Lesson 60: The Hero of Alexandria

The old saying that "it is sweet to die for one's country," when repeated, comes oftener from the lips than the heart. Life is the dearest boon of God to man, and no matter how holy be the cause for which its sacrifice is demanded, or how desirable the end to be obtained, there are very few, who, if put to the test, calmly and deliberately would part with the precious gift.

And this is perfectly natural. Life is not only sweet because it surrounds us with a thousand tender ties and pleasures, but because death and the future are to most men shrouded in uncertainty and gloom. All nature, animate and inanimate, seems to shrink from the grave. The fair and delicate maiden, the hale and strong man, and the aged and decrepit on whose brow time's finger has traced a hundred wrinkles, all tremble at the foot-fall of grim Death. The beasts of the field dread him, and fly in terror even from their own species when dead. The trees too and the flowers seem to know him. When the warm suns and the pleasant breezes of Summer have kissed them a last farewell and the chilly winds of Autumn creep over them, how mournfully they seem to droop and fade. If this be true, we can appreciate in some measure the extent of the sacrifice a man must make when he site calmly down and determines to die for his country's good. The strength of will that such a resolve requires is very different from that which impels a man to risk his life on the battle-field. In the one case, death certain and inevitable stares him in the face; in the other, a probability only, while there is a greater probability of escape.

Viewing the death of the hero Jackson in this light, History records no nobler or sublimer instance of exalted courage and self-sacrifice. But let the facts speak for themselves. At the time of the secession of South Carolina, Jackson was living in the city of Alexandria, Va., and was the proprietor of the Marshall House, an excellent hotel. He had always been violently opposed to the Black Republicans and a strong advocate of secesion from the day of Lincoln's election. No sooner had the Southern Congress met and adopted a flag for the new Confederacy, than Jackson declared his determination to hoist it upon his house and never allow it to come down while he lived. He accordingly had a large and splendid Confederate flag prepared, and amid the shouts and huzzas of the citizens its broad folds were given to the breeze. This was about the first flag of the South raised in Virginia. There, for weeks and even months, it floated proudly within seven miles and in full view of the Capitol at Washington. We may well imagine that =t was a grievous eye-sore to the Lincoln dynasty, thus to see the emblem of what they were pleased to call treason, flaunting in their very faces. Its position was so conspicuous and its size so large that it could be seen from any point in the city, and was peculiarly prominent to the vessels of war that daily steamed up and down the Potomac. Time flew on, bringing in its flight the secession of Virginia, the fall of Sumpter and the call by Lincoln, for the first seventy-five thousand, who were with poor old Scott at their head, to march in triumph over the conquered South. Yet still the flag of Jackson floated over his roof as defiantly as ever. Regiment after regiment poured into the city of Washington, and daily the seizure of Alexandria was anticipated. Well knowing how obnoxious Jackson had rendered himself to the Lincoln authorities, his friends used every effort to induce him to quit the city with his family. To persuade him to lower his flag they knew would be impossible. But their efforts were in vain. "No," said he, "I mean to stay where I am, and protect that ensign of liberty even at the risk of my life."

At last, towards the end of May, 1861, the anticipated seizure came, and it found the hero true to his word and his post. The advance guard of the enemy reached Alexandria about day-break, and by sunrise several regiments were in the city. So quiet however were their proceedings that Jackson did not awake, the first intimation of the state of things being given him by a faithful servant, who rushed into his chamber, and told him that the soldiers were taking down his flag. Without saying a word in reply, he immediately arose, put on his pants, and without coat or shoes walked to the foot of the narrow stairway which led to the roof. He took his faithful shot gun, which he had kept carefully cleaned and loaded in anticipation of such an occasion, with him to his post. The servant had told the truth. Colonel Ellsworth had surrounded the hotel with his Zouaves, and taking a body guard with him had quietly proceeded to the top of the house, taken down the flag, and was coming down the narrow stairway with its ample folds wrapped in triumph around his body. The stairway was a winding one, and hearing them coming, Jackson coolly cocked his gun and awaited their approach. The Colonel with his prize was the first that came in view, unfortunately for his welfare, for Jackson, taking deliberate aim, poured the contents of one barrel of his gun into his breast; killing him instantly. Almost at the same moment, a solider behind the Colonel fired at our hero. The ball struck him, and as he fell, he discharged the remaining barrel at the solider, but missed him, the load taking effect in the upper part of the door frame. In an instant the guard rushed on Jackson, and though dying they ran him through repeatedly with their bayonets. Not satisfied with killing him, like savages, they continued to beat and abuse his dead body. It was afterwards taken in charge by some of his friends, and quietly interred, while Ellsworth's remains were escorted back to Washington with great parade and ceremony, there laid out in state, and bedewed by the tears of the whole Yankee nation.

The news of this daring resistance and its desperate end spread like lightning through the whole country, teaching the North what terrible opposition it was to meet, even on the threshold of its invasion, and stirring up to greater intensity the fires of patriotism in every Southern heart. The moral effect of this sacrifice was immense, both at the North and the South, and though some may consider it an act of rashness, there is but little doubt that this man, by his heroic example and death, did more for our cause than many a regiment in the field. It came at a time when there was a necessity for some such glorious example to show the world that we were in earnest in our struggle for independence. It sent an electric thrill through the whole length and breadth of the land, which was felt in every bosom, and told plainer than words, that our people had counted the cost, and were determined to gain the prize even at the sacrifice of life itself.

In manner, Jackson was pleasant but plain and unassuming. In person, he was tall and of a powerful frame. There was nothing remarkable in his face except the mouth, which was finely chiseled and highly expressive of the unflinching determination that had always distinguished him in life, and in death crowned his name with the wreath of immortality. He needs no monument to tell posterity of his fame. Though different in kind, his memory will be as imperishable as that of the immortal Stonewall Jackson. As long as exalted patriotism, heroic courage and genuine unselfishness are appreciated and honored among men, the Hero of Alexandria will be remembered and honored, as one who proved by his example that he thought it "sweet to die for his country."