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BOLLMAN'S ROCK, POINT OF ROCKS,
HARPER'S FERRY, THROWN DOWN
BY THE REBELS TO OBSTRUCT THE RAILROAD TRACK.
ELLSWORTH.
A BATTLE HYMN FOR ELLSWORTH'S
ZOUAVES.
AIR—"Bruce's Address to his
Army."
Who is this ye say is slain?
Whose voice answers not again? Ellsworth, shall we call in vain
On thy name to–day?
No! from every vale and hill
One response all hearts shall
thrill: "Ellsworth's fame is with us still,
Ne'er to pass away'."
Bring that rebel banner low,
Hoisted by a treacherous foe: 'Twas for that they dealt the blow,
Laid him in the dust. Raise
aloft, that all may see, His loved flag of liberty. Forward, then, to victory,
Or perish if we must!
Hark. to what Columbia saith :
"Mourn not for his early death; With each patriot's dying breath
Strength renewed is given To the
cause of truth and right, To the land for which they fight. After darkness
cometh light,
Such the law of Heaven."
So we name him not in vain,
Though he comes not back again
For his country he was slain ;
Ellsworth's blood shall rise To
our gracious Saviour–King--'Tis a holy gift we bring;
Such a sacred offering
God will not despise.
WE publish herewith a Portrait of
THE LATE COLONEL ELLSWORTH, and another of PRIVATE BROWNELL, who avenged his
murder ; and on next page Illustrations of the CAMP OF THE ELLSWORTH ZOUAVES at
Washington.
The following sketch of Colonel
Ellsworth's life is by his friend, Mr. Duncan :
"Colonel Elmer E. Ellsworth was
born at Mechanicsville, New York State, and was, at his death, between
twenty-three and twenty-four years old. He received at Mechanicsville a common
school education, and came to this city about nine years since. He was engaged
in business here for about four years, and then went to Chicago, While here, all
his time, when not is business, was spent in studying, preparing himself to
enter West Point. He made many endeavors to secure a cadetship at West Point,
but, being without influential friends, was unable to do so. After being
compelled to relinquish his pet project of going to West Point, he went to
Chicago, and there formed his celebrated company of Chicago Zouaves. His parents
are now both living at Mechanicsville, in this State. His
younger brother, a young man of
great promise, died at Chicago at the time when his Zouaves first started for
this city, and his remains were brought on and interred at Mechanicsville by
Colonel Ellsworth. Colonel Ellsworth was the only remaining son of his parents.
Mechanicsville is a small town on the Hudson River, twelve miles above Troy, in
Saratoga county."
The following " last words" of
Colonel Ellsworth were read in one of the churches on Sunday. It was written on
the eve of the march to Virginia:
"HEAD-QUARTERS FIRST ZOUAVES,
CAMP LINCOLN, WASHINGTON, May 23, 1861.
"MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,-The
regiment is ordered to move across the river to-night. We have no means of
knowing what reception we are to meet with. I am inclined to the opinion that
our entrance to the city of Alexandria will be hotly contested, as I am just
informed a large force has arrived there to-day. Should this happen, my dear
parents, it may be my lot to be injured in some manner. Whatever may happen,
cherish the consolation that I was engaged in the performance of a sacred duty;
and tonight, thinking over the probabilities of the morrow and the occurrences
or the past, I am perfectly content to accept whatever my fortune may be,
confident that He who noteth even the fall of a sparrow will have some purpose
even in the fate of one like me. My darling and ever-loved parents, good-by. God
bless, protect, and care for you. ELMER."
The following account of Colonel
Ellsworth's murder is from the pen of Mr. House, the Tribune correspondent, who
actually had his hand on Colonel Ellsworth's shoulder when Jackson shot him :
" On entering the open door, the
Colonel met a man in his shirt and trowsers, of whom he demanded what sort of a
flag it was that hung above the roof. The stranger, who seemed greatly alarmed,
declared he knew nothing of it, and that he was only a boarder there. Without
questioning him further the Colonel sprang up stairs, and we all followed to the
topmost story, whence, by means of a ladder, he clambered to the roof, cut down
the flag with Winser's knife, and brought it from its staff. There were two men
in bed in the garret whom we had not observed at all when we entered, their
position being somewhat concealed, but who now rose in great apparent amazement,
although I observed that they were more than half dressed. We at once turned to
descend, Private Brownell leading the way, and Colonel Ellsworth immediately
following him with the flag. As Brownell reached the first landing-place, or
entry, after a descent of some dozen steps, a man jumped from a dark passage,
and hardly noticing the private, leveled a double-barreled gun square at the
Colonel's breast. Brownell made a quick pass to turn the weapon aside, but the
fellow's hand was firm, and he discharged one barrel straight to its aim, the
slugs or buckshot with which it was loaded entering the Colonel's heart, and
killing him at the instant. I think my hand was resting on poor Ellsworth's
shoulder at the moment. At any rate, he seemed to fall almost from my own grasp.
He was on the second or third step from the landing, and he dropped forward with
that heavy, horrible, headlong weight which always comes of sudden death
inflicted in this manner. His assailant had turned like a flash to give the
contents of the other barrel to Brownell, but either he could not command his
aim or the Zouave was too quick with him, for the slugs went over his head, and
passed through
the panels and wainscot of a door
which sheltered some sleeping lodgers. Simultaneously with this second shot, and
sounding like the echo of the first, Brownell's rifle was heard, and the
assassin staggered backward. He was hit exactly in the middle of the face, and
the wound, as I afterward saw it, was the most frightful I ever witnessed. Of
course Brownell did not know how fatal his shot had been, and so, before the man
dropped, he thrust his sabre bayonet through and through the body, the force of
the blow sending the dead man violently down the upper section of the second
flight of stairs, at the foot of which he lay with his face to the floor. Winser
ran from above, crying. 'Who is hit?' but as he glanced downward by our feet, he
needed no answer.
"Bewildered for an instant by the
suddenness of this attack, and not knowing what more might be in store, we
forbore to proceed, and gathered together defensively. There were but seven of
us altogether, and one was without a weapon of any kind. Brownell instantly
reloaded, and while doing so perceived the door through which the assailant's
shot had passed beginning to open. He brought his rifle to the shoulder, and
menaced the occupants, two travelers, with immediate death if they stirred. The
three other privates guarded the passages, of which there were quite a number
converging to the point where we stood, while the chaplain and Winner looked to
the staircase by which we had descended, and the adjoining chambers. I ran down
stairs to see if any thing was threatened from the story below, but it soon
appeared there was no danger from that quarter. However, we were not at all
disposed to move from our position. From the opening doors and through the
passages we discerned a sufficient number of forms to assure us that we were
dreadfully in the minority. I
think now that there was no danger, and that the single assailant acted without
concert with any body; but it is impossible to know accurately, and it was
certainly a doubtful question then. The first thing to be done was to look to
our dead friend and leader. He had fallen on his face, and the streams of blood
that flowed from his wound had literally flooded the way. The chaplain turned
him gently over, and I stooped and called his name aloud, at which I thought
then he murmured inarticulately. I presume I was mistaken, and I am not sure
that he spoke a word after being struck, although in my dispatch I repeated a
single exclamation which I had believed he uttered. It might have been Brownell,
or the chaplain, who was close behind me. Winner and I lifted the body with all
the care we could apply, and laid it upon a bed in a room near by. The
rebel flag, stained with his blood and purified
by this contact from the baseness of its former meaning, we laid about his feet.
It was at first difficult to discover the precise locality of his wound, for all
parts of his coat were equally saturated with blood. By cautiously loosening his
belt and unbuttoning his coat, we found where the shot had penetrated. None of
us had any medical knowledge, but we saw that all hope must be resigned.
Nevertheless it seemed proper to summon the surgeon as speedily as possible.
This could not easily be done, for, secluded as we were in that part of the
town, and uncertain whether an ambush might not be awaiting us also, no man
could volunteer to venture
forth alone, and to go together,
and leave the Colonel's body behind, was out of the question. We wondered at the
long delay of the first company, for the advance of which the Colonel had sent
back before approaching the hotel, but we subsequently learned that they had
mistaken a street, and gone a little out of their way. Before they arrived we
had removed some of the unsightly stains front the Colonel's features, and
composed his limbs. His expression in death was beautifully natural. The Colonel
was a singularly handsome man, and, excepting the pallor, there was nothing
different in his countenance now from what all his friends had so lately been
accustomed to gladly recognize."
Private BROWNELL, who shot
Jackson, is a native of Troy. The Troy Times says :
"He is a son of Charles Brownell,
County Superintendent of the Poor, and is as modest as he has proved himself to
be brave and cool. He is a member of Engine Company No. 1, of this city, and
gave up a lucrative situation to enter the ranks of Colonel Ellsworth's regiment
as a private soldier. All honor to him and to the cause in which he is engaged.
He telegraphed to his father, immediately after the death of the lamented
Ellsworth, in the following laconic dispatch ;
" ' FATHER,—Colonel Ellsworth was
shot dead this morning. I killed his murderer. FRANK '
CORPORAL FRANCIS E. BROWNELL,
ELLSWORTH ZOUAVES.—[PHOTOGRAPHED BY S. T. THOMPSON, OF ALBANY. ]
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