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.