In his interesting, though rather melodramatic, romance, The Crisis, Winston Churchill tells the imaginary story of a young lawyer who went from New England to St. Louis, and settled there shortly before the outbreak of the Civil War. Having an abundance of leisure, and being an Abolitionist, he devoted a portion of the time that was not absorbed by his profession to writing articles on slavery for the Missouri Democrat, which, notwithstanding its name, was the organ of the Missouri emancipationists, and lived in part on the money he received as compensation for that work. That in part describes the author's experience. He was at that time a young lawyer in St. Louis, to which place he had come from the North, and those who have read the earlier chapters of this work are aware that he was an Abolitionist. Having a good deal of time that was not taken up by his professional employments, he occupied a portion of it in writing Anti-Slavery contributions to the Democrat, and, so far as he knows, he was the only person who to any extent did so. A collection was made of a portion of his articles, and with money contributed by friends of the cause, they were published in pamphlet form under the title of Hints toward Emancipation in Missouri, and distributed throughout the State.
There the parallelism of the cases ceases. The writer got no pecuniary compensation for his labor. He asked for none and expected none. The Democrat was then in no condition to pay for volunteer services, having a hard struggle for existence. He was able to do it a service that, possibly, saved it from at least a temporary suspension. One of its chief difficulties was in getting printing paper, the manufacturer it had been patronizing declining to furnish it except for cash, while the Democrat needed partial credit. At that time Louis Snyder, of Hamilton, Ohio, a large paper-maker, visited St. Louis on business that called for legal assistance, and I was employed by him. When the work in hand was finished, I remarked that there was something else he might do in St. Louis that would pay him. I explained the situation of the Democrat, and assured him that, in my opinion, he would be perfectly safe in giving trust to its proprietors, who were honest men.
"Will you indorse their paper?" he asked.
Mr. Snyder was a crafty as well as a thrifty German.
I replied that, as I was not a wealthy man, the question did not seem to be pertinent.
"Will you indorse their paper for one thousand dollars?" was his next question.
Being by this time somewhat "spunked up," I replied that I would.
"Then I shall be pleased to meet your friends," said Mr. Snyder.
The result of the interview that followed was such that the Democrat was materially assisted in continuing its publication.
It is hardly necessary to state that I never heard anything more of the one-thousand-dollar indorsement, the sole purpose of which was, doubtless, to test my sincerity.
Soon afterwards I was offered the political editorship of the Democrat, which I accepted on the one condition that there was to be "no let-up on emancipation." I held the position until Missouri was a free State.
In a surprisingly short time after the question of Missouri's status in reference to the union was decided, the issue between Pro-Slaveryism and Anti-Slaveryism came up. Political parties ranged themselves upon it. Those who favored slavery's immediate or speedy abolishment became known as Radicals, while those advocating its prolongation were called Conservatives. Those descriptives, however, were too mild for such a time, and they were quickly superseded by a more expressive local nomenclature. The Radicals, because of their alleged sympathy with the negro, were branded as "Charcoals," and their opponents, made up of Republicans, Democrats, and Semi-unionists, because of the variegated complexion of the mixture, were set down as "Claybanks." Mulattoes are Claybanks.
The Claybanks, or Conservatives, at the outset enjoyed a decided advantage in having the State government on their side. This was not the regularly elected administration, which was driven out because of its open support of secession, but its provisional successor. In trying to take the State out of the union with a show of legality, the lawful Governor and his official associates made provision for a State convention to be chosen by the people, which they expected to control, but which, having a unionist majority, played the boomerang on them by sending them adrift and taking the affairs of the State into its own hands. In this it had opposition. The most progressive men of the State insisted that, after it had settled the question of Missouri's relations to the union, with reference to which it was specially chosen, it was functus officio. They held that there should be a new and up-to-date convention, especially as the old one, owing to the desertion of many of its treasonably inclined members, including General Sterling Price, of the Confederate Army, who was its first president, had become "a rump," and so there were old-conventionists and new-conventionists. The old-convention men, however, were in the saddle. They had the governmental machinery, and were resolved to hold on to it. In that spirit the convention proceeded to fill the vacant offices. It was in sentiment strongly pro-slavery, as was shown by the fact that a proposal looking to the very gradual extinguishment of slavery was rejected by it in an almost unanimous vote, a circumstance that led the leading pro-slavery journal of the State to boast that the convention had killed emancipation "at the first pop." Very naturally such a body selected pro-slavery officials. Hamilton R. Gamble, whom it made Governor, was a bigoted supporter of "the institution." He had not long before been mixed up in the proceedings that compelled Elijah P. Lovejoy to leave Missouri for Alton, Illinois, where he was murdered by a pro-slavery mob. Gamble was an able and ambitious man.
The Conservatives, likewise, had the backing of the Federal Administration—a statement that to a good many people nowadays will be surprising. There were reasons why such should be the case. Judge Bates, of Missouri, who was Attorney-General in Lincoln's Cabinet, had long been Gamble's law partner and most intimate friend. He never was more than nominally a Republican. Another member of the Cabinet was Montgomery Blair, of Maryland, who had been a resident of Missouri, and was a brother of General Francis P. Blair, Jr., of St. Louis. General Blair had been the leader of the Missouri emancipationists, but had turned against them. For his face-about there were, at least, two intelligible reasons. One was that in the quarrel between him and Frémont the most of his former followers had sided with Frémont. That was enough to sour him against them. The other was a very natural desire to be solid with the administration at Washington, which, as elsewhere shown, was not then actively Anti-Slavery. It did not want the question of slavery agitated, especially in the border slave States.
The Blairs were a clan as well as a family. The quarrel of one was the quarrel of all, and the Missouri Radicals had no more effective antagonist than the old Washington editor and politician, Francis P. Blair, Sr., the family's head, who was so intimate with the President that it was understood he could at any time enter the White House by the kitchen door.
The writer was once a member of a delegation of Missouri "Charcoals" that went to Washington to see the President. An hour was set for the interview, and we were promptly at the door of the President's chamber, where we were kept waiting for a considerable time. At last the door opened, but before we could enter, out stepped a little old man who tripped away very lightly for one of his years. That little old man was Francis P. Blair, Sr., and we knew that we had been forestalled. The President received us politely and patiently listened to what we had to say, but our mission was fruitless.
The Radicals of Missouri sent deputation after deputation to the White House, and got nothing they wanted. The Conservatives never sent a deputation, and got all they wanted. They had advocates at the President's elbows all the time.
With both State and Federal administrations against them, the Missouri Charcoals may be regarded as foolhardy in persisting in the fight they made for the deliverance of their State from slavery. They did persist, however, and with such success in propagating their views that Governor Gamble and the other Conservative leaders decided that heroic measures to hold them in check were necessary. He undertook to cut the ground from under their feet. The old convention that had killed emancipation "at the first pop," or as much of it as was in existence, was called together by the Governor, who appealed to it to take such action as would quiet agitation on the slavery question. Accordingly, it proceeded to enact what was called an emancipation ordinance. The trouble with it was that it emancipated nobody. It provided for the liberation of part of the slaves at a distant future day, allowing the rest to remain as they were. The Radicals simply laughed at the measure. They pronounced it a snare and a fraud, and went right on with their work for unconditional freedom, and the slave-owners continued to hold their human property the same as before.
The Conservatives, however, had not exhausted their resources. They sought to secure the military as well as the civil control. On the assurance that he could maintain peace and order, Governor Gamble was given authority by the President to recruit an army of State troops, which, although equipped and paid out of the national treasury, he was to officer and direct. The organization was entrusted to General John M. Scofield, a resident of Missouri, and one of the Governor's friends.
The political advantage to the Conservatives of exercising military control at such a time is obvious enough. But at first there was an obstruction in the person of General Samuel R. Curtis, the Federal commander of the district, who was not a man to waive his superior prerogative at a time when martial law prevailed, and who was, besides, openly in sympathy with the Radicals. They got not only protection from him, but about all the patronage he had to give. Pretty soon it was discovered that active efforts for the removal of Curtis were in progress. Charges of irregularities—afterwards shown to be without any foundation—were circulated against him. Indignant because of such injustice to their friend, the Radicals were further incensed when they learned that the scheme was to make Scofield his successor.
Against General Scofield, as a gentleman and soldier, they had nothing to say; but his affiliation with their opponents made him obnoxious to them, and they sent a vigorous protest against his appointment to the President. The proposed change, however, was made, and the inevitable disagreement between the new commander and the Radicals quickly developed.
Scofield's administration was not successful. The principal cause of failure was the adoption of Governor Gamble's policy of trying to run the State without the help of Federal troops. They were pretty much all sent away, and an elaborate plan for substituting an "enrolled militia" was put in operation. Here was an opportunity of which the Rebels were quick to take advantage. They had a wholesome regard for United States soldiers, particularly under Curtis, who at Pea Ridge had given them the worst drubbing they ever received west of the Mississippi, but they cared little for "Gamble's militia," into which a good many of their friends were mustered, and when the pressure of Curtis's strong hand was removed they at once aroused to pernicious activity.
At this time it can be safely said that nowhere, outside of hell, was there such a horrible condition as prevailed in Missouri. Singly and in squads a good many of Price's men returned from the South, and with local sympathizers forming guerrilla bands under such leaders as "Bill" Anderson, Poindexter, Jackson, and Quantrell, soon had practical possession of the greater part of the State. The Radicals were the principal sufferers. Conservatives, except by the occasional loss of property, were rarely molested. Between them and the Rebels there was often an agreement for mutual protection—in fact, it was not always easy to draw the line between them,—but the Charcoals, especially if they were "Dutchmen," could look for no compassion. They were shot down in their fields. They were called to their doors at night and there dispatched. Their houses were burned and their stock stolen. Many families of comparative wealth and refinement, including women and children, because of the insecurity of their homes, slept in the woods for weeks and months. The Radicals were not always fortunate enough to escape bodily torture. Having captured one of the best known among them, an old man and a civilian, ............