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It has already been related in a previous chapter how the incidents immediately following the fall of
Sumter and the
President's Proclamation — the secession of
Virginia and the adhesion of other Border States-had doubled the strength and augmented the war preparations of the
Rebellion.
Upon the
Government and the people of the
North the experience of those eventful days was even more decisive.
Whatever hope
President Lincoln and his Cabinet may have entertained at the beginning, that secession could be controlled by the suppression of sporadic insurrections and the reawakening of the slumbering or intimidated loyalty of the
South, necessarily faded out before the loss of
Virginia,
North Carolina,
Tennessee, and
Arkansas, and the dangerous uprising in
Maryland.
Not alone prompt measures to save the capital of the nation were imperatively dictated by the sudden blockade and isolation of
Washington, but widespread civil war, waged by a gigantic army and navy, must become the inevitable price of maintaining the
Union.
For this work the seventy-five thousand three-months militia were clearly inadequate.
It marks
President Lincoln's accurate diagnosis of the public danger, and his prompt courage and action to avert it, that, as early as April 26th, ten days after the first proclamation, the formation of a new
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army had already been resolved upon; and the War Department began giving official notice that volunteers in excess of the first call could only be received for three years or during the war, the details of the new organizations, to consist of 42,034 volunteers, 22,714 regulars, and 18,000 seamen, being publicly announced on May 3d.
No express provision of law existed for these measures, but
Lincoln ordered them without hesitation, because the exigency did not admit of even the short delay of awaiting the assemblage of Congress.
He was too true a type and representative of the people to doubt one instant their sure support and approval of a step which the
Constitution covered with its paramount authority, and its imperative personal mandate to the
President of the
United States to “preserve, protect, and defend the
Constitution of the United States.”
Following the march of the Seventh Regiment, the
Annapolis route remained permanently open to the
Union troops from the
North.
Day by day vessels arrived in Annapolis Harbor with volunteer regiments, with provisions and supplies for their maintenance, with war material for their equipment.
These were transferred rapidly over the repaired railroad to
Washington City, and it was not long before the
National Capital resembled a great military camp.
Troops found temporary lodgment in the various public buildings; citizen recruits wrote letters home on the senators' desks, spouted buncombe for pastime from the members' seats in the House of Representatives, spread their blankets for bivouac in the ample corridors of the Patent Office; clusters of tents filled the public squares; regimental tactics, practice in platoon-firing and artillery-drill went on in the surrounding fields; inspection and dress parade became fashionable entertainments; military bands furnished unceasing open-air concerts; the city bloomed with national
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flags.
The presence of an army brought an influx of civilians that at once perceptibly augmented the floating population; and this Yankee invasion of a sleepy Southern city gave
Washington a baptism of Northern life, activity, business, trade, and enterprise, which, for the first time after half a century of sickly pining, made the metropolitan dreams of its founder a substantial hope and possibility.
Under the vast enlargement of military operations to which the defence and maintenance of the
Government was now driven by inexorable events, the utility and employment of the three-months volunteers became necessarily limited and confined to a few local objects.
The mature experience and judgment of
General Scott decided that it would be useless, considering their very short term of service, to undertake with their help more than the garrisoning of
Fort Monroe, the protection of the
Potomac, the defence of
Washington City, the restoration of the military routes through
Baltimore to the North and West, the political control of
Maryland, and possibly the recapture of
Harper's Ferry-a programme forming practically one combined measure-the defence of the military frontier or line of the
Potomac, from the sea to the mountains.
Larger projects must be postponed for preparation; ships must be improvised or built to enforce the blockade; a new army must be gathered to open the
Mississippi and restore authority in the
South.
The rebels, though now seriously checked, were yet industriously working their local conspiracy in
Maryland to secure the final complete insurrection and adhesion of that State.
The Legislature, apparently under their control, had met at
Frederick, and was devising legislation under which to set up a military dictatorship.
But the Administration at
Washington allowed them no time to gather strength at home, or draw any considerable supplies or help from
Virginia.
The
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President authorized
General Scott to suspend the privilege of the writ of
habeas corpus within certain limits, and empowered him to arrest or disperse the Legislature in case they attempted treason.
Annapolis was garrisoned and lightly fortified; a military guard was pushed along the railroads toward
Baltimore simultaneously from the
South and the
North; and, on May 13th,
General Butler, by a bold, though entirely unauthorized movement, entered the city in the dusk of evening, while a convenient thunder-storm was raging, with less than a thousand men, part of whom were the now famous Massachusetts Sixth, and during the night entrenched himself on
Federal Hill.
General Scott reprimanded the “hazardous” movement; nevertheless, the little garrison met no further molestation or attack, and soon, supported by other detachments, open resistance to the
Government disappeared from the entire State.
Independent regiments of
Maryland volunteers entered the
Federal service; a sweeping political reaction also set in, demonstrating that the
Union sentiment was largely predominant; between which and the presence of Union troops the legislative intrigue was blighted, and the persistent secession minority and almost irrepressible local conspiracy were effectually baffled, though not without constant vigilance and severe discipline throughout the remainder of the year.
While the
Government was thus mainly occupied in restoring its authority in
Maryland, the rebels were busy in military organization in various parts of
Virginia.
Among the resignations from the
Federal army were two officers of especial prominence-
Joseph E. Johnston,
Quartermaster-General, of the rank of
Brigadier-General, and
Robert E. Lee, lately promoted to be
Colonel of the First Cavalry.
Lee was an officer of great promise, and a personal favorite of
General Scott, who at once conceived the idea of putting
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him at the head of the
Union army about to take the field; and, on Saturday, April 20th, an informal and unofficial tender of this honor appears to have been made to him by
Francis P. Blair, senior, as coming from
President Lincoln.
In a letter written subsequent to the war,
Lee says that he declined this offer.
That same evening he wrote a resignation from
Arlington, and on Monday hurried off to
Richmond, where he was appointed by
Governor Letcher, and, on April 23d, publicly installed to command the military forces of
Virginia.
Lee did not share the radical clamor of many of the
Richmond conspirators for an immediate advance to capture
Washington.
He discouraged mere reckless enthusiasm, and urged a defensive policy and methodical and thorough military preparation.
Carrying out this policy in his orders, directions were issued, and officers sent to different localities to call out and organize the
State militia, to drill recruits, and collect materials and stores.
Under his management companies and regiments soon sprang up, and
Virginia, like the other Southern States, gradually became a general camp.
It was not a great while before the presence of a military force at the principal points along the
Potomac became evident.
Its concentration and offensive action either to close the river to navigation, or, when sufficiently strong, against
Washington, was, of course, only a question of time.
The contact of hostile armies unavoidably provokes conflict.
These changing conditions of
Virginia required new precautions for the defence of
Washington.
As early as May 3d it was ascertained by the local officers and engineers that the
Capitol building was only three and a half miles from
Arlington Heights on the
Virginia side of the river, the
Executive Mansion and various department buildings but two and a half, and
Georgetown within one mile. The enemy
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already had a detachment quartered at
Alexandria; reinforcements from the
South might, in a single night, occupy the heights and destroy the
Virginia end of the bridges, and, speedily erecting mortar batteries, could destroy the city with bombs, unless they were attacked at a disadvantage and dislodged.
It was, therefore, decided that the
Union forces must occupy
Arlington Heights to insure the safety of the city, though the necessary troops could not as yet be spared from the operations to secure
Maryland; and by reason of various delays, three weeks more passed away before the full preparations for the enterprise were completed.
Finally, at two o'clock on the morning of May 24th, three columns crossed the
Potomac and entered on the “sacred soil” of the Old Dominion: three regiments by the Aqueduct at
Georgetown, four regiments by the
Long Bridge from
Washington, and one regiment,
Ellsworth's Zouaves, from their camp below the city directly by steamer to
Alexandria, the war steamer
Pawnee being anchored off shore to protect the landing.
The movement met no opposition; no considerable rebel force was stationed at the bridges, and the detachment at
Alexandria, excepting a small troop of cavalry, which was captured, evacuated that place on receiving a notice, sent without authority by the commander of the
Pawnee, to surrender or retire.
It had been a beautiful moonlight night; all the regiments were filled with an eager enthusiasm for the march; the preparations were careful, the officers to supervise it intelligent and competent, the movements promptly begun and successfully completed.
The whole enterprise seemed on the very point of conclusion without an accident, when sudden news of the assassination of
Colonel Ellsworth not only saddened the camps on both sides of the
Potomac, but
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cast a new gloom, and spread a feeling of bitter vindictive ness throughout every loyal State.
Colonel Ellsworth was a young man of twenty-four, who by the possession of a phenomenal combination of genius, energy, and self-confidence, had won the attention and admiration of the whole country.
But a few years ago, foiled by misfortune in an attempt to begin professional life in
Chicago, he had suddenly found himself without money or friends-almost without bread.
By the endurance of extreme privations, the pittance which he managed to earn with some temporary writing kept off starvation.
His energetic nature made active occupation a necessity; and perhaps as much to consume the evening hours, as with any other fixed purpose, he became interested in studying and teaching others the manual of military drill.
This led to the formation of a little volunteer company of about sixty
Chicago youths-clerks and business employees — under his command.
Into their instruction he threw such a degree of enthusiasm, such originality in remodelling and adapting old methods, such a grasp of purpose, and such a genius of control, that, after about a year's training, he not only carried off the prizes for drill at the fairs and exhibitions in the neighboring counties, but confidently formed the bold project of showing to the public of the great cities that he had the best-drilled company in
America.
They had no money, no commissariat, no transportation, but a friendly railroad gave them free tickets from
Chicago to
Detroit; from there the proceeds of an exhibition drill carried them to the next city, and so on. At every step of their progress, their actual dexterity in the manual of arms carried admiration and applause by storm.
Arrived at New York, they achieved a double triumph; first before the uniformed city militia in the open field, and afterward at night
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on the stage of the Academy of Music, before as fashionable an audience as ever packed the walls or split their
kid gloves to encore the most famous prima donna.
For three days the metropolitan newspapers were full of descriptions of their performance and their personal appearance and historyabove all, of their youthful commander,
Ellsworth, the visible creator, embodiment, and inspiration of their admirable accomplishment.
Determined to leave no test unchallenged, they went even to show their proficiency to the military school at
West Point, where the only criticism that could be passed upon them was that they did not follow the “regular” drill of the text-books.
When they finally returned to
Chicago, after a full tour, in which they had reaped uninterrupted encouragement and acclaim, the name and fame of
Ellsworth and his “Chicago Zouaves” were a part of the just interest and pride of the whole country.
Nevertheless, no one appreciated better than
Ellsworth himself that this was but a possible beginning of better things.
He had no ambition to remain either a mere drillmaster or a raree showman, though his necessities had compelled him to make a somewhat spectacular beginning.
There is not room here to trace his higher purposes and ideals of a general militia reform; it is sufficient to say that for the brain of a boy of twenty-four they were serious and comprehensive.
There was then no thought of war; and when
Lincoln became
President,
Ellsworth sought his favor and was readily permitted to accompany him to
Washington as one of his suite.
The inauguration over, the
President made him a second lieutenant of dragoons.
Then came
Sumter and the call for volunteers, and
Ellsworth saw his opportunity.
Hastening to the
city of New York, he called together and harangued the fire companies of the metropolis; in three days he had twenty-two hundred names inscribed
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on his recruiting lists; out of these he carefully selected a regiment of eleven hundred men, who chose him their colonel, and, bearing half a dozen beautiful presentation flags, one of them publicly donated by
Mrs. Astor, followed him to
Washington, where they were mustered into the service among the earliest three years volunteers.
It was at the head of this regiment that
Colonel Ellsworth entered
Alexandria at daylight of May 24th.
The rebels received notice of his coming, and most of them retired with sufficient promptness to escape capture.
Having seen the town securely occupied and pickets posted to prevent surprise,
Colonel Ellsworth remembered the rebel flag which had been for weeks flaunting an insulting defiance to the national capital.
It was hoisted over the
Marshall House, the principal hotel of
Alexandria, and the
Colonel was seized with the whim to take it down with his own hands — a foolish fancy, perhaps, when considered in cool judgment, but one very natural to the heated enthusiasm of those early days of burning patriotic ardor.
“Whose flag is that flying over this house?”
demanded he, as he entered and ascended the stairs.
“I don't know,” was the only response he could obtain; but the demon of a hellish purpose lurked under the answer.
He mounted to the roof with one or two companions, cut the halyards, and started down with the treasonable emblem on his arm. The stairs were narrow and windingthey could descend only in single file — a soldier preceded and followed him. As he reached the third step above the landing on the second floor, a side door flew open, and the owner of the house, a man named
Jackson, who had been lurking there in concealment like a tiger for his prey, sprang out, and levelling a double-barrelled shotgun, discharged it full in the
Colonel's breast — the fatal charge driving almost into his very heart a gold presentation badge inscribed “Non
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nobis sed pro patria.”
Ellsworth fell forward in death without even a groan; but the murder did not go unavenged, for in that same instant his assassin also expired by the double effect of a musket-charge and a bayonet-thrust from
Ellsworth's foremost companion.
If there remained a possibility of a sensational climax of deeper import than
Sumter and
Baltimore, it was furnished by this hideous tragedy at
Alexandria.
The
North had supposed that the first exhausted the cold-blooded recklessness of conspiracy.
The second manifested the sudden fury of sectional excitement.
But this last opened an unlooked-for depth of individual hatred, into which the political animosities of years between the North and South had finally ripened after four months of uninterrupted manipulation by the conspiracy.
Under this unwelcome revelation there was no longer room to doubt the existence of widely pervading elements of an enduring civil war.
Ellsworth was buried with imposing honors, from the famous
East Room of the
Executive Mansion, the
President,
Cabinet, and high officers of Government attending as mourners; and as the telegraph filled the newspapers with details of the sad event, every household in the
North felt as if the dark shadow of a funeral had lowered over its own hearthstone.
