<h3><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</SPAN></h3>
<div class="chapquot">
<div>
<p>——He died,<br/>
To throw away the dearest thing he owed,<br/>
As 'twere a careless trifle.</p>
<p class="citation">Macbeth.</p>
<p>The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.</p>
<p class="citation">Merchant of Venice.</p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="sidenote">The Battle of Wilson Creek.</div>
<p>On the 10th of August, at Wilson Creek, two hundred and forty miles
southwest of St. Louis, occurred the hardest-fought battle of the
year. General Lyon had pursued the Rebels to that corner of the
State. He had called again and again for re-enforcements, but at
Washington nothing could be seen except Virginia. Lyon's force
was five thousand two hundred men. The enemy, under Ben McCulloch
and Sterling Price, numbered over eleven thousand, according to
McCulloch's official report. Lyon would not retreat. He thought that
would injure the Cause more than to fight and be defeated.</p>
<p>To one of his staff-officers, the night before the engagement, he
said: "I believe in presentiments, and, ever since this attack was
planned, I have felt that it would result disastrously. But I cannot
leave the country without a battle."</p>
<p>On his way to the field, he was silent and abstracted; but when the
guns opened, he gave his orders with great promptness and clearness.</p>
<p>He had probably resolved that he would not leave the field alive
unless he left it as a victor. By a singular coincidence, the two
armies marched out before daybreak on that morning each to attack
the other. They met, and for many hours the tide of battle ebbed and
flowed.</p>
<p>Lyon's little army fought with conspicuous gallantry.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</SPAN></span>
It contained the very best material. The following is a
list—from memory, and therefore quite incomplete—of some
officers, who, winning here their first renown, afterward achieved
wide and honorable reputation:</p>
<table id="wilson" summary="officers at wilson creek">
<tr>
<td></td>
<th><span class="smcap">At Wilson Creek.</span></th>
<th><span class="smcap">Afterward.</span></th>
</tr>
<tr><td>Frederick Steele</td><td>Captain</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>F. J. Herron</td><td>Captain</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>P. J. Osterhaus</td><td>Major</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>S. D. Sturgis</td><td>Major</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>R. B. Mitchell</td><td>Colonel</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>Franz Sigel</td><td>Colonel</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>D. S. Stanley</td><td>Captain</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>J. M. Schofield</td><td>Major</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>Gordon Granger</td><td>Captain</td><td>Major-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>J. B. Plummer</td><td>Captain</td><td>Brigadier-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>James Totten</td><td>Captain</td><td>Brigadier-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>E. A. Carr</td><td>Captain</td><td>Brigadier-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>Geo. W. Deitzler</td><td>Colonel</td><td>Brigadier-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>T. W. Sweeney</td><td>Captain</td><td>Brigadier-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>Geo. L. Andrews</td><td>Lieutenant-Colonel</td><td>Brigadier-General.</td></tr>
<tr><td>I. F. Shepard</td><td>Major</td><td>Brigadier-General.</td></tr>
</table>
<div class="sidenote">Daring Exploit of a Kansas Officer.</div>
<p>During the battle, Captain Powell Clayton's company of the First
Kansas Volunteers, becoming separated from the rest of our forces,
was approached by a regiment uniformed precisely like the First Iowa.
Clayton had just aligned his men with this new regiment, when he
detected small strips of red cloth on the shoulders of the privates,
which marked them as Rebels. With perfect coolness, he gave the order:</p>
<p>"Right oblique, march! You are crowding too much upon this regiment."</p>
<p>By this maneuver his company soon placed a good fifty yards between
itself and the Rebel regiment, when the Adjutant of the latter rode
up in front, suspicious that all was not right. Turning to Clayton,
he asked:</p>
<p>"What troops are these?" </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"First Kansas," was the prompt reply. "What regiment is that?"</p>
<p>"Fifth Missouri, Col. Clarkson."</p>
<p>"Southern or Union?"</p>
<p>"Southern," said the Rebel, wheeling his horse; but Clayton seized
him by the collar, and threatened to shoot him if he commanded his
men to attack. The Adjutant, heedless of his own danger, ordered his
regiment to open fire upon the Kansas company. He was shot dead on
the spot by Clayton, who told his men to run for their lives. They
escaped with the loss of only four.</p>
<div class="sidenote">The Death of Lyon.</div>
<p>Toward evening Lyon's horse was killed under him. Immediately
afterward, his officers begged that he would retire to a less exposed
spot. Scarcely raising his eyes from the enemy, he said:</p>
<p>"It is well enough that I stand here. I am satisfied."</p>
<p>While the line was forming, he turned to Major Sturgis, who stood
near him, and remarked:</p>
<p>"I fear that the day is lost. I think I will lead this charge."</p>
<p>Early in the day he had received a flesh-wound in the leg, from which
the blood flowed profusely. Sturgis now noticed fresh blood on the
General's hat, and asked where it came from.</p>
<p>"It is nothing, Major, nothing but a wound in the head," replied
Lyon, mounting a fresh horse.</p>
<p>Without taking the hat that was held out to him by Major Sturgis, he
shouted to the soldiers:</p>
<p>"Forward, men! I will lead you."</p>
<p>Two minutes later he lay dead on the field, pierced by a rifle-ball
through the breast, just above the heart.</p>
<p>Our officers held a hurried consultation, and decided not only to
retreat, but to abandon southwest Missouri. Strangely enough, the
coincidence of the morning was
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</SPAN></span>
here repeated. Almost simultaneously, the Rebels decided to fall
back. They were in full retreat when they were arrested by the
news of the departure of the Federal troops, and returned to take
possession of the field which the last Union soldier had abandoned
eight hours before.</p>
<p>They claimed a great victory, and with justice, as they finally held
the ground. Their journals were very jubilant. Said <cite>The New Orleans
Picayune</cite>:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>"Lyon is killed, Sigel in flight; southwestern Missouri is clear
of the National scum of invaders. The next word will be, 'On to St.
Louis.' That taken, the whole power of Lincolnism is broken in the
West, and instead of shouting 'Ho for Richmond!' and 'Ho for New
Orleans!' there will be hurrying to and fro among the frightened
magnates at Washington, and anxious inquiries of what they shall do
to save themselves from the vengeance to come. Heaven smiles on the
armies of the Confederate States."</p>
</div>
<div class="sidenote">Lyon's Courage and Patriotism.</div>
<p>Lyon went into the battle in civilian's dress, excepting only a
military coat. He had on a soft hat of ashen hue, with long fur and
very broad brim, turned up on three sides. He had worn it for a
month; it would have individualized the wearer among fifty thousand
men. His peculiar dress and personal appearance were well known
through the enemy's camp. He received a new and elegant uniform just
before the battle, but it was never worn until his remains were
clothed in it, after the brave spirit had fled, and while our forces
were retreating from Springfield by night.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding his personal bravery and military education, he
always opposed dueling on principle. No provocation made him
recognize the "code." Once he was struck in the face, but he had
courage enough to refuse to challenge his adversary. For a time
this subjected him to misapprehension and contempt among military
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</SPAN></span>
men, but, long before his death, his fellow-officers understood and
respected him.</p>
<p>He seemed to care little for personal fame—to think only of the
Cause. Knowing exactly what was before him, he went to death on that
summer evening "as a man goes to his bridal." Losing a life, he
gained an immortality. His memory is green in the nation's heart, his
name high on her roll of honor.</p>
<div class="sidenote">Arrival of General Fremont.</div>
<p>On the 25th of July, Major-General John C. Fremont reached St.
Louis, in command of the Western Department. His advent was hailed
with great enthusiasm. The newspapers, West, predicted for him
achievements extravagant and impossible as those which the New York
journals had foretold for McClellan. In those sanguine days, the
whole country made "Young Napoleons" to order.</p>
<p>With characteristic energy, Fremont plunged into the business of his
new department, where chaos reigned, and he had no spell to evoke
order, save the boundless patriotism and earnestness of the people.</p>
<p>His head-quarters were established on Chouteau Avenue. He was overrun
with visitors—every captain, or corporal, or civilian, seeking to
prosecute his business with the General in person. He was therefore
compelled to shut himself up, and, by the sweeping refusal to admit
petitioners to him, a few were excluded whose business was important.
Some dissatisfaction and some jesting resulted. I remember three
Kansas officers, charged with affairs of moment, who used daily to be
merry, describing how they had made a reconnoissance toward Fremont's
head-quarters, fought a lively engagement, and driven in the pickets,
only to find the main garrison so well guarded that they were quite
unable to force it. </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="sidenote">Union Families Driven Out.</div>
<p class="quotdate">
<span class="smcap">St. Louis</span>, <i>August 26, 1861</i>.</p>
<p>A long caravan of old-fashioned Virginia wagons, containing rude
chairs, bedsteads, and kitchen utensils, passed through town
yesterday. They brought from the Southwest families who,</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>"Forced from their homes, a melancholy train, are seeking in free
Illinois that protection which Government is unable to afford them in
Missouri. At least fifty thousand inoffensive persons have thus fled
since the Rebellion."</p>
</div>
<p class="quotdate"><i>August 29.</i></p>
<p>We were lately surprised and gratified to learn that a gentleman
from Minnesota had offered an unasked loan of forty-six thousand
dollars to the Government authorities—gratified at such spontaneous
patriotism, and surprised that any man who lived in Minnesota
should have forty-six thousand dollars. The latter mystery has been
explained by the discovery that he never took his funds to that
vortex of real estate speculation, but left them in this city, where
he formerly resided. Moreover, his money was in Missouri currency,
which, though at par here in business transactions, is at a discount
of eight per cent. on gold and New York exchange. The loan is to be
returned to him in gold. So, after all, there is probably as much
human nature to the square acre in Minnesota as anywhere else.</p>
<p class="quotdate"><i>September 6.</i></p>
<p>"Egypt to the rescue!" is the motto upon the banner of a new Illinois
regiment. Southern Illinois, known as Egypt, is turning out men for
the Mississippi campaign with surprising liberality; whereupon a
fiery Secessionist triumphantly calls attention to this prophetic
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</SPAN></span>
text, from Hosea: "Egypt shall gather them up; Memphis shall bury
them!"</p>
<p>The aptness of the citation is admirable; but he is reminded, in
return, that the pet phrase of the Rebels, "Let us alone," was the
prayer of a man possessed of a devil, to the Saviour of the world!</p>
<div class="sidenote">An Involuntary Sojourn With Rebels.</div>
<p>I have just met a gentleman, residing in southwestern Missouri, whose
experience is novel. He visited the camp of the Rebels to reclaim a
pair of valuable horses, which they had taken from his residence.
They not only retained the stolen animals, but also took from him
those with which he went in pursuit, and left him the alternative
of walking home, twenty-three miles, through a dangerous region, or
remaining in their camp. Fond of adventure, he chose the latter,
and for three weeks messed with a Missouri company. The facetious
scoundrels told him that they could not afford to keep him unless he
earned his living; and employed him as a teamster. He had philosophy
enough to make the best of it, and flattered himself that he became a
very creditable mule-driver.</p>
<p>Early on the morning of August 10th, he was breakfasting with the
officers from a dry-goods box, which served for a table, when bang!
went a cannon, not more than two or three hundred yards from them,
and crash! came a ball, cutting off the branches just above their
heads. "Here is the devil to pay; the Dutch are upon us!" exclaimed
the captain, springing up and ordering his company to form.</p>
<p>My friend was a looker-on from the Southern side during the whole
battle. He gives a graphic account of the joy of the Rebels at
finding the body of General Lyon, lying under a tree (the first
information they had of his death), and their surprise and
consternation at the bravery with which the little Union army fought
to the bitter end. </p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Twenty leading Secessionists are in durance vile here. There is
a poetic justice in the fact that their prison was formerly a
slave-pen, and that they are enabled to study State Rights from old
negro quarters.</p>
<p class="quotdate"><i>September 7.</i></p>
<div class="sidenote">A Startling Confederate Atrocity.</div>
<p>The Rebels have just perpetrated a new and startling atrocity. They
cut down the high railroad bridge over the Little Platte River
near St. Joseph. The next train from Hannibal reached the spot at
midnight, and its locomotive and five cars were precipitated, thirty
feet, into the bed of the river. More than fifty passengers were
dangerously wounded, and twenty instantly killed. They were mainly
women and children; there was not a single soldier among them.</p>
<p class="quotdate"><i>September 15.</i></p>
<p>General Fremont is issuing written guarantees for their freedom
to the slaves of Rebels. They are in the form of real-estate
conveyances, releasing the recipient from all obligations to his
master; declaring him forever free from servitude, and with full
right and authority to control his own labor. They are headed "Deed
of Manumission," authenticated by the great seal of the Western
Department, and the signature of its commander. Think of giving a man
a warranty-deed for his own body and soul!</p>
<p>In compliance with imperative orders from the Government, several
regiments, though sadly needed here, are being sent eastward. To the
colonel commanding one of them, the order was conveyed by Fremont in
these characteristic terms:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>"Repair at once to Washington. Transportation is provided for you.
My friend, I am sorry to part with you, but there are laurels growing
on the banks of the Potomac."</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />