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!”