Martyrdom in Missouri, Volume 1 (of 2)

Ministers of other Churches in the Fellowship of Suffering and on the Rolls of Martyrdom—Rev. Wm. Cleaveland Arrested for Preaching in a Rebel Camp—Imprisoned and Insulted—Made to Pray for Mr. Lincoln on a Loyal Cannon—Rev. Captain Cox, a Northern Methodist Preacher, his Persecutor—Other Indignities—Indicted, Arrested and Arraigned as a Common Felon for Preaching without taking the “Test Oath”—Rev. Jesse Bird Arrested, Silenced and Banished—Losses, Exposure and Hardships of his Family—Returns—Arrested and put in Jail for Preaching without taking the “Test Oath”—Public Indignation—The Most Virulent Persecutors Subsequently Elevated to the Highest Civil Offices.

The ministers of the M. E. Church, South, were not the only sufferers. Persecution may sometimes be exclusive and exceptional, but oftener it is indiscriminate. The class of persons marked, or “spotted,” for proscription and persecution was not confined to any one Church. Religious creeds were not so much involved as sectarian domination and sectional hatred. To exterminate, or expel from the State, that class of men who had not received their tone and type from New England, or had not fallen in heartily with the loyal religion and the religious loyalty, seemed to be a settled purpose.

It will be conceded that the ministers of the Methodist Church, South, were the greater sufferers, for reasons heretofore given; but to deny others who sacrificed and suffered nobly in the same cause a conspicuous place in the history of those stirring times would be both ungenerous and unjust. Many of the noblest martyrs of this period were connected with other Churches, and heroically and grandly sustained the moral heroism of the Missouri ministry. Common sufferings have sanctified the common fellowship and softened the asperities of sectarian feeling. It has measurably fused the religious heart and diffused the religious charity. Such men as Cleaveland, Duval, McPheeters, Wollard and others, are welcomed to the fellowship of suffering and the rolls of martyrdom.

The following statement is inserted as written. The language might be softened and the spirit toned down to advantage, but a prohibition only secures the facts; they can not be left out.

Case of the Rev. Wm. Cleaveland, a Missionary Baptist.

“I write as a witness for God and his Church, without fee or reward, to vindicate truth and to furnish a correct history of facts concerning myself and my acts which can neither be denied nor gainsaid.

“I am a minister of the gospel of the Missionary Baptist order, and pastor of the churches at Emerson, in Marion county, and Monticello and Mount Gilead, in Lewis county, Missouri; and nearly sixty years of age. In 1862, whilst attending as a member of an Association of the Baptist churches of ——, Col. Martin A. Green, commanding a detachment of Missouri troops in sympathy with the Southern cause, encamped a mile or two off, and despatched a messenger requesting the Association to appoint a minister to hold religious services and preach to his regiment on the Sabbath day. I was assigned to this duty by the Association, and performed it to the best of my humble ability. Perfect order prevailed, much feeling was exhibited, and I received compliments and other expressions of gratitude above measure.

“Returning to my home from the Association, after its close, I was arrested in the presence of my family by an armed force commanded by an officer in Federal uniform, marched off hurriedly to ‘headquarters’ in the city of Hannibal, and there confined a close prisoner in a filthy, cheerless hovel denominated a ‘guard-house,’ without fire to warm me, a bed to lie upon, or food to sustain nature, until my masters chose to permit my friends to furnish me supplies. Repeated efforts were made by my relations, brethren of the Church and others, to communicate with me and furnish me necessaries, but all in vain. The subalterns dressed in uniform, who, in the character of sentinels, haunted me like spectres, appeared much gratified to have jurisdiction around, and haughtily domineered, ridiculed, sneered and blustered as if to torture me into submission and humble me as in the dust. Meantime I put my trust in God, and continued ‘instant in prayer.’ Somehow I felt an extraordinary assurance that He whose right arm brought deliverance to Daniel, and to Paul and Silas, would rescue me from the snare of the enemy. About nine o’clock on the succeeding Monday morning a Northern Methodist preacher calling himself ‘Captain Cox,’ with a squad of armed men, entered my miserable and filthy prison, and, with an air of much authority, commanded me to march forthwith into the presence of Col. David Moore, who demanded that I immediately appear before him as commander of the garrison.

“Glad of any change in my gloomy situation, I arose and started, closely followed by my reverend persecutor, ‘Captain Cox,’ and his insolent myrmidons, until ordered to ‘halt’ in front of the quarters of the commanding officer. Being ushered in, I found Colonel Moore surrounded by an ill-mannered, ruffian-like multitude, who stared and sneered as if I were a curiosity on exhibition. The salutation of the commander was, ‘Are you a rebel?’ I answered that I had rebelled against the empire of Satan many years before and intended to continue in that warfare while life should last. ‘The hell and damnation you have!’ exclaimed the gentlemanly commander, in a loud tone of voice. I then said, ‘I am a minister of the gospel, sir, and it is my business to make war against the kingdom of Satan. This, and this alone, is my occupation and my daily employment, and this alone I expect to do.’ ‘Are you a Southern man?’ asked he. ‘I was born in the South, raised and educated there, and my sympathies irresistibly lead me in that direction. Custom, tradition, my construction of the teachings of the Bible and ancient and modern history convinced me and established my belief to the effect that the institutions of the South were morally, socially, politically and religiously right, and I could not conscientiously say that I was not a Southern man.’ ‘Other men control their sympathies,’ said he, ‘why can you not do the same and harmonize with the North as well as the South?’ I frankly replied that I would not believe the man that would tell me so. Habit and education made a man’s opinions, and the convictions of a lifetime of three score years could not be changed in an hour. ‘How do you like old Abe?’ said he. ‘In some respects well enough; in others not so well. On the whole, I don’t endorse him as a President.’ ‘The hell you don’t!’ said he, whilst his surrounding admirers screamed with laughter. ‘Did you pray for them rebels?’ said he. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Did you preach to them?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘How long were you in Green’s camp?’ ‘Two or three hours, perhaps.’ ‘Why did you go there and pray and preach to them damned rebels?’ said he. ‘Colonel Green sent a request to our Association, then in session near his camping ground, for a minister to be sent to preach to his men on the Sabbath day, and the Association deputized me to the task, all of which facts would appear in our published proceedings.’ ‘Damned glad you were to go, no doubt; and since you love praying for rebels so well, I will make you do a little loyal praying.’ ‘As to loyal or disloyal praying, I have no knowledge, but being commanded to pray for all men I endeavor to do so everywhere, lifting up holy hands without wrath and doubting.’ I then demanded to know why I was there a prisoner; what was my offense, and who was my accuser. He answered in a violent and spiteful manner, that ‘for preaching and praying for rebels in a rebel camp he had ordered my arrest, and that as a punishment for treason I should remain in the guard-house a prisoner, on coarse fare, for nine days, and should offer each day a public prayer for Old Abe.’ Having grown impatient at the abuse and insults of which I had been the subject so long, I replied: ‘Col. Moore, I am told you have a praying wife; and I thank God this day that I am counted worthy to be punished for preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ and praying for sinners. Sir, I esteem it a privilege and an honor, and shall not only pray, as my penance requires, for ‘Mr. Lincoln,’ but shall pray with all my heart for all other sinners, especially such as are associated in authority with him.’ Springing suddenly to his feet, ‘take him,’ said he, and with much coarse abuse added, ‘convey him under guard back to the guard-house, imprison him, give him prisoner’s rations, keep sentinels around him; and Captain Cox, I shall look to you to see this order executed.’ Hurried buck to the stench and filth of my prison house, accompanied by my armed guard, I remained until the next morning, when I was summoned to march out, and followed by several armed men with fixed bayonets and was conducted to a spot where the cannon were stationed. The regiment had been drawn up and formed into an irregular hollow square, in mockery. Many of the officers slunk away, while others stood and incited the men to giggle and perform antics to make the scene ludicrous and mortifying. As my divine Master, like a lamb before its shearers, was dumb, so I opened not my mouth. In an exultant and authoritative manner, the Rev. Capt. Cox, my loving Christian brother, a preacher of the Northern Methodist Church, as before stated, commanded me to ‘mount that cannon and offer prayer for Mr. Lincoln, in obedience to orders, as a penance for praying in a rebel camp.’

“Being an old man, and weighing between two and three hundred pounds; having had scarcely an hour’s rest for several days and nights; having had no change of clothing and no privilege of ablutions of any kind, I felt very badly, and with difficulty climbed to the top of the cannon-carriage, and there lifted up my heart and hands and voice to Jehovah in humble, fervent prayer. I felt greatly lifted up, much revived and encouraged, and my faith seemed as it were to grasp the very horns of the altar. The glory of the Lord shone forth, the Shekinah appeared to come down and rest upon the camp, and fear came upon the men. The pious rejoiced, the wicked were ashamed, and astonishment pervaded the scene. At the conclusion of my prayer, still standing in the ridiculous attitude I was made to occupy upon the cannon, I opened my eyes and looking around upon what had been my fun-making and pleasure-seeking audience of soldiers and citizens, I discovered many weeping, others hurrying away in disorder, and even the blasphemous Colonel Moore was said to have shed tears. Knowing I had committed no offense against the laws of God or man, and that my blessed Master had been stoned, spit upon, whipped with cords, dressed in mock royalty, crowned with thorns and driven through the public streets in derision for the sport of the mob, I took courage and hoped for the best. ‘If they did those things in the green tree, what might they not do in the dry?’ The weapons of my warfare were not carnal. Yet these wicked men, actuated by the same malignant spirit which prompted their prototypes to lay violent hands on the Son of God, seized me, an humble and obscure preacher of righteousness, guilty of no offense, and to gratify their malignity, dragged me around, followed by soldiers with muskets and bayonets, exposed me to ridicule and attempted to force me to make a mockery of religion, and thus (as they hoped) bring the Church into dishonor and disgrace. ‘But the ways of the Lord are marvelous in our eyes,’ for

“Hastened from this scene by the peremptory order of my Rev. Brother, Capt. Cox, I was conducted by an armed guard back to the filth and stench of the guard-house, and there remained, each day going through the same blasphemous exhibition, except that I was allowed to stand on the ground instead of the cannon to offer up my prayer. Many of the soldiers professed repentance, and whilst stationed as sentinels around me tendered me their sympathies, extended many kindnesses, and pledged me that, dying in battle, or when or where they might, they would try to meet me in heaven. Verily and of a truth ‘the Lord maketh the wrath of man to praise him.’

“Shortly after these events Col. Moore and his command were ordered South, where they participated in the battle of Shiloh, or Pittsburg Landing, as it is sometimes called. The regiment was cut to pieces, Colonel Moore lost a leg by a shot from a cannon, and his Major, Barnabas Sing, to whose instigation my friends attributed much of my suffering, was killed. The Rev. ‘Captain Cox’ seems to have kept out of harm’s way on that fearful day, for—now that our homes are made a ruin, our land shrouded in mourning, and our dwellings sad and sorrowful on account of the absence of the loved ones who were cruelly murdered in the presence and amid the cries and shrieks of wives, mothers and babes, as well as the brave who fell in battle—he comes again. Not bedecked with the tinsel and trappings of authority, to shut up old gray-headed men in loathsome prisons, march them around surrounded by bayonets, and force them to mount cannons and pray for the amusement and sport of the soldiery and the mob for preaching the gospel to sinners. Lo! he comes again in the lowly habiliments of Christianity, commissioned by the Bishops of the Northern Methodist Church, as an accredited minister of that Church, to teach religion and preach the gospel amongst us, for which purpose the Rev. ‘Captain’ is now perambulating Marion and adjoining counties. ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.’

“One would suppose that malignity had exhausted itself in the deeds of the foregoing recital. Not so. While on business in Hannibal one day, after the foregoing had occurred, word came that Col. McDaniel and his battalion of the advance guard of the Confederate army under General Price was marching in that direction; and, having left my wife and daughter at home alone, I called upon Col. J. T. K. Hayward, then in command of the post, for a permit to pass out of the city and go to my family, who would necessarily be much alarmed, and explained my situation. Being a member of the Church, a Presbyterian elder, I expected, of course, Christianlike courtesy. But, to my surprise, I was insolently repelled, vindictively insulted, and peremptorily ordered to remain where I was. Stung with disappointment and burning with indignation, I submitted as patiently as I could, and implored commiseration in the name of my unprotected family. Remorseless as a bloodhound and pitiless as a hyena, he was inexorable, and forced me to remain until McDaniel retired and his scare subsided. At the solicitation of leading citizens, he then granted me a permit to go, but accompanied the paper with a gruff intimation that the issues of life and death were in his grasp, and by the nod of his head he ‘could have me shot.’ Perhaps this violence of feeling may have resulted from the fact that the brave Colonel Hayward had, at a recent period, been captured by a Confederate officer, relieved of his watch, his spurs, his purse, his pistols, sword, epaulets, horse and equipments, and paroled on his oath and pledge of honor, both of which he had violated, and was again in arms wreaking vengeance on unarmed and innocent persons. I make no mention of the particulars of the murder of a friendless stranger, laboring under delirium tremens, who had just landed from a steamer, and was by his order shot to death upon the wharf at the city of Hannibal.

“Circumstances indicated that my life and my property were eager objects of the pursuit of this class of men. By day or by night, at all hours, and in different ways, my family were often disturbed and interrupted by them. My wife and daughter were made to perform menial service for any number who chose to demand it; whilst the filthy vagabonds, in the uniform of Federal soldiers, would ransack the premises and deface, destroy and steal anything of value they could find in the house or out of it. One night myself and family were aroused about twelve o’clock by the heavy tread of swift-moving horses, and a loud yell at the door informed us that soldiers—two of whom, calling themselves ‘Tabor and Watson, of Capt. John D. Meredith’s company of the 39th Missouri regiment,’ (which Meredith is now sheriff of Marion county)—had come with orders from their superiors to demand my horse and saddle. They said they were in rapid pursuit of the noted Confederate scout, Bill Anderson, and his command; were directed to press into service whatever they needed; must have my horse, and intended to give no quarter until the last officer and man of the enemy were slain. When this was accomplished they should next turn their attention to those who sympathized with the rebels, and would clean out every man, woman and child, until they had made their lands a desolation and their homes a solitude. Intermingling these threats with vulgar epithets and bitter denunciation, they dashed off; and, as their receding forms faded away in the darkness carrying off my fine young horse, my only means of reaching my appointments at the different churches to preach and perform other ministerial duties, a strange and fearful sensation crept over me, as if sad events lay buried in the future. The curtain was soon lifted. A few days brought the mournful intelligence that ‘Johnson’s battalion had encountered the foe and was annihilated.’ On the plain, and in full view of the city of Centralia, in Boone county, the conflict transpired, and of all the ‘bloody 39th,’ as its commander boastfully called it, who entered the field that day, not a platoon of officers, horses and men escaped death, including my poor horse, which, being ridden by a subaltern officer, is said to have sunk down with his rider in the midst of the battle to rise no more.

“In the order of divine providence friends came to my relief, and I was enabled, with some difficulty, to pursue my work, although much harassed, sorely vexed and often cast down by fears without and cares within, for my life was often threatened.

“In common with other brethren who feared God rather than Cæsar, I was in due time indicted by the grand jury of Marion county for preaching the gospel to lost sinners without first committing perjury by taking a false oath. Arraigned as a felon on my blessed Lord’s account, I felt honored, for the servant is not above his master. I stood at the bar of justice, as he stood before Pontius Pilate; and, although surrounded by murderers, burglars, horse thieves and others of the baser sort, I there remained, attending their calls from court to court, until for very shame the disgraceful and blasphemous scene was closed by the prosecuting lawyer, Walter M. Boulware, Esq., dismissing the suit; and the Hon. William P. Harrison, now acting as Judge of the Court, discharged me and released my securities, who had entered into bond for a large amount to keep me out of jail. Glory be to God! I am still alive; and, unless sooner taken hence, I feel that there are still some years of service in me, which shall be given with a willing heart to that cause for which I have suffered, and am still willing, if need be, to suffer on.

The Rev. Mr. Cleaveland has for many years stood high in the part of Missouri where he resides, as an orderly, quiet, earnest minister of the gospel, and now looks back on the scene of his persecutions with feelings that he can scarcely control. His only offense—that he preached in a camp of rebel soldiers in obedience to the authority of the Association; and for this he was not only arrested and imprisoned, but grossly insulted and rudely maligned by the permission and authority of one who styled himself a minister of the gospel. But he told his own story, and it is better without note or comment.

Rev. Jesse Bird.

This able and useful minister of the gospel has long been a member of the Missouri Annual Conference, M. E. Church, South. Few men have stood higher in the estimation of his brethren in the ministry or the communities where his labors have been bestowed. The positions filled by him in the pastoral, educational and judicial departments of the Church for many years, and the ability and fidelity with which he met every responsibility, attest the confidence of the Church and the high appreciation of the Conference of which he is an honored member. The spirit that will prompt men to the exercise of such petty tyranny as that detailed in Mr. Cleaveland’s case, and now to be narrated by Mr. Bird, must be the spirit of Antichrist. Neither of the gentlemen was guilty of any civil, political, military or moral offense. But hear him:

“Dear Brother—I see in the Advocate a notice requesting persons to give information of the persecutions of ministers of the gospel in Missouri. I send you the following very concise statement of facts in my own case.

In the fall of 1861 I was appointed by the President of the Missouri Conference to the St. Joseph District. On my first round I went to my Quarterly Meeting for Rockport Circuit, at Spencer’s Chapel, in Atchison county. Arriving at the chapel at 11 o’clock Nov. 9, I found a pole had been raised by the door with rope fastened to it for the purpose of hoisting a flag. There was no one present. I waited a little and saw two men approaching. They informed me that a burial was going on in the neighborhood, and the preaching was postponed till 3 o’clock.

“In the evening I returned to the church in company with a few persons. As we approached the house I saw two men hoisting a flag in great haste. Fastening the rope as quickly as possible, they ran and hid themselves inside a field. Coming up to the house and seeing what had been done, I declined going in, stating that I would preach under no political flag; that I should not mix my religion with politics. I was invited to preach at a private house and did so. I was not interrupted again until on my second round.

“On the 6th of Feb., 1862, I commenced a Quarterly Meeting at Oregon, Holt county. The meeting went on quietly and prosperously until Monday morning, when the flag was hoisted over the door of the church. I again declined going in for the same reasons. In the course of two or three hours I was arrested, cursed and abused in various ways and threatened by some men who styled themselves solders. I was then sent in charge of two young men to Forest City and requested to ‘take the oath,’ which I also declined. But in order to get off and out of the hands of the law, I agreed to go before a magistrate and take a civil oath to observe the Constitution and laws. From Oregon I returned home and found a notice in my postoffice at Rochester from Ben. Loan, the commander at St. Joseph, requiring me to appear before him immediately. I went down and inquired for what purpose he had sent for me, when he replied: ‘You are not to preach any more in this district.’ ‘Is this all?’ I inquired. ‘You must go and take the oath,’ he replied. I informed him that I should not take the oath; that he could put me in prison or banish me from the State, as he had done others. He immediately made out an order for me to leave the State within thirty days. This was done in the city of St. Joseph, Feb. 14, 1862. I was not restricted to any particular bounds. The ground was then covered with snow and ice to the depth of six or eight inches. I had no money to bear expenses, save about fifty dollars. I gave about two prices for a wagon, put what I could in it, and leaving my house and crop of corn in the prairie, I started on a cold, stormy day (the 20th day of Feb., 1862,) with my wife in feeble health, to go I knew not whither, and that for no other reason than that I was a Southern Methodist preacher and would not swear falsely.

“This move made it necessary to sacrifice the grain and stock my little boys had worked for, together with our furniture and a good portion of my library. I was accompanied by my daughter and two little sons, and also by Benjamin Bird, his wife and two young children. We started South and traveled four days, reaching the river opposite Lexington, and finding the ice giving way, and there being no boat, we turned up the river to Camden, Ray county, stopping at Brother Menefee’s, a most excellent family, where we remained some three or four days. Leaving Camden we went up the bottom to a point opposite Napoleon, in Lafayette county, where we remained in camp two or three days, when, the ice clearing away, we crossed the Missouri river and proceeded through cold and storm until we had passed the town of Clinton, in Henry county.

“Here we met some men who told us, as others had the day before, that we could not proceed beyond the Osage. The Jayhawkers and Home Guards were robbing all who attempted to go through. We turned round and came back to Lafayette county, and finding an empty house near Greenton, stopped and spent the spring and summer there.

“In a few days I went down to Lexington, saw the commander of that post and got a sound cursing for my trouble. Returning to my family and finding the people of the neighborhood very kind and generous, we remained until the last of August, when we returned to our home in Andrew county.

“I will say nothing of my trials from that time till the close of the war, except that I preached but little. A part of this time I was nominally the Presiding Elder of St. Joseph District.

“About Christmas, 1865, I was employed by the Presiding Elder, H. H. Hedgepeth, to take charge of the Savannah Circuit. I commenced my work immediately, and continued preaching regularly until my last appointment at Savannah, in August, 1866. I had been threatened at different times during the summer by mobs, and sometimes I thought it quite likely I should be put to death by the lawless rabble, but I was left unmolested until I was about to finish my work on the circuit. On Sunday the people expected an interruption while I was preaching, but all continued quiet till night. While in the pulpit I noticed some men come in and whisper to each other and go out, and presently return. When the services closed I heard a lady say: ‘They are at the door.’ I quietly walked out and went to my room, nobody disturbing me. Next morning I was told they were preparing to arrest me.

“After I had adjusted my affairs, about 10 o’clock, I went home. Having proceeded about two hundred yards I saw the Deputy Sheriff coming at full speed after me. Knowing what it meant, I stopped till he came up. He said he was authorized to arrest me. I was taken before a justice of the peace, who had issued the warrant for my arrest upon the affidavit of one of the party that came into the church on Sunday night. The said justice inquired if I pleaded guilty or not guilty to the crime of preaching the gospel to the people, in violation of the Fundamental Law of the State of Missouri. I pleaded guilty. Whereupon the said officer required me to give bond for my appearance at the next session of the court, which I declined; consequently I was taken by the Sheriff of Andrew county and lodged in the jail of Buchanan county, in the city of St. Joseph, there being no jail in Andrew county. This was done the 27th of August, 1866. I remained in prison about three hours, when the Sheriff of Buchanan county, accompanied by Judge Woodson and others of St. Joseph, came and opened the door of the jail and let me out. On Monday following the Circuit Court of Buchanan county came on, and the judge declining to try the case I gave bond for my appearance at the next term of the Circuit Court for Andrew county, at which time and place I was indicted for preaching the gospel. I took a change of venue to Buchanan county, and before the sitting of the court the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States had set aside the Test Oath, and that ended the matter with me.

“You can make what use of these statements you please in the forthcoming history of the persecution in Missouri. I should have given names, but I have forgotten most of them.

The account of Mr. Bird’s arrest and imprisonment, and subsequent indictment for preaching the gospel without taking the oath prescribed in the New Constitution, could not well be separated from the narrative of his other persecutions.

The author was in St. Joseph when he was brought down from Andrew county and lodged in the jail with common felons. He had many friends in the community, and to see him through the heavy iron grates, classed with horse thieves, burglars, murderers and other criminals, caused no little popular indignation. Men hurried to and fro after attorneys, judges, officers and friends, and stood on the corners in animated conversation until the public excitement boded no peace. The Sheriff of Buchanan county acted prudently and wisely in releasing him on his verbal parole. No other course would have appeased the public indignation or allayed the ever-widening and deepening excitement. No threats of violence were heard, and yet the indications in the public mind could not be mistaken.

Mr. Bird and the Church will ever be under obligations to Hon. Silas Woodson, of St. Joseph, for his prompt and efficient attention to the case. He made an earnest but ineffectual effort to get the case before Judge Heron, then on the Circuit Court bench, on a writ of habeas corpus. But the Judge was a little weak-kneed and did not wish to damage his prospects for a seat in the U. S. Congress, and refused informally to grant a writ or have anything to do with the case.

More will be said on this subject at another time and in another connection.

It may as well be stated here, however, as a noteworthy fact, that the military officers and others who were the most officious and efficient in the persecution of ministers of the gospel, during the war and since, have subsequently been elevated to the most honorable and lucrative offices in the gift of the people. While the people have professed the strongest disapprobation of these persecutions, it can not be denied that for some reasons the perpetrators of the grossest outrages upon ministers of the gospel have filled and are now filling the highest civil offices.