During periods of conflict in England, the Quaker leader George Fox affirmed that he was “sent of God to stand a witness against all violence, and…to bring [people] from the occasion of war and fighting to the peaceable gospel.” This commitment to non-violence has been one of the most enduring qualities of the Religious Society of Friends, and for decades Cincinnati Friends Meeting admonished any members who strayed from that principle. In 1846 and 1847, the meeting disowned three men (including George E. Pugh, the grandson of the meeting's founder Christopher Anthony) for volunteering for military operations in the Mexican-American War.

Nevertheless, Cincinnati Friends seemed reluctant to take similar action during the Civil War. Three months after hostilities began in 1861, the minutes noted that there were “a few instances of bearing arms, which is a source of concern to us and will claim our care,” but no disownments resulted. The following year, it was observed that “three of our members have connected themselves direct with the army” and “[care] has been extended so far as practicable,” but still there were no disownments. Again in 1863, “not all [are] clear in respect to military services,” but only “advice has been extended in those cases.”

Up until 1863, the Union army was comprised entirely of volunteers. However, as the war dragged on, and casualties were high, the U.S. Congress passed the Enrollment Act, which set up a national process by which men between the ages of 20 and 45 could be drafted if the volunteer quota for their state was not met. Those who did not wish to serve could receive a deferral by paying $300 to the District Provost Marshall.

That December, representatives from almost every Quaker yearly meeting in the Union convened in Baltimore to discuss this turn of events. After lengthy discussion, the conference attendees determined that “Friends continue to be solemnly bound unswervingly to maintain our ancient faith and belief, that War is forbidden in the Gospel, and that as followers of the Prince of Peace, we cannot contribute to its support, or in any way participate in its spirit.” At the same time, they affirmed their desire to “[contribute] to the relief of distress by every means in our power,” particularly in caring for the freed slaves, the sick, and the wounded.

The following day, a subcommittee went to Washington to present their position to Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War. Unfortunately, Stanton could offer them no legal exemption, although he did suggest that the $300 deferment payment could go not to the general fund to support the war effort, but rather a separate fund specifically to aid the destitute—an offer which the Friends declined.

The Quaker position regarding resistance to conscription was not well received among the general public. An editorial in the Cincinnati Daily Enquirer sharply criticized Friends for voting for politicians who were opposed to slavery (and willing to wage war over the issue), and then seeking to be excused from the battle:

[When] it comes to fighting or to paying somebody else to fight in their places, they are suddenly seized with cramps in the region of the conscience. A revival of religion breaks out at once under the drab-colored habiliments, and principle and pocket alike cry aloud for salvation…

 

These petitioners would burn a Democrat at the stake who, believing the war to be unjust, should give his vote against its prosecution and yet, cloaking their love of life and love of money under the covering of a religious profession, they seek to escape the costs and perils of the contest which no conscientious scruples prevent them from encouraging. ....

 

[When] a man has gone far enough to give his active political and moral influence in favor of a particular war, he has gone too far to plead his religion as an excuse for evading its dangers and its expenses without incurring the charge of profound and disgraceful hypocrisy.

In asserting their opposition to military service, Quakers were not seeking to avoid personal danger. Although they were not willing to kill for their principles, they were willing to die for them. The Discipline of 1864 (which provided advice and guidance to Friends) poignantly acknowledged the challenges of adhering to the peace testimony in wartime:

If during the common course of their life, [Friends] are attacked, insulted, injured, and persecuted, they ought to suffer wrong, to revenge no injury, to return good for evil; and love their enemies.

 

So also, should it happen that they are exposed to the more extraordinary calamities of war, their conduct must continue to be guided by the same principles. If the sword of the invader be lifted up against them, the precept is still at hand, that they resist not evil. If the insults and injuries of the carnal warrior be heaped upon them, they are still forbidden to avenge themselves, and still commanded to pray for their persecutors. If they are surrounded by a host of enemies, however violent and malicious those enemies may be, Christian love must still be unbroken, still universal.

Among those who refused to bear arms during this conflict was Levi Coffin, who described his response to the war in this way:

[Although] we did not believe in war and fighting, we always considered it right to take care of the sick and feed the hungry, and in this way we did our full share by the soldiers. To some of the young men who had none, my wife gave blankets for use in camp.

 

One morning one of our city officers, with a posse of men, came to my house and demanded to know why I had not reported for service at the place designated by the Mayor in his proclamation. He said he was instructed to visit all in that ward who had not reported, and if they refused to comply to compel them to report. I told him that I should not comply, and he said: “Then I shall be obliged to compel you to do so.”

 

I replied: “Thou might find that to be a difficult job. I am a non-resistant, and thou would have to carry me to the place, and that would look ugly.”

 

The officer laughed, and said he guessed I would go without carrying.

 

I said: “If thou wast to get me there it might be very difficult to compel me to report for service in the army. I could not take a gun and go out to shoot anybody; that is contrary to the spirit and doctrines of the gospel. Christ instructed us to love our enemies and to do good to them that hate us, and I am a full believer in his teachings. I can not comply with the Mayor’s proclamation. General Wallace is now in command in the city, and he will not require such service of me, for he knows my principles.

 

The officer left me, and I was not again troubled.

Other Friends found their own ways to address the suffering and hardships that they saw around them. Mary J. Taylor assisted soldiers who were encamped in Garfield Park, and her son, Dr. William H. Taylor, provided medical services to the wounded.

In 1862, several Cincinnati Friends in Miami Quarterly Meeting were nominated “to endeavor, as way may open, to relieve in some measure, the Colored People now at or near Cairo [Illinois], who are without a home in consequence of the War now existing in our beloved country, and who, by the laws of the land, are most likely entitled to freedom from Slavery. It was stated in the Quarterly Meeting that there are at this time about 4,000 persons, principally women and children, at or near that place, the able-bodied men being mostly employed in the opposing armies, leaving their helpless fathers, mothers, wives, and children without the means of support.” In addition to providing the requested clothing, Cincinnati Friends contributed more than $75 to cause.

By November of 1864, the meeting raised even more funds: “Friends feeling the claims that the freed people of color have on public sympathy, and to aid in alleviating the sufferings of that numerous class, this Meeting directs our Treasurer to pay $500 to the treasurer of the Executive Committee of Indiana Yearly Meeting on Freedmen.” This donation was followed by an additional $759 in 1865, a sum equal to more than half of the meeting’s annual operating budget at the time.

Even as the war ended, the needs of those afflicted by it did not. In April of 1865, “[the] Committee on the Concerns of the People of Color report that during the last quarter, the sewing society of women Friends have held weekly meetings, with an average attendance of ten members. They have completed 166 garments. The Committee has done nothing officially, though members have frequently visited the Hospital for Freedmen established by the Government near the city.”

The following month, Cincinnati Friends turned their attention to the needs of their fellow Quakers in the South: “This Meeting believing it would be right to aid Friends of North Carolina Yearly Meeting who are in destitute circumstances through the devastating effects of the war, authorizes Murray Shipley and the clerk of this Meeting, to draw upon our treasurer for five hundred ($500) dollars and forward the same to Francis T. King of Baltimore for the relief of Friends of North Carolina Yearly Meeting.”

This article comes from the book Friends Past and Present: The Bicentennial History of Cincinnati Friends Meeting (1815–2015). You can obtain a copy of the printed book or a Kindle version from Amazon.com. The proceeds of all sales go to Cincinnati Friends Meeting.