"The President," says Mr. Taussig, "said that the Union men in Missouri who are in favor of gradualemancipation, represented his views better than those who are in favor of immediate emancipation. In explanation of his views on this subject the President said that in his speeches he had frequently used as an illustration the case of a man who had an excrescence on the back of his neck, the removal of which in one operation would result in the death of the patient, while tinkering it off by degrees would preserve life.""Although sorely tempted," continues Mr. Taussig, "I did not reply with the illustration of the dog whose tail was amputated by inches, but confined myself to arguments. The President announced clearly that, so far as he was at present advised, the Radicals in Missouri had no right to consider themselves the representatives of his views on the subject of emancipation in that State."
"The President," says Mr. Taussig, "said that the Union men in Missouri who are in favor of gradualemancipation, represented his views better than those who are in favor of immediate emancipation. In explanation of his views on this subject the President said that in his speeches he had frequently used as an illustration the case of a man who had an excrescence on the back of his neck, the removal of which in one operation would result in the death of the patient, while tinkering it off by degrees would preserve life."
"Although sorely tempted," continues Mr. Taussig, "I did not reply with the illustration of the dog whose tail was amputated by inches, but confined myself to arguments. The President announced clearly that, so far as he was at present advised, the Radicals in Missouri had no right to consider themselves the representatives of his views on the subject of emancipation in that State."
The foregoing interview, it is well enough to state, was long after the issuance of Mr. Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation.
In addition to carrying the State for Mr. Lincoln, the Missouri Radicals carried it for themselves. They elected a constitutional convention that promptly passed an unconditional freedom ordinance. And thus terminated what is certainly one of the most notable contests in our political history, bringing about, as it did, the triumph of a reform of unquestionable value to civilization and humanity, which was accomplished by men working without patronage or other outside help, with no pecuniary interest at stake, and no incentive beyond the principle involved.
Here follows an extract from the published proceedings of the National Republican Convention of 1864, in which Mr. Lincoln was renominated.
"When that State [Missouri] was called, Mr. J.F. Hume addressed the convention as follows:"'It is a matter of great regret that we differ from the majority of the convention that has been so kind to the Radicals of Missouri, but we came here instructed. We represent those who are behind us at home, and we recognize the right of instruction and intend to obey our instruction; but, in doing so, we declare emphatically that we are with the Union party of the nation, and we intend to fight the battle through to the end with it, and assist in carrying it to victory. We will support your nominees be they whom they may. I will read the resolution adopted by the convention that sent us here.'"[Here resolution of instruction was read.]"'Mr. President, in the spirit of that resolution I cast the twenty-two votes of Missouri for them an who stands at the head of the fighting Radicals of the nation—General U.S. Grant.'"
"When that State [Missouri] was called, Mr. J.F. Hume addressed the convention as follows:
"'It is a matter of great regret that we differ from the majority of the convention that has been so kind to the Radicals of Missouri, but we came here instructed. We represent those who are behind us at home, and we recognize the right of instruction and intend to obey our instruction; but, in doing so, we declare emphatically that we are with the Union party of the nation, and we intend to fight the battle through to the end with it, and assist in carrying it to victory. We will support your nominees be they whom they may. I will read the resolution adopted by the convention that sent us here.'"
[Here resolution of instruction was read.]
"'Mr. President, in the spirit of that resolution I cast the twenty-two votes of Missouri for them an who stands at the head of the fighting Radicals of the nation—General U.S. Grant.'"
The contention between the Missouri Radical and Conservative delegations was thrashed out beforethe committee on delegates, at an evening session. Judge Samuel M. Breckenridge, of St. Louis, sustained the cause of the Conservatives in a very ingenious argument, while the writer spoke for the Radicals. The result was very satisfactory to the latter, being, with the exception of one vote for compromise, a unanimous decision in their favor. That decision was sustained by the convention in its next day's session by a vote of four hundred and forty to four.
Anticipating that the subject would be discussed on the floor of the convention,—which was not the case, however,—I asked a very eloquent St. Louis lawyer to take my place as chairman of the Radical delegation and conduct the debate on the Radical side. He declined. I then went to three or four Congressmen who were members of the Radical delegation and made the same appeal to each one of them. All declined. I suspected at the time that apprehension that a vote for anybody else would be hissed by Lincoln's friends, had something to do with their reticence. I had no such apprehension. I did not believe there was anybody in that convention who would dare to hiss the name of Grant. If Grant had been a candidate before the convention he would have been nominated.
When, as chairman of my delegation, I pronounced his name as Missouri's choice I remained on my feet for fully a minute while a dead silence prevailed. Meanwhile all eyes were turned upon me. Then came a clap from a single pair of hands, being the expression of a Missouri delegate. Others followed, both inside and outside of the delegation,increasing until there was quite a demonstration. When the clamor had subsided I made the next move according to the programme agreed upon, and the incident was closed.
And here it can do no harm to state that General Grant knew that he was to receive the vote of the Missouri Radicals if they were admitted to the convention—the newspapers having generally published the fact—and did not decline the intended compliment. Grant lived in Missouri for a considerable period, married there, and was on most friendly terms with the Radical leaders, many of whom he generously remembered when he got to be President. For their action in voting for Grant, the Missouri Radical delegates were sharply criticised at the time, on the alleged ground that they secured admission to the convention from Lincoln's supporters by concealing the fact—or at least not revealing it—that they intended to vote for somebody else. The fact, however, is that there was not a person in the convention who did not from the first understand where they stood, and exactly what they intended to do. Their Conservative contestants had distributed a leaflet, intended as an appeal to the Lincoln men, setting forth the instructions to both delegations. Instead of the openly avowed opposition of the Radicals to Mr. Lincoln's nomination being an impediment in their way, it strengthened them with the convention, which, notwithstanding its seeming harmony in his support, contained many delegates who would very much have preferred nominating somebody else; but who, for lack of organized opposition, were compelled to vote for him. A sufficientevidence of that fact was the presence in the convention of a large number of Congressmen whose antagonism to the President was notorious. An incident that strikingly illustrated Congressional sentiment toward the President at that time, is given in theLife of Lincoln, by Isaac N. Arnold, then a member of Congress from Illinois. A Pennsylvanian asked Thaddeus Stevens, the Republican Congressional leader, to introduce him to "a member of Congress who was friendly to Mr. Lincoln's renomination." Thereupon Stevens took him to Arnold, saying: "Here is a man who wants to find a Lincoln member of Congress, and as you are the only one I know of I bring him to you."
The same feeling largely prevailed among leading Republicans outside of Congress. Henry J. Raymond, of the New YorkTimes, in hisLife of Lincoln, says that at that time "nearly all the original Abolitionists and many of the more decidedly Anti-Slavery members of the Republican party were dissatisfied with the President." More explicit testimony is the statement, in hisPolitical Recollections, of George W. Julian, for many years a leading member of Congress from Indiana. He says:
"The nomination of Mr. Lincoln was nearly unanimous, only the State of Missouri opposing him, but of the more earnest and thoroughgoing Republicans in both Houses of Congress, probably not more than one in ten really favored it. It was not only very distasteful to a large majority of Congress, but to many of the more prominent men of the party throughout the country."
"The nomination of Mr. Lincoln was nearly unanimous, only the State of Missouri opposing him, but of the more earnest and thoroughgoing Republicans in both Houses of Congress, probably not more than one in ten really favored it. It was not only very distasteful to a large majority of Congress, but to many of the more prominent men of the party throughout the country."
The writer had an opportunity of witnessing apeculiar manifestation of the feeling that has just been spoken of. He attended a conference of radical Anti-Slavery people that was held in a parlor of one of the old Pennsylvania Avenue hotels in Washington, a few months before the nominating convention. A number of well-known politicians were present, but probably the most prominent was Horace Greeley. The writer had never before seen the great editor, and was considerably amused by his unconventional independence on that occasion. He occupied an easy chair with a high back. Having given his views at considerable length, he laid his head back on its support and peacefully went to sleep; but the half-hour lost in slumber did not prevent him from joining vigorously in the discussion that was going on as soon as he awoke.
There seemed to be but one sentiment on that occasion. All entertained the opinion that, owing to Mr. Lincoln's peculiar views on reconstruction, and especially his manifest inclination to postpone actual freedom for the negro to remote periods, and other "unhappy idiosyncrasies," as one of the speakers expressed it, his re-election involved the danger of a compromise that would leave the root of slavery in the soil, and hence his nomination by the Republicans should be opposed. Chase was clearly the choice of those present, but no one had a plan to propose, and, while some committees were appointed, I never heard anything more of the matter. Two or three of those present on that occasion were in the nominating convention and quietly voted with the majority for Mr. Lincoln. The writer wasthe only one in both gatherings that maintained his consistency.
All this, it is well enough to remember, was long after the President's Emancipation Proclamation had appeared.
There was, however, another manifestation of the antagonism spoken of which the public, for some reason, never seemed to "get on to," that at one time threatened very serious consequences, and which, if it had gone a little farther, might have materially changed the history of the country. That was a movement, after Mr. Lincoln's nomination, to compel him to retire from the ticket, or to confront him with a strong independent Republican candidate. According to Messrs. Nicolay and Hay, Mr. Lincoln's private secretaries and his biographers, the movement started in New York City and had its ramifications in many parts of the country. One meeting was held at the residence of David Dudley Field, and was attended by such men as George William Curtis, Noyes, Wilkes, Opdyke, Horace Greeley, and some twenty-five others. In the movement were such prominent people as Charles Sumner, of Massachusetts, and Benjamin F. Wade, of Ohio. One of the men favorable to the proposition was Governor Andrew of Massachusetts. "He," says his biographer, Peleg W. Chandler, "was very busy in the movement in 1864 to displace the President." "The secrecy," he adds, "with which this branch of the Republican politics of that year has been ever since enveloped is something marvelous; there were so many concerned in it. When it all comes out, if it ever does,it will make a curious page in the history of the time." The signal for the abandonment of the movement, according to Mr. Chandler, was given by Mr. Chase.
Almost at the beginning of the movement theMissouri Democrat, doubtless because of its supposed opposition to Mr. Lincoln, was approached on the subject. If the statements made to it were anywhere near correct, the conspiracy, as it might be called, had the countenance of a surprisingly great number of weighty Republicans. TheDemocratdeclined to become a party to the proposed insurrection. It held that after what had occurred in the Baltimore convention, it could not consistently and honorably do so.
There was another reason why it stood aloof. Before the nomination it was, naturally enough, looking out for some one who might be urged as a suitable competitor for Mr. Lincoln's place. Andrew Johnson, of Tennessee, was then quite popular with a good many people of radical views. The writer prepared an article discussing his availability as presidential timber and suggested him as a good man for the nomination. The article appeared as a leader in theDemocrat, and was followed by others in the same vein. The suggestion attracted attention and led to a good deal of newspaper discussion. Herein we have, according to the writer's opinion, the leading cause of Johnson's nomination for the Vice-Presidency. At all events, he was on the ticket with Lincoln, and theDemocratcould not very well go back on its own man.
The new departure, as the proposition for anotherRepublican candidate in case Mr. Lincoln resolved to stick might be called, that appeared so formidable at one time, faded away without the public knowing anything of its existence. The reason was that it had no candidate. It had relied on Chase, knowing the unfriendliness there was between him and the President, but Chase said "No," and that was the end of it.
The nomination of Mr. Chase for the Chief Justiceship has always been regarded as an act of great magnanimity on Mr. Lincoln's part, as well as a clear perception of merit. It was doubtless all that, but the actions of the two men at this time certainly make out a case of striking coincidence. Such things rarely come by accident.
From what has been stated, it will be seen that the Missouri Radicals were by no means alone in their opposition to the President's nomination, for which they are so sharply taken to task by some of his biographers and eulogists. They had plenty of company, the only difference being that they stood out in the open while the others acted covertly.
The Missouri Germans, who mostly approved the candidature of Frémont, and some of whom refused to vote for Lincoln, have been particularly assailed. Messrs. Nicolay and Hay, in their Lincoln biography, even go so far as to attack them on the ground of their religious, or rather anti-religious, beliefs, calling them "materialist Missourians," "Missouri agnostics," etc., etc.
Now, after having lived among the Missouri Germans at the time of our civil troubles, the writer is impelled to say a few words in their behalf. Hedoes not hesitate to say that, in his opinion, there was no body of men of equal numerical strength in this country to whom, at that crisis, the Government and country had cause to feel under greater obligation, and justice would require its acknowledgment at this time. But for them the enemies of the Union would have captured the city of St. Louis with its great Government arsenal, and with the arms and ammunition thus secured would have overrun both the States of Missouri and Kansas. A large preponderance of the American-born citizens of St. Louis were Rebels. The Union people of that city who saved the day, were principally the "Dutch," as they were called.
A large army was needed at that point to protect the Government's interests, when it had practically no available forces. There was no law under which it could be organized on the spot. No man could be made to serve. No pay for service was assured, or even promised. The army, however, was created by the voluntary and patriotic action of its members. Nearly a dozen full regiments were organized and equipped. Nine tenths of their members were Germans. They did not wait for hostilities to begin. Foreseeing the emergency near at hand, they organized into companies and regiments, and put themselves on a war footing before a blow had been struck or a shot had been fired. They met by night to drill in factory lofts, in recreation halls, and in whatever other places were most available, the words of command being generally delivered in German. The writer has a lively recollection of the difficulties involved in trying to learn military evolutionsfrom instructors speaking a language he did not understand.
Many of the Germans of Missouri had seen service in the Old World. They had served under Sigel in the struggle of 1848. They found themselves under Sigel again. It was with the step and bearing of veterans that they marched (the writer was an eye-witness) in May of 1861, only a few days after Sumter had been fired on, to open the military ball in the West at Camp Jackson, near St. Louis.
The same people went with Lyon to the State capital, from which the Rebel officials were driven, never to return. They were with Lyon at Wilson's Creek, and with him many of them laid down their lives on that bloody field. They were wherever hard fighting was to be done in that part of the country. The writer believes he is correct in saying they furnished more men to the Government's service than any other numerically equal body of citizens. So large was their representation in the Union's forces in that region, that the Rebels were accustomed to speak of the Union soldiers as "the Dutch."
The fact that the Germans were fighting for an adopted government makes their loyalty more conspicuous. What they did was not from a love of war, but because they were Abolitionists. They were opposed to slavery. They owned no slaves. They wanted the Government sustained, because they believed that meant the end of slaveholding. They supported Frémont largely because of his freedom proclamation.
And here the writer, before closing his work, wants to say something about Frémont. He believes no man in this country was made the victim of greater injustice than he was.
It has always been the opinion of the writer that, if Frémont had been permitted to take his own way in his Western command a little longer, he would have achieved a brilliant military success. He was a weak man in some respects, being over fond of dress parade. The financial management of his department was bad, or, rather, very careless. Of these shortcomings, which were considerably misrepresented and exaggerated, Frémont's enemies took advantage, and succeeded in effecting his overthrow in the Western Department. But, notwithstanding his admitted failings, he gave evidence of military ability. He showed that he possessed both physical and moral courage, and he knew how to plan a campaign. He undoubtedly formulated the movement that resulted in the capture of Forts Donelson and Henry in Tennessee, taking the initial steps, but of which Halleck got the credit. He was removed from command when in the field, and almost on the eve of battle. He had an enthusiastic army and the prospect of a decisive victory. His recall gave up nearly the whole of Missouri to the enemy, and was one of the causes of complaint that the Missouri Unionists had against the National Administration.
Not long afterwards, with no more than even chances, Frémont defeated Stonewall Jackson in Virginia—at Cross Keys—which was more than any of the other Union generals then in that departmentcould do. His prompt removal made it sure that he should not do it again.
It was the misfortune of Frémont that his independence caused him to clash with selfish interests, and he was sacrificed. He was selected for the Trans-Mississippi command by the Blairs, evidently with the expectation that he would bend to their wishes. He soon showed that he was his own master, and the trouble began. The Union people of his department were mostly with him, but the Blairs had control of the administration in Washington.
As for his freedom proclamation, it was, to a certain extent, an act of insubordination, but it was right in principle and sound in policy. Its adoption by the General Government would have saved four years of contention and turmoil in Missouri, spent in upholding a tottering institution that was doomed from the first shot of the Rebellion. The President, however, for reasons elsewhere explained, did not at that time want slavery interfered with.
The story of Frémont's fall is best told by Whittier in four lines:
"Thy error, Frémont, simply was to actA brave man's part without the statesman's tact,And, taking counsel but of common-sense,To strike at cause as well as consequence."
The references that have been made to General Frank P. Blair of Missouri have not been complimentary to that individual. They would indicate on the part of the writer no very exalted admiration for or estimate of the man. In that particular they are not altogether just. The stormy period of the Rebellion brought out few more picturesque figures than his, or in some respects more admirable characters. There is no question that, but for the efforts of Blair, the Rebels would have effected the capture of St. Louis at the beginning of the war, to be followed by the at least temporary control of the entire State of Missouri, and possibly of Kansas as well. To that end preparations had been carefully and skillfully made. The leader in the movement was none other than Missouri's Governor, Claiborne F. Jackson, who was justly looked upon as one of the most consummate and accomplished schemers of the time. He was a Rebel from head to foot. He had taken office with the deliberate purpose of swinging his State into the Confederate column, and without regard to the wishes of the majority of the people whom he officially represented. He was supported by a sympathetic corpsof official assistants, including a majority of the Legislature of his State, who gave him whatever legislation he wanted. Every advantage seemed to be on his side. He would undoubtedly have succeeded but for the opposition of Blair. In him he encountered an equal in cunning, and more than a match in courage and energy.
When the Governor and his helpers were busy raising an army pursuant to the conditions of a law that had been enacted for the purpose, and which hampered their operations, Blair went ahead in raising and equipping an army on the other side without the slightest regard to law. The presence or absence of a statute did not trouble him in the least. He called on the Unionists to organize and arm, and when a sufficient force, composed in greater part of loyal Germans, had responded he struck the first blow. In a legal aspect the whole proceeding was irregular, but it was none the less effective.
When the Governor's army was quietly encamped on the outskirts of St. Louis, for the capture and occupancy of which it was getting ready, it found itself unexpectedly surrounded by a superior force, and its surrender was demanded in a way that admitted of no denial. The writer was present on the occasion. From a convenient eminence he witnessed the whole proceeding. When Jackson's men—the rendezvous had in honor of his Excellency the Governor been named Camp Jackson—were enjoying themselves on a pleasant summer's day, sleeping on the grass, playing cards, or escorting their lady friends and other visitors about the grounds, suddenly they realized that their position wascommanded by hostile guns. Pointing downward from higher ground not far off were nearly a score of frowning cannons, behind which stood men with burning fuses. I had watched the Union forces as they approached. At the foot of the hill that hid them from the camp they paused for a few moments, and then up the hill went the horses that were dragging the cannons at a run. They were wheeled when the summit was reached, and the guns thrown into position. Everything was ready for action. At the same time large bodies of armed men, their arms glittering in the sunlight, were seen approaching from all sides on the double quick. The Rebels were completely entrapped, and their immediate capitulation was a thing of course. The credit for the manoeuvres of the day was given to Captain—afterwards General—Nathaniel Lyon, who was in immediate command of the Unionists, but everybody understood that the real leader, as well as instigator, of the movement was Blair.
Blair had been the admitted leader of the Missouri Abolitionists. He was as radical as any man among them. One day he stopped me on the street for the purpose of thanking me for a paper I had contributed to theMissouri Democrat, in which I had favored what was practically immediate emancipation in Missouri. He said that was the right kind of talk, and what we had to come to. I felt greatly flattered, because there was nothing in the article that disclosed its authorship, and Mr. Blair had taken the trouble to inquire about it.
Blair turned against the Missouri Abolitionists when a decided majority of them turned againsthim in his quarrel with Frémont. They indorsed Frémont's emancipation proclamation, which the President, at Blair's instigation, it was charged at the time, revoked.
Blair was a man not only of strong ambition but of arbitrary temperament. He could not tolerate the idea of a newcomer pre-empting what he had considered his premises. If he could not rule he was ready to ruin. That disposition accorded with both his mental and physical make-up. Bodily he was a bundle of bones and nerves without a particle of surplus flesh. His hair was red, his complexion was sandy, and his eyes, when he was excited and angry, had a baleful expression that led some one in my presence on a certain occasion to speak of them as "brush-heaps afire."
He was not an eloquent man, although a ready and frequent public speaker. His voice was not musical. His strong forte was invective. He was nearly always denouncing somebody. Apparently, he was never so happy as when making another miserable. Sometimes his personal allusions were very broad. He was accustomed in his speeches to refer to one of Missouri's United States Senators as "that lop-eared vulgarian." That he was not almost all the time in personal difficulties was due to the fact that he was known to be a man of exceptional courage. He was a born fighter. Physically I think he was the bravest man I ever knew. I witnessed several manifestations of his fearlessness, but one particularly impressed me.
I have spoken of the Camp Jackson affair. Although the people in the Rebel encampment surrenderedwithout a blow, the incident was attended with considerable bloodshed. A mob of Rebel sympathizers, consisting largely of half-grown boys—I was in the midst of the throng at the time—with their pistols opened fire on a German Union regiment and killed several of its men. The troops, in return, poured a volley into the crowd of spectators from which the shots had come, killing or wounding over forty persons, the most of them, as is usual in such cases, being inoffensive onlookers. A man standing beside me and, like myself, a spectator, had the top of one ear clipped off by a Minié ball as cleanly as if it had been done with a knife. I found when, soon afterwards, I reached the business center of the city, where the Rebel element then largely predominated, that the story of the tragedy had swelled the number of the victims to one thousand. Intense excitement and the most furious indignation prevailed. Hundreds of men, with flaming faces, were swearing the most dreadful oaths that they would shoot Frank Blair, whom they seemed to regard as wholly responsible, on sight. Many of them were flourishing pistols in confirmation of their bloody purpose. Just then the attention of the crowd was drawn to an unusual spectacle. Down Fourth Street, which was then the leading business avenue of St. Louis, and at that time densely packed with the excited people, came the Union soldiers with the prisoners from Camp Jackson on their way to the United States Arsenal grounds. At the head of the procession marched the men of the First Missouri volunteer regiment, their guns "aport" and ready for immediate service, and at their head—theonly mounted man in the regiment, according to my recollection—rode their Colonel, who was Frank Blair. He was in full uniform, which made him still more conspicuous. No better target could have been offered. I watched the audacious man, expecting to hear a shot at any moment from the sidewalk, or from a window of one of the high buildings lining the street, and to see him topple from his saddle. He understood very well the danger he was braving. He knew that in that throng, where everybody was armed, there were hundreds toying with the triggers of their guns, and trying to muster sufficient courage to shoot him down. Slowly, and as calmly as if on ordinary dress parade, he led the way until he passed out of sight. I thought then, and still think, it was the pluckiest thing I ever witnessed.
The effect of the breaking up and capture of Camp Jackson was something wonderful. Up to that time, the Rebels of St. Louis and their sympathizers had been very demonstrative. In portions of the city the Rebel cockade, which was a red rosette pinned to the side of the hat, was conspicuous, and any one not displaying that decoration was in danger of having his hat smashed upon his head. After Camp Jackson's surrender, I never saw a Rebel cockade openly worn in St. Louis.
At the same time there was an extensive shifting of positions. A good many men of prominence and wealth, who had been leaning over towards the South, suddenly straightened up, and not a few of them showed a strong inclination the other way. Some of the evolutions they executed were amusing.One of the first to discuss with the writer the Union defeat at Bull Run was a former United States Government official. He was tremendously excited and correspondingly exultant. After describing how the Southerners had vanquished the Government's men, and particularly how the South Carolina "black horse" had ridden them down in deadly slaughter, he cried out, "That's the way we will give it to you fellows all the time."
Not very long afterwards General Grant, having entered Tennessee, and captured Fort Donelson, and many prisoners, was about to visit St. Louis, and the leading Unionists there decided to give him a grand reception and an elaborate dinner. Money had to be raised, and among those I met who were soliciting it was my ex-Government-official friend. He was fully as happy as he had been before, when the Fort Donelson affair was alluded to. "Didn't we give it to those fellows down there?" he exclaimed.
Out in western Missouri was a young lawyer of great ambition and considerable promise. He was afterwards a member of Congress. Like a good many others he was at first puzzled to know what course to take. In his dilemma he concluded to consult an old politician in that section who was much famed for his sagacity, and who bore the military title of General.
"If you contemplate remaining in Missouri," said the older man to the junior, "you should take the Southern side. Missouri is a slave State and a Southern State, and she will naturally go with her section."
The young man availed himself of an opportunity to make a public address, in which he aligned himself in the strongest terms with those who had gone into rebellion. But scarcely had this been done when Lincoln issued his first call for troops, and among those nominated to command them was the old Missouri General. It was announced that he had accepted the appointment. The younger man was amazed. He went in hot haste for an explanation.
"It's all true," said the General. "The fact is, when I talked with you before, I did not think the Northern people would fight for the Union, but I now see that I was mistaken; and when the Northern people, being the stronger and richer, do decide to go to war, they are almost certain to win. You had better take the Northern side."
"But it is too late," said the youngster. "I have committed myself in that speech I made."
"Oh! as for that matter," was the reply, "it's of very little consequence if you have committed yourself. It's easy to make a speech on the other side and take the first one back. Nobody looks for consistency in times like these."
Many Missourians, as well as many citizens of other border slave States, at the beginning of the trouble advocated a policy of neutrality. They saw no necessity for taking sides. I was at a meeting out in the interior of Missouri, where many citizens had come together to consult as to the policy they had better pursue. Among them was an old gentleman who seemed to be looked upon by his neighbors as a regular Nestor. He was called upon for hisviews. "Gentlemen," said he, "we have got to take sides and maintain our neutrality."
In that section of the country was another distinguished and unique personage who conspicuously figured in the events that are here being dealt with.
I knew him intimately. I now refer to James H. Lane, who was better known as "Jim Lane," of Kansas. Like Blair, Lane was a born leader of men, and a leader under exceptional conditions. He was generally credited with being a fighter—a dare-devil, in fact—and a desperado; but in the writer's opinion he was by no means Blair's equal in personal courage. He had a great deal to do in raising troops and organizing military movements, but he did not go to the front. His fighting was chiefly in "private scraps," in one of which he killed his adversary.
His paramount ability was as a talker rather than as a fighter. He was an orator, and his oratory was of a kind that was exactly suited to his surroundings. No man could more readily adapt himself to the humor of his hearers. He knew precisely how to put himself on their level. I have seen him face an audience that was distinctly unfriendly, that would scarcely give him a hearing; and in less than half an hour every man in the crowd would be shouting his approval. He could go to his hearers if he could not bring them to him. I witnessed one of his performances in that line.
He was a candidate for re-election to the United States Senate. There was one rival that he particularly feared. The man was the late General Thomas Ewing, then a resident of Kansas. At that particulartime he was in the Army and the commandant of the St. Louis District in Missouri. Lane came to St. Louis and had a talk with the writer, freely admitting his dread of Ewing and asking for theMissouri Democrat'ssupport. Having a considerable admiration for Lane as well as a liking for the man, I promised him such assistance as I could reasonably give. It happened to be at the time when General Sterling Price, in making his last raid into Missouri, was threatening St. Louis with an army of nearly twenty thousand men, and there was no adequate opposing force at hand. Ewing, with barely a tenth as many troops, went to the front and heroically engaged the enemy. With no protection but the walls of a little mud fort he succeeded in repelling the attack of his powerful adversary. That timely action probably saved St. Louis.
At this particular time it was arranged that there should be a meeting of the Republicans of St. Louis—it was in the midst of an exciting presidential campaign—at which Lane was to be the principal speaker. The meeting was held and Lane was addressing a large audience with great acceptance when the news of Ewing's achievement was received.
It was then customary, when war intelligence arrived in the course of any political gathering, and sometimes of religious gatherings, to suspend all other proceedings until it had been announced and the audience had time enough to manifest its feeling on the subject.
Lane was in the midst of an eloquent passage when he was interrupted by the arrival of the news referred to. He stepped back, and the news-bearer,taking his place, proceeded to give a graphic description of Ewing's performance, concluding with a glowing eulogy on that personage, and which was received with tremendous cheering. Understanding Lane's feelings towards Ewing, I watched his face while these events were passing. It plainly showed his vexation. It was almost livid with suppressed emotion. But the time for him to resume his address had come. What would he do was the question I asked myself. He answered it very promptly. Jauntily stepping forward with his countenance fairly wreathed in smiles, he exclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, that is glo-o-orious news for us, but it 's ter-r-r-ible for the other fellows."
Lane's enemies were confident they had him beaten as a candidate for the Senate. He had done certain things that rendered him unpopular with his constituents. So certain were they that they did not think it necessary to make an effort, and, in consequence, remained inactive. Not so with Lane. He quietly waited until a few days before the choosing of the Legislature that was to decide on his case, and then he entered on a lightning canvass. Arranging for relays of fast horses—it was before the days of railroads in Kansas—he began a tour that would bring him practically face to face with every voter in the State. He traveled and spoke both by day and by night. Sometimes he addressed as many as a dozen audiences in twenty-four hours. The excitement attending his progress was great. Men came many miles to hear him, sometimes bringing their families with them. He succeeded in completely revolutionizing public opinion. It wastoo late for his adversaries to attempt a counter-movement, and the result was that Lane was re-elected by an almost unanimous vote.
There was no doubt about Lane's attitude on the slavery question. He was not only a radical Abolitionist, but the acknowledged leader of the Free-State men of Kansas. He recognized no right of property in man, as many Missouri slaveholders learned to their sorrow. I was present when he congratulated a Kansas regiment that had just returned from a raid into Missouri, bringing many black people with it. "Fellow soldiers," he shouted, "you entered Missouri a white body, but you have returned surrounded by a great black cloud. It is the work of the Lord."
There was another man whose name, the author thinks, properly belongs under the heading of this chapter, and to whom, on account of pleasant personal recollections, he would like to refer. He was not a fighter like Blair and Lane, with whom his life was in striking contrast. He was essentially a man of peace. He was a Quaker. Although born in Kentucky he was an Abolitionist. I now refer to Levi Coffin of Cincinnati, who was credited with successfully assisting over three thousand runaway slaves on their way to freedom, and, in consequence, became distinguished among both friends and foes as the "President of 'The Underground Railroad.'" The most remarkable thing in his case was his immunity from legal punishment. The slaveholders knew very well what he was doing, but so expert was he in hiding his tracks that they could never get their clutches upon him.
I had rather an amusing experience with Coffin. Having when a boy heard so much about him, I was anxious to see him and make his acquaintance. On the occasion of a visit to Cincinnati, with a letter of introduction from an acquaintance of Coffin, I went to his office, but not without trepidation. I found the great man engaged in a conversation with some one, his back being toward me, as I took my stand just inside of his door. How he became aware of my presence I don't know—I certainly made no noise to attract him—but he certainly knew I was there. Suspending the conversation in which he was engaged—he was seated in a revolving chair—he suddenly turned so as to confront me, and silently looked me over. At last he arose, and, stepping up to me, lifted my hat with one hand, and laid the other upon my head. I understood very well what his movements meant. He was looking for outward evidences of negro blood. So far as my complexion went a suspicion of African taint might very well have been entertained. I had been assisting my father in harvesting his wheat crop, and my face and hands had a heavy coating of tan, but my hair was straight and stiff. I could see that the old gentleman was puzzled. Not a word, so far, had been spoken on either side.
"Where is thee from?" was the question that broke the silence.
I answered that I was from Clark County, meaning Clark County, Ohio.
Coffin, however, evidently thought I referred to Clark County, Kentucky, from which there had been many fugitives, and that settled the matter in his mind. "But, my boy, thee seems to have had a good home," continued the old gentleman as he looked over my clothes and general appearance. "Why is thee running away?"
Then came the explanation and the solemn Quaker indulged in a hearty laugh. He remarked that he knew my family very well by reputation, and that he had met my father in Abolitionist conventions—meetings he called them.
Then he invited me to go to his home and break bread with him. I vainly tried to decline. The old man would accept no excuse.
"Thy father would not refuse my hospitality."
That settled the matter, and I accompanied my entertainer to his domicile. I was glad that I did so, as it gave me the opportunity to see and greet Coffin's wife, who was a charming elderly Quaker lady. She had gained a reputation as a helper of the slave almost equal to that of her husband.
When runaways set out on their venturesome journeys, they were generally very indifferently equipped. Ordinarily they had only the working garments they wore on the plantations, and these furnished but slight relief for a condition very near to nudity. Mrs. Coffin set apart a working room in her house, and there sympathizers of both races joined her in garment-making, the result being that very few fugitives left Cincinnati without being decently clothed.
At the Coffin table were several guests beside myself. One was a colored man. He had been a slave, I learned, but his freedom had been purchased, largely through the Coffins' efforts.
After I left the Coffin mansion, I remembered my unused letter of introduction, which I had altogether forgotten. It was no longer called for.
The first honors of Abolitionism unquestionably belong to the organizers of the first societies formed for its promotion. The first of these in the order of time was the New England Anti-Slavery Society, which came into being on the first day of January, 1832. William Lloyd Garrison was chief promoter and master spirit. It consisted at the outset of twelve men, and that was not the only evidence of its apostolic mission. It was to be the forerunner in an ever-memorable revolution. The names of the twelve subscribers to its declaration of views and aims will always have a place in American history. They were William Lloyd Garrison, Oliver Johnson, William J. Snelling, John E. Fuller, Moses Thatcher, Stillman E. Newcomb, Arnold Buffum, John B. Hall, Joshua Coffin, Isaac Knapp, Henry K. Stockton, and Benjamin C. Bacon.
As a suggestion from, if not an offshoot of, the New England organization, came the National Anti-Slavery Society, which was organized in Philadelphia in 1834. It was intended that the meeting of its promoters should be held in New York, but so intense was the feeling against the Abolitionists in that city that no suitable room could there befound, and the "conspirators," as they were called by their enemies, were compelled to seek for accommodation and protection among the Philadelphia Quakers.
In that circumstance there was considerable significance. Two great declarations of independence have issued from Philadelphia. One was for political freedom; the other was for personal freedom. One was for the benefit of its authors as well as of others. The other one was wholly unselfish. Which had the loftier motive?
Ten States were represented in the Philadelphia meeting, which, considering the difficulties incident to travel at that time, was a very creditable showing. One man rode six hundred miles on horseback to attend it.
The following is the list of those in attendance, who became subscribers to the declaration that was promulgated:
Maine
David Thurston, Nathan Winslow, Joseph Southwick, James F. Otis, Isaac Winslow.
New Hampshire
David Campbell.
Massachusetts
Daniel Southmayd, Effingham C. Capron, Amos Phelps, John G. Whittier, Horace P. Wakefield, James Barbadoes, David T. Kimball, Jr., Daniel E. Jewitt, John R. Campbell, Nathaniel Southard, Arnold Buffum, William Lloyd Garrison.
Rhode Island
John Prentice, George W. Benson.
Connecticut
Samuel J. May, Alpheus Kingsley, Edwin A. Stillman, Simeon Joselyn, Robert B. Hall.
New York
Beriah Green, Lewis Tappan, John Rankin, William Green, Jr., Abram T. Cox, William Goodell, Elizur Wright, Jr., Charles W. Denison, John Frost.
New Jersey
Jonathan Parkhurst, Chalkly Gillinghamm, John McCullough, James White.