KING JOHN, III. 1.
General Lyon.
To-day all the Northland shouts for joy, flashes its announcements of victory along myriad leagues of wire, hurls them from grim cannon mouths out over broad bays till the seas tremble with sympathy, huzzas in the streets, flames in bonfires, would even clash the clouds together and streak the heavens with lightning—and for what? The flag waves again in Georgia, Tennessee, Alabama, Arkansas, and the cause is safe! The cause—have we all learned what that means, brother Americans? Something broader than mere Union, the pass-word of so many thousands to suffering and death, something more than the freedom of the press and the ballot-box. It means Progress; and until we acknowledge this, all freedom is a vast injustice, luring men on to Beulahs which Fate—the fate they worship—will never have them reach. It would be little enough to regain our foothold upon Southern territory, or repossess Southern forts, even if forts and territory have been wrested from us by treason and perjury, if with every mile of advance we did not gain a stronghold of principle. We are not straining every nerve, struggling under immense financial burdens, wrenching away tender household ties, sacrificing cheerfully and eagerly private interests, brilliant prospects, and high hopes, only to prove that twenty millions of men are physically stronger than twelve. God forbid! This is no latter-day Olympic game, whoso victors are to be rewarded with the applause of a party or a generation. All the dead heroes and martyrs of the past will crowd forward to offer their unheard thanks; all the years to come will embalm with blessings the memory of the patriots who open the door to wide advancement, prosperous growth, and high activity of a universal intelligence.
And among these brave men, whom the world shall delight to honor, let our deepest grief and our justest pride be for LYON. We have given his honest life too little notice;—this man whose sincerity was equalled only by his zeal; who, in a rarely surpassed spirit of self-abnegation, was content to lie down and die in the first heat of the great conflict, and to leave behind for more favored comrades the triumphal arches and rose-strewn paths of victory. The world has known no truer martyr than he who fell at Wilson's Creek, August 10th, 1861.
'The history of every man paints his character,' says Goethe; and scanty and imperfect as are the recorded details of General Lyon's life, enough is known to prove him to have been high-minded and brave as a soldier, with a perseverance and a penetration that analyzed at once the platforms of contending factions, and read in their elements the principles which are to govern the future of our nation.
He came of the stout Knowlton stock of Connecticut, a family of whom more than one served England in the old French war, and afterward distinguished themselves against her in the Revolution. We hear of the gallant Captain Knowlton at Bunker Hill, throwing up, in default of cotton, the breastwork of hay, which proved such an efficient protection to the provincials during the battle. Once more he appears as colonel, at Harlem Plains, rushing with his Rangers ('Congress' Own') upon the enemy on the Plains, and, cut off shortly from retreat by reinforcements, fighting bravely between the foes before and their reserves behind, and, falling at last, borne away by sorrowing comrades, and buried at sunset within the embankments. 'A brave man,' wrote Washington, 'who would have been an honor to any country.' With the memory of such a hero engrafted upon his earliest childhood, we can not wonder at the bent of the boy Lyon's inclinations. 'Daring and resolute, and wonderfully attached to his mother,' it is easy to imagine what lessons of endurance and decision he learned from her, whose just inheritance was the stout-hearted patriotism that had flowered into valorous deeds in her kindred, and was destined to live again in her son. It was, an ordinary childhood, and a busy, uneventful youth, passed for the most part in the old red farm-house nestled between two rocky hills near Eastport, where he was born. In 1837 he entered the Military Academy at West Point, and was a graduate, with distinction, four years later. Of the years immediately following, we have little information; but we can fancy the young soldier laying, in his obscurity, the foundation for that practical military knowledge which so eminently distinguished his late brilliant career. During his years of service in the Everglades of Florida, and on our Western frontier, he had ample opportunity to gain a thorough insight into his profession.
He first appears in the history of the country in the Mexican war, is present at the bombardment of Vera Cruz, dashes after the enemy at Cerro Gordo, capturing on the crest of the hill a battery which he turns upon the discomfited foe. At Contreras his command proves as impenetrable as a phalanx of Alexander; and when at last the victorious Americans fight their way into Mexico, the city of fabulous treasures and associations well-nigh classical, for the first time he receives a wound. He was breveted captain for his gallantry at Cherubusco, and at the end of the war received the rank of full captain, and was ordered with his regiment to California. No appointment could have been more felicitous. In the guerilla mode of warfare demanded by the peculiar nature of the country and its inhabitants, his habits of quick decision, and the experience of a war with an enemy equally unscrupulous though less undisciplined, were absolutely invaluable. Here was no scope for the conception and excitation of deep-laid schemes; the movements of the enemy were too rapid. Plans that would elsewhere have been matured only in the process of a long campaign, were here often originated and completed in a single night. Simple strategy was of more avail than the most intricate display of military science, and the impulse of a moment more to be relied upon than the prudent forethought of a month. He had to combat, in the newly-acquired territory, the cunning of tribes whose natural ferocity was sharpened into vindictiveness by the encroachments upon their soil of a new and strange people; and every association with the intruders, who were for the most part men of little reputation and less principle, had developed in the Indians only the fiercest and most decided animosity. To encounter their vigilance with watchfulness as alert, to confound their swift counsels with sudden alarm, to penetrate their ambuscades and anticipate their cunning with incessant activity, to be, in short, ubiquitous, was the duty of Captain Lyon.
After years spent in the uncertain tactics of this half barbaric warfare, he was removed, in the height of political strife in Kansas, to its very centre. Here, while comparatively free from the wearisome requirements of active service such as had been demanded in California, and at a time when events the most portentous proved clearly to the great minds of the country the advance of a political crisis whose consequences must be most important, involving—should deep-laid conspiracy be successful—the bankruptcy of principle and that high-handed outrage, the triumph, of a minority,—Captain Lyon had full liberty and abundant opportunity to settle for himself the great questions mooted in the Missouri Compromises, the Lecompton Constitutions and the Dred Scott decisions of the day. To a mind unprejudiced, except as the honest impulses of every honest man's heart are always prejudiced in favor of the right, there was but a single decision. Disgusted with the heartless policy which democracy had for so many years pursued, and which now threatened to culminate either in its utter degradation at the North, or in the establishment in the South of an oligarchy which would annihilate all free action and suppress all free opinion, he severed his connection with that party,—a step to which he was also impelled by the injustice that was then seeking to force upon the people of Kansas an institution which they condemned as unproductive and expensive, to say nothing of their moral repugnance to the very A B C of its principles. It was at this time that Captain Lyon contributed to the Manhattan Express, a weekly journal of the neighborhood, a series of papers in which he took an earnest, manly and decided stand in favor of the principles which his thoughtful mind recognized as alone 'reliable,' and harmonious with the grand design and end of the great Republic of the West. To these articles we shall hereafter refer, at present hastening through the career, so striking and so sad, which a few brief months cut short, leaving only the memory of General Lyon as a legacy to the country his single aim and wise counsels would have saved.