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 The
first intimation of danger was a threatened attack from the Union
rabble of Thomasville, a Black Republican town near us. All of our men
who were not in the army banded together, keeping watch day and night,
and this and the opportune arrival of Captain Landis and a company on
their way to Price, saved us from that demonstration. Hardly had that
cloud passed by when the news came that the regular
Kansas
jayhawkers were marking on us with a force of about 5,000 men. We had
no defense against them. A little company of 36 men under Captain
Weidemeger was all the opposing force left us. The specie of the bank,
the papers, etc., were hastily concealed; $90,000 of the specie about
my own residence, which did not make me feel very comfortable. The
negroes of the town and neighborhood were sent with provisions to the
woods; a few goods were hidden, and then as the alarm of their advance
came nearer the few gentlemen left, among whom were the bank officers,
sought refuge in the thick growth around the place. At about 3 o’clock
in the night, we, the defenseless women and children, heard the first
reports of their firearms mingled with those of the brave little band
of 36 who fired at the foe from behind an old building, as they neared
the town. The contest against such odds was short, of course, though
40 of their number were killed, as one of their officers and several
of their privates acknowledged. A pause, and then the cowards, fearful
to advance on the unprotected town, commenced a cannonading which
endangered the lives of the females and children who were its only
garrison.
By sunrise they had satisfied themselves
that they might make the venture, and poured in. Then commenced the
pillage. The stores were broken into and rifled; their Union brethren,
of whom I am thankful to say there were but few, called to share in
the robbery. The unlicensed soldiers seized on the whisky first, and
soon became so ungovernable that the officers ordered the destruction
of what remained of that article. The rude outlaws entered the
dwellings, demanding of the ladies their sentiments, "North or South?
and commanding an answer. I for one was glad of the opportunity to
declare myself separate and distinct from all sympathy with such a
band of thieves, and they certainly heard no complimentary words from
the ladies of Osceola that day. As soon
as they had taken all they desired, the torch was applied, and amid
the shrieks of the frightened women and children, and the roaring of
the first kindled flames, they went on from the stores to the bank,
which had been left open, even the safe, to prevent its destruction;
to our church which was destroyed with laughing words and blasphemous
jests, and then to the private dwellings. Lastly, the court house,
with all the records, was set on fire, because, they said, secession
soldiers had sheltered there. The houses of my two sons, one of whom
was absent in the army, and my daughter, were consumed among the rest.
Mine was in the suburbs and fortunately escaped.
I was very uneasy about the money, but
although they searched other residences, mine was overlooked. Our barn
filled with grain and hay was burnt, and a soldier was approaching the
house with a torch, but was prevented by Montgomery from applying it.
Just then a panic seized them. They heard a rumor that General Slack’s
division of State troops was advancing from Warsaw, and pell mell they
obeyed the hurried order to retreat with their ill gotten booty.
Quickly ever trace of their presence, except the run they left behind,
had disappeared, and we thought we should be at peace again. But soon
we heard a noise behind our smokehouse, and on going thither found a
Federal soldier seated on a powerful horse, flourishing his revolver
in a drunken, bravado manner. I spoke to him as calmly as I could, and
asked him what he wished for. "You have had a little fire here today,
madam," he said, with an unfeeling laugh. I told him "yes, an outrage
had been committed there, such as the civilized nations would shudder
to hear of."
"It is all right, madam," he replied, "you
deserve it all for your cursed rebellion." I asked him again if he
wished for anything. He said he wished me to tell him the shortest way
to the ford. I gave him the information required, and he turned off,
rode by the back yard where my daughters and niece were sitting, threw
his pistol forward, nearly in their faces, frightening them very much
and passed on to the front yard. I went to the front portico to watch
the movements, fearing that he intended to set fire to the house. When
he reached the gate, he placed two fresh caps on his pistol, and
holding it up called for me. I went with as brave a look as I could
assume, and asked why he called me to him. He intimated that the way
to the ford which I had directed him to take, looked too much like an
ambuscade, and asked me to guard him through the thicket. I told him
nothing could induce me to do so, and showed him the broad road, and
told him if he was afraid he had better proceed in that direction. He
paused a moment, then dashed down the brushy way to the river, and
plunging in swam his horse across, fearing to look for the ford. From
this time until Fremont’s advance and final retreat, our men were too
uneasy to stay often in their houses at night, and lived like wild
beasts more than human beings.
We heard of the capture of Lexington, and
hoped that our delivery was at hand. Then the news came that Price was
forced, for want of caps, to retreat again towards the
Arkansas
line, and soon after, that Fremont was advancing with a powerful army.
This was confirmed in a few days by the arrival of
Lane's division on the banks of the
Osage, opposite Osceola.
A company of Delaware Indians, mounted and
led by Lieutenant Johnson, plunged into the stream, and the gentlemen
of our household had hardly leapt the palings into the thickets beyond
the house, ere they had surrounded our dwelling, and commenced their
insulting search. You may imagine the effect produced by a band of
whooping Indians, arrayed in war dress and paint, on unprotected
women, who had so lately passed through the terrors of their first
visit. They found six good guns around the premises, some lead and
bullets, and about sixty kegs of powder concealed in our carriage
house, part of which belonged to our army. They also found nearly
$10,000 in coin, which had been buried in the yard -- our paper money
of less value, we had about our persons. Lieutenant Johnson captured
two of our negro men and forced them by threats of hanging, shooting,
etc., to show them our farm teams, etc. The goods which had been saved
from the burning, our supply of flour, some furniture, clothing and
jewelry, were there. The goods they distributed among their Union
friends. The flour and clothing they bestowed on a train of negroes
sent off in haste to
Kansas.
The furniture was broken up, the ladies bonnets, laces, jewelry, etc.,
stolen or wantonly destroyed. Even the books did not escape them, but
were torn up and scattered to the winds. A volume of Bancrofts
United States, containing a portion of the history of the
revolution, told too heavily against them, and was reduced to
fragments. Lieutenant Johnson then proceeded in his disgraceful work,
to yet lower depths of infamy, by commencing a search through our
house. No place was too sacred for him to invade, and with smiles and
unfeeling remarks he opened our family papers. Several letters from my
soldier son to his father, (but lately dead) he boastingly held up as
proofs of treason by which to wrest from the widow and orphan all that
robbery had left. These, with several from the Honorable Wald P.
Johnson, abstracted for the same purpose, he refused to return to me,
and when I applied to Lane, he
endorsed the decision. I wondered if I were dreaming when I looked out
from my window, while this was going on, and saw the stars and
stripes, waving near, its once glorious folds, protecting and
sanctioning the proceedings of desperadoes, who had forgotten that a
Constitution ever existed, which protected the liberties of the
people.
This young lieutenant was scarcely
advanced to manhood -- so young and yet so old in wickedness. He
belongs to a good family in Indiana, and his brother-in-law, who was
evidently ashamed of his conduct, said he was astonished at his rapid
march in evil, and acknowledged that he would "not only steal, but lie
about it afterward."
I must do the Jayhawkers the justice to
say that some of their officers were respectful and kind to us, which
is better than my experience of the "gentlemanly Sturgis" and his
lawless troops, who came just after. We were kept in constant terror,
however, by their threats against our absent sons, brothers, and
friends. Several of the officers told me that
Lane has sent the Indians out, with
orders to shoot them down wherever they were found. I went to his
headquarters with my son’s wife, who was almost frantic, to learn the
truth. He calmly told me it was so, and advised me to send him word to
give himself up, spicing his remarks and advice with oaths and curses
against the rebels. He spoke against treason as if he had never been
an attainted traitor, with Federal troops after him, when he made his
famous run into Iowa.
When Lane, the leader of the van,
His swiftest soldier still
outran.
When General Sturgis came, he denounced
his illustrious compeer in unmeasured terms, and, at first we thought
him sincere. But before he left we discovered the source of his
indignation, in the fact that he had been awakened to the knowledge
that Lane was the more successful and
profitable rogue. His soldiers were much more insulting than
Lane's, and spared us neither curses
nor threats of every evil. May God grant that I may never be placed in
such brutal company again, where woman’s purity and dignity were
unrespected, and where, for the first time, my cheek burned with shame
that I had ever been a citizen under their disgraced banner. What does
it cover now?
Oppression, wrong, and
tyranny,
Cold-hearted thirst for
anarchy,
Licentious passion, wild and
free,
And shame’s disgusting brow.
Some of Lane's
officers deemed it their duty to protect the citizens who wished for
it, by placing a guard around their houses.
Terrified by the conduct of the soldiers
under Sturgis, I rose from a sick bed to go and ask for a similar
safeguard. Colonel Fuller, a member of the general’s staff, seemed
much amused at my distress and application, but promised to grant my
request. But he never sent the guard, and left us exposed to fears
worse than death during his stay in Osceola.
This is a simple statement of some of the scenes which occurred at
Osceola, during the ravages of the war
in Southwest
Missouri. I could add incident on
incident, horror on horror. I could tell of the reign of blood and
terror in Jackson County and other unfortunately exposed parts of the
border, but this may surely suffice. Andrew Johnson knows all this,
and yet he comes to his own State -- a State which has honored and
loved him -- with the kiss of Judas, to betray her. I hope the golden
bribe of his treachery may Tarpeia like crush him with its weight. As
much as I have suffered, I would suffer on, even to death, rather than
see my countrymen of the generous and chivalric South yield to the
tender mercies of men like these. I pray that the tide of blood may
soon be stayed by the establishment of the liberties of the
Confederate States; otherwise I had rather share in their
annihilation, than see them vassals to tyrants who ignore every
honorable principle of civilized warfare, and glory in rapine, murder,
and robbery. If the voices from the desolation of
Missouri could speak, the ruined
fields, the rifled granaries, the brave men murdered, the women and
children driven from burning homes in the rigor of winter, the
violated sanctuaries of the living God, if these could speak, they
would send trumpet tones of warning to those among us who weakly deem
that submission may purchase immunity from all this wrong and
degradation. Brethren of the South! your hope lies in the justice of
your cause, in strong arms, brave hearts, and the God of battles.
Glory to them who die in this
great cause,
Kings, bigots, can
inflict no brand of shame,
Or shape of death, to shroud
them from applause,
Their hangman fingers
cannot touch their fame.
Though fortune waver, still
there will be some
Proud hearts, the shrine
of freedom’s vestal flame,
Long trains of ills may pass,
unheeded, dumb,
But vengeance is behind,
and justice is to come."
Missouri.
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