were conveyed in steamers, and as the day was dawning their dashing
uniform and fearless faces flashed upon the citizens of Alexandria. Not
until they had landed did the rebel sentinels discover them, and then,
after firing their muskets as a signal of warning, they hastened to
alarm the sleeping city.
Little need had those brave and untameable “fire fighters” of
directions. The master spirit of all their movements had imbued them
with feelings akin to his own. They knew their duty, and men trained as
they had been in a severe school of danger, could never be backward in
performing it. Ellsworth, who, as it might seem, with the shadows of
death already gathering around him, could sit calmly down in the dim
midnight, after addressing his men in a brief and stirring speech,
announcing the orders to march on Alexandria, closing with the well
remembered words, “Now boys, go to bed and wake up at two o’clock for a
sail and a skirmish;” and after arranging the business of his regiment,
pen letters that seemed “as if the mystical gales from the near eternity
must have breathed for a moment over his soul, freighted with the odor
of amaranths and asphodels”—needed none to tell him of his duty or to
urge him to its even rash fulfilment.
In the early light of morning he entered the rebel town. A secession
flag waved defiantly from the Marshall House, and with the fiery
enthusiasm of his nature, Ellsworth rushed to tear down the hated emblem
of enmity to the Union he loved so well. With his own hand he tore the
flag from its fastening, and descending the stairs flushed with the
pride of success, came upon his fate. A musket in the hands of the
proprietor, J. W. Jackson, pealed his death-knell, and he sealed the
glories of that too well remembered morning, with his heart’s blood.
[Illustration:
ASSASSINATION OF COLONEL ELLSWORTH.
]
BROWNELL, a name now linked with Ellsworth’s in all history, was his
prompt avenger, and the blood of patriot and assassin ran commingled, a
ghastly stream. Both will be long remembered—will stand shadowed forth
to the future from the past—one a brave, tender, chivalric heart; and
the other, reckless in his courage, vindictive in his passions, and
terrible in his cruelty.
And the morning of that day, now lined upon the page of history with
letters of blood, that never to be forgotten 24th of May, re-awoke the
enthusiasm and stern resolve of Sumter—caused the finest strings of a
nation’s heart to vibrate with sorrow, and hosts that never before
unsheathed a sabre, shouldered a gun or helmeted their brows, had never
marched beneath a banner, or given a thought to the glories of war,
leaped forth, Minerva-like, fully armed for the strife. Swift vengeance,
indeed, followed the death of Ellsworth, but what was that compared to
the iron hate of such hearts?
Not here, truly, is the proper place to write the life-history of
EPHRAIM ELMER ELLSWORTH, but this much it is fitting—necessary almost to
recapitulate. Born in the little village of Mechanicsville, on the banks
of the Hudson, on the 23d of April, A.D. 1837, he, after passing through
trials that would have utterly discouraged a less ambitious and sanguine
man, rendered himself famous by the inauguration, drill, and _marche de
triomphe_ of the _Chicago Zouaves_. All the country remembers the
bloodless march of those young men—the “crimson phantoms” that blazed
comet-like before their eyes and secured the championship, without a
struggle. When the war broke out, when the knell of Sumter’s fall shook
the very corner-stone of the nation, Ellsworth sought a place in the
army. Jealousy and fear of the youthful aspirant impeded him, and
turning his back upon Washington, he hastened to New York, organized the
Fire Zouaves, and rushed to his fate.
One who knew him well, and has written a glorious prose-poem to his
memory, thus briefly described him. “His person was strikingly
prepossessing. His form, though slight, exactly the Napoleonic size, was
very compact and commanding: the head statuesquely poised and crowned
with a luxuriance of curling black hair; a hazel eye, bright though
serene, the eye of a gentleman as well as a soldier; a nose such as you
see on Roman medals; a light moustache, just shading the lips, that were
continually curving into the sunniest smiles. His voice, deep and
musical, instantly attracted attention, and his address, though not
without soldierly brusqueness, was sincere and courteous.”
And thus, in the very prime of manhood and vigor, with one of the
military insignia he sometimes wore—a golden circle, inscribed with the
legend “NON NOBIS, SED PRO PATRIA,” driven into his heart by the bullet
of his assassin, perished a brave spirit—an ambitious follower after the
“pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war”—a soul devoted to his
country and his country’s honor—an eagle struck in its high soaring,
down—a spirit of fire, fretting at causeless delay, burning against
useless restraints, and rushing on to snatch success even from the
cannon’s mouth.
A nation mourned him long—has not yet forgotten him, and green will ever
be the laurel she entwines around the name of the boy-martyr of
Alexandria! “Remember Ellsworth” became a watchword with the volunteers,
who pledged themselves to avenge his death, and well they redeemed it.
His life was stainless and loyal—his death, sealed with his blood the
holy bond of his noble faith.
When Lincoln saw this young man lying in his coffin, it is said that he
wept over him. It was the first shock and horror of war brought home to
the chief magistrate. Alas! if he has wept for all the brave that have
since fallen, his days and nights must have been given up to tears.
Alexandria and its neighborhood were occupied by the Federal troops, and
a company of Virginia cavalry were captured; after a detention of some
days they were released upon taking the oath of allegiance to the United
States. Intrenchments were thrown up around Alexandria, and upon
Arlington Heights, which commanded a portion of the capital. Bodies of
troops were pushed forward toward Manassas Junction, with the object of
interrupting the communication between Richmond and Harper’s Ferry.
A detachment took possession of Arlington, the old Curtis Mansion, which
had been deserted by its owner, General Lee, when he gave up his flag
and took sides with its enemies.
It is said that General Scott held this officer in such high
appreciation that he offered him the chance of any position under
himself in the Union army. When the letter reached Lee, containing this
noble proposition, he was sitting with his family at Arlington. He read
the letter in silence, and laying it on the table, covered his face with
one hand. When he looked up traces of tears were in his eyes, and he
said in a broken voice, “What am I to do? If I take up arms for the
Union it must be to turn them on my native State, my own neighbors, dear
relations. If I do not, they will brand me as a traitor!”
Again he fell into thought. The result was that he abandoned the home
consecrated by Washington, and turned upon the flag that great man had
planted.
On the 1st of June, a company of cavalry set out on a scouting
expedition to Fairfax Court House, about twenty miles beyond the
outposts. Some hundreds of Virginia troops were stationed here, and a
sharp skirmish ensued. Several of the Virginians were reported to have
been killed; one of the United States troops was killed, and four or
five wounded, among whom was the commander, Lieutenant Tompkins. The
cavalry withdrew, having made five prisoners, and leaving two of their
own number as captives. On the following day the same cavalry company
made another dash to Fairfax, and rescued their comrades who had been
left behind.
BATTLE OF GREAT BETHEL.
JUNE 10, 1861.
The first engagement on the field occurred at Great Bethel, about ten
miles north of Newport News, on the road from Hampton to Yorktown,
Virginia, the place having derived its name from a large church, near
which the rebels had an entrenched camp.
Under cover of night, the forces, who were under the command of General
B. F. Butler, had been repeatedly annoyed by the secession forces, whose
rendezvous was Little Bethel, distant about eight miles from Newport
News, and the same distance from Hampton, where, also, a church was used
as the headquarters of their cavalry, thus literally putting “holy
things to an unholy use.” The Union-loving, or, at least,
Union-respecting citizens, were continually robbed—slaves were impressed
to work upon their fortifications, and all that forethought could
suggest was recklessly accomplished.
Determined to put a stop to these forays, General Butler organized an
expedition for the purpose of surprising the rebels at Little Bethel,
giving to the officers commanding discretionary powers, as no positive
information could be obtained with regard to their defences or forces.
General Pierce, of Massachusetts, who had the command at Hampton, was
instructed to detach Colonels Duryea and Townsend’s New York regiments,
and Colonel Phelps, commanding at Newport News, was also commanded to
start an equal force, about an hour later, to make a demonstration in
front. One regiment from each command was directed to repair to a point
about one mile from Little Bethel, and there await further orders.
Should the design prove successful, they were, when directed, to follow
close upon the enemy, drive them into their entrenchments at Big Bethel
and attack them.
A naval brigade—a new volunteer organization, stationed at Hampton
Roads, had been exercised in the management of scows, with capacity for
carrying about one hundred and thirty men, besides those at the oars,
and when the night came settling down in darkness, they set out, with
muffled oars, passed the mouth of Hampton river, and silently proceeded
up the stream. Moored at the hither shore of Hampton, at midnight they
awaited the time when the blow was to be struck.
Three companies of Duryea’s New York Fifth, under the command of Captain
Kilpatrick, crossed and went forward on the Bethel road, followed soon
after by the remainder of the regiment, and Colonel Townsend’s New York
Third. One hour later, five companies, each of the Vermont First and
Massachusetts Fourth, under Lieutenant-Colonel Washburne; six companies
of the New York Seventh, Colonel Bendix, and a squad of regulars, with
three small field pieces under Lieutenant Greble, moved forward from
Newport News.
At about one o’clock, A. M., the three companies under Captain
Kilpatrick reached New Market Bridge—at about three o’clock they were
joined by the main body and started for Little Bethel. The pickets of
the enemy were surprised, the officer in command captured, and the Union
forces, flushed with success, were pushing forward, when the sound of
heavy firing in their rear checked them.
Meantime, the force from Newport News came up the road from that place,
and took the road from Hampton to Bethel, not far behind the Fifth; but
they left at the junction of the roads, under Colonel Bendix, a rear
guard of one hundred and seventy men and one field piece, with the order
to hold this position at all hazards, where they were to be joined by
Colonel Townsend’s regiment from Hampton. Almost immediately after, the
Third New York regiment came up the Hampton road. It was still dark, and
their colors could not be seen. Their approach also was over a ridge,
and as General Pierce and staff, and Colonel Townsend and staff, in a
body, rode in front of their troops, and without any advance guard
thrown out, as customary, to reconnoitre, they appeared from Colonel
Bendix’s position to be a troop of cavalry. It was known that the
Federal force had no cavalry, and the fire of this rear guard was poured
into the advancing body, at the distance of a quarter of a mile. But the
road in which the Third was marching was a little below the level of the
land along the edge, and was bordered on either side by fences, forming
a partial cover, and rendering the fire comparatively harmless. Fifteen
men, however, were wounded and two killed. The Third then fell back and
formed upon a hill, and the force again moved in the following order:
Colonel Duryea with the New York Fifth; Lieutenant-Colonel Washburne
with the companies from Newport News, and Greble’s battery; Colonel
Townsend, with the New York Third; Colonel Allen, with the New York
First; and Colonel Carr, with the New York Second.
The advance was made with great rapidity and fearlessness, and soon the
lurid flames of Little Bethel shot upwards in the murky air, and lighted
up the country far and wide. Great Bethel was reached next, and our
troops received their first intimation of the location of the enemy that
was pouring hissing shot upon them from a masked battery. But they were
not to be stayed by the iron rain. Steadily, unflinchingly, though death
was threatening them every instant, they marched on and gained a
position within two hundred yards of the enemy’s works. For two hours
the whirl and clash and roar of the battle was terrific. Every soldier
fought as if upon his individual efforts rested the chances of the day.
Charge after charge of the greatest gallantry was made by the infantry
against their invisible foemen, and though suffering terribly from the
deadly fire, still pouring fiercely upon them, no one thought of
retreat. At length, however, General Pierce deemed the exposure too
great, and the chances of success too small to warrant a more persistent
struggle, and the troops were withdrawn in good order.
Where all fought so nobly, it would be simply invidious to
particularize. But one brave heart there was called home from amid the
smoke and tumult of battle that cannot be forgotten. THEODORE WINTHROP,
Major, and formerly of the New York Seventh, there gave his life for his
country—his blood as an offering of sacrifice. A gentleman and scholar
as well as a soldier—rich in the rare gifts of genius, he had earned
fame in literature before he found that glorious death upon the battle
field. He had been one of the foremost to press forward in the hour of
his country’s need, and breathed his last, nobly struggling for her
honor, with wild battle notes ringing in his ear, and the starry flag
waving unconquered above him.
Lieutenant Greble, also, an officer of great promise—of coolness, energy
and discretion, won for himself a deathless name and a soldier’s grave
in this battle. Many others, too, of whom fame will not always be
silent, men of noble hearts and fearless courage, hallowed the cause
with their blood, and when the records of a nation’s jewels shall have
been perfected, will be found side by side with the hero-author of Great
Bethel.
THE AMBUSCADE AT VIENNA, Va.
JUNE 17, 1861.
Information that an attempt would be made to destroy the bridges on the
Loudon and Hampshire railway, between Alexandria and Vienna, having been
conveyed to General McDowell, he dispatched the First Ohio regiment,
Colonel McCook, under the direction of Brigadier-General Schenck, to
guard the road.
The train of seven cars, backed out by a locomotive, left Alexandria
about noon, and proceeded on its way, dropping detachments all along the
road, and meeting with no interruptions until entering a straight line
near Vienna. Then a man stepped out upon the road and waved his hand,
beckoning the train to stop, and warned them “for God’s sake not to go
on,” as they were dead men if they proceeded; that there was a battery
and strong force of the enemy ahead.
The officer in front of the Federal troops paused a moment with his hand
on his forehead, as if turning the matter over in his mind, and then
beckoned to the engineer to go on.
They proceeded a short distance, when a battery on the high ground, to
the right of the road leading to Vienna, opened fire upon the train, and
poured well-aimed and rapid discharges into the compact body of Federal
soldiery. Some four hundred passengers, troops and laborers, were on the
train, and many of them were necessarily on the platforms and the
tender. The fire of the enemy, which seemed to be more especially
directed in the start to disabling the engine, was particularly
destructive amongst the men huddled upon the tender.
A number were killed and wounded here upon the first discharge. A
destructive fire was also poured upon the troops as they leaped from the
cars. The engine was struck by a six-pound shot upon a wheel-box, and
next upon the cylinder of the engine, which it fractured. The engineer,
finding that his engine was in danger, detached it (with one car) from
the train, and started back to Alexandria.
Fearful, indeed, was the effect of this deadly storm of fire and iron
hail upon the soldiers, helplessly confined, closely packed in the cars.
The slaughter intended for them was a species of murder, for, like sheep
in the shambles, they were completely in the power of their enemies.
Vain was the strong arm, vain was courage and heroism then. Vain the
good cause and the longing for victory, or, at least, a soldier’s death.
Confined within narrow limits, and crowded upon each other, the deadly
shot was poured in upon them. It was an hour in which the stoutest heart
might have trembled, and yet the men of the North met the iron death
manfully. Taken completely by surprise, suffering under every
disadvantage, they yet made a good stand. With desperate courage they
leaped from the riddled cars and coolly formed into line.
Finding the enemy’s batteries strongly posted and supported by cavalry
and infantry, they could not hope to carry them until reinforced, and
withdrew to the cover of a neighboring wood, carrying with them,
however, their dead and wounded.
The enemy’s force, estimated at 1,000 to 1,200 strong, had evidently
moved down from Fairfax Court-House the preceding night.
Ayre Hill, where the batteries were stationed, is a very commanding
point, and is, perhaps, the highest ground in Fairfax County. The
purpose of the enemy was evidently to get the cars with the Federal
troops on the straight line of the road before opening their murderous
fire. There were three six-pound guns in the battery.
The Ohio companies behaved with much credit in their unpleasant
position, and General Schenck, particularly, displayed perfect coolness
and self-possession. There had been undoubtedly a lack of forethought in
neglecting to send scouts in advance, as the country is favorable to
such reconnoitering; but when once in the difficulty, both men and
officers acted bravely.
They kept undisputed possession of the point where they had posted
themselves, the enemy not deeming it prudent to follow up the attack,
but contented themselves with burning the cars, although, with greatly
superior numbers, they might easily have captured the entire Federal
force.
A loss of eight killed and twelve wounded on the part of the Federalists
was the sequel to the sad and disastrous transaction, and when the
Sixty-ninth New York advanced to Vienna the next day, no trace could be
found of the enemy. The place was deserted, and silence reigned where
the little band of men had been so nearly sacrificed.
REVIEW AT WASHINGTON.
A few days before the army of the Potomac was to make its advance,
thirty thousand new troops passed through Washington, and were reviewed
by the President and his Cabinet. A stand had been erected in front of
the White House, in full view of Jackson’s monument, on which Lincoln,
Seward, Chase, and other members of the Cabinet sat while these troops
passed them in review. Eloquent speeches were made, and the most
unbounded confidence expressed in the soldiers’ ability to win a
glorious victory over the enemy whenever they should meet him in the
open field.
The troops listened with interest, and answered these glowing
predictions with enthusiastic shouts, as they passed away from the
parade ground and marched in solid columns across the Long Bridge that
spans the Potomac, there to share a destiny far different to the
promised glory, on the battle field of Manassas.
Another imposing ceremony was witnessed in Washington on the afternoon
of the review. A flag was to be raised on a staff near the Treasury
Department, and this was a kind of work that Lincoln loved to accomplish
with his own hands; so he moved with his Cabinet down to the point of
operation.
A platform had been erected at the foot of the flagstaff, and when the
President took his place upon it, thousands and thousands of loyal
citizens gathered around to see the glorious bunting hoisted in mid-air.
It was an imposing sight when the President’s tall figure appeared
standing in the midst of his councilors, with the halyards in his hands,
ready to send the stars and stripes aloft. With his hand uplifted and
his face raised toward the sky, he ran the flag up, and saw it catch the
wind and float slowly out between him and the blue sky. He stood looking
at it a moment, then turned his bright, earnest eyes upon the uplifted
faces of the crowd. “My friends,” he said, in a clear, full voice, “it
is an easy thing for me to run this flag up to the top of the staff, but
it will take the whole nation to keep it there.”
A shout rang up from the multitude, one of those wild, impulsive echoes
of a thousand hearts, which bespeak the enthusiasm of untried strength.
It seemed an easy thing to the people, with the tramp of those twenty
thousand new troops in their ears, to keep thousands of star-spangled
banners skyward; but before many days had passed, the rush of fugitive
feet, as they fled along those very pavements, proved how prophetic that
simple speech of President Lincoln’s was.
But even then the armies on the opposite banks of the Potomac were
mustering in force, for it had been decided that an advance should be
made and a battle fought, which it was hoped would decide a war which no
one expected to be of long duration. Many of these new troops passed
from that Washington review, and were swallowed up by the grand army
without having been inspected by the commanding General, who afterward
considered this fact one cause of his defeat. But the nation was eager
for action; a portion of the press fiercely urgent for a forward
movement; the two houses of Congress impatient of delay; so, all
unprepared, General Scott ordered the advance, against his own judgment,
to appease the general clamor.
ADVANCE OF THE GRAND ARMY.
From the time of the President’s proclamation calling for troops until
the 12th of July, immediately preceding the advance of the Grand Army
under General McDowell, to attack the rebel forces at Bull Run, the time
had been industriously employed in preparation. Fortifications had been
erected on the north side of the Potomac, at eight or ten points within
a radius of three miles from Washington and Georgetown. No military
force of the rebels was then known to exist on the Maryland shore; but
from Mount Vernon to the mouth of the Chesapeake on the south, and from
the Chain Bridge to the junction of the Shenandoah at Harper’s Ferry on
the north, they held undisputed possession.
General Patterson had crossed the Potomac early in July, with a force of
thirty thousand men, and was encamped at Martinsburgh, on the 12th,
having instructions from the Commander-in-chief to hold the rebel army
under General Johnston in check, should he attempt to move forward to
Manassas for the purpose of reinforcing Beauregard’s command at that
point. Johnston was at Winchester, on the direct route to Manassas Gap,
twenty-five miles from Martinsburgh, and it was a matter of vital
importance that he should be prevented from making a further advance.
The entire marching force of General McDowell was but about fifty-five
thousand, while twenty thousand were left as a reserve at Washington and
vicinity, under the command of General Mansfield.
And thus the combatants stood, when a day of fearful, bloody ending
dawned upon them—a day almost without a parallel in the world’s history
for deeds of daring and stubborn endurance, unflinching bravery, and
wild panic.