Chapter IV: Part 4

Her coming was not unexpected, and as she glided to her place at the dock, the men on the Pennsylvania and the Cumberland, several hundred in number, greeted her with a volley of cheers that echoed and re-echoed till all Norfolk and Portsmouth must have heard the hail. The men of the Pennsylvania fairly outdid themselves in their enthusiasm on this occasion. They clambered into the shrouds, and not only answered to the “three cheers,” but volunteered “three times three,” and gave them with a hurricane of heartiness. This intense feeling on their part is easily explained. They had been a long time almost imprisoned on shipboard, on a ship imbedded in the river, motionless and helpless, and subject to _promises_ from the secessionists of speedy demolition. In the advent of the Pawnee they saw deliverance from such durance, and they exulted with tremendous emphasis.

All Portsmouth and Norfolk were thoroughly aroused by the arrival of the Pawnee. They did not expect her, and were not prepared for her. They were seized with trepidation, thinking, perhaps, she had come, and along with the Cumberland and Pennsylvania, meant to bombard the towns for having obstructed the channel, and for having, the night before, rifled the United States magazine, just below Norfolk, of about 4,000 kegs of powder. Being utterly defenceless and quite terrified, the secessionists made no protest against the Pawnee’s presence, nor did they venture too near the Navy Yard.

The Pawnee made fast to the dock, and Colonel Wardrop marched out his regiment and stationed them at the several gates of the Navy Yard to oppose the entrance of any forces from without, in case an attempt to enter should be made. Having adopted this precaution, the Commodore set the marines on the Pennsylvania, the Cumberland, the Pawnee, and in the yard, to work. All the books and papers, the archives of the establishment, were transferred to the Pawnee.

Everything of interest to the Government on the Pennsylvania was promptly transferred to the Cumberland. On this latter vessel, it was also said, a large amount of gold from the Custom House at Norfolk had been in good time placed. Having made safe everything that was to be brought away, the marines were next set to work to destroy everything on the Pennsylvania, and the other ships, and in the yard, that might be of immediate use in waging war upon the government. Many thousand stands of arms were destroyed. Carbines had their stocks broken from the barrels by a blow, and were thrown overboard. A large lot of revolvers shared the like fate. Shot and shell by thousands went with hurried plunge to the bottom. Most of the cannon had been spiked the day and night before. There were at least 1,500 pieces in the yard—some elegant Dahlgren guns, and Columbiads of all sizes.

It is impossible to describe the scene of destruction that was exhibited. Unweariedly it was continued from 9 o’clock until about 12, during which time the moon gave light to direct the operations. But when the moon sank behind the western horizon, the barracks near the centre of the yard were set on fire, that by its illumination the work might be continued. The crackling flames and the glare of light inspired with new energies the destroying marines, and havoc was carried everywhere within the limits of orders. But time was not left to complete the work. Four o’clock of Sunday morning came, and the Pawnee was passing down from Gosport harbor with the Cumberland, the coveted prize of the secessionists, in tow—every soul from the other ships and the yard being aboard of them, save two. Just as they left their moorings, a rocket was sent up from the deck of the Pawnee. It sped high in air, paused a second, and burst in shivers of many-colored light. As it did so, the well-set trains at the ship-houses, and on the decks of the fated vessels left behind, went off as if lit simultaneously by the rocket. One of the ship-houses contained the old New York, a ship thirty years on the stocks, and yet unfinished. The other was vacant; but both houses and the old New York burnt like tinder. The older and unserviceable vessels, the Pennsylvania, the Raritan, the Columbia, the Dolphin, were fired without compunction; while the Merrimac, Plymouth and Germantown were sunk, and the immense lifting shears used for raising vessels was broken down and rendered useless. The old Delaware and Columbus, worn out and dismantled seventy-fours, were scuttled and sunk at the upper docks on Friday.

The grand conflagration now burst in judgment on the startled citizens of Norfolk, Portsmouth, and all the surrounding country. The flames leaped from pitchy deck to smoking shrouds, and writhed to their very tops around the masts that stood like martyrs doomed. It was not thirty minutes from the time the trains were fired till the conflagration roared like a hurricane, and the flames from land and water swayed, and met, and mingled together, and darted high, and fell, and leaped up again, and by their very motion showed their sympathy with the crackling, crashing roar of destruction beneath. But in all this magnificent scene, the old ship Pennsylvania was the centre-piece. She was a very giant in death, as she had been in life. She was a sea of flame, and when her bowels were consuming, then did she spout from every porthole of every deck torrents and cataracts of fire that, to the mind of Milton, would have represented her a frigate of hell pouring out unremitting broadsides of infernal fire. Several of her guns were left loaded, but not shotted, and as the fire reached them, they sent out on the startled morning air minute guns of fearful peal, that added greatly to the alarm that the light of the conflagration had spread through the surrounding country. The Pennsylvania burnt like a volcano for five hours and a half before her mainmast fell. At precisely 9½ o’clock the tall tree that stood in her centre tottered and fell, and crushed deep into her burning sides, whilst a storm of sparks filled the sky.

As soon as the Pawnee and Cumberland had fairly left the waters, and were known to be gone, the gathering crowds of Portsmouth and Norfolk burst open the gates of the Navy Yard and rushed in. They could do nothing, however, but gaze upon the ruin wrought. The Commodore’s, residence, left locked but unharmed, was burst open, and a pillage commenced, which was summarily stopped. As early as six o’clock a volunteer company had taken possession in the name of Virginia, and run up her flag from the flagstaff. In another hour several companies were on hand, and men were at work unspiking cannon, and by nine o’clock they were moving them to the dock, whence they were begun to be transferred, on keels, to points below, where sand batteries were to be built.

Notwithstanding the splendor of the scene, and the great destruction of property, the result was incomplete, and a large amount of artillery and munitions of war fell into the hands of the Virginians.

THE STATE OF THE NATION BEFORE ITS TROOPS ENTERED VIRGINIA.

President Lincoln, on the 15th of April, issued a proclamation stating that the laws of the United States had been and are opposed in several States, by combinations too powerful to be suppressed by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings; he therefore called for 75,000 troops from the several States. The first service assigned to this force would probably be to repossess the forts and other places and property which had been seized from the Union. An extra session of Congress was also to meet on the 4th of July.

When President Lincoln issued his proclamation on the 15th of April, dispatches were sent from the Secretary of War, addressed to the Governors of the several States, designating the quotas assigned to each State, under this proclamation. The Executives of the slaveholding States, with the exception of Maryland and Delaware, peremptorily refused to comply with this requisition. Governor Ellis, of North Carolina, replied, “I regard the levy of troops made by the Administration for the purpose of subjugating the States of the South as in violation of the Constitution, and a usurpation of power. I can be no party to this wicked violation of the laws of the country, and to this war upon the rights of a free people. You can get no troops from North Carolina.” Governor Jackson, of Missouri, answered, “There can be, I apprehend, no doubt but these men are intended to form part of the President’s army to make war upon the people of the seceding States. Your requisition, in my judgment, is illegal, unconstitutional and revolutionary in its objects, altogether inhuman and diabolical, and cannot be complied with. Not one man will Missouri furnish to carry on such an unholy crusade.” Governor Magoffin, of Kentucky, replied, “In answer, I say emphatically, that Kentucky will furnish no troops for the wicked purpose of subduing her sister Southern States.” Governor Letcher, of Virginia, answered, “I have only to say that the militia of Virginia will not be furnished to the powers at Washington for any such use or purpose as they have in view. Your object is to subjugate the Southern States, and a requisition made upon me for such an object—an object, in my judgment, not within the purview of the Constitution, or the Act of 1795—will not be complied with. You have chosen to inaugurate civil war, and having done so, we will meet it in a spirit as determined as the Administration has exhibited toward the South.” Governor Harris, of Tennessee, refused, in terms equally explicit, to comply with the requisition of the Government. In his Message to the Legislature, dated April 25, he takes strong ground against the action of the Administration, which he says is designed for the subjugation of the Southern States. He recommended the immediate passage of an Act of Secession, and an Act for the union of Tennessee with the Southern Confederacy, both to be submitted separately to the people at an early day. He also recommended an appropriation for arming the State, and the creation of a large military fund, to be placed under the direction of a special board.

The position of Virginia is of the greatest importance to a thorough understanding of the difficulties in which the country was placed. At the breaking out of hostilities, the State Convention was in session. A resolution was passed, expressing an earnest desire for the re-establishment of the Union in its former integrity: an amendment, declaring that Virginia ought not to accept a form of adjustment which would not be acceptable to the seceding States, was rejected. Commissioners were appointed to wait on the President, and ascertain the policy which he intended to pursue. An amendment, denying the right of the Federal Government to deal with the question of secession, was rejected. A resolution was adopted, expressing a willingness that the independence of the seceding States should be acknowledged. An amendment, declaring that Virginia would secede in case the proposed amendments to the Constitution were rejected by the non-slaveholding States, was lost. And resolutions were adopted, opposing any action on the part of the Federal Government for retaining or retaking forts in the seceding States, and affirming, that any measures of the Government, tending to produce hostilities with the Confederate States, would leave Virginia free to determine her own future policy. When the proclamation of the President, calling for troops, was issued, the Convention went into secret session, on the 17th of April, passed an ordinance to repeal the ratification of the Constitution of the United States, by the State of Virginia, and to resume all the rights and powers granted under such Constitution.

When the proclamation was received at Montgomery, President Davis issued a proclamation, dated on the 17th of April, inviting all persons to apply for letters of marque and reprisal, to be issued under the seal of the Confederate States. President Lincoln thereupon, on the 19th, issued a proclamation, announcing the blockade of all the ports of the seceding States, and that a competent force would be stationed to prevent the entrance and exit of vessels at these ports. On the 27th, the President issued a proclamation extending the blockade to the ports of North Carolina and Virginia. It was announced that the blockade would be maintained by at least fifty vessels of war, accompanied by a fleet of steam transports, capable of conveying an army of 20,000 men. On the 3d of May the President issued another proclamation, calling into service 42,000 volunteers to serve for a period of three years, unless sooner discharged; ordering that the regular army should be increased by 22,714 men; and directing the enlistment, for the naval force of the United States, of 18,000 seamen, for a period of not less than one or more than three years.

The Congress of the Confederate States met at Montgomery on the 29th of April. The message of President Davis announced that the permanent Constitution had been ratified by a sufficient number of States to render it valid, and that it only remained to elect officers under its provisions. The message of President Lincoln, calling for volunteers, was characterized as a declaration of war, which will render it necessary to adopt measures to replenish the treasury of the Confederation, and provide for the defence of the country. Proposals had been issued, inviting subscriptions for a loan of five millions; more than eight millions was subscribed for, none under par. The whole amount had been ordered to be accepted; and it was now necessary to raise a much larger sum. The Confederate States had in the field, at Charleston, Pensacola, and different forts, 19,000 men, and 16,000 were on route for Virginia. It was proposed to organize and hold in readiness an army of 100,000 men. “We seek no conquest,” says Mr. Davis, “no aggrandizement, no concession from the Free States. All that we ask is to be let alone; that none shall attempt our subjugation by arms. This we will, and must, resist to the direst extremity. The moment this pretension is abandoned, the sword will drop from our grasp, and we shall be ready to enter into treaties of amity and commerce mutually beneficial.” In the meanwhile warlike and aggressive measures had been pushed forward with all possible activity. The forces besieging Fort Pickens had been augmented, and new batteries had been constructed against it. Vessels belonging to the government and to individuals had been seized. Among these was the steamer Star of the West, which had been dispatched to Indianola, Texas, to bring away the United States troops collected at that port. The vessel was lying at anchor, awaiting the arrival of the troops. At midnight, of the 19th of April, the steamer Rusk approached, and the captain of the Star of the West was informed that she had on board 320 United States troops, which were to be embarked.

Every assistance was given for the reception of the supposed soldiers, who, however, proved to be Texan troops. As soon as they were on board they took possession of the steamer, which was taken to New Orleans, the crew being detained as prisoners of war. Shortly after, 450 of the United States troops attempted to make their escape from Indianola on board of two sailing vessels. They were pursued by two armed steamers, manned by the Texans, overtaken, and made prisoners.

The loyal States had not only been patriotic in sending troops to the capital, but in supplying money also. The Legislature of New York appropriated three millions of dollars for arming and equipping troops; Connecticut appropriated two millions; Vermont one million; New Jersey two millions, and other States in proportion. The Common Council of the city of New York appropriated one million. Besides the public appropriations, in every considerable town and city private subscriptions were made for the same purposes, and to support the families of volunteers. The aggregate of the sums thus furnished was estimated at twenty-five millions—all raised in a few days.

Meantime the Confederate government had adjourned on the 20th of May to meet in Richmond, Virginia, on the 20th of July, or some other convenient place to be selected by the President.

On the 6th of May an act was passed “recognizing the existence of war between the United States and the Confederate States, and concerning letters of marque, prizes, and prize goods.” This act gave the President of the Confederate States authority to use the whole land and naval forces of the Confederacy to meet the war thus commenced, and to issue letters of marque and reprisal against the vessels and property of the United States and their citizens, with the exception of the States belonging to the Confederation or expected to join it.

An act was passed prohibiting the export of cotton or cotton yarn from any of the Confederate States except through the sea-ports. It was proposed in Congress that the cotton planters should be invited to put their crops in the hands of the government, receiving bonds for its value, the government to dispose of it in Europe for cash. The Postmaster-General, on the 1st of June, took charge of the transmission of the mails in the Confederate States; and the Postmaster-General of the United States announced that on that day postal communication would close with the seceding States, with the exception of some counties in Western Virginia. All letters for these States were sent to the Dead Letter Office at Washington.

Two more States—Arkansas and North Carolina—had formally seceded from the Union, and joined the Confederate States. In Arkansas the State Convention, on the 18th of April, had passed an ordinance submitting the question of secession to the people, at an election to be held on the 3d of August. When the requisition of President Lincoln was received, Governor Rector, on the 22d of April, replied to the Secretary of War, “In answer to your requisition for troops from Arkansas to subjugate the Southern States, I have to say that none will be furnished. The demand is only adding insult to injury. The people of this Commonwealth are freemen and not slaves, and will defend to the last extremity their honor, lives and property against Northern mendacity and usurpation.” On the same day the Governor gave orders for the seizure at Napoleon of a large quantity of military supplies belonging to the United States. On the 6th of May, the Convention, which had re-assembled, unanimously passed an ordinance of secession.

Tennessee also virtually, though not in form, joined the Southern Confederacy. The Legislature passed a Declaration of Independence, which was to be submitted to the people on the 8th of June. Meanwhile a military league had been formed with the Confederate government, in virtue of which the forces of Tennessee were to be employed to aid the Confederate States.

In Kentucky a determined effort was made to preserve a strict neutrality. Governor Magoffin, as before noted, refused peremptorily to comply with the President’s requisition for troops. On the 20th of May he issued a proclamation declaring that every indication of public sentiment in Kentucky showed a fixed determination of the people to take neither side, but to maintain a posture of self-defence, forbidding the quartering upon her soil of troops from either section, in the hope that the State might yet become a mediator between the parties. He therefore warned all States, whether separate or united, and especially the Confederate and the United States, against any armed occupation within the State of Kentucky, without the permission of the Legislature and Executive authorities. All citizens of Kentucky were forbidden to make any demonstration against either of the sovereignties, but were directed to make prompt and efficient preparations for the defence of the State. Of similar purport were the proceedings of the “Border States Convention,” held at Frankfort. Virginia, North Carolina and Arkansas, having joined the Southern Confederacy, of course sent no delegates; none appeared from Maryland, and only one from Tennessee, and four from Missouri. The remainder were from Kentucky. Senator Crittenden was chosen President. Two addresses, one to the people of the United States, and the other to the people of Kentucky, were adopted. The essential point in the first address is the recommendation that Congress would propose such Constitutional amendments as should secure the legal rights of slaveholders; and if this should fail to bring about a pacification, that a Convention be called composed of delegates from all the States, to devise measures of peaceable adjustment.

The address to the people of Kentucky defended the action of the Executive in refusing troops to the Federal Government, as called for by the peculiar circumstances in which the State was placed. “In all things,” says the address, “she is as loyal as ever to the constitutional administration of the government. She will follow the stars and stripes to the utmost regions of the earth, and defend it from foreign insult. She refuses alliance with any who would destroy the Union. All she asks is permission to keep out of this unnatural strife. She has announced her intention to refrain from aggression upon others, and she must protest against her soil being made the theatre of military operations by any belligerent.” The address goes on to censure the conduct of the States who have withdrawn from the Union, affirming that there was in the Constitution a remedy for every wrong, and provisions to check every encroachment by the majority upon the minority. In withdrawing the States committed “a great wrong, for which they must answer to posterity. But Kentucky remained true to herself, contending with all her might for what were considered to be the rights of the people, and although one after another of the States that should have been by her side ungenerously deserted her, leaving her almost alone in the field, yet she did not surrender her rights under the Constitution, and never would surrender them. She would appear again in the Congress of the United States, not having conceded the least atom of power to the Government that had not heretofore been granted, and retaining every power she had reserved. She would insist upon her constitutional rights in the Union, and not out of it.” The address went on to say that if the war should be transferred to Kentucky, her destruction would be the inevitable result; “and even the institution to preserve or control which the wretched war was undertaken, would be exterminated in the general ruin.”

In Virginia the vote upon secession resulted in a large majority in its favor. In the north-western part of the State the vote was largely in favor of the Union. A Convention of the Western Counties convened at Wheeling on the 13th of May, at which resolutions were passed pronouncing the ordinance of secession null and void. The Convention adjourned to meet on the 11th of June.

The position of Missouri was similar to that of Kentucky. The State endeavored to avoid taking part in the war. Troops had been organized with hostile designs against the Government. These were forced to surrender by Captain Lyon, (afterward appointed General). At St. Louis an attack was made by the populace, on the 10th of May, upon the United States volunteers; they returned the fire, killing some twenty; an _émeute_ on the next day resulted in the loss of several lives. General Harney, who had been put in command of this district, entered into an agreement with the State authorities, that was disapproved by the Government, and he relieved from the command, which was then given to General Lyon.

The attitude assumed by the great powers of Europe in relation to the American war was important. That of England, indicated by the royal proclamation issued on the 14th of May a determination to maintain a strict neutrality in the contest between the contending parties. The proclamation went on to forbid all British subjects from taking part in any way in the contest, by enlisting in the army or navy of either party; by fitting out or arming any vessel; by breaking any lawfully established blockade, or carrying to either, troops or any articles contraband of war. This proclamation, taken in connection with the explanations of the Ministers and the speeches in Parliament, had an unfriendly aspect toward the United States, recognizing, as it did, the Confederate States as belligerents, and, by implication, entitled equally to the right of carrying prizes into the ports of Great Britain. In the House of Commons, Lord John Russell said that the character of belligerency was not so much a principle as a fact; that a certain amount of force and consistency acquired by any mass of population engaged in war entitled them to be treated as a belligerent. A power or a community which was at war with another, and which covered the sea with its cruizers, must either be acknowledged as a belligerent or dealt with as a pirate. The Government had come to the opinion that the Southern Confederacy, according to those principles which were considered just, must be treated as belligerent. In this critical condition was the country when the Government prepared to advance its armies into Virginia.

OCCUPATION OF ALEXANDRIA, Va.

ASSASSINATION OF COLONEL ELLSWORTH.

MAY 24, 1861.

The defenders of the Union had been gathering at Washington and in its vicinity for more than a month, in answer to the call for troops, that rang through the land clear as clarion notes. The arduous labor of providing for and disciplining the large number of untrained recruits, collected in such haste, had been met with energy and perseverance by the officers of the government. Very much had been accomplished, notwithstanding all the embarrassments incident to an extensive and untried field of labor.

The heart of the country was beating restively at delay, and popular feeling, as it found its voice through the press, thundered anathemas, and clamored for a forward movement. Nothing but prompt and decisive action would satisfy the people that the government was sturdily bending its whole energies to strangle the monster treason in its youth. The people had not yet learned the first great secret of success—how to wait. They saw the ship of state struggling fiercely amid the rocks of an untried ocean, and worshiping the flag at her mast-head, grew clamorous for its protection. Every newspaper, and almost every household, had its own ideas of how this was to be accomplished. The government, unused to war, and anxious to gratify the spirit of patriotism that had supported it so nobly, was ready to answer the rash clamor; and so this long, loud cry of ignorant impatience became words of fate, and ended in giving us the defeat of Bull Run.

The people, the generous loyal people, ever dissatisfied with anything but lightning speed, in peace or war, clamored for action, and must be appeased. Under this pressure, events forced each other on, culminating in action.

Though an act of secession had been passed by a State Convention, held at Richmond on the 17th of April, it was professedly to be submitted to the people of the State of Virginia for their approval on the 23d of May; and though it had been determined by the United States Government to take possession of, and fortify the Virginia hills, in front of the capital, it was deemed advisable to await that event before making any military movement into that State which could be interpreted into an attempt to influence or control the popular vote. The conspirators, however, without waiting for any ratification of their secession act by the people, immediately made a conveyance of the State to the Confederate government, and claimed its protection; thus effectually leaving the “mother of States” to associate with the disobedient daughters.

In consequence of the action of Governor Letcher, Confederate troops from Georgia, Mississippi, and other Southern States, were sent rapidly into Virginia, and located at various points, where it was deemed that they could be of the most use, and best serve the interests of the Confederacy. The result of this movement could easily have been foretold. The election was held under military _regime_ and terrorism, and loyal men, having been warned of the penalty of voting against secession, either feared to do so, or neglected to vote altogether; a majority was secured for the ordinance, and Virginia, “mother of Presidents,” had taken her second grand step in the downward path of disunion.

The people of the city of Alexandria were generally infected with disloyalty, and rebel flags floated boldly from many of the principal buildings. A detachment of Confederate troops was at all times quartered within its limits, and with the hope of capturing them and their supplies, it was determined to occupy the city by a surprise movement. The result of the election clearly foreshadowed, arrangements were made for action—prompt and decisive action—to follow immediately upon the closing of the polls, where disunionists had played a mere farce, and disloyal bayonets had fettered the freedom of the ballot-box.

On the night of May 23d, orders were given for an advance to the troops designed for this expedition, numbering in all about 13,000, and at ten o’clock an advance guard of picked men moved cautiously over the bridge. Sent to reconnoitre, their commands were imperative that if assaulted they were to signalize for reinforcements, which would be speedily furnished by a corps of infantry and a battery. At twelve o’clock the regiment of infantry, the artillery and the cavalry corps began to muster, and as fast as they were prepared, proceeded to the Long Bridge, the portion of the force then in Washington being directed to take that route. The troops quartered at Georgetown, comprising the Fifth, Eighth, Twenty-eighth and Sixty-ninth New York, also proceeded across the Chain Bridge, under the command of General McDowell.

At half-past one o’clock, six companies of District Volunteers, including the National Rifles, and Turners, stepped from the Long Bridge upon Virginia soil. To capture the enemy’s patrols by the means of boats had been the original plan, but the bright moonlight prevented it. This vanguard was commanded by Inspector-General Stone, under whom Captain Smead led the centre, Adjutant Abbott the left, and Captain Stewart the right wing. When within half a mile of Alexandria, they halted and awaited the arrival of the main body.

The remainder of the army crossed in the following order: The Twelfth and Twenty-fifth New York, First Michigan, and First, Second, Third, and Fourth New Jersey; two regular cavalry corps of eighty men each, and Sherman’s two batteries; next and last came the New York Seventh. General Mansfield directed the movements of the troops. At a quarter to four the last of the forces left, and fifteen minutes later Major-General Sanford, accompanied by his staff, proceeded to Virginia to assume the command.

The famous Sixty-ninth New York, after crossing the river below Georgetown, took position on the Orange and Manassas Gap railroad, and surrounded and captured the train from Alexandria, with a large number of passengers, of which a few, known to be violent secession partizans, were retained as prisoners.

As the Michigan regiment, accompanied by two guns of Sherman’s renowned battery, and a company of regular cavalry, marched into the town, a detachment of thirty-five rebel horsemen were found preparing to mount. The battery came up the street towards them like a whirlwind, and they soon surrendered.

The New York Fire Zouaves, under the command of Colonel E. E. Ellsworth, 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.

ASSASSINATION OF COLONEL ELLSWORTH.
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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.