able to make
up my mind to raise my hand against my relatives, my children, my home. I have, therefore, resigned my commission in the Army,
and save in the defense of my native State (with the sincere hope that my poor services may never be needed) I hope I may
never be called upon to draw my sword.
I know you will blame me, but you must think as kindly as you can, and believe that I have endeavored to do what I thought
right. To show you the feeling and struggle it has cost me I send you a copy of my letter of resignation. I have no time for
more. May God guard and protect you and yours and shower upon you everlasting blessings, is the prayer of
Your devoted brother,
R. E. LEE 42
Once Lee made a decision, he was never one to dwell upon what might have been. But his break from the familiar rhythms of
Army life, and his foreboding over the troubles that war would rain down upon his family, strained even Lee’s legendary composure.
A service comrade noticed this about the time of Lee’s resignation.
“Are you not feeling well, Colonel Lee?” asked the friend.
“Well in body but not in mind,” Lee answered. “In the prime of life I quit a service in which were all my hopes and expectations
in this world.” 43 For the first time in his adult life, Robert E. Lee was out of a job. He must have worried, if only briefly, that he was
destined to follow his father’s path from early promise into late disgrace. But unlike the elder Lee, the younger one had
prospects. Long before Virginia’s secession convention, Lee had received an offer from the Confederate secretary of war, L.
P. Walker, who had written in mid-March offering him command as a brigadier general, the highest rank then available in Confederate
service. There is no record that Lee ever answered Walker. 44 But even then Lee must have known that he was destined to join the conflict if war broke out; this, despite his often-stated
desire to put down his sword and take up his plow, a self-conscious refrain running through his prewar correspondence. The
truth is that, with both Union and Confederacy competing for his services, Lee was ensured a command on one side or the other.
And so his life as a citizen-farmer was destined to be a brief one, lasting all of two days.
With little fanfare, Lee emerged from Arlington on Monday, April 22, and climbed into his carriage. 45 Dressed in a black suit and a black silk hat, he disappeared down the long gravel driveway, past the greening fields where
slaves bent to their work, and down past the brown Potomac with its silver countercurrent of shad pushing upstream to spawn,
right on schedule. Lee made his way downstream toward the Alexandria train station, which bustled with passengers and buzzed
with war talk. He pressed through the crowd and boarded the car for Richmond, where he had been summoned for an interview
with Gov. John Letcher. There on April 23, 1861, Lee accepted command of Virginia’s military and naval forces, with the rank
of major general. 46
From that moment Arlington was lost.
2
OCCUPATION
WHEN LEE RODE away from arlington in april 1861, he left behind not only a choice piece of real estate but also one essential
to Washington’s defenses. It did not take a military genius to appreciate the strategic importance of the old plantation, where the heights
climbed more than two hundred feet above the surrounding countryside. Any artillerist occupying that position could easily
harass troopships plying the Potomac River, blow up the capital’s bridge crossings, and lob shells at the most tempting target
of all—the White House, its roof peeking from the green fringe of trees just across the river.
There was no way that war planners in Washington were going to cede the high ground of Arlington to enemy forces, and within days of her husband’s departure, Mary Custis
Lee received notice of the Federals’ intent. A young Union officer friendly to the family came rushing into