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.
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.
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.
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.
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,
"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."
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.