Читать книгу Memoirs of John R. Young, Utah Pioneer, 1847 - John R. Young - Страница 5

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Petition Governors.—Wm. C. Staines, Captain James Allen.

Push on, push on, ye struggling Saints,

The clouds are breaking fast.

It is no time to doubt or faint;

The Rubicon is past.

Behind us storms and rivers lie;

Before the sun shines bright,

And we must win or we must die—

We cannot shun the fight.

On the 11th of April the main camps moved forward again. There being now more sunshine and the roads firmer, better progress was made; and on the 18th they reached the middle fork of Grand river. Here President Young selected another farm, and all hands were set at work fencing, plowing, and planting. This place was named Pisgah, and Wm. Huntington, E. T. Benson, and C. C. Rich were chosen to preside. The counsel given at Garden Grove was repeated here. The policies were to be the same. Brigham's whole soul was thrown into the work, and this can be as truly said of his associates, the Twelve. They were united in their counsels. They thought of everything and of everybody. They gave much thought and anxiety toward the poor who were left in Nauvoo and these farms were established for their benefit. Brigham and Heber remained at Pisgah until June 2nd, when they and the main camp pushed on again. We were now in the Pottawattamies' land, but the Indians received us kindly—I might say, even in a brotherly manner. They said, "We have plenty of grass and wood, and our Mormon brothers are welcome to all they want." This kind reception by the Red men touched a tender spot in the hearts of the Latter-day Saints. It was like a ray of sunshine in a dark day; a glimmer of light to a benighted traveler.

Before leaving Nauvoo, the Twelve had addressed petitions to the governors of every state in the union asking for an asylum for our people. Only two states deigned to reply. Governor Lucas of Iowa wrote a kind reply, expressing his personal sympathy, but advising us to leave the confines of the United States. This we did not wish to do, for we were Americans and loved our country. My grandfather was a Revolutionary soldier and served under General Washington in three campaigns. My father was proud of that record, and transmitted his feelings of loyalty to his children.

But now the nation through representatives had risen against us—we were forced to go. Senator Cass wrote that we had better go to Oregon; but to go there we had to pass through powerful tribes of Indians, and we feared lest their tomahawks should be turned against us.

However, the reception given us by the Pottawattamies encouraged us; and President Young, ever ready to grasp an inspiration and to act promptly, quietly sent a few discreet men to labor as missionaries among the Indian tribes. One of these men, Wm. C. Staines, is worthy of note. He was a young English boy, a late convert to the faith, small in body, and so deformed as to be almost a cripple; yet he had a soul and an ambition as grand and lofty as the immortal Wolfe's.

He penetrated the Indian tribes as far as the Sioux, by his sacrifices and force of character won their friendship and made impressions that opened the way for our people to pass through their lands in peace.

From Pisgah westward the country was wild, with no roads running in the direction we wished to; for we had now left civilization, and I have sometimes thought that we felt like Adam and Eve when cast out of Eden. The world indeed was before us, but the richest and loveliest part was behind us, and a flaming sword guarded it on every side so that we could not return.

However, the people were cheerful and as the weather was pleasant, camp life had an air of romance that amused the young.

On the 14th of June President Young and the main camps struck the Missouri river. As it would require some time to construct ferry boats, a place was selected on the high lands near by and named Council Bluffs. The tents were pitched in a hollow square and a brush bowery was erected in which to hold our meetings.

As we had no lumber, saw pits were erected, and men suitable for that labor having been selected, under the direction of Frederick Kesler the work of sawing planks was commenced.

In the meantime provisions were becoming scarce. Small companies were organized under the leadership of capable men, and sent down into Missouri to trade off our watches, feather beds, shawls, and any other articles that could be spared. While God did not rain manna down from Heaven for the sustenance of the impoverished Saints, still there was a Providence over them for good, for conditions had been brought about that made food cheap. The northwestern settlements of Missouri had been blest with bounteous harvests. Their cribs were full of corn, and the forests were full of hogs, with no market for either. The Missourians were therefore eager to take our beds and give us their surplus food.

Toward the close of the last day of June, Captain James Allen of the United States army, with a small escort rode into our midst. Instantly the camp was filled with a nervous, tremulous excitement. Who is he? What does he want? These were the questions that flew from lip to lip.

Soon the voice of Brigham was heard: "Attention, Israel! We want all the people to assemble in the bowery at ten o'clock tomorrow. We have matters of importance to present to them."

The shadows of evening rested down upon the camp, then the stars rose in the east and slowly ascended to the meridian of the heavens. Still the camp fires burned and men talked with bated breath wondering what the morrow would bring forth. A spirit of unrest brooded over the white city and many an eye had not closed in sleep when the golden flashes of light appeared in the east.

I am not writing these sketches from a theological standpoint, or to make converts to the Mormon faith. I was there. I heard, I saw, I suffered, and am trying to write as I felt and still feel.

At ten o'clock the people assembled in the bowery, and began services by singing Cowper's inspired hymn:

"God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform,

He plants his footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.

Ye fearful Saints fresh courage take,

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy and will break

In blessings on your head."

After an earnest prayer, President Young introduced Captain James Allen, who said in substance that he had been sent by President Polk to ask for five hundred of our young men to enlist in the army and go to California to fight the Mexicans. And now let an abler pen than mine speak a few words:

"Imagination can alone picture the surprise, almost dismay, with which this startling news was received! The nation whose people had thrust them from its borders and driven them into the wilderness, now calling upon them for aid? And this in full face of the fact that their own oft reiterated appeals for help had been denied!"

Captain Allen affirmed that President Polk's heart had been touched by our sufferings and that this was done as an act of kindness! An act of kindness! Was it not rather a deep-laid plan to bring about our entire destruction? If we refused, then disarm us and the Indians would soon finish the job.

From that day to this it has been a debated question among the Mormon people as to what the motive was in asking for the battalion. If the men enlisted. Captain Allen pledged himself to be a friend to the Boys "as long as breath remained in his body;" and, be it said to his honor, faithfully and conscientiously did he keep that pledge.

After free discussion by several of the brethren President Young arose. Instantly breathless silence reigned. He was not a brilliant speaker like Orson Hyde, Parley P. Pratt, or Amasa M. Lyman, whose masterful speeches so often charmed their assemblies; but he possessed a magnetism and forcefulness that always claimed attention. The Saints realized that he was a man of wonderful resources.

"I want to say to the brethren present that this is a surprise to me, but I believe Captain Allen to be a gentleman, and a man of honor, and I accept his pledges to be a friend to our boys. Now, I would like the brethren to enlist and make up a battalion, and go and serve your country, and if you will do this, and live your religion, I promise you in the name of Israel's God that not a man of you shall fall in battle."

That settled the matter. Brigham's promise was as good as gold; the clouds passed away, the spirit of unrest fled the camp, the people returned to their tents satisfied, and on the morrow the stars and stripes were unfurled and nailed to a liberty pole. Duzett's martial band and Pitt's celebrated brass band were hauled in wagons from camp to camp and aided, with soul stirring music, to enthuse the boys. With Brigham and the twelve as recruiting officers the matter went with a rush. In no part of our broad land were five hundred men ever more quickly enlisted than in the Mormon camps.

The charge of treason and of want of loyalty to our country was flung back into the teeth of those who uttered it. The sacrifice having now been made, the blessing was sure to follow. The raising of the Mormon battalion was an event of great importance, for while it brought about many heartaches and much individual suffering, it taught a lesson of patriotism never to be forgotten. It led to enlarged emphasis in regard to our relationship to the national government, for Latter-day Saints have ever taught that the Constitution of our country was given by inspiration, and consequently that all laws made in accordance therewith ought to be loved, honored, and obeyed.

As soon as the labor of raising the battalion was accomplished, Brigham turned the energies of his active mind to the task of pushing further west. The hope of reaching Oregon or California that season was given up; but Brigham was anxious to place the turbid waters of the Missouri between us and our old enemies. About the 1st of July the ferry boat was launched and families began crossing over into the land of the Otoes.

Boy that I was, the swimming of the cattle was an achievement of great interest. Early in the morning, so that the sun might not shine in the cattle's faces, a boatload was taken across and held on the opposite shore. Then a thousand head were driven some distance up the stream and forced into the river. Good swimmers would climb upon the backs of some of the strongest oxen, and slapping them on the sides of the faces would guide them into the current. Soon we had a string of animals reaching from one shore to the other. Of course it was lively and exciting, and called for courage and physical endurance.

In days of rest our camp would present scenes of competitive athletic sports which would have been a credit to any nation. Brigham, like Joseph, was very fond of witnessing tests of manhood, and always had near him trusted men, who could be relied upon for strength, courage, and fidelity. In the act of swimming our cattle not an animal was lost; nor were the hardy swimmers who breasted the Missouri river with them ever lost sight of thereafter.

About 3 miles southwest of the ferry a place was selected for a winter encampment and called Winter Quarters. It is now called Florence. A town was laid out, a hewn-log meetinghouse was erected, a grist mill was built, and a day school was conducted in the meetinghouse under the direction of Professor Orson Spencer of Boston. In the evening a grammar school was taught.

I remember one of the short humorous lectures given by Apostle George A. Smith, cousin of Joseph. Speaking on the beauties of simplicity in language, he told, by contrast, the following story: A young graduate called at a country hotel for entertainment and said to the hostler,

"Detach the quadruped from the vehicle, stabulate him, donate him a sufficient quantity of nutrition aliment, and when the aurora of day shall illuminate the horizon, I will award thee a pecuniary compensation."

The boy ran into the house and said, "Landlord, come out; there is a Dutchman here, and I can't understand a word he says."

As soon as it was decided to remain over winter an application was made to Otoe chiefs for permission to remain on their lands until spring. In consideration of some presents, their consent was obtained, but they did not welcome us as the Pottowattamies had done. The finest spots of meadow lands were sought out and soon the white man's scythes were cutting heavy swaths and hay stacks were looming up on all sides.

The rising of the stacks seemed to be a signal for the Indians to make raids upon our stock. Joseph F. Smith, then a lad of nine years, and two companions by the name of Aldrich were herding milk cows. At about three o'clock in the afternoon the Indians raided the herd, the herders barely escaping with their lives. Fortunately Captain Davis with his mounted scouts were nearby and recovered the cattle. From that time on our stock was closely guarded.

Trouble next began with the government Indian agent who lived at Sarpees Point. He ordered our people to move off from the Otoes' lands, and threatened to eject them by force. He even went so far as to refuse to let our people go down to the frontier settlements in Missouri without permits from him. As teams would return he would stop them by force and search the wagons under the pretext of looking for firearms, ammunition, and whiskey. As a matter of fact we needed all these things; especially arms and ammunition for defense and self protection, and as the summer passed on, many of the Saints were afflicted with malarial fevers, and alcohol was needed for medical purposes.

But Mitchell refused to allow anything of the kind to pass his post on its way to our camps. Several barrels of alcohol bought openly from merchants at St. Joseph were knocked in the head and spilt by Mitchell's orders. These oppressive acts were very humiliating-; and it required constant vigilance on the part of our leaders to keep some of our boys from resenting these open insults.

Fortunately for us, Colonel Kane was still at our camps. He wrote to his father at Philadelphia, and the judge visiting Washington ably represented our true condition to President Polk and his cabinet. The result was, Mr. Indian agent was called down and the Mormons were allowed to winter on the west bank of the Missouri river.

Many years ago I visited Hilo, a beautiful city on the Island of Hawaii. I noticed when gentlemen walked out that they always carried umbrellas with them; and when I asked them why, the reply was, that you never can tell here when it's going to rain. That's a good representation of Mormon life. We never know when a storm is brewing from the outside, nor from what quarter the wind will blow.

When the main body of the Church left Nauvoo, it was understood with the mob that the poor and destitute would be allowed to remain in peace, in the possession of their homes, until our leaders should find a place for our permanent settlement. But in this promise we were disappointed. Those who thrust us out, were not only desirous of being rid of our presence, but they sought our utter destruction, as the history of all their aggressive operations, when taken collectively, plainly shows.

See how thoughtfully they waited until the strength of our camps, the battalion was gone; till our main camps were encroaching on the Red Man's domain, so that wicked men might stir up the Indians to hostilities against us. Then our enemies, for I cannot call them else, marshaled all their strength, fifteen hundred or two thousand men, and with a battery of artillery on the 16th of September, set upon the remnants of our people, who were still in Nauvoo, and after three days' battle took possession of the city and drove the inhabitants across the Mississippi to perish of hunger and exposure.