CHAPTER X.

PILLAGE, PLUNDER, BLACK-MAIL—MURDER OF THE REV. J. FEWEL—3,050 NEW

ENGLAND CLERGYMEN.

Indiscriminate Robbery, Pillage, Arson and Murder—Banditti and

Revenge—Black-Mail and Espionage—Panic, Depopulation and

Plunder—Demoralization—Virtue Sacrificed—Some who Would not Bow the

Knee to Moloch—God had an Altar and Israel a Priest—Persecution,

Arrest and Imprisonment of Revs. J. Ditzler, J. B. H. Wooldridge and

D. J. Marquis—Many others Suffered in Like Manner—Rev. James Fewel

Arrested, Cruelly Treated, and Died from the Effects of Inhuman

Treatment, aged Seventy-two Years—Many such Victims—The True Office

and Work of the Ministry—Its Spirit and Mission—Any Departure

Unsettles the Public Mind—A Sad Day for the Country, Church and

State—Relations and Dependencies—Three Thousand and Fifty New

England Clergymen Before Congress—A Solemn Protest and its

Effects—Then and Now—Ecclesiastical Bodies on the “State of the

Country”—Ecclesiastical Bummers—A Settled Policy to Drive the Old

Ministers out of the State—General Halleck’s Order.

The events of 1861 had a very decided moral effect upon the public mind.

Several severe battles were fought in the State during the year, and the

armies and armed bodies of men were largely recruited. Men who, at the

first, had no thought of entering either army found themselves forced,

by circumstances, to take up arms in what was, by construction, called

self-defense—that is, by constant annoyance from armed men, by harassing

fears, from threats and rumors of mischief to person and property,

frequent arrests, pillage, plunder, etc., many a peaceable, quiet,

orderly citizen was tormented into the necessity of taking up arms.

Armed bands appeared in every part of the State—some on one side and

some on the other, some with authority and some without, but all

subsisting as they could, and but few caring how. These bands, many of

which were irresponsible brigands and marauders, usually “foraged” on

the citizens whose sympathies were on the opposite side. They did not

always stop at the necessary supplies for subsistence, but were robbers

of houses, and many of them indiscriminate and general thieves, taking

horses, mules, cattle, wagons, corn, hay, flour, bacon, fruit, blankets,

quilts, feather beds, carpets, clothing of every kind, from elegant

silks, furs and shawls to children’s shoes and toys; money, watches and

jewelry were often taken from the persons of ladies. These highwaymen

would often put the torch to dwelling houses at night and take a

fiendish pleasure in seeing the awakened inmates make their escape or

perish in the flames. Men were shot down by them on the highway, in the

fields, the woods and at the doors of their houses as though life was of

little value, and its appreciation was about equal to the effect of one

bootless, midnight murder upon the great question of Union or division.

At all events, after the battle of Lexington, September 21, 1861, and

the rapid movements of armies which followed, human life was at the

caprice of the armed banditti that multiplied so rapidly over the State.

Many defenseless citizens suffered such indignities and insults from

them, in addition to the loss of all they had on earth, that they fled

to the army for protection, or to the brush and banded together for

revenge. Men, whose houses were destroyed, and whose wives, and

daughters, and sisters had been worse than insulted by inhuman ruffians,

swore the direst vengeance, and with unsparing recklessness scattered

desolation and death in their tortuous track. For their deeds military

commanders of posts would hold defenseless communities responsible, levy

black-mail upon them, sometimes to the full value of their property, and

institute a system of espionage that would put an eavesdropper under

nearly every man’s window and a detective in every social circle and

public assembly. Property and life were thus put at the mercy of

unprincipled detectives and spies, selected often from the lowest and

most unscrupulous classes of men and women. With such a system of

military despotism no man’s life was safe, and indeed many men were

accused, arrested, imprisoned, tried, convicted and put to death without

ever knowing the charges against them.

It is not difficult to conjecture the effect of this state of things

upon the public mind. To say that the people in some whole counties

along the borders of Iowa and Kansas were seized with panic and

consternation is not more than the truth. Men and families broke up, and

taking what they could with convenience and safety fled for life and

protection, some North, some South, some to Canada, some to California,

some to the army, some to the large cities, and some to the brush. Some

men ordered and some frightened their neighbors away, and then, to

furnish them means to travel, bought their stock and lands at a nominal

price—in some instances for a mere song. What a farmer, or mechanic, or

merchant left behind in his flight was seized as lawful prey by the

first that found it and appropriated to private use. Indeed, in one

instance a whole county was depopulated outside of the towns, by

military order, and devoted to pillage and plunder, and that the third

county of the State in population and wealth.

It was even worse, if possible, in the track of large armies and in

those parts of the country upon which they subsisted.

No part of the State suffered more than the Southwest, extending from a

line that would strike Rolla, Sedalia and Fort Scott, in Kansas, to the

State of Arkansas. Many parts of that section of the State were

literally laid waste, and made a desolation by fire and sword. The

breath of war, like the simoon, swept over the country, leaving a wide

waste of desolation and death, which the benignity of peace and the hand

of industry can not reclaim and rebuild for many long years.

To say that public sentiment in the State was demoralized by such scenes

before the end of 1861 is an expression too tame to reflect adequately

the real fact. The moral forces of society were paralyzed, social

restraints were broken down, and even religious character was powerless

either for protection or public good. The old standards of virtue,

integrity, honesty and right principle were borne down and swept away,

and men became reckless of the laws of God and man. In the fury and fire

of partisan strife, and amid the familiar scenes of blood and death, men

trampled upon right, crucified truth, murdered innocence, loved

vengeance, despised virtue, abandoned principle, forgot their loves,

left their dead unburied and their buried uncoffined, and hung upon the

bloody war path like avenging furies.

In the midst of such fearful and wide-spread demoralization God

preserved only a few thousand who would not bow the knee to the bloody

Moloch. Israel was not without an altar, and the altar was not without

an acceptable sacrifice; but the spirit of anti-Christ seemed the more

embittered and enraged by that fact, and the persecution became more

general and unrelenting throughout the State.

Many congregations of quiet worshipers were dispersed; many societies

were broken up and scattered; many churches were burned, and many

ministers arrested, silenced or banished—not in the cities so much as in

the country.

Amongst the first arrests was that of the _Rev. J. Ditzler_.

In 1860 and ’61 Rev. J. Ditzler was stationed in Jefferson City, in

charge of the M. E. Church, South. He was also chaplain to the lower

House of the General Assembly.

After Governor Jackson and General Price had evacuated the State capital

and the United States forces under General Lyon had taken possession,

Mr. Ditzler remained as a non-combatant, supposing that he would not be

molested. In this he was mistaken. He was not allowed long to remain in

his quiet study at the Ferguson House or to attend to his pastoral

duties. An “orderly,” with a guard of seven men, called on him at the

Ferguson House, arrested and marched him through the city, and put him

with others in an old meat (smoke) house. He was taunted and sneered at

by his guard—the Dutch—through the cracks of the old log house. Mr.

Ditzler talked back at them in German, Italian, Spanish, French, Greek

and Hebrew, quoting freely from Schiller, Goethe and other German

authors of note, for his own relief and their amusement, until he was

reported to Col. Boernstein, Post Commander, and by him unconditionally

released, solely upon literary grounds. No charges were preferred

against him, nor could he ever find out why he was imprisoned. His

father fought at Tippecanoe, in 1812, and his grandfather at Valley

Forge, under Washington, and this treatment was not borne without some

little indignation.

Brigadier-General Brown succeeded Col. Boernstein, and Mr. Ditzler was

apprised of the purpose to re-arrest him. He was advised by his friends

to flee, and accordingly took the train late Saturday night for St.

Louis; and at noon the next day (Sabbath) a posse of ten armed soldiers

entered his church to arrest him, but he was gone. They followed him to

St. Louis only to find that he had taken a train on the Ohio and

Mississippi Railroad and made his escape.

The Rev. J. B. H. Wooldridge, the Rev. D. J. Marquis, and other

ministers, were arrested and imprisoned about the same time, and without

cause. Indeed, it became so common for ministers to be arrested that by

the last of the year 1861 it ceased to be a matter of surprise to any.

The only novelty was in finding a minister out of the army who had not

been arrested by one party or the other, and the most that could be

hoped was that life and liberty to non-political and non-juring

ministers would be exceptional.

If he lived out of the track of large armies, he would not escape the

marauding bands; and if his home should be so secluded and retired that

he could not be reached by the public highway, or easily found, there

were always unprincipled men in every neighborhood who, to seek revenge,

gain favor with the authorities, or to make an opportunity to pillage

and plunder from the sheer love of it, would go to the nearest military

post, inform on the quiet “parson,” and volunteer their services to

guide the ruffian soldiers to the home of the innocent victim. From such

causes many an innocent man suffered both in property and person.

When ministers of the gospel happened to fall into the hands of regular

army officers or those lawless brigands they were treated with a

severity and cruelty that was not often visited upon others, and which

indicated with alarming certainty the policy that would be pursued

toward the enemies of all unrighteousness.

Amongst the many instances of cruelty to ministers of the gospel who had

committed no offense whatever against the peace and dignity of the

State, it is sufficient here to mention the case of the _Rev. James

Fewel_.

This venerable servant of the regular Baptist Church, who had lived and

labored in Henry county, Mo., for many years—known, respected and

honored as a peaceable, upright, good and useful citizen—was found and

arrested near his own residence and taken off as a political prisoner to

Sedalia, thence to St. Louis, where he lay in prison more than a month,

and until death came to his relief.

His death was due solely to the cruel treatment he received from his

captors and persecutors. He had never taken up arms against his country,

had never committed a crime of any sort—not even what irresponsible

persons call treason—and had never been engaged in lawless acts of any

kind; but, then, he was a minister of the gospel, and the parties who

arrested him, and those who afterward guarded him, had commiseration

neither for his profession nor gray hairs. He lacked only three days of

being seventy-two years old when he died.

He was arrested by Capt. Foster’s company of Col. Hubbard’s regiment,

Missouri State Militia, in the latter part of December, 1861, near his

own residence, in Henry county. The weather was cold, and when the old

man found that he would be taken off he begged permission to go to his

house for more and warmer clothing. This was refused him. He then asked

the natural privilege of sending a message to his aged companion, to

inform her of his condition and obtain at least a blanket to protect him

from the weather. Even this poor boon was denied the old man, and he was

torn from his home and hurried away to Sedalia. The weather turned

bitterly cold, and the freezing December blasts swept mercilessly across

the extended prairie the livelong night, while this old man was kept in

an open railroad car, shelterless, bedless, blanketless and comfortless.

His very prayers and tears seemed to freeze on the chilly night air as

he thought of home and his long years spent in the service of God for

the good of his race. But he had to suffer this cruel treatment and

trust the God of Elijah to prepare him for what was still in store for

him. The morrow came, and with it still further and severer trials. The

weather did not moderate, neither did the severity of his persecutors.

With others he was placed in a common stock car and sent to St. Louis.

With no better protection, no better accommodations, than the horned

beasts who had been temporarily displaced by them, and even with

insufficient supplies of food, they were kept traveling and stopping all

that day and night. Chilled through and through, hungry and half dead,

this old man reached St. Louis and was hurried off to the military

prison, in which he soon fell a victim to pneumonia, and

lingered—without accusation, without trial, and without even permission

to be seen by his friends—until February 1, 1862, when death came to his

release and found him ready to “depart and be with Christ, which was far

better.”

If any charges were ever preferred against him they never came to light.

This is only one of the many instances of cruelty that occurred during

the latter part of this year, in which ministers of the gospel were

persecuted and imprisoned, and some of them died of their treatment, not

because they had been in rebellion, or because they were trying to save

the Union, but because they were ministers trying to save the souls of

men.

We have been accustomed to look upon ministers of the gospel as the

divinely commissioned ambassadors of Heaven, sent forth with a

dispensation of the gospel of peace, preaching “Jesus and the

resurrection,” and “praying men in Christ’s stead to be reconciled to

God;” that their one work was to preach the gospel, build churches,

devise ways and means for the furtherance of the kingdom of grace,

project schemes for the enlargement of the borders of Zion and for the

diffusion of the power and spirit of Christianity; to plant the gospel

standard where it is not, and build up the waste places; to do the most

possible good to the greatest number, and to do this work of love in the

spirit of the divine Master, by “being an example of the believers, in

word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity,” “by

pureness, by knowledge, by long suffering, by kindness, by the Holy

Ghost, by love unfeigned.” In this way and in this spirit to spread

“scriptural holiness over these lands,” and promote “peace on earth and

good will to men.” These ideas of the spirit and work of the gospel

ministry have become so deeply rooted in the hearts of men, and so

thoroughly interwoven with their thoughts, that any departure from that

work as thus understood creates surprise, suspicion and distrust in the

public mind.

When ecclesiastical bodies assemble it is assumed that they meet to

deliberate upon the legitimate interests of the Church of Jesus

Christ—how that form of it committed to them may be made more efficient

in bringing men to a saving knowledge of Christ Jesus, the Head of the

Church, and how their plans and polity may be improved and vitalized.

It was a sad day for this country when the gospel ministry first

departed from this work and began to legislate upon questions purely

secular and political; and if our free government should ever be broken

up and our free institutions destroyed—if our religious liberties should

ever pass away, and a political and ecclesiastical despotism be

established in this land—the philosophic historian of the future, whose

melancholy task it will be to chronicle the “decline and fall” of the

greatest republic of the world, will linger with painful interest upon

that sad event as the beginning of the catastrophe.

The separate but mutually dependent relations of Church and State, the

support of the Church and her ministry by the voluntary contributions of

the people, liberty of thought and speech, the freedom of worship and

the rights of conscience, are almost peculiar to our country and form of

government. In these things our institutions are distinct from, and in

contrast with, the Church establishments and ecclesiastical hierarchies

of Europe and Asia.

They constitute the soul and centre of our free Republican government.

The very genius of our institutions resides in them, and the ægis of

liberty shields and protects them. The State may not restrict or control

them, and the Church dare not intermeddle with the affairs of State.

Tho two may exist together, but can never coalesce. They must be

distinct and separate in their laws, their government, their

administration, their spirit, their agencies and their objects, while

they have the same subjects. So long have Church and State existed

separately in this country, and so widely different in their spirit,

agencies and objects, that it is both natural and philosophical for the

public mind to be disturbed and alarmed by every attempt of the one to

intermeddle with the legitimate affairs of the other.

Few events in the history of this country caused greater alarm for our

peace and safety in the minds of reflecting men than the appearance

before the Congress of the United States of three thousand and fifty

clergymen of New England in the following protest against the passage of

the Kansas-Nebraska bill, in 1854:

“_To the Honorable, the Senate and House of Representatives, in Congress

assembled_:

“The undersigned, clergymen of different religious denominations in New

England, hereby, in the name of Almighty God and in his presence, do

solemnly protest against the passage of what is known as the Nebraska

bill, or any repeal or modification of the existing legal prohibitions

of slavery in that part of our national domain which it is proposed to

organize into the Territories of Nebraska and Kansas. We protest against

it as a great moral wrong, as a breach of faith eminently unjust to the

moral principles of the community, and subversive of all confidence in

national engagements; as a measure full of danger to the peace and even

the existence of our beloved Union, and exposing us to the righteous

judgments of the Almighty: and your protestants, as in duty bound, will

ever pray.

“_Boston, Massachusetts, March 1, 1854._”

This pretentious protest—“in the name of Almighty God”—was the first

open and bold attempt of the clergy in this country to influence

national legislation; and while Messrs. Mason, Douglass and others in

the United States Senate administered to these officious clergymen a

severe rebuke for thus intermeddling with the affairs of the National

Government, good men were justly alarmed for the result, and the whole

country was appalled by this bold advance of the Church toward the

control of the affairs of the State.

Then the finest model of ecclesiastical polity in the world trembled and

the wisest frame work of civil government felt the shock. Then the work

of our fathers—combining the wisdom of the ages and the religion of the

gospel in one grand structure of civil and religious liberty—the glory

of Washington, the pride of every American, the dread of tyrants and the

admiration of the world, began to reel upon its throne and totter to its

fall. Then the deadly virus was injected, and the veins and arteries of

national life carried the poison to every part of the body politic, and

from that day forth “death was in the pot.” Then the axe was laid at the

root of the fair tree of liberty, whose roots had been fastened deep in

the national heart, and whose branches already spread over a continent

and toward heaven, under which the oppressed of every nation found

shelter, and the down-trodden of every clime sought repose, peace,

liberty and life. Then the religious and political waters mingled, and

the whole stream of national life was corrupted and hastened on in

turbulent commotion to the “blood, and fire, and vapor of smoke” of ’61.

Ministers contented themselves then with a firm and solemn protest; they

afterward made imperious demands. They sought then to prevent the

enactment of “a measure full of danger to the peace and even the

existence of the Union;” they afterward demanded, in the name of

Almighty God, the enactment of laws, the conduct of the war, the

election of men to office, the success of party measures, manhood

suffrage, and any other purely political matter, as though the union of

Church and State was an accomplished fact and they were the constituted

vice-regents to supervise and control the legislation of the country.

At the beginning of the war, and during its continuance, when

ecclesiastical bodies met, about the gravest matter before them for

deliberation was the “State of the Country,” and how they could deliver

themselves so as to effect in any particular direction either the course

of Congress, political elections or the movement of armies. This was

true in an eminent degree of the M. E. Church, the Presbyterian Church

(Old and New School), Congregational, Unitarian, and some Baptist

associations of the Northern and Eastern States.

Nor wore these deliverances confined to the larger representative Bodies

of these Churches, but the primary church courts, ministers’

associations, conventions and Conferences made themselves conspicuous by

such unwise interference with matters purely secular and political.

Secret conclaves were held in Missouri by ministers and others

professing to be disciples of Christ, in which plans were devised and

projected to persecute, by proscription, robbery, arrests, imprisonment

and confiscation, if not by means still severer, ministers of the gospel

in this State who would not stultify themselves nor disgrace their

profession by falling in with them and joining the hue and cry for blood

and death.

Consultations were had and schemes devised by which the military

authorities could be used to oppress and persecute ministers whose

loyalty was questioned by these politico-ecclesiastics, and whose only

crime was that they possessed property and stood high in the confidence

of the people whom they had served faithfully for many years.

Revolutions never go backward, and it was a part of the forward movement

of these scheming adventurers who followed the army to keep out of

danger, and who served post and field commanders as volunteer aids for

the uses they could make of them in taking possession of churches,

persecuting and running off ministers and foisting another ministry on

the people.

It was a settled purpose to drive the old ministers out of the State.

Those who had planted the Church and grown up with her institutions, and

whose long and useful lives were identified with the early and heroic

history of the Church, had now to give place to newcomers, whom the

people did not want, or yield to the pressure of the new order of

things. These ecclesiastical bummers had influence at military

headquarters, and could use the officers of the army to accomplish their

purpose; and it was doubtless through their influence that so many

orders were issued from the Headquarters of the Department of Missouri

bearing directly upon ministers as a class. Not enough to affect them as

citizens in common with other citizens, but as ministers.

The following order may suitably close this chapter:

When Major-General Halleck was in command of the Department of Missouri

he caused to be issued an Order, under date of February 3, 1862, called

“General Orders No. 29,” requiring the “President, Professors, Curators

and all other officers of the University of Missouri to take and

subscribe the oath of allegiance prescribed by the sixth article of the

State Ordinance of October 16, 1861,” or failing to do so within thirty

days their offices will be considered vacant, and “in order that its

funds should not be used to teach treason or to instruct traitors, the

authorities of the University should expel from its walls all persons

who, by word or deed, assist or abet treason.”

The offices of railroad companies, Government contractors, agents,

clerks and Government employees, and all military officers were required

to take either the same oath or the one prescribed by an act of

Congress, approved August 6, 1861.

This long military order closes as follows:

“V. It is recommended that all clergymen, professors and teachers, and

all officers of public and private institutions for education,

benevolence, business and trade, and who are in favor of the

perpetuation of the Union, voluntarily to subscribe and file the oath of

allegiance prescribed by the State Ordinance in order that their

patriotism may be made known and recognized, and that they may be

distinguished from those who wish to encourage rebellion and prevent the

Government from restoring peace and prosperity to this city and State.”

Or, in other words, “mark them that company not with us.”

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