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:
“[Special Orders, No. 10.]
“Headquarters, Westport, Mo., }
“January 31, 1863. }
“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
“Truly, —— ——.”
The order is as follows:
“Headquarters, St. Charles, Mo., }
“May 9, 1863. }
“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.
“Ben. Emmons, Jr.,
“Colonel and Provost-Marshal.”
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.