CAMP JACKSON
The story of Camp Jackson roots itself in that of the Arsenal. A few
facts will show this. During the first days of April our disloyal
Governor became unusually patriotic. He thought, or appeared to think,
that our State was about to be pounced upon by some lurking foe, and
must be made ready to defend itself. To ensure its safety against an
enemy that no loyal eyes could anywhere discern, he determined to plant
a battery of artillery on Duncan’s Island in the river immediately
opposite the Arsenal. From this he was dissuaded, but he did plant one
farther down the river at Powder Point, and another, to which we have
already referred, on the levee, some distance above the Arsenal. All
intelligent men of both parties understood at once that these batteries
were hostile to the defenders of the Union, and if occasion offered were
to be used in securing the Arsenal and its munitions of war for the
secessionists. The Governor’s patriotic professions really deceived but
very few. Still, to their honor, some charitable Union men strove to put
the best construction on his words; but they were often in great
perplexity when they tried to harmonize his words with his acts. While
plotting for the secession of the State he constantly harped upon his
devotion to it. To his mind evidently its secession from the Union would
be its highest good.
Still, under existing circumstances, just what he intended to do, many
could not even guess. Captain Lyon declared that he was in
correspondence with the Confederate authorities at Montgomery. We then
thought that this might be true, and now know from war documents that
Lyon as usual was right. In reply to a letter written by the Governor on
the 17th of April, and sent to Montgomery by private messengers,
Jefferson Davis wrote: “After learning as well as I could from the
gentlemen accredited to me what was most needful for the attack on the
Arsenal, I have directed that Captains Green and Duke should be
furnished with two 12–pounder howitzers and two 32–pounder guns, with
the proper ammunition for each. These, from the commanding hills, will
be effective, both against the garrison and to breach the enclosing
walls of the place. I concur with you as to the great importance of
capturing the Arsenal and securing its supplies.”
On that same 17th of April, Governor Jackson visited St. Louis and had a
conference with the leading secessionists who resided there. Prominent
among them was Brigadier-General Daniel M. Frost. He was born and bred
in the State of New York. He graduated from West Point in 1844, and
served both in the Mexican War and on the western frontier. He
subsequently married in St. Louis, resigned his commission in the army,
and went into business in his adopted city. He dipped into politics,
became a State Senator, and was finally assigned to the command of the
First Brigade of Missouri Volunteer Militia. Snead, who was aide-de-camp
of our secession Governor and a soldier in the Confederate army, says
that “The Governor trusted Frost fully.”[19] And two days before the
conference of April 17th, Frost presented to him a carefully prepared
memorial,[20] praying that he would authorize him to form an encampment
of militia near our city, and order Colonel Bowen, then defending the
western counties of the State against Kansas, to report to him for duty.
General Frost also disclosed his plan for placing this encampment on the
bluffs just below the Arsenal. This however was too bold a move for the
politic Governor. It would too clearly reveal to all thoughtful
observers his real purpose. He preferred so far as possible to veil his
intention. He chose clandestine action. So while on that memorable 17th
of April he refused the requisition of the Secretary of War for troops
from Missouri in the vehement and absurd language already quoted, and
secretly appealed by private messengers to Jefferson Davis for cannon
with which to bombard and take the Arsenal, and in hot haste summoned
the legislature to meet in extra session, at Jefferson City, on May 2d,
in order “to place the State in a proper attitude of defence;” that all
might be legally done, he fell back on the militia law of 1858, and
ordered the commanding officers of the several militia districts of the
State to call together, on May 6th, for six days, those legally required
to do military duty for the purpose of drill in the art of war. This
order gave General Frost liberty to form a military camp in any place he
might choose within the limits of our city or county.
[Illustration:
CAMP JACKSON, ST. LOUIS.
[_Page 89_
]
But it was now too late to form his encampment as he had proposed to the
Governor on the hills overlooking the Arsenal; the lynx-eyed, energetic
Lyon had already occupied those heights with an adequate force of
infantry and artillery. So Frost called his militia together on the
western border of the city, in Lindell’s Grove, near the intersection of
Olive Street and Grand Avenue. There, at the time designated by the
Governor, he went into encampment. As he had urged in his memorial,
Colonel Bowen was ordered to report to him. This to every loyal onlooker
was a suspicious circumstance. Professedly the encampment was formed for
the purpose of drilling the local militia, and at the start soldiers who
were doing duty in the extreme western counties of the State were
ordered to join it. While some of them hailed from St. Louis, many of
them did not. Four companies of Minute Men in our city, open and avowed
secessionists, with alacrity and enthusiasm responded to Frost’s call
and stood foremost among the troops of his encampment.[21] Young men
from different parts of the State, one here and another there, also
became part of this motley military force. It is true that some loyal
young men had belonged to Frost’s command, and had been deceived as to
his real character, but in the latter part of April, headed by Colonel
Pritchard, they had abandoned it. Those that now gathered under his
standard were homogeneous in sentiment. So by common consent, in honor
of the Governor, they dubbed their encampment Camp Jackson. Still, every
one that joined it took the oath of allegiance to Missouri and the
United States. But this did not reassure us, since the significance of
that act depended on each man’s view of State sovereignty and on his
construction of the Federal Constitution.
The citizens of St. Louis looked on thoughtfully. Some of them were
happy; but that very fact tended to make those of opposite views
apprehensive. If the new encampment had been just what it professed to
be, simply a place for military drill, there was not a loyal man in the
city who would have thought of disturbing it. But there were disquieting
rumors that its real character did not appear on the surface; that it
had been formed to promote the secession of the State, that it had been
put on the western verge of the city so that, at a moment’s notice, it
could be used to suppress any movement that might be made by its loyal
inhabitants; that the secessionists, having failed to take the Arsenal,
proposed now, when the opportune time should arrive, to seize the city,
and that the professed defence of the State was simply its defence
against United States troops. So from the beginning of the encampment
there was earnest debate among loyal men as to what was the wisest
course of action, which continued until the whole city was heaving with
suppressed excitement.
This excitement was augmented by an ugly report concerning the Governor.
It was said that immediately after the munitions of war had been removed
from the Arsenal to Springfield, Illinois, he had sent General Harding,
his quartermaster general, to St. Louis to procure for the State all the
arms and ammunition that he could find there; that he had purchased in
our city several hundred hunting rifles, some camp equipage, and many
tons of powder. This looked like preparation for war. For what purpose
did the Governor of the State, whose professions were so bland and
pacific, need tons of powder? Moreover, this war material was shipped to
Jefferson City on May 7th, the second day of the encampment at Lindell’s
Grove, under guard of Captain Kelly and his company, detailed from
Frost’s brigade for that special duty. The more the loyal of the city
learned or guessed at, the more certain they became that Camp Jackson
was a menace both to St. Louis and the State. Still, the force at the
Camp was not large. After Kelly and his company had been detailed for
special duty elsewhere, there remained only between six and seven
hundred men. But whatever was the strength of the force, the Union men
of the city, with almost absolute unanimity, regarded it as hostile;
still as to what ought to be done, they differed among themselves.
This military force had been called together under the form of law; it
had done nothing illegal; it had not interfered with the liberties or
privileges of any one. Should it therefore be disturbed before it had
committed any overt illegal act? Such was the question anxiously
discussed by Union men; while the secessionists evidently regarded the
whole situation with great satisfaction, thinking that they now had at
last a reasonable hope of securing their end without violating the
letter of the law.
But nothing escaped the eye of Lyon. In some way, he knew everything
that pertained to Camp Jackson, and proposed to do promptly and
energetically his whole duty as an officer of the United States Army. He
had now an ample force under arms and in process of drill. There has
been some dispute as to the exact number of this force. The War
Documents put it at about three thousand five hundred. Snead in his “The
Fight for Missouri,” says that Lyon had, May 10th, seven thousand
well-armed men. This is not at all sustained by the best authorities.
But whatever may have been the exact number, he at all events was fully
prepared for his work.
He did not however propose to seize Camp Jackson by force before
completely satisfying his counsellors that such a step was absolutely
demanded in order to preserve the city and the State from being forced
into secession. He himself had not the shadow of a doubt that the Camp
was hostile to the United States, and should be broken up. His opinion
was based upon the known character of its commander, and of many of the
men that he had gathered around his standard. He had also learned much
that was suspicious and disturbing from those who had visited this
encampment of militia. But he determined to view it with his own eyes,
so that from personal observation he could testify to its real
character. On the 9th of May, he arrayed himself in the bombazine gown
and close veil of Mrs. Alexander, the mother of Mrs. Frank P. Blair. She
was an invalid and blind. In a light, open carriage, he was driven by a
colored servant up and down the avenues of Camp Jackson. He observed
their names. He saw the arms of the militia and noted from whence they
had come. No one challenged him. Many in camp knew Mrs. Alexander, that
she was an invalid and blind, and was accustomed to be driven out for
her health. When he returned from his ride, Mr. Blair sat chatting with
Colonel Simmons on the porch of the southern house of the Arsenal. Mr.
Blair rose to help his mother-in-law from the carriage, but saw, when
the bombazine gown was slightly raised, a pair of stout cavalry boots.
He and Simmons looked significantly at each other but said nothing.[22]
That evening Lyon called together his Committee of Safety consisting of
Oliver D. Filley, James O. Broadhead, Samuel T. Glover, John How and
Julius J. Witzig. When this Committee met, Mr. Blair was usually
present, and he sat with them at this important, pivotal conference.
Lyon laid the whole case before them. He set forth in detail the facts
pertaining to Camp Jackson. He portrayed its character. He testified to
what he had seen. He declared it to be a nest of secessionists; that its
design was to get control of the city and if possible carry the State
out of the Union, and that the only thing which remained to be done was
to capture it at once.
With this view three of the committee, together with Mr. Blair, were in
hearty accord; but Mr. Glover, an able lawyer, strongly maintained that
since the organization of the encampment was in strict conformity to the
law of the State, and those gathered there had committed no overt
illegal act, it would be rash to attack and overcome it by an armed
force. If it had in unlawful possession arms that belonged to the United
States, a writ of replevin should be served by the United States marshal
on those in command there in order to recover these munitions of war
without any infraction of law. If the United States marshal required any
force to aid him in serving the writ, he might be accompanied by all the
soldiers under Lyon’s command. Mr. How, while unconditionally for the
Union, was a conservative business man and agreed with Mr. Glover. But
Lyon and Blair and the majority of the Committee were so insistent for
immediate radical action, that the minority at last reluctantly yielded
to them. Nevertheless that very night Glover, with some confidential
friends, prepared the writ of replevin, but on the following forenoon,
Mr. Blair gave it a _coup de grace_ in language more forceful than
elegant.[23] When the story about the writ got abroad it afforded the
Unionists of the city much merriment. It was one of those humorous
incidents that enlivened and cheered us amid much that was sad and
depressing. Some repeated the words of Lincoln in his inaugural address:
“The power confided to me will be used to hold, occupy, and possess the
property and places belonging to the government,” and then added, “by
replevin;” and this evoked derisive laughter.
For two or three days rumors had reached General Frost that Captain Lyon
was preparing to attack his encampment, and these rumors were so
numerous and persistent, that Frost, on the morning of May 10th,
addressed a letter to Captain Lyon referring to these ominous reports
and wishing to know if there was any truth in them; also declaring that
neither he nor his command intended any hostility “towards the United
States, or its property or representatives.” How Frost could say this is
a mystery. In January he secured from the disloyal Major Bell the pledge
that he would not defend the Arsenal against State troops and so
reported to Governor Jackson; in April he was in conference with the
Governor and chief secessionists of St. Louis; in a formal memorial he
had already prayed the Governor to authorize him to form a military
encampment near the city, and advocated placing it on the heights above
the Arsenal; immediately thereafter the Governor in an autograph letter,
sent by two of the secessionists with whom he and Frost had been
plotting to take the very property of the United States that Frost now
declared he had no intention of touching, solicited personally from
Jefferson Davis cannon to be planted on those heights, where Frost
contended that his encampment should be formed. This very loyal man a
little later went straight into the rebel army. He evidently went to his
own place. On June 12th, 1861, he openly proclaimed himself a rebel.[24]
In December of that year he was doing for the Southern Confederacy the
work of a spy at St. Louis.[25] The sandy-haired, blue-eyed Captain at
the Arsenal knew Frost’s real character; and did not deign to answer his
letter that was so full of professed loyalty to the United States.
All of Lyon’s forces were at noon gathered at the Arsenal and ready to
do his bidding. About two o’clock he divided his brigade into three
detachments and ordered them to proceed by different routes to Camp
Jackson. Two of them went on different streets up through the central
part of the city, one along its western boundary. They arrived
simultaneously on different sides of the camp and took possession of
every approach to it. The artillery took positions on the higher points
of ground around the encampment. The whole movement was executed with
skill and precision. Lyon now sent a communication to Frost, setting
forth what he considered to be the real character of his camp. He
demanded the immediate and unconditional surrender of his entire
command. He gave him thirty minutes to decide what he would do. Frost
now had a brief consultation with his staff. They saw that they were
surrounded by a force greatly superior to their own. To fight would be
worse than folly. They chose the part of wisdom and surrendered. They
turned over to the United States forces all their arms, ammunition,
accoutrements and camp equipage.
The excitement produced in the city by the marching of Lyon’s troops
through it, and by his investment and capture of the secession camp, was
wide-spread and intense. To what deeds of violence it might lead no one
could conjecture, but all feared some catastrophe. When the troops were
moving towards the encampment, almost involuntarily I joined the throngs
on the street that were hurrying thitherward. I met a large sandy-haired
man, fully six feet in height, hat in hand, head partially bald, with
shaggy over-hanging eyebrows. He was a stranger to me. He was not
apparently in a rage, but his massive frame shook with emotion. He knew
me, and with nervous, jerky gesticulation and in a loud tone of voice he
cried, “This is the result of just such preaching as yours!” I replied,
“What do you think Lyon is going to do?” With still greater vehemence he
cried out, “He’s gone out to kill all the boys,—to kill the boys,” and
strode on faster than I cared to go. He was a slightly exaggerated
example of the agitation that swayed and impelled the thousands that
were gathering in the neighborhood of that fated camp. It was invested
at half past three in the afternoon. Then men came running from all
directions with rifles, shot guns and pistols. When they heard of the
movement of Lyon and Blair they had, by common impulse, started out,
with such weapons as they could command on the spur of the moment, to
re-enforce the brigade of Frost. It was a pity that they arrived too
late. If they had been thirty minutes earlier the number of prisoners
taken by Lyon would have been largely increased, and possibly the
unfortunate and needless effusion of blood, which marked the close of
the scene at Camp Jackson, would have been avoided.
Lyon offered to release the prisoners if they would swear to support the
Constitution of the United States, and not to take up arms against the
Federal government. This they then refused to do on the ground that they
had already taken the oath of allegiance to the United States, and to
repeat it would be a confession of disloyalty. So they were marched out
of the camp, forming a long column between two lines of Union soldiers.
While this column of prisoners was being completed those farthest in
advance were brought to a halt. That brief delay resulted in bloody
disaster. Many of the prisoners belonged to families of high social
standing in the city. The soldiers that were in line on either side of
them were mostly Germans, always scornfully called Dutch by the
secessionists. Throngs of angry men and women pressed up close to them,
gesticulating and heaping upon them opprobrious, stinging epithets. It
was difficult for them to endure this without retaliation. Among those
who upbraided them were the men who had hurried thither with arms to
re-enforce the camp. With their rifles, shotguns and pistols in hand
they bitterly taunted, and struck with their fists, the captors of their
relatives and friends. Human nature at last gave way. A few of the
soldiers at the head of the column turned and fired into the mocking,
vituperative crowd and for their rash act were promptly put under
arrest. By that volley happily no one was injured. But the firing
enhanced the fury of the disloyal in the gathered and gathering
multitude. Some, pressing upon the soldiers, spat upon them. Some threw
stones into their ranks; there were two or three shots from the
turbulent throng, when, at the lower end of the columns of soldiers, one
or two volleys were poured into the excited throng. It was positively
denied that any officer commanded the soldiers under him to fire. These
undisciplined volunteers were unable to stand motionless and in silence
when attacked by stones and guns. The result was pitiable. The number of
killed and wounded was about twenty-five. Not alone those guilty of
jeering and attacking the soldiers were struck down, but chiefly the
innocent, who had been attracted to the spot by the general and unusual
excitement, and some of them were women and children. This catastrophe
stirred the city to its depths. While the loyal rejoiced over the
capture of the camp, they deplored the unnecessary bloodshed that had
attended it; still, taking into account the irritating provocation, they
could not lay the blame wholly on the raw German troops; nevertheless,
the secessionists, humiliated and exasperated, swore that they would
avenge the capture of their camp.
At about half past five, soldiers and prisoners began their long march
to the Arsenal. The streets through which they passed were lined with
people agitated with deep but diverse emotions. Some viewed with smiles,
if not with open-mouthed exultation, the column of disarmed, tramping
prisoners, shut in between files of newly armed Germans; the same scene
stirred others to bitter execration. From the windows of some houses the
soldiers were saluted by the waving of handkerchiefs; from the windows
of others women expressed their bitter scorn by spitting at them. These
troops with their crestfallen prisoners marched along a street which
crossed the one on which I lived. A lady from the South was spending a
few days with a family that lived next door to me. She was a very
pleasant person, and altogether sane on every subject except that of
secession. Any allusion to that seemed at once to unbalance her. She
stood with quite a large group of spectators at the intersection of the
streets, viewing the troops as they began to file past with the
prisoners. She trembled with excitement. She forgot her ladyhood. She
clenched and shook her fist at the soldiers, and cried, “They’ve got my
lover.” A moment after she ran up to, and spat upon, a soldier; in a
twinkling he broke ranks, leveled his bayonet toward her, and chased her
down the street before my door. A sergeant followed him, seized him by
the collar and led him back to his place in the marching column.
When night was slowly shutting down on the city, soldiers and prisoners
arrived at the Arsenal; the former to stand guard over their new charge,
the latter to think after the excitement of the day was over on this
sudden and unexpected change in their affairs.
For supper they were offered ordinary soldier’s fare; but having been
luxuriously fed at Camp Jackson from the tables of their secession
friends, they scorned army rations. They not only refused to eat but, to
show their contempt for their captors and their resentment for being
treated as prisoners of war, they kicked over the buckets of coffee
provided for them, and tossed the hardtack and bacon over the enclosing
wall of the Arsenal. They were not very hungry, but some of them
afterwards reported that they were treated with indignity and that the
Yankees tried to starve them.
At the taking of Camp Jackson there was a spectator, then comparatively
unknown, who was destined to fill a large place in his country’s
history. He was a graduate of West Point and had served with fidelity as
a subordinate officer in the regular army. Besides such service he had
been by turns a banker in San Francisco and New York, an attorney in
Leavenworth, Kansas, and superintendent of a military academy in
Louisiana. Just then he was president of a street horse-car railway in
St. Louis. Such, up to that time, had been the checkered career of
William Tecumseh Sherman.
Immediately after the taking of Camp Jackson, a rebel flag at Fifth and
Pine Streets came down never to be run up again. This was the first
visible effect of Lyon’s victory. The lowering of that symbol of
disunion was witnessed by a modest man, before whom was opening a
marvellously brilliant career of which as yet he had not even dreamed.
He was then thirty-nine years old. He too was a graduate of West Point,
and while an officer of lower rank had distinguished himself by
efficient and brilliant service. But for a time, turning aside from a
military life, he had been a farmer, a speculator in real estate, and a
leather-dealer. But now, when needed in defence of the Union, he had
offered his services to his country through the Governor of Illinois,
and had come over to St. Louis on a tour of observation. He heard the
shouts that the taking of Camp Jackson and the coming down of the Stars
and Bars from the roof of the secession rendezvous drew from loyal
throats. Soon after he started in a horse-car for the Arsenal that he
might personally congratulate Captain Lyon on the wise and timely work
that he had so resolutely and skilfully done. In the car a young
Southerner, full of anguish and wrath over the lowering of the secession
flag, said to him: “Things have come to a d——d pretty pass when a free
people can’t choose their own flag. Where I came from, if a man dares to
say a word in favor of the Union, we hang him to a limb of the first
tree we come to.” The modest man, into whose ears he poured this
vengeful screed, quietly replied: “After all, we are not so intolerant
in St. Louis as we might be; I have not seen a single rebel hung yet,
nor heard of one; there are plenty of them who ought to be,
however.”[26] To this stinging rebuke there was no response. The young
and fiery secessionist was dumb before a man of power; he felt, but
could not understand, the humbling force of his simple words. The name
of that unswerving Unionist and patriot, Ulysses Simpson Grant, is now
in our own nation, and in all nations that love freedom, a household
word.
But the excitement that was created in the city by the capture of Frost
and his brigade is indescribable. Throngs gathered on all the principal
thoroughfares. On Fourth Street, then the centre of the retail trade of
the city, crowds moved to and fro eager for news. They bore banners of
various and diverse devices. One band of men as they pushed excitedly
along cheered, another going in the opposite direction answered the
cheer by a groan. Distinguished and influential citizens addressed an
excited multitude in front of the Planters’ Hotel, endeavoring to allay
their seething passions. At different places in the city men were
speaking to impromptu audiences, in which some were cheering while
others were yelling defiance, to bring them if possible to calmness and
reason. In different directions a shot could now and then be heard. As
soon as it was dark, from fear of riot, the saloons and restaurants were
closed and their doors were bolted and barred. The windows of many
private houses were also shut and securely fastened. The theatres and
all places of public amusement were empty. The police were on the alert,
but were taxed to the utmost to nip in the bud any show of disorder. In
spite of their vigilance and efficiency a crowd made a charge on
Dimick’s gun-store on Main Street, broke open the door and secured
fifteen or twenty guns, when the gathering mob was dispersed by about
twenty policemen armed with muskets. But as the night wore on the
excitement abated; men by degrees sought their homes and their beds;
some in quietude to rejoice over the brightening prospects of Unionism,
others to mourn over the fading hopes of secession.
When morning dawned, the prisoners at the Arsenal viewed more favorably
the conditions on which the day before parole had been offered them. All
but one now took the prescribed oath of allegiance to the United States,
and, thereupon being paroled, left for their homes, where they were
joyfully greeted and sat down to well-loaded tables. The plucky one,
however, persisting for a time in his refusal to subscribe to the oath,
remained in durance vile. But many of those who were paroled openly
declared that they did not intend to abide by their oaths, excusing
their purposed perjury on the specious plea that an oath taken under
compulsion is not binding.
This disregard of the oath of allegiance stirred up all good men in our
city to consider its sanctity and to protest against its wanton
violation. Still, most of those captured at Camp Jackson, in spite of
the fact that they were paroled because they deliberately swore that
they would not take up arms against the United States, enlisted sooner
or later in the army of the Southern Confederacy.
The sudden and unexpected taking of Camp Jackson carried consternation
into the secession legislature, then in extra session at Jefferson City.
It was announced to them between five and six o’clock in the afternoon.
The members of the Assembly were discussing a militia bill, which, after
receiving the news, they passed within fifteen minutes. In haste they
sent it to the Senate, where it was passed instanter without debate.
This bill, which General Harney later characterized as a secession
measure, created a military fund for arming and equipping the militia of
the State. All moneys in the treasury collected for other and specified
objects were diverted to this purpose. To augment this military fund
taxes on the assessed value of property were enormously increased. Even
the school tax was subsidized for three years. Moreover, the Governor
was authorized to call on the banks for a loan of five hundred thousand
dollars. By this bill, the militia were required to take an oath that
asserted fealty to Missouri as first and supreme;[27] so dominant was
State sovereignty in the minds of these secession legislators.
At half past seven the legislature, which had become calmer and in some
measure reassured, met once more to discuss the anomalous condition of
affairs. But as there seemed to be no immediate danger, these disloyal
lawmakers adjourned at half past nine, and, with most of the peaceably
disposed inhabitants of Jefferson City, retired for the night. But their
rest was soon broken. A little after midnight the bells began to ring
furiously; a tremendous thunder-storm was just bursting upon the city;
amid vivid lightning flashes, deafening thunderclaps, and torrents of
pelting rain, men on foot and on horseback flew through the city,
summoning with stentorian cries the legislature to assemble with all
possible despatch. It met in secret session at half past three in the
morning. Without deliberation it gave the Governor absolute control over
St. Louis and conferred upon him extraordinary powers for suppressing
insurrectionary movements throughout the State.
What terrible thing had produced this panic? A rumor, flying on the
wings of darkness, had reached the city that Colonel Blair, with two
thousand troops, was on his way to the State capital. He was coming on
the Pacific Railroad. Steam-cars moved rapidly and this hostile invasion
must be met at once, if met at all. Without any delay the Governor and
his staff began to remove war material from the city. Under the cover of
darkness they sent twelve thousand kegs of powder into the country. An
armed and tumultuous band of men moved eastward and burned the railroad
bridge over the Osage. This relieved the fears of those at the capital,
since Blair with his German minions would for a time, at all events, be
hindered by that swollen and bridgeless river. But it was all a baseless
fright. Colonel Blair and his soldiers were serenely sleeping at St.
Louis, having been lulled to their slumbers by the satisfaction that in
taking Camp Jackson they had done a good day’s work for the Union.
The next day, the 11th of May, all the material captured at Camp Jackson
was removed to the Arsenal. Then all the city knew, what Lyon had known
before, the hostile nature of that captured camp. Its main avenue was
named Jefferson Davis; one of its principal cross-streets Beauregard.
Its arms, both muskets and cannon, had been stolen from the Arsenal at
Baton Rouge. They had been consigned as marble[28] to “Tamoroa, Care of
Greely and Gale.” This was of course a mere blind, since the firm of
Greely and Gale was distinguished in the city for its outspoken loyalty.
But the officers of the steamer on which these munitions of war were
brought up the river to St. Louis were in sympathy with General Frost
and his immediate counsellors, and, without raising any question,
delivered this war material, not to those to whom it was consigned, but
to those for whom it was intended. Among the cannon were the pieces that
Jefferson Davis had ordered to St. Louis, that were to be placed,
according to the plan of General Frost and the Governor, on the bluffs,
overlooking the Arsenal, in order to capture it; but since the
opportunity to plant them there had passed, they were taken instead to
Camp Jackson. Everybody who did not know before, knew now that Camp
Jackson was an ally of the Southern Confederacy.[29] Some of the young
men within that camp, as has been claimed, may have been hoodwinked
Unionists, but considering all the evidences of the disloyal character
of the encampment, daily thrust before their eyes, if they were
deceived, they must have been unusually stupid.