BRIGADIER-GENERAL NATHANIEL LYON.
[Page [198]
Both parties to the rapidly developing national conflict were ably and fittingly represented in the conference. The Unionists felt that their interests, identical with the national interests, would be wisely guarded by General Lyon, Colonel Blair and Major Conant. General Lyon opened the conference, stating that it would be conducted on the side of the Union by Colonel Blair, than whom no one was better equipped for the responsible task. But as the deliberations between these men of irreconcilable views proceeded, Lyon, who had profoundly studied the underlying questions and principles that divided the Federals and the Confederates, and was by nature aggressive and inclined to disputation, gradually assumed the part of leader in that momentous interchange of views, while Mr. Blair lapsed into silence, a satisfied and admiring listener. State and national sovereignty there met face to face. They were opposites. Both could not be true. Hours passed in seeking some basis of agreement, but none was found. So long as each party held his view unflinchingly, there could be no common standing ground. Colonel Blair, afterwards speaking of the conference, declared that he said little or nothing, and did not need to; that General Lyon, in the most thorough and lucid manner, analyzed every proposal submitted by the Governor, pointed out every subterfuge and held up to the light every fallacy. The main contention of the secessionists was that the United States had no right to organize and arm Home Guards, nor to send troops into, and to occupy, the territory of sovereign Missouri; if General Lyon would agree to these vital propositions, on other grounds they were willing for the sake of peace to make what seemed to them great and humiliating concessions. But what they asked no loyal officer of the United States army would or could grant. So, after the conference had lasted nearly five hours, and all the views presented had been thoroughly discussed, Lyon closed this memorable, crucial debate by saying: “Rather” (he was still seated and spoke deliberately, slowly and with peculiar emphasis) “rather than concede to the State of Missouri the right to demand that my government shall not enlist troops within her limits, or bring troops into the State whenever it pleases, or move its troops at its own will into, out of, or through the State; rather than concede to the State of Missouri for one single instant the right to dictate to my government in any matter however unimportant, I would” (rising as he said this, and pointing in turn to every one in the room) “see you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and every man, woman and child in the State dead and buried.” Then turning to the Governor, he said: “This means war. In an hour one of my officers will call for you and conduct you out of my lines.” And then, without another word, without an inclination of the head, without even a look, he turned upon his heel and strode out of the room, rattling his spurs and clanking his sabre.[[39]]
The report of the abortive deliberations of the conference spread with lightning speed through the city and State. But notwithstanding the untoward result, it brought relief to all loyal hearts; for while all desired peace, a host of true men and women preferred war to peace with dishonor. Like their general, rather than tamely yield the vital question at stake, they were ready to sacrifice their property and lay down their lives. It was inspiring to feel the touch and thrill of this unselfish devotion.
The Governor and his attendants at once returned to Jefferson City. They reached their destination at two o’clock in the morning of the 12th. The Governor at once issued a proclamation, calling for fifty thousand volunteers to repel the invasion of the State.[[40]] For fear of the speedy coming of Lyon by rail, General Price ordered the railroad bridges across the Osage and Gasconade to be burned. Jefferson City was hastily evacuated. The archives of the State were removed, and such material of war as had been gathered at the capital, including even the armory and workshop. The rebel forces were concentrated at Boonville, farther to the west, for the purpose of holding that place and the Missouri River long enough at least for the secessionists in the northern counties of the commonwealth to rally to the support of the fugitive State government. The Governor desired if possible to segregate and solidify the disloyal, and so carry the State by force over into the Southern Confederacy.
But the lynx-eyed, alert Lyon thwarted that scheme. When he left the Planters’ Hotel in the evening of June 11th, he at once telegraphed the national War Department for five thousand additional stand of arms, and for authority to enlist more troops in the State.[[41]] What he asked was granted without hesitation or delay. The next day, with characteristic energy, he prepared his small army for an offensive campaign. A part of it, on the 13th, he ordered to Springfield, in southwest Missouri, to cut off the retreat of Price, whom he expected to drive in that direction. Knowing that he could not use the Pacific Railroad, since its main bridges had been destroyed, on the same day, with the rest of his army, he moved up the Missouri by steamboat. On the 15th, he quietly took possession of Jefferson City, and garrisoned it. On Sunday, the 16th, he was steaming on toward Boonville. On Monday, a few miles south of that city, he met and easily dispersed the rebel army, which, having been hastily gathered, was raw, undisciplined, and poorly armed. The collision between these hostile forces did not, in the sacrifice of life, reach the dignity of a battle. Only two or three on each side were killed and a few wounded. The Union army, however, took a goodly company of prisoners, together with considerable war material and camp equipage; and this comparatively bloodless conflict secured the end that from the beginning Lyon had clearly in view. By taking Camp Jackson in May, he had suppressed the open disloyalty of St. Louis and the counties adjacent to it, assuring their support of the Union; by dispersing Price’s gathering host at Boonville he cleared the Missouri River of all formidable hostile forces; isolated the counties north of the river, which were rich, populous, and largely disloyal; drove the fleeing Governor with his general and army panic-stricken into the extreme southwest of the State; and sent General Price, with several members of his staff, on a flying expedition into northwestern Arkansas, to urge General McCulloch of the Confederate army to invade Missouri and deliver him and his retreating troops from utter disaster.
Lyon and his army were received with exultant gladness by the many loyal citizens of Boonville, and on the 18th he issued a proclamation, assuring all that were peaceful and law-abiding of his protection. He also paroled the prisoners that he had taken, putting them under oath not again to take up arms against the United States.
Without going further into detail, which would be aside from our object, it is sufficient to say that Lyon, following up his victory at Boonville as best he could, with the inadequate force under his command, finally made his headquarters at Springfield. There we must leave him for a time. Every act that he had thus far performed, every step of his victorious march, had been watched with breathless interest by both the loyal and disloyal of St. Louis. The former well knew that his victory was theirs; the latter considered his triumph their defeat.
But while Lyon with unusual energy and startling celerity was prosecuting his victorious campaign in the State, a lamentable event within the city saddened all hearts. On the east side of Seventh Street, between Olive and Locust, in a substantial brick building, was the Recorder’s Court. On Saturday, June 15th, a company of volunteer soldiers, belonging to the regiment of Colonel Kallman, was marching by, when somebody, from a window of the story just above the court-room, fired a revolver into the ranks of these armed volunteers. They were raw and undisciplined. Being Germans, they were bitterly hated by the secessionists. They had become sensitive and vindictive under the stinging taunts which had been wantonly hurled at them by their hostile neighbors. So now, when unexpectedly fired upon, exasperated, and evidently without a moment’s thought, they turned and fired into the building, from which they had been assailed. They did not stop to think from which story the hostile shot had come, and emptied their muskets into the room occupied by the innocent recorder. He and three other guiltless citizens were instantly killed, while two others were mortally wounded and another sadly injured.[[42]] Such not unprovoked, but inconsiderate, action on the part of these Union soldiers for the time being materially damaged the cause of the loyal in our city and put weapons into the hands of the secessionists. Nevertheless, all conservative citizens on either side were grateful that an event so ill-starred did not lead, as it naturally might have done, to general bloody conflict in our streets.
The whole affair was investigated; not very thoroughly, many of us thought. Those who attempted it, found it difficult to get at the bottom facts. Their investigation at last came to a rather inglorious end, leaving the community in doubt as to whether any one fired upon the soldiers. Several in the neighborhood testified that they saw no one shoot from the building; but one man declared that he saw the shot from the second-story window, and described the position of the man’s arm when he discharged his revolver into the ranks of the unoffending soldiers; but there was no other witness, aside from the soldiers themselves, to confirm this testimony, and as only in the mouth of two or three witnesses so grave a matter could be satisfactorily established, the investigators returned the Scotch verdict, “Not proven.” This, however, was quite unsatisfactory to thinking men. Very few believed that these soldiers, without provocation, fired into the room of a civil magistrate with whom they were unacquainted, and against whom they could have had no ill will. Still, the lamentable event was part and parcel of the mad effort to dismember the Republic, and hardly surprising in a city where earnest, passionate men on both sides of the great national conflict daily looked each other in the eye. But as it has often happened, so in this sad case, the innocent suffered, while the undetected guilty went free. However, in the onrushing tide of events, the deplorable incident was soon lost sight of and forgotten.