
visit to the cemetery, sent for a guide and a light, and we explored
this natural grotto a hundred feet or more, until we came to passages
too narrow to admit us into the unknown chambers beyond. Besides the
entrance from the avenue, there is an opening which affords a glimpse of
the blue sky by day, or of the stars by night, through the roof of the
cave.
The hill rises from the Valley midway between Lookout Mountain and
Missionary Ridge, commanding a view of all that historic region. The
Tennessee is visible, distant a mile or more. The chaplain told me that
when the river was very high, water came in and filled the galleries of
the cave; thus showing that they were of great extent, and mysteriously
connected with the stream.
The work on the cemetery had thus far been performed by details from the
army. The post-fund, which amounted to twenty-seven thousand dollars,
had defrayed all expenses. But this cannot continue. The time is coming
when the people of the States will be called upon to pay the debt they
owe to the heroic dead, in liberal contributions towards the completion
and adornment of this spot, where probably will be gathered together a
more numerous host of the slain than in any other national cemetery.
From Chickamauga and Mission Ridge, from Lookout Mountain and Wahatchie,
from the scenes of many lesser fights, from the hospitals, and possibly
also from the fields of Sherman’s Atlanta campaign, thousands upon
thousands they will come, a silent host, to this goal of future
pilgrimages, this “Mecca of American memories.”
Nine thousand had already been interred there at the time of my visit.
No attempt was made to bury the dead by States. “I am tired of State
Rights,” said General Thomas; “let’s have a _national_ cemetery.” Out of
six thousand interred before the removal of the dead of Chickamauga was
begun, only four hundred were unknown. A military record is kept, in
which are inscribed all ascertainable facts respecting each,—his name,
rank, company, arm of service, native State, age; time, place, and cause
of death; address of nearest friends, and so forth; accompanied by a
full regimental index, and an individual index; so that persons in
search of the graves of friends can learn by a brief examination all
that is known about them, and be guided at once to the section and
number where their remains are deposited. The chaplain told me that many
who had come with a determination to remove the bodies of their dead,
immediately on seeing the cemetery had changed that determination,
convinced that they could have no more fitting resting-place.
The dead of Chickamauga were being interred while I was there; and the
chaplain kindly offered to accompany me to the battle-field, where a
regiment of colored soldiers were at work exhuming the buried, and
gathering together the remains of the unburied dead.