The following Saturday was Washington’s birthday. All the Unionists of the city were in fit mood for its celebration. The victories both in the southwest and south filled them with unbounded satisfaction. One of the morning papers accurately reflected their state of mind by declaring that “the last vestige of military insurrection had been swept away.” So, at all events, it seemed just then. The curtain of the future for the moment graciously hid from view the perils that still awaited us. So on that 22d of February our political horizon was bright. Clouds were soon to arise; but on that glad day we saw none of them. Our patriotism was at white heat. Nothing could repress it; it flamed out. Early in the day it found devout expression. At nine o’clock in the morning, the Unionists flocked into the First Presbyterian Church, and filled it to overflowing. The ablest Protestant pastors of the city were there. We sang patriotic hymns. We read the Scriptures together. We prayed for wisdom and strength that we might do our delicate and difficult duties wisely and courageously. A brother read to us significant portions of Washington’s farewell address. We then stimulated each other by earnest speeches to strive on for the maintenance of the Union. So at the beginning of our festivities we were made strong by entering into fellowship with God.
Before noon a mammoth procession was formed. Many rode in carriages, a great company on horseback, four abreast, and a host marched on foot. Every vehicle, every horse, and every person was decorated with, or carried, the Stars and Stripes. There were many bands of music. Regiments of soldiers were in the procession, marching to patriotic music, discoursed not only by brass bands, but also by fife and drum. It took two and a half hours for the procession to pass any given point. And as we marched, from different directions came the boom of cannon, and the houses all along our route were decked with flags and with red, white and blue bunting intertwined, while crowds of the loyal on either side the street shouted for the Union and sang war songs. Again and again we were greeted with,
“The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah!
Down with the traitor, up with the star;
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.”
While this procession was a hearty, spontaneous outburst of patriotism, those who planned it intended to make as profound an impression as possible on the disloyal of the city. They wished to show them that no party among us adverse to the Federal government could hereafter have any reasonable hope of withstanding this mighty tide of Unionism, which was daily rising higher and had already become resistless. In this I was in full tide of sympathy with my fellow Unionists. Accompanied by a neighboring pastor, I rode a horse over the whole route of that famous procession, with a star-spangled banner on my horse’s head, another on the lapel of my coat, and a third in my hand. Nor was I singular in this; very many others did the same. As we rode the Christian pastor at my side said: “Is not this glorious? Why, you can see the shell crack and the light stream in.”
Sunday evening, April 6th, I was greatly surprised and delighted to see my old mathematical teacher, Major-General Quinby, come into church. It was a joy once more to look into his genial face and to feel the warm grasp of his hand. He seemed to me to have appeared just in the nick of time. For many days I had been very anxious to enlist in the army, and here, thought I, is my chance to talk the whole matter over with one that knows me well, and can appreciate my aspirations. When I made known to him my desire, he said at once that I could have a place on his staff, but thought that I ought not to quit my post at St. Louis. He felt quite sure that I could do the country more good by remaining there than by becoming a soldier in the field. Others urged upon me the same view of the case; and I reluctantly abandoned my purpose of enlisting, although I had had for many weeks a burning desire to be in the fight at the front.
On the 9th of April I met General Quinby at the levee, as he was taking a steamer to go down the Mississippi. He was with General Halleck, with whom I conversed, and with whom I was most favorably impressed. While few fully approved of all his measures, he had been a godsend to the Unionists of the city. He had done his duty faithfully and fearlessly. He had held an extremely difficult position. He had been compelled at times to listen to many diverse opinions, yet had never been confused as to what he deemed wise and just. His decisions had been clear. He had carried them out promptly and thoroughly. He had, to be sure, unwittingly sown dragon’s teeth whose harvest tormented some of his successors in command; but if he had shown as much wisdom in the field as he did in our city and State, he would have made himself immortal. But when he went down the river to take personal command of the army, he apparently left his wisdom behind him.