The guns of Fort Sumter had flashed along our coast an appeal whose force no words can ever compute. The days had been busy with the assembling of armies, the nights restless with their solemn marches, and forge and factory rang with the strokes of the hammer and the whirr of flying shafts, whose echoes seemed measured to the air of some new Marseillaise. From our homes rushed forth sons, husbands, brothers, fathers, followed by the prayers and blessings of dear women, who yielded them early but willingly to their country. And while regiments clustered along the Potomac, and Washington lay entrenched behind white lines of tents, we find our soldier, fresh from Kansas strifes, in command of the United States Arsenal at St. Louis; and to his prompt action and decided measures at this important juncture the early success of the Union cause in Missouri is to be attributed. For a time St. Louis was the theatre of action. The police commissioners, backed by Governor and Legislature, in the demanded the removal of the Union troops from the grounds of the arsenal, claiming it as the exclusive property of the State, and asserting that the authority usurped by the general government as but a partial sovereignty, and limited to the occupation, for purposes exclusively military, of the certain tracts of land now pending in this novel court of chancery. This highly enigmatical exposition of State rights, pompous and inflated though it was, failed to convince or convert Captain Lyon, who, being unable to detect, in his occupancy of the arsenal, any exaggeration of the rights vested by the Constitution in the general government, declined to abandon his post, and proceeded to call out the Home Guard, then awaiting the arrival of General Harney, and temporarily under his command. His little army of ten thousand men was then drawn up upon the heights commanding Camp Jackson, then occupied by the Missouri militia under Col. Frost, whoso command had been increased by the addition of numerous individuals of avowed secession principles. Uninfluenced by the reception of a note from this officer asserting his integrity and his purpose to defend the property of the United States, and disavowing all intention hostile to the force at the arsenal, Captain Lyon replied by a peremptory summons for an unconditional surrender. He found it incredible that a body assembled at the instigation of a traitorous governor, and acting under his instructions and according to the 'unparalleled legislation' of a traitorous legislature, receiving under the flag of the Confederate States munitions of war but lately the acknowledged property of the general government, could have any other than the as most unfriendly designs upon its enemies. The force of Camp Jackson (which notwithstanding its professed character, boasted its streets Beauregard and Davis) being numerically inferior, and perhaps not entirely prepared to do battle for a cause whose legitimacy must still have been a question with many of them, decided, after a council of war, to comply with the demands of Capt. Lyon, and became his prisoners. A few days afterward General Harney arrived, and Captain Lyon was elected Brigadier General by the 1st Brigade Missouri Volunteers.
Convinced of the imminence of the crisis and the peril of delay, Gen. Lyon immediately commenced active operations against the secessionists at Potosi, and ordered the seizure of the steamer which had supplied the offensive army with material of war from the United States property at Baton Rouge. In the meantime, Gen. Harney, with a culpable blindness, had made an extraordinary arrangement with Gen. Price, by which he pledged himself to desist from military movements so long as the command of Gen. Price was able to preserve order in the State. Upon his removal by the authorities at Washington, nine days later, Gen. Lyon was left in command of the department. At this time the rebel general took occasion, in a proclamation to the people of Missouri, to feel assured that 'the successor of Gen. Harney would certainly consider himself and his government in honor bound to carry out this agreement (the Harney-Price) in good faith.' But his assurance was without foundation. The temper of the new commander had been tried in the Camp Jackson affair, and an interview between Price, Jackson and other prominent secessionists and Gen. Lyon, resulted, after a few hours' consultation, in the declaration of the Union general that the authority of his government would be upheld at any cost and its property protected at all hazards. Three days later, Jackson fled to Booneville, fearing an attack upon Jefferson City, which was immediately occupied by Gen. Lyon, who was received with acclamation by the citizens. Unwilling to grant by delay what he had refused to an underhand diplomacy,—opportunity to the enemy to possess the government property, or entrench themselves strongly in their new quarters,—the general, with characteristic promptness, ordered an advance upon Booneville. The rebel force was stationed above Rockport, but retreated, after a skirmish which did not assume the proportions of a battle; and the Union army, two thousand strong, entered the town, where the national colors and the welcomes of the inhabitants testified their joy at the change.
The army of General Lyon, amounting at one time to ten thousand, had decreased by the first of August—the term of enlistment of many of the soldiers having expired—to six thousand; and it was with this number that, having swept the south-west, and believing the enemy intended to attack him at Springfield, he advanced to meet them at Dug Springs. The army of the enemy was larger and their position a strong one, but they were unable to hold it, and, after a sharp skirmish, fled in disorder, while Gen. Lyon continued his march toward Springfield. His situation had now become a critical one. The reinforcements for which he had telegraphed in vain, and in vain sent messengers to entreat from the chief of the department, Gen. Fremont, then in St. Louis, did not arrive. His army was subsisting on half rations, and wearied with exhausting marches over the uneven country in the extreme heat of midsummer. And now, for the first time, hope seemed to desert the general. Under his direction the cause had hitherto triumphed in Missouri. Now, with zeal unabated and courage unflinching, he must fall before the enemy he had so successfully opposed, or retreat where retreat was disaster, disgrace, and defeat. No wonder that, as from day to day he looked for the expected aid as men in drought for the clouds that are to bless them, he grew restless and perplexed and despairing; no wonder that the face that had never before worn the lines of indecision, should now lose its accustomed cheerfulness and glance of calm purpose, and challenge sympathy and pity for the heart that had never before asked more than admiration and respect. He felt that the hour had its demands, and that they must be met. Action, even in the face of disaster, was less a defeat than an inglorious retirement. The public, surely unaware of the fearful odds against him, clamored for an engagement; the State expected it of its hero; the government awaited it, and with a brave heart, but no hope, Gen. Lyon prepared for the attack. The result all the world knows. Was it a victory where the conquerors were obliged to retire from the field, and carry out their wounded under a flag of truce? Was it a defeat where the enemy had been thrice repulsed, once driven from the ground, had burned their baggage train, and made no pursuit of the retreating army?
But most mournful are those last moments of the faithful soldier's life; most solemn those last tones of his voice as his orders rang out on that misty morning amid the smoke and shouts of the battle-field. He stands here bare-headed, the blood streaming from two wounds which he does not heed, the cloud of perplexity settling over his face like a pall, his troubled eyes fixed upon the enemy. He turns to head a regiment which has lost its colonel—"Forward! men; I will lead you!" A moment, and he lies there: no more striving for victory here; no more anxious hours of weary watching for the succor that never came; no more goadings from an exacting public, nor any more appeals to an unheeding chief. Even the triumphant hush of life could not smooth out those lines cut by unwonted care upon his face, or answer the mute questioning of that painful indecision there. So from the West they brought him, by solemn marches, to the East, and colors hung at half-mast, and bells were tolled as the flag-draped hero was borne slowly by. And to the music of tender dirges, he, whose whole life had been, inspired by the whistling of fifes and rolling of drums, was laid to rest. A handful of clods falling upon his breast, their hollow sound never thrilling the mother heart that lay again so near her son's, a volley fired over the grave, and all was over. Of all the brave men gone, no fate has seemed to us so sad. Winthrop, young and ardent, with the tide of great thoughts rashing in upon his princely heart, died in the flush of hope with the fresh enthusiasm of poetry and undimmed patriotism shining in his eyes, and we laid our soldier to sleep under the violets. Ellsworth fell forward with the captured flag of treason in his hand, and the whole nation cheering him on in his early sally upon the 'sacred' Virginia soil. Brave and honorable, with fine powers cultured by study and earnest thought, death took from him no portion of the fame life would have awarded him. Baker rode into the jaws of death in that fatal autumn blunder; but the ignominy of defeat rested upon other shoulders. His only to obey, even while 'all the world wondered.' But he did not fall before the honor of a country's admiration and the meed of her grateful thanks were his. Soldier, orator and statesman, he had gained in a brilliant career a glory earned by few, and could well afford to die, assured of a memory justified from all reproach. But to Lyon, whom there were so few to mourn, death in the midst of anticipated defeat was bitter indeed. No time to retrieve the losses and disasters the cruel remissness of others had entailed upon him; the fruit of the anxious toil of months wrested from him even as it began to ripen; all his glad hopes chilled by suspicion, but his faith, we may well believe, still strong in the ultimate success of the cause he loved. A whole life he had given to his country, and she had not thought it worth while to redeem it from disgrace with the few thousands that he asked. He had outlived the elasticity of youth, when wrongs are quickly remedied, and new impulses spring, like phoenixes, from the ashes of the old. Uncertain whether he were the victim of a conspiracy, the tool of a faction, or the martyr to some unknown theory, he died, and as the country had been to him wife and children, he left her his all.
It was known to but few that the soldier, whose career had been rather useful than brilliant, had, when the scheming of politicians and their doubly-refined arguments threatened to deceive and ruin the country, put by his sword and taken up the pen. In a series of articles, short, concise, and to the point, he effectually canvassed the State. They are addressed to thinking men everywhere. Free from all trickery, strictly impartial, relying entirely upon the soundness of his premises for success,—for elegance of diction he had not, and he was too honest even to become a sophist,—these papers manifest at once the true patriot and the intelligent man. Thousands of adherents the Republican cause had in 1860, but not one more indefatigable or more heartily in earnest than Lyon. Outside the limits of party interests, and uninfluenced personally by the predominance of either faction, he had worked out in his own way the problem of national life, and now spread its solution before his readers. 'Our cause,' said he, 'is to honor labor and elevate the laborer.' Here we have the kernel of the whole matter; the spirit, if not the letter, of the whole republican system of government. The secret that philosophers have elaborated from the unconquerable facts of physics, ethics, and psychology, that men of genius have evolved with infinite difficulty from the mass of crude aesthetic associations that cluster around every object of nature or of art, Lyon, working and thinking alone as a citizen, has discovered, with the sole aid of common sense and the habit of practical observation. Carey and Godwin have proved by statistics for unbelievers the reasonableness of the doctrine enunciated by Lyon. Now, thanks to the untiring efforts of a few stout-hearted patriots, it is no new one to the North; but in the late presidential contest it was a strange weapon glittering in strong hands. Our society, diluted and weakened by the Southern element, revolted at first from the creed that is to prove its salvation. Not alone in our border States had the dragon crept, searing our fair institutions with his hot breath, but even upon the sturdy old Puritan stock were engrafted many of the petty notions that pass for 'principles' in Dixie. True, we were educated, all of us, into a sort of decent regard for the good old element of labor,—we call it industry,—more antique, since antiquity is a virtue, than aristocracy, for it began in Paradise. But this was a feature of our Northern character that was to be hurried out of sight, ignominiously buried without candle or bell, when the giant of Southern chivalry stalked across our borders. The bravado and gentlemanly ruffianism of youthful F.F.V-ism at college, and the supercilious condescension of incipient Southern belledom in the seminary, impressed young North America with a respect that was indeed unacknowledged, but that grew with its growth and strengthened with its strength. But this mock romance of ancestry, this arrogant assumption by the South of all the social virtues and courtesies of which the nation, or indeed the universe, could boast, was like the flash of an expiring candle to Lyon. He had little to do with first families North or South; his mission was to the people. His practical mind gathered in, sheaf after sheaf, a whole harvest of political facts. He saw that the government of the United States, originally intended to be administered by the people, had been for years in the power of the minority. Against this perversion of the purpose of the founders of the republic, this outrage to the memory of men who labored for its defense and welfare, he entered his earnest protest. The shallow effort of the Democratic party to establish upon constitutional grounds the monstrous phantom of justice they called government, was met by his hearty indignation. He says, 'With the artfulness of a deity and the presumption of a fiend, our own Constitution is perversely claimed by the Democracy as the ægis for the establishment of a slave autocracy over our country.'
No element more fatal to our growth or freedom could Lyon conceive than this slave autocracy. It sapped the very foundations of republicanism, and, stealthily advancing to the extreme limits of the law, enjoyed the confidence of the people, while it plotted their subjugation. All the varied machinery of the new social system, falsely styled government, had for its object the extinction of individual rights and the deification of capital. Church and state united in the unholy effort to Crush the masses, and intriguing politicians, by dint of dazzling rhetoric and plausible promises, lured the people on to secure their own downfall at the polls. The only remedy for this Lyon saw in the elevation of the masses. 'It is the greatest political revolution yet to be effected,' he says, 'to bring the laboring man to know that honest industry is the highest of merits, and should be awarded the highest honor; and, properly pursued, contributes to his intelligence and morality, and to the virtues needed for official station.' 'The calamity,' says an eminent writer from his far Platonean heights, 'is the masses;' but liberty is a new religion that is to sweep over the world and regenerate them. And to this end Lyon boldly advocated emancipation for the sake of the white man. If to-day, when patriotism is at a premium, men tremble before the acknowledged necessity of this measure, and are either too cowardly or too indolent to meet the demands of the times, it required no little boldness in 1860 to advance a theory so decided, even in a Kansas newspaper. But Lyon knew the inefficiency of half-way measures, and the moral degradation they inevitably entail upon the community so weak or so deluded as to adopt them. The hue and cry of abolitionism did not disturb him; he was not afraid of names. Conservatism that sat in state at Washington, and pulled the wires all over the country,—a tremendous power, none the less fearful in that it was only a galvanized one,—was a dead letter to him, its dignity departed with the age that had demanded it. Conservatism would have resented no impositions, established no new landmarks, asserted no independence; would carry its mails on horseback, creep over the ocean in schooners, fight by sea in piked brigantines, and by land with spear and battle-axe; it would have emancipated no slaves in Great Britain and France, and no serfs in Russia. But if freedom means anything, it means Progress,—liberty to advance, never to retrograde. 'Nothing in the world will ever go backward,' said the old lizard to Heine. All the authority of a new Areopagus could never sanction that; and yet this liberty the South claims, nay, has already acted upon, so that the world may see the result of the experiment, and against its continuance Lyon protests. In the long silent years of preparation for the fray he has nursed strange thoughts on the ultimate destiny of man. He has seen in dreams, prophetic of a mighty accomplishment, his country growing great, and vigorous, and powerful, extending to struggling humanity everywhere the protection of her friendship, building up noble institutions, encouraging science and the useful arts, and leading the van in the world's great millennial march; and this not through any miraculous interposition of Providence, but by means of an exalted intelligence and the power of thought stimulating to action, and that of the noblest kind.
But you argue the unfitness of the masses for this destiny. Lyon answers,—not in any musically-rounded sentences, in phrases nicely balanced; the man is plain and outspoken,—'This is a truth of philosophy and political economy, that man rises to a condition corresponding to the rights, duties and responsibilities devolved upon him; and therefore the only true way to make a man is to invest him with the rights, duties and responsibilities of a man, and he generally rises in intellectual and moral greatness to a position corresponding to these circumstances.' It is a mistake to suppose the great body of the people ignorant of their position, or unconscious of their growing importance and dignity as representatives of a mighty empire. Vice and poverty have indeed well-nigh quenched humanity in thousands in our great cities, but these are but a drop in the ocean. Behind lies our vast West, with its teeming population, sturdy, active and energetic. All our mountain districts are alive with men who, thanks to the press, are beginning to feel their power. Every advantage of physical development their hardy life gives them, and the growing consciousness and comprehension of freedom, blooming under a munificent free-school dispensation, will do the rest. Our internal manufacturing and agricultural elements at the North, already powerful and irrepressible, will soon exercise a tremendous influence in our government. Shall it be the influence of ignorance played upon by the sophistry of demagogues and helping to rebuild the vicious doctrines that have stood firmly for so many years, or the healthful influence of intelligent industry tending to our greatness and prosperity? This our war is to decide. No peaceful solution of the great question could be made. This Lyon foresaw in the truckling of politicians North to win the unit of Southern political sympathy: the main end and aim of the South being the appointment of Southern men to the Presidency, 'as security on the one hand against unfavorable executive action toward slavery, and on the other against executive patronage adverse to its interests, the democratic party North succeeded, by trimming party sails and decking party leaders, in suiting their fastidious Southern leaders.' The question once at issue, even a peaceful separation was impossible, though an amendment of the Constitution should sanction it. War was inevitable. The great bugbear of slavery would still exist; fugitive slave laws be forever upon the political carpet; formidable jealousies spring up between two nations founded upon such diverse principles, yet united by very natural circumstance of language and climate; internal wrangling would destroy all unity, conspiracies give the death-blow to all prosperity and all hope of advancement. All this if there were no great party at the North to rise upon the vast ground of humanity, claiming for its millions the privilege of an unfettered life, for its children a fair start in the future. Only one remedy Lyon knew, and he stood there, the early apostle of Emancipation, and preached it. His doctrine was not accepted then, it is not accepted now; but the time must come, when millions shall have been expended, and blood shall have flowed like water only to delay it, when we will fly to it for salvation. Let those who still cry 'Peace, peace,' when there is no peace, learn what is to be its price—Emancipation. It will be a bitter draught; well, so was the independence of her colonies to England. And every day makes it more bitter; the gall in the cup rises to the brim; a few more months and it will overflow; the people will take the matter into their own hands and legislate slavery into the swamps of Florida.
It is a lame and blind philanthropy that cries for a respite. 'A little more sleep, a little more slumber. After us the deluge.' And meanwhile the damnable lies gain ground, and a new generation is lost to its due development. Have we yet to learn that we are no longer individuals, but parts of a mighty nation, and responsible in some sort, every one, women and men, for its destiny? Poland has learned this lesson. Her eyes are upon us now. Shall she, still struggling, find that blood and treasure, and all the thousand dear blessings of peace, have been sacrificed in vain? If you cry 'War is an evil!' we grant it; but is it reserved for the nineteenth century to discover a creed for which there shall be no martyrs? What great gift has the world ever won that was not bought with blood? When has independence of action or thought been purchased otherwise than at the cost of persecution,—more revolution? Then let us not slander revolutions. They are the throes of nature undergoing her purification; if it is as by fire, oh! let us have courage and stand beside her in her hour of trial. St. George will not fight forever; the dragon of oppression is dying.
'Yes, although so slowly, he is dying;
Many thousand years have fled in darkness,