Martyrdom in Missouri, Volume 1 (of 2)

Exceptional Distinction—Revs. J. B. H. Wooldrige, D. J. Marquis and Geo. W. Johnson Arrested, Abused and Imprisoned for Associating Together—Rev. M. M. Pugh Arrested and Imprisoned—Arrested Three Times—Indicted—Northern Methodists Implicated in his Persecutions—Flags over Pulpits by Military Orders—Efforts to Force the Consciences of Ministers—A Caustic Note—“Der Union Vlag on Der Secesh Church”—A Minister’s Wife Ordered to Make a Shroud for a Dead Union Soldier—Keen Retort—An Old Minister in a Rebel Camp—How he “Went Dead” and “Saved his Bacon” and Potatoes—Rev. J. M. Breeding—Armed Men Visit him at Midnight—Order him to Leave the Country in Six Days because he was a Southern Methodist Preacher—Arrested at Church by Lieutenant Combs—A Parley—Men said if They were not Permitted to Shoot They would Egg Him—Waylaid by Soldiers to Assassinate Him—Providential Escape—Waylaid the Second Time, and Providential Escape—Move to Macon County—Further Troubles—Reflections.

If to suffer for righteousness’ sake entitles men to exclusive privileges in the kingdom of heaven, the ministers of Missouri will have pre-eminence among those who suffer for the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. Exceptional honors among the sanctified will distinguish many of the humblest ministers of this State. And if the instigators of persecution are to be put in the category of the excluded, some of the most notorious ministers of the State will, in the final award, be rejected, disowned and dishonored.

Rev. Geo. W. Johnson, Rev. D. J. Marquis and Rev. J. B. H. Wooldridge.

Among the first to feel the crushing power of the persecutor were Revs. D. J. Marquis and J. B. H. Wooldridge, of the St. Louis Conference, M. E. Church, South, and Rev. George W. Johnson, of the Baptist Church.

The first two have for many years been zealous, earnest and successful itinerant ministers, and Mr. Johnson is a Baptist minister of high standing and unblemished character, and Principal of the Tipton High School.

In 1861, soon after the occupation of Jefferson City by the Federal forces, these three men were arrested by Col. Boernstein’s order, or by his officers, at Tipton, in Moniteau county, taken to Jefferson City, abused by the officers, kept in the dungeon under the State Capitol over twenty-four hours without a mouthful of food, taken out, abused, put on board a steamer and sent up to Boonville. They fell into the hands of Col. Stevenson, who had them closely guarded in the fair grounds for ten days, and then sent to St. Louis. Here they were kept for two days in the guard-house, in the old arsenal, and then released unconditionally, by order of Major-General Fremont.

The only charge against Marquis was that he was a minister of the Southern Methodist Church, and kept company with Wooldridge. They charged Wooldridge with keeping company with Southern Methodist Ministers who were known to be disloyal; and Johnson had associated with Marquis and Wooldridge, and had even aided them in a protracted meeting.

The old adage, that “evil communications corrupt good manners,” is scarcely a criminal law, and the associations of ministers of the gospel in their legitimate work can hardly be considered a criminal offense involving the safety of the Federal Government. And yet these humble ministers were subjected to arrest, insult, imprisonment, hunger, abuse and various tortures of mind and body, for no other reason than their ecclesiastical connection and ministerial association.

While Mr. Marquis was attending the Warrensburg-Arrow Rock-Waverly Conference, in the fall of 1861, his home was taken and used for a hospital, and literally stripped of everything of any value—even the clothing of himself and family—leaving not a single change of raiment for any of them. A suit of thin summer cloth which Mr. Marquis had on at the time was everything he had to wear, and with which to start again in life. This act of plunder and robbery was done by General Fremont’s men, upon the charge that Marquis was a Southern Methodist minister and had no rights.

Believing that his life was not safe in Moniteau, he removed to Jefferson county, where he was still subject to persecution during the war, and where he had the honor of an indictment from the grand jury, after the war closed, for preaching the gospel without taking the oath proscribed by the new Constitution of the State.

Rev. M. M. Pugh.

The St. Louis Conference of the M. E. Church, South, has few better men than the Rev. M. M. Pugh, at this time (1869) Presiding Elder of the Boonville district.

He is a faithful, zealous, able minister of the gospel, and well reported of in all the Churches for his amiable spirit, ardent zeal, self-denying consecration to his work, and successful labors in the pulpit.

In 1861 the Conference appointed him to Kansas City station. The war had then been raging fiercely along the Missouri-Kansas border for several months, and the ministers of the M. E. Church, South, had come in for a large share of persecution, and a number of them had already fled for safety. Mr. Pugh was placed by this appointment in the lines of some of the meanest men who wore the Federal uniform during the war. He had but a few years before left the Northern Methodist Church for the Southern, and he appreciated fully the delicacy of the situation and the danger of the surroundings. He was prudent, cautious and circumspect in the pulpit and out of it; gave utterance to no sentiment that would afford even a pretext for his arrest and punishment. He could not approve of the outrages committed in the name of the Union on the innocent and defenseless, but kept his disapprobation to himself. His extreme caution, however, did not long exempt him from annoyance and trouble. He modestly writes:

“I was first arrested in Kansas City, in the latter part of 1861, at the instance of a Northern Methodist, and confined in Fort Union for a short time, perhaps not more than one hour, then released on parole and granted city limits.

“In the summer of 1862 I was greatly annoyed and frequently threatened by a Northern Methodist preacher who had command of a company in Kansas City at that time.

“To avoid the relentless opposition and persecution of this man, I left home two or three weeks. He said his Church was largely represented in the Federal army, and to a considerable extent influenced the U. S. forces, and that Southern Methodist preachers should be hunted and punished. I mention this to show that we were not persecuted for evil-doing, but simply because we were Southern Methodists. This, in their eyes, was a crime of the greatest magnitude.

“In the fall of 1862 I was ordered to pray for the President of the United States by name, for the U. S. Congress, and for the success of the Union army, ‘so-called.’ This I refused to do; and said, among other things, that no man, or class of men, should dictate my prayers.

“In the winter of 1863 I was assessed as a Southern sympathizer. I refused to pay the unjust assessment. For this refusal I was arrested and put in the guard-house in Kansas City. Here I was kept in close confinement about twenty-four hours, when, in company with nine others imprisoned for the same offense, I was sent to Independence in a greasy wagon guarded by twenty men and lodged in an exceedingly filthy prison. Col. W. R. Penick, then in command, refused to let us have our meals from the hotel or from our friends. We were kept in this filthy place about twenty-four hours, when we were unconditionally released by order of Governor Gamble.

“Believing that I could do no good, opposed as we were, and that cruel men were seeking my life, I left Kansas City in April, 1863. Soon after I left the Northern Methodists took possession of our church.

“In March, 1866, I was indicted in Independence for preaching without taking the oath of the new Constitution.

“I was arrested by the Deputy Sheriff, a man who before the war would not have been thought of in connection with that office. I gave bond for my appearance at the next term of the court. W. L. Bone and J. B. Henry, Esqs., went on my bond. Judge Tutt was on the bench, and Mr.——Johnson, State’s Attorney.

“In the fall I appeared in court, when the case was continued. The next spring, the U. S. Supreme Court having decided the so-called ‘test oath’ unconstitutional my case was dismissed.

“I was an ordained Elder in the Church, and had been preaching ten years when I went to Kansas City.”

Before Mr. Pugh left Kansas City he was not only informed that his life was in danger, but the Northern Methodist preacher, of whom he speaks, informed him and others that such was the feeling of his men toward Mr. Pugh that he feared assassination every night—that Mr. Pugh could not walk the streets any time, day or night, in safety.

It was no uncommon thing for military commanders to send special orders to ministers of the Southern Methodist Church, ordering prayers for specific persons or things, and requiring flags to be displayed from the pulpit or church door.

It will answer the purposes of history merely to sample these orders. Petty tyranny no where surpasses it:

“I. It being proper that in all our supplications for the blessings of Deity the condition of our beloved but distracted country should not be overlooked; therefore, it is ordered—to the end that should any prove forgetful they may be reminded that they have a government to pray for—that during the quarterly meeting of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, now in session in this city, the Stars and Stripes be conspicuously displayed in front of the pulpit of the church where said meeting is held.

“II. The pastor of said church will cause this order to be published from the pulpit of his church.

“By order of W. C. Ransom, Major, commanding U. S. forces at Westport, Mo.”

Rev. John A. Murphy was pastor, and Messrs. H. Houck and A. P. Warfield “executed the order to save the property.”

The following note explains the following order. The order gave rise to many reflections, doubtless, that are not in the note. The note is given verbatim:

“Bro. P.—On the opposite page you will observe an item of history which may be worthy a place in your forthcoming book. The occasion of this order was the anniversary of the ‘Camp Jackson Victory,’ which was celebrated hugely by the St. Charles ‘Loilists,’ especially by the Teutonic portion of them.

“Ours was the only Church in the city honored (?) by Colonel Emmons with an official order to display the National colors. The order was obeyed, of course; and on the return of our ‘Super Stupid Union Savers’ from their day of bacchanalian revelry in the suburbs of the city, our church was again honored (?) by a halt in front of it, and ‘three cheers for der yunion flag on der Secesh Church.’

“Col. Emmons and his ‘Home Guards’ ought to be immortalized. Could you not help it on? They will certainly live while St. Charles Methodism can remember

The order is as follows:

“Messrs. Dennis McDonald, Benjamin R. Shores, Dr. Evans and John S. McDowell, Trustees M. E. Church, South, at St. Charles, Mo., will cause the National Flag to be raised over their church in this city without delay.

At Kansas City, St. Joseph, Jefferson City and many other places similar orders were issued, and in some instances orders were sent up to the pulpit commanding special and public prayers to be offered for specific persons and things, either to test the loyalty of ministers, or, more truthfully, to trifle with the consciences of men in the solemn matters of divine worship.

In some instances military commanders would order the strongest Southern sympathizers to make Union flags, or shrouds for dead Union soldiers. Not a few amusing incidents occurred from this cause, only one of which must suffice now, as it occurred with a minister’s wife, and is a fine specimen of ready retort and genuine wit upon a solemn subject.

In the winter of 1862 Major Oliver, in command of about four companies of U. S. troops, entered Independence, Mo., and established his winter quarters in the Female College buildings. When his command had approached within two miles of the city they were fired on from the brush by Quantrell’s “bushwhackers.” One man was killed and several severely wounded.

Major Oliver was much exasperated, and made many threats that were never carried into execution. Amongst other things he made inquiry for the strongest female secessionist, or as he termed it, “she-rebel,” in the city, vowing that he would order her to make a shroud for the dead soldier. Several ladies were mentioned whose sympathies with the South were very strong, and, amongst the number, Mrs. Wallace, the wife of the Rev. T. Wallace, a Southern Methodist preacher. The fact that she was a minister’s wife gave her Southern proclivities pre-eminence in his mind, and he sent his orderly with the goods and about the following message:

“Madam, Major Oliver, commanding this post, has learned that you are the strongest secesh woman in this city, and has sent me with these goods and an order that you make forthwith a shroud for a Union soldier killed by the bushwhackers this morning. He hopes that you will in this way compensate, in part, for the work of your bushwhacker friends.”

This last sentence was uttered in a tone and with an emphasis that did not permit her to doubt its import. She instantly and politely replied:

“Present my respects to Major Oliver, and tell him the shroud will be ready in two hours; and say to him that it would afford me the greatest pleasure to make shrouds for his whole command.”

It is needless to say that Mrs. Wallace was not troubled with any more shroud making for Maj. Oliver’s command.

During this same winter, and while Major Oliver was in command at Independence, in the many skirmishes and fights between the Federal soldiers and “Quantrell’s bushwhackers,” as they were called, many rich incidents occurred, amongst them the following, in which one of the oldest ministers in the State was the hero:

Rev. S. S. Colburn, for many long years a traveling preacher in the itinerant ranks of the M. E. Church, South, and then living in Cass county, in a superannuated condition, had been so much annoyed, so often robbed, and his life so repeatedly threatened, that he concluded to leave his home and place himself under the protection of friendly bayonets as his only means of safety. He happened one day upon the camp of Quantrell and his men, some of whom he knew very well as his “neighbor boys.” They prevailed on him to remain with them a few days and they would protect him. He was too old to bear arms and do the kind of fighting they had to do, but he could keep camp for them and stay with his old friends sometimes at night. They offered the best they had, with their most vigilant protection, which the old man concluded to accept for a few days.

He had not been long with them when their supplies were about to give out, and a consultation was had as to the best method of replenishing the stock. It was soon agreed that Mr. Colburn should go to the house of an old friend not far off, stay all night, and bring in a sack of potatoes the next morning. With this intent he left the camp late in the evening, and soon found himself in the comfortable home of his friend, and in the most agreeable family intercourse around a cheerful fire. Old times were talked over and present events canvassed till a late hour, when the “family Bible,” the worship, the good night and the downy bed closed the scene. A refreshing sleep brought the old man to an early start, and the friendship of other years filled his sack with fine potatoes; and, as the sun arose upon the world, he hailed the smoke of the early camp fire, and pressed on toward his hungry protectors.

Just at daylight the camp had been surprised and attacked by a squad of Federal soldiers. The rebels fled in confusion, leaving the camp in possession of the enemy, while they formed in the adjacent brush and prepared to re-take the camp. Just as Mr. Colburn rode into camp, all ignorant of what had occurred, Quantrell opened fire on the enemy, which was promptly returned. The preacher comprehended the situation in an instant, and, wheeling his horse, started to retreat. He was followed by a volley of whistling minnie balls from the new occupants of the camp, and fell from his horse instantly, by his sack of potatoes, and “went dead.” The rebels re-took their camp, and in the precipitate retreat of the enemy they rode over the sack of potatoes and the body of the preacher, the horses every time clearing both at a bound. When the preacher was assured of safety, he got up, shouldered his potatoes and walked into camp with a broad smile on his face, to the great joy of his friends. By a timely ruse he saved both his bacon and potatoes.

Rev. J. M. Breeding.

The following account of the persecution of this excellent and faithful local preacher of the M. E. Church, South, is quite an abridgement of the statement furnished, but is amply sufficient to show that very few men in these perilous times suffered more, and escaped more frequently, as “with the skin of his teeth.” How wonderful that special Providence which so often interposes to save the lives of his chosen servants!

In March, 1863, Mr. Breeding was residing on Barker’s creek, in Henry county, Mo. His wife was very ill—not able to raise her head from her pillow. When they were alone, and at midnight, three armed men opened the yard gate, rode rapidly up to the house, and called for Mr. B. to come out. This he declined to do, telling them that he could hear what they had to say where he was. He saw from the door, which he held ajar, that they held their pistols well in hand, as if awaiting an object to shoot. They ordered him to come out a second time, and in no genteel language. He refused, saying to them that if they would come to see him in the day time he would see and talk with them like neighbors.

They asked him if he was armed. He told them that he was a civil man, and had some plows with which he expected to cultivate the ground in the summer; and did not let them know that he was wholly unarmed. They asked his politics, and were informed that he never meddled with the politics of the country; that his only platform was “Repentance toward God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.”

“You are a preacher, then?”

“Yes, I try to preach sometimes.”

“A Southern Methodist preacher?”

“Yes, I belong to the Methodist Episcopal Church, South?”

“Well, that is just what we have understood, and we don’t intend to let any such man live in this country. We have come with authority to order you to leave in six days, and if you are here at the expiration of that time it will not be well with you. We want to know whether you intend to leave or not.”

Mr. B. asked for their authority, which they declined to give; whereupon he told them as he had not meddled in any way with their political strife he did not think any sane officer would send them at such a time on such business. They remarked that he could either obey or risk the consequences, and turned and rode off.

The excitement and alarm of this midnight interview proved well nigh fatal to his wife. As soon as they were gone, and he could renew his attentions to his wife, he thought that she was already passing down into the shadow of death. The anxiety and agony of the remaining part of that dreadful night no tongue can tell, no pen describe. About daylight she began to revive, and then to rest. On his knees, at her bedside, he determined that he would not leave her, though they should kill him.

A few days after this occurrence, Mr. B. learned from the nearest military post, through a friend, that no such order had been issued; but that the commander of the post, Captain Gallihar, would not be responsible for what his men did from under his eye.

During the following summer there were very few nights when one or more of these lawless men was not seen prowling about the premises and keeping the preacher in constant dread of arson or assassination. He had no peace and felt no security.

They, doubtless, meditated midnight mischief, but had not the courage to attempt it. They changed their plans, and began to report to the military officers various things on Mr. Breeding, to influence them to interfere for them and have him put out of the way.

In July his appointment in Calhoun was attended one Sabbath by a Lieut. Combs, with his company of men, whom he stationed at convenient places about the church and along the road near the church, as though they expected to encounter a desperate enemy.

As he approached the church and began to comprehend the situation, he discovered what he afterward learned were signals. When these signals were made the whole force moved out to the road and advanced rapidly toward the preacher; he was halted and his name demanded.

“You pray for ‘Bushwhackers,’ I learn,” said the officer.

“No more than for other sinners,” the preacher answered.

“But,” said the officer, “some of the boys tell me they have heard you pray for the success of Bushwhackers. They say they have known you long, and that you are an original secessionist; that you have always believed in secession,” &c.

The preacher appealed to those who had known him the longest, if they ever heard him utter disloyal sentiments or knew him to attend a political meeting of any kind. He was no political partisan, and never had been. They finally told him that he was a Southern Methodist preacher and that was enough, as they were all rebels.

While this conversation was going on and the most of the company were in disorder, a squad of men were drawn up in line in front of the preacher with their guns ready for use. Lieut. Combs stepped up in front of these men, when the conversation closed with the preacher, and talked to them for some time in a subdued tone of voice. At the close of the interview one of the men said, in a low voice: “Well, if you will not let us shoot him, we will egg him,” and started off to a barn near by from which he soon returned with his hands full of eggs. The officer would not let him use the eggs, and after some further conversation he dismissed the preacher and took his company back to headquarters.

A few days after this Mr. Breeding had occasion to go to Windsor for medicine for his afflicted wife. There he again met these Calhoun soldiers. They were very annoying and insulting. A mounted squad of them started off before Mr. B. was ready and took the road leading to his house. When the preacher started home and had reached the forks of the road, he was minded to take the plainest and best road, but his horse pulled so obstinately for the other that he finally yielded and reached his home in safety. The next day a friend came to see if he was safe, and informed him that the squad of soldiers that left Windsor before him, waylaid the road to assassinate him. What a providential deliverance!

The next Sabbath Mr. Breeding had a regular appointment to preach at Windsor. With the Sabbath morning came a foraging party to his house demanding breakfast. They stayed and detained the preacher until it was too late to reach his appointment, and he had to remain at home. This detention saved him further trouble, and probably his life. He afterward learned that a band of twenty men were all that morning on the road that he was expected to pass. When it became so late that they supposed he had gone by some other way, they went to the church, surrounded it and entered, but to discover again their disappointment. The preacher was nowhere to be found; and in consultation some wanted to go immediately to his house and inflict summary punishment, but other counsels prevailed, and they determined to try him again the next Sabbath at his appointment at Moffat’s School house.

The Sabbath came, and with its earliest rays came a messenger from a Mr. Owen, a Baptist friend, requesting Mr. Breeding to come to his house immediately as his son was at the point of death. Mr. B. went without delay several miles in a direction from the church. After detaining him as long as he could, Mr. Owen informed him of a trap set for him that day, and that he must remain at his house all day. The preacher was not aware of any evil designs, and only yielded to much earnest solicitation to keep out of harm’s way.

After having so often and so narrowly escaped, Mr. Breeding thought it best to seek greater safety elsewhere. Accordingly he disposed of his effects, packed up and journeyed to Macon county, in North Missouri, and settled down near the old Hebron Church. This move was attended with much privation, suffering, danger and pecuniary loss. He found at his new home a faithful little band of men and women who met every Sabbath where prayer was wont to be made. To these he gladly joined himself.

By this time religious privileges were few and religious liberty greatly abridged by the operation of the “new Constitution.” Ministers were afraid to preach, and the membership discouraged and depressed. The party in power were very vigilant in hunting out and dragging before the civil courts all non-juring ministers.

Mr. Breeding could not take the oath, and he contented himself for some time with an occasional exhortation to the faithful few who still kept the altar fires burning in a quiet way.

The meetings for prayer began to attract the attention of those in authority. They concluded that Mr. B. must be preaching, as the meetings were so regular and so well attended. The super-loyalists determined if such was the case they would take the law into their own hands and see what virtue there was in powder and ball.

The next Sabbath found eight armed men on the front seat to enforce the authority of the new Constitution. There appeared an equal number of orderly citizens prepared to protect the peaceful worship of the congregation. For a time matters wore quite a menacing aspect.

The usual prayer meeting exercises were had, and Mr. Breeding closed up with a warm and an earnest exhortation. The services were somewhat abbreviated, that the unfriendly parties might the sooner be separated.

The next Sabbath the same armed super-loyalists were present, but the friends of peace and order were absent. The preacher had great liberty in the service, and felt in no way intimidated by the presence of armed men on the front bench. During his earnest exhortation, founded upon a favorite text, the men became somewhat excited, but they had either not chosen a leader or the leader showed the white feather. They kept calling one upon the other to start—“You start, and I will follow.” “No, you start, and I will follow,” were expressions, though whispered, that could be distinctly heard by those near them. Such things did not deter the preacher. They could not browbeat him down, and finally, in their shame, they vented their pique on a luckless dog that lay stretched out on the floor near them.

After this fruitless attempt to frighten these faithful and devout men and women, and to get some pretext for adding another name to the list of Missouri Martyrs, they surceased their persecutions, modified their prejudices, toned down their spirit, and from enemies some of them have become the fast friends and even the zealous converts of the sect that was “everywhere spoken against.”

Such scenes of suffering, trial and danger, simply because the victim was a minister of the gospel, recalls the persecutions of other times, and re-enacts a history which we had vainly hoped would not darken the annals of the nineteenth century.

While the details of these dark scenes are stripped of all extra coloring that the naked facts may appear, the ever active imagination will, despite our soberest efforts, supply the want, and memory will be busy with the history of other times and other countries until Missouri is forgotten; the finest model of human government ever devised by man crumbles into dust; the much vaunted religious liberty expires upon its own desecrated altars; the light of a boasted civilization fades into darkness; the noblest and freest institutions go down in hopeless barbarism; a pure, non-political Christianity, with a non-juring ministry, are called upon to reproduce the agony of the Garden and the tragedy of Calvary without repeating the work and grace of atonement, and in memory we are living over the times of Charles the Fifth, Montmorenci and the Duke of Alva. The spirits of the French Huguenots, the Waldenses, Vaudois Martyrs and Bohemian Protestants have been reproduced in the ministry of Missouri. “Why do the heathen rage and the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord and against his annointed, saying, ‘Let us break their bands asunder and cast away their cords from us.’”