In the beginning of the autumn of 1864 the Unionists of St. Louis were sadly disheartened. They had not been so hopeless since the war began. Men were unable to give any rational explanation of their discouragement. It probably arose from a combination of untoward events. Grant and Sherman had begun their great campaigns in Virginia and Georgia. Some hard battles had been fought but no very decisive victories had yet been gained. Mr. Lincoln had been renominated for the Presidency, but without the triumph of our arms his election seemed to us somewhat doubtful. For the opposing candidate the Democrats had nominated General McClellan, who had many enthusiastic followers. In their platform they had declared the war a failure. The existence of “The Knights of the Golden Circle,” their great numbers in several States of the Middle West and their ardent support of the Democratic candidate had become quite generally known. Such an array of antagonistic forces seemed to many of the loyal in our city, wearied with the long and costly conflict for the Union, to betoken possible defeat.

In this too general gloom I could not share. With other optimistic souls I felt sure of ultimate victory. It was my duty, therefore, to impart so far as possible my confidence to others; so I preached to a full house from the text: “Think not that I came to send peace on the earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword.” The press asked for my sermon and gave it to a far greater number than those who heard it. Its closing passage enshrines the spirit and stress of that day.

“There are those, however, who cry out for peace. Who does not desire it? Have we not had enough of fratricidal strife? Yes, verily. Has not enough blood been shed? Yes, a thousand fold more than ought to have flowed. Have we not had enough of lamentation and tears? Let the Rachels who weep for their children, and refuse to be comforted, answer. He has a stone for a heart who, looking on the desolations of war, does not sigh for peace. But peace at what price? At the price of truth? Shall we for the sake of peace give up the principle that good government must be obeyed? Shall we tamely abandon the truth that all men are equal in God’s sight, and have a right to the product of their own labor? Shall we timidly assent to the tyrannical doctrine that the normal condition of a portion of our race is slavery? We cannot purchase peace at so great cost. God giving us strength, we never will. Let our wives be widows and our children orphans; let them beg their bread from door to door; let them die without care in almshouses, and be buried uncoffined in the potter’s field; yea, ‘let a general conflagration sweep over the land, and let an earthquake sink it,’ before we yield one rood of our territory to those who, without cause, lifted up the red hand of rebellion against the government of our fathers in the interest of slavery. And why all this? Because the truth for which we contend is worth more than your life or mine—or more than the lives of a generation of men. When peace shall be obtained which is based in righteousness, which flows forth from justice established and exalted in the midst of the nation, which grants to all classes of men their inalienable rights, we will sing pæans of joy over it; but if we are to have a peace based on a compromise with iniquity, which will be as deceptive as the apples of Sodom, involving our children in disasters more dire than those which have befallen us, every lover of truth, and justice, and good government will hang his head in shame. O, God, save us in mercy, from such a peace! Give us anything rather than it. Grant us an eighty years’ war like that waged by the Netherlands, rather than pour into our cup such an insidious curse.

“Brethren, be of good cheer. God now goes before us to battle, and grants us victories. This is no time for fear and faltering. We must quit ourselves like men, like Christian freemen. This conflict is not anomalous. There have been many such. Christ, the Prince of Peace, anticipated it, and His words coming across the centuries shall cheer us till the last blow is struck, truth vindicated and righteousness immovably established.”

As we approached November the tide of public opinion turned in favor of the election of Mr. Lincoln for a second term. The invasion of Missouri had failed of its object. St. Louis was no longer threatened by her foes; she was now secure and serene. The great secret political organization, which aspired to destroy the Union and defeat the second election of the President, had become innocuous; the fangs of the copperhead had been drawn; Grant with the hammer of Thor, over grass-covered fortifications, was steadily pounding his way towards Richmond. Sherman had achieved brilliant success in Georgia. All things for the cause of the Union were propitious. Lincoln’s election was triumphant. Great patient soul, he now knew that he was enthroned in the hearts of the people to whom he was so ardently devoted.

In Missouri many were kept from voting because they could not take the prescribed oath of allegiance. On that account the result of the election was not the real expression of the judgment of the whole people; but it gave the most intense satisfaction to all radical Union men of our city and State. The President received over forty thousand majority; the unconditional Union candidate for Governor, Thomas C. Fletcher, received a still heavier vote. The people, by more than thirty-seven thousand majority, declared themselves in favor of another Convention and at the same time elected the members of it, more than three fourths of whom were Charcoals. The entire radical ticket for State officers was chosen, and the legislature was heavily radical in both its branches. Eight of the nine candidates elected to Congress were radicals. In eighty of the one hundred and fourteen counties of the State the radical ticket prevailed. The loyal of our city celebrated this triumph of unconditional Unionism with unbounded joy. They rang the bells; kindled bonfires; marched with torches to martial music; sang patriotic songs; and almost split their throats and the welkin with their huzzas. Well they might do all this. Every plot against the Union had been thwarted; they held at last firmly within their grasp the prize for which they had so long and patiently struggled. The darkness had fled; the light shone.