CHAPTER XIV.
_How the Saints Were Brought to Repentance_
He put his torch to the tinder of irreligion at the first Sunday meetingafter his return. There were no premonitions, no warnings, no signs.
A few of the Elders had preceded him to rejoice at the escape of thelast hand-cart party from death in the mountains; and Brigham, aftergiving the newcomers some practical hints about their shelter during thewinter now upon them, had invited Elder Rae to address the congregation.
He arose and came uncertainly forward, apparently weak, able hardly tostand without leaning upon the desk in front of him; his face waxen anddrawn, hollowed at the cheeks and temples, his long hands thin totransparency. Life was betrayed in him only by the eyes. These burneddarkly, far back under his brows, and flashed fiercely, as his glancedarted swiftly from side to side.
At first he spoke weakly and slowly, his opening words almost inaudible,so that the throng of people before him leaned forward in sympatheticintentness, and silence became absolute in the great hall except forthe high quavering of his tones. But then came a miracle ofreinvigoration. Little by little his voice swelled until it was full,sonorous, richly warm and compelling, the words pouring from him with afluency that enchained. Little by little his leaning, drooping postureof weakness became one of towering strength, the head flung back, thegestures free and potent. Little by little his burning eyes seemed tosend their flash and glow through all his body, so that he became acreature of life and fire.
They heard each word now, but still they leaned forward as when he spokeat first, inaudibly--caught thrilled and breathless in his spell, evento the Elders, Priests, and Apostles sitting near him. Nor was hismanner alone impressive. His words were new. He was calling them sinnersand covenant-breakers, guilty of pride, covetousness, contention, lying,stealing, moral uncleanness--and launching upon them the curse ofIsrael's God unless they should repent.
"It has been told you again and again," he thundered, "that if you wishto be great in the Kingdom of God you must be good. It has been told youmany times, and now I burn the words once more into the bones of yoursoul, that in this kingdom which the great Elohim has again set up onearth, no man, no woman, can become great without being good, withoutbeing true to his integrity, faithful to his trust, full of charity andgood works.
"Hear it now: if you do not order your lives to do all the good youcan, if you are false to one trust, you shall be stripped naked beforeJehovah of all your anticipations of greatness. And you have failed inyour work; you have been false to your trust; you have been lax andwicked, and you have temporised, nay, affiliated with Gentiles. I haveasked myself if this, after all, may not have been the chief cause ofGod's present wrath upon us. The flesh is weak. I have had my own hoursof wrestling with Satan. We all know his cunning to take shapes thatmost weaken, beguile, and unman us, and small wonder if many of ussuccumb. But this other sin is wilful. Not only have Gentile officers,Federal officers, come among us and been let to insult, abuse,calumniate, and to trample upon our most sacred ordinances, but we haveconsorted, traded, and held relations with the Gentiles that pass by us.You have the term 'winter Mormons,' a generation of vipers who comehere, marry your daughters in the fall, rest with you during the winter,and pass on to the gold fields in the spring, never to return. You,yourselves, coined the Godless phrase. But how can you utter it withoutcrimson faces? I tell you now, God is to make a short work upon thisearth. His lines are being drawn, and many of you before me will be leftoutside. The curtains of Zion have been spread, but you are gone beyondtheir folds. You are no longer numbered in the household of faith. Foryour weak souls the sealing keys of power have been delivered in vain.You have become waymarks to the kingdom of folly. This is truth I tellyou. It has been frozen and starved into me, but it will be burned intoyou. For your sins, the road between here and the Missouri River is aroad between two lines of graves. For your sins, from the little band Ihave just brought in, one hundred and fifty faithful ones fell asleep bythe wayside, and their bodies went to be gnawed by the wolves. How longshall others die for you? Forever, think you? No! Your last day is come.Repent, confess your sins in all haste, be buried again in the waters ofbaptism, then cast out the Gentile, and throw off his yoke,--andthereafter walk in trembling all your days,--for your wickedness hasbeen great."
Such was the opening gun in what became known as the "reformation." Theconditions had been ripe for it, and in that very moment a fever ofrepentance spread through the two thousand people who had cowered underhis words. Alike with the people below, the leaders about him had beenfired with his spirit, and when he sat down each of them arose in turnand echoed his words, denouncing the people for their sins and exhortingthem to repentance.
After another hour of this excitement, priests and people became alikedemoralised, and the meeting broke up in a confusion of terror.
As the doors of the tabernacle flew open, and the Saints pushed out ofthat stifling atmosphere of denunciation, a cry came to the lips of thedozen that first escaped:
"To the river--the waters of baptism!"
The words were being taken up by others until the cry had run backthrough the crowd to the leaders, still talking in excited groups aboutthe pulpit. These comprehended when they heard it, and straightway aline of conscience-stricken Saints was headed toward the river.
There in the icy Jordan, on that chill December afternoon, when thesnows lay thick on the ground, the leaders stood and buried the sinfulones anew in the cleansing waters. From the sinners themselves camecries of self-accusation; from the crowd on the banks came the strainsof hymns to fortify them for the icy ordeal and the public confession.
There in the freezing current stood Joel Rae until long after theDecember sun had gone below the Oquirrh hills, performing his office ofbaptism, and reviving hope in those his words had smitten with fear.
His strength already depleted by the long march with the hand-cart partyand by the exhausting strain of the day, he was early chilled by thewater into which he plunged the repentant sinners. For the last hourthat he stood in the stream, his whole body was numb; he had ceased tofeel life in his feet, and his arms worked with a mechanical stiffnesslike the arms of some automaton over which his mind had control.
For there was no numbness as yet in his mind. It was wonderfully clearand active. He had begun a great work. His words had been words of fire,and the flames of them had spread so that in a little while every sinnerin Zion should burn in them and be purified. Even the leaders--a greatwave of exultation surged through him at this thought--even Brigham hadfelt the glow, and henceforth would be a fiercer Lion of the Lord toresist the Godless Gentile.
Long after sensation had left his body his thoughts were rushing in thisfever of realisation, while his chilled hands made new in the Kingdomsuch sinners as came there repenting.
Not until night fell did the hymns cease and the crowd dwindle away. Theair grew colder, and he began to feel pain again, the water cuttingagainst his legs like a blade. Little groups were now hurrying off inthe darkness, and the last Saint he had baptised was standing for themoment, chill and dripping, on the bank.
Seeing there was no one else to come, he staggered out of the streamwhere he had stood for three hours, finding his feet curiously clumsyand uncontrollable. Below him in the stream another Elder still waitedto baptise a man and woman; but those who had been above him in theriver were gone, and his own work was done.
He ascended the bank, and stood looking back at the Elder who remainedin the stream. This man was now coming out of the water, havingperformed his office for the last one who waited. He called to JoelRae:
"Don't stand there, Brother Rae. Hurry and get to your fire and yourwarm drink and your supper, or you'll be bed-fast with the chills."
"It has been a glorious day, Brother Maltby!"
"Truly, a great work has been begun, thanks to you--but hurry, man! youare freezing. Get to your fireside. We can't lose you now."
With a parting wo
rd he turned and set off down the dark street, walkingunsteadily through the snow, for his feet had to be tossed ahead of him,and he could not always do it accurately. And the cold, now that he wasout of the water, came more keenly upon him, only it seemed to burn himthrough and through with a white heat. He felt his arms stiffening inhis wet sleeves, and his knees grow weak. He staggered on past a row ofcabins, from which the light of fires shone out on the snow. At almostevery step he stumbled out of the narrow path that had been trodden.
"To your own fireside." He recalled the words of Elder Maltby, andremembered his own lone, dark cabin, himself perhaps without strength tobuild a fire or to get food, perhaps without even strength to reach theplace, for he felt weaker now, all at once, and put his hand out tosupport himself against the fence.
He had been hearing footsteps behind him, creaking rapidly over thepacked snow-path. He might have to ask for help to reach his home. Evenas the steps came close, he felt himself swaying. He leaned over on thefence, but to his amazement that swayed, too, and threw him back. Thenhe felt himself falling toward the street; but the creaking stepsceased, now by his side, and he felt under him something soft butfirm--something that did not sway as the fence had unaccountably done.With his balance thus regained, he discovered the thing that held him tobe a woman's arm. A woman's face looked close into his, and then shespoke.
"You are so cold. I knew you would be. And I waited--I wanted to do foryou--let me!"
At once there came back to him the vision of a white-faced woman in thecrowd along the river bank, staring at him out of deep, gray eyes underheavy, black brows.
"Mara--Mara!"
"Yes, yes--you are so cold!"
"But you must not stand so close--see, I am wet--you will be chilled!"
"But _you_ are already chilled; your clothes are freezing on you; andyou were falling just now. Can you walk?"
"Yes--yes--my house is yonder."
"I know; it's far; it's beyond the square. You must come with me."
"But your house is still farther!"
She had started him now, with a firm grasp of his arm, walking besidehim in the deep snow, and trying to keep him in the narrow path.
"No--I am staying here with Hubert Plimon's two babies, while themother has gone to Provo where Hubert lies sick. See--the light there.Come with me--here's the gate--you shall be warmed."
Slowly and with many stumblings, leaning upon her strong arm, he madehis way to the cabin door. She pushed it open before him and he felt thegreat warm breath of the room rush out upon him. Then he was inside,swaying again uncertainly upon his feet. In the hovering light that camefrom the fireplace he saw the bed in the far corner where the two smallchildren were sleeping, saw Mara with her back to the door, facing himbreathlessly, saw the heavy shadows all about; but he was conscious ofhardly more than the vast heavenly warmth that rolled out from the fireand enfolded him and made him drunk.
Again he would have fallen, but she steadied him down on to a wide couchcovered with buffalo robes, beside the big fireplace; and here he fellat once into a stupor. She drew out the couch so that it caught more ofthe heat, pulled off the water-soaked boots and the stiffened coat,wrapped him in a blanket which she warmed before the fire, and coveredhim still again with one of the buffalo robes.
She went then to bring food and to make a hot drink, which shestrengthened with brandy poured from a little silver flask.
Presently she aroused him to drink the hot liquor, and then, afteranother blank of stupor, she aroused him again, to eat. He could takebut little of the food, but called for more of the drink, and felt thesoul of it thrill along his frozen nerves until they awoke, sharpened,alert, and eager. He lay so, with closed eyes a little time, floating inan ecstasy that seemed to be half stupor and half of keenestsensibility. Then he opened his eyes. She was kneeling by the couch onwhich he lay. He felt her soft, quick breathing, and noted the unnaturalshining of her eyes and lips where the firelight fell upon them. All atonce he threw out his arms and drew her to him with such a shudderingrush of power that she cried aloud in quick alarm--but the cry wassmothered under his kisses.
For ages the transport seemed to endure, the little world of his senseswhirling madly through an illimitable space of sensuous light, his lipsmelting upon hers, his neck bending in the circle of pulsing warmth thather soft arms wove about it, his own arms crushing to his breast withfrenzied fervour the whole yielding splendour of her womanhood. A momentso, then he fell back upon the couch, all his body quivering under theecstasy from her parted lips, his triumphant senses rioting insolentlythrough the gray, cold garden of his vows.
She drew a little back, her hands resting on his shoulders, and he sawagain the firelight shining in her eyes and upon her lips. Yet the eyeswere now lighted with a strange, sad reluctance, even while themutinous lips opened their inciting welcome.
He was floating--floating midway between a cold, bleak heaven of denialand a luring hell of consent; floating recklessly, as if careless towhich his soul should go.
His gaze was once more upon her face, and now, in a curiously coollittle second of observation, he saw mirrored there the same conflictingduality that he knew raged within himself. In her eyes glowed the pureflame of fear and protest--but on her mad lips was the curl ofprovocation. And as the man in him had waited carelessly, in a sensuousluxury of unconcern, for his soul to go where it might--far up or fardown--so now the woman waited before him in an incurious, unbiassedcalm--the clear eyes with their grave, stern "_No_!"--the parted lipsall but shuddering out their "_Yes_!"
Still he looked and still the leaning woman waited--waited to welcomewith impartial fervour the angel or the devil that might come forth.
And then, as he lay so, there started with electric quickness, from somesudden coldness of recollection, the image of Prue. Sharp and vivid itshone from this chill of truth like a glittering star from the cleanwinter sky outside. Prue was before him with the tender blue of her eyesand the fleecy gold of her hair and her joy of a child--her littlefigure shrugging and nestling in his arms in happy faith--calling as shehad called to him that morning--"_Joel--Joel--Joel_!"
He shivered in this flood of cold, relentless light, yet unflinchinglydid he keep his face turned full upon the truth it revealed.
And this was now more than the image of the sweetheart he had sworn tocherish--it was also the image of himself vowed to his great mission. Heknew that upon neither of these could he suffer a blemish to come if hewould not be forever in agony. With appalling clearness the thing waslined out before him.
The woman at his side stirred and his eyes were again upon her. At onceshe saw the truth in them. Her parted lips came together in a straightline, shutting the red fulness determinedly in. Then there shone fromher eyes a glad, sweet welcome to the angel that had issued.
His arms seemed to sicken, falling limply from her. She arose withoutspeaking, and busied herself a little apart, her back to him.
He sat up on the couch, looking about the little room curiously, as onerecovering consciousness in strange surroundings. Then he began slowlyto pull on the wet boots that she had placed near the fire.
When he stood up, put on his coat, and reached for his hat, she came upto him, hesitating, timid.
"You are so cold! If you would only stay here--I am afraid you will besick."
He answered very gently:
"It is better to go. I am strong again, now."
"I would--I would not be near you--and I am afraid for you to go outagain in the cold."
He smiled a little. "_Nothing_ can hurt me now--I am strong."
He opened the door, breathing his fill of the icy air that rushed in. Hestepped outside, then turned to her. She stood in the doorway, the lightfrom the room melting the darkness about them.
They looked long at each other. Then in a sudden impulse of gratitude,of generous feeling toward her, he put out his arm and drew her to him.She was cold, impassive. He bent over and lightly kissed her closed,unresponding lips. A
s he drew away, her hand caught his wrist for asecond.
"I'm _glad_!" she said.
He tried to answer, but could only say, "Good night, Mara!"
Then he turned, drew the wide collar of his coat well up, and went downthe narrow path through the snow. She stood, framed in the light of thedoorway, leaning out to look after him until he was lost in thedarkness.
As she stepped back and closed the door, a man, who had halted by a treein front of the next house when the door first opened, walked on again.
It had been a great day, but, for one cause or another, it came near tobeing one of the last days of the man who had made it great.
Late the next afternoon, Joel Rae was found in his cabin by a messengerfrom Brigham. He had presumably lain there unattended since the nightbefore, and now he was delirious and sick unto death; raving of the sinsof the Saints, and of his great work of reformation. So tenderlysympathetic was his mind, said those who came to care for him, that inhis delirium he ranked himself among the lowest of sinners in Zion,imploring them to take him out and bury him in the waters of baptism sothat he might again be worthy to preach them the Word of God.
He was at once given every care, and for six weeks was not left alonenight or day; the good mothers in Israel vying with each other in kindlyoffices for the sick Elder, and the men praying daily that he might notbe taken so soon after his great work had begun.
The fifth wife of Elder Pixley came once to sit by his bedside, but whenshe heard him rave of some great sin that lay black upon his soul,beseeching forgiveness for it while the tears rained down his feveredface, she had professed that his suffering sickened her so she could notstay. Thereafter she had contented herself with inquiring at his dooreach day--until the day when they told her that the sickness was broken;that he was again rational and doubtless would soon be well. After thatshe went no more; which was not unnatural, for Elder Pixley was about toreturn from his three years' mission abroad, and there was much to do inthe community-house in preparation for the master's coming.
But the long sickness of the young Elder did not in any manner stay thegreat movement he had inaugurated. From that first Sunday thereformation spread until it had reached every corner of the new Zion.The leaders took up the accusing cry,--the Elders, Bishops, HighPriests, and Counsellors. Missionaries were appointed for the outlyingsettlements, and meetings were held daily in every center, with ageneral renewing of covenants.
Brigham, who had warmly seconded Joel Rae's opening discourse, was now,not unnaturally, the leader of the reformation, and in his preaching tothe Saints while Joel Rae lay sick he committed no faults of vagueness.For profane swearing he rebuked his people: "You Elders in Israel willgo to the canons for wood, get a little brush-whipped, and then curseand swear--damn and curse your oxen and swear by Him who created you.You rip and curse as bad as any pirates ever did!"
For the sin of cattle-stealing he denounced them. A fence high enough tokeep out cattle-thieves, he told them, must be high enough to keep outthe Devil.
Sometimes his grievance would have a personal basis, as when he toldthem: "I have gone to work and made roads to the canon for wood; and Ihave cut wood down and piled it up, and then I have not got it. I wonderif any of you can say as much about the wood I have left there. I couldtell stories of Elders that found and took my wood that should makeprofessional thieves blush. And again I have proof to show that Bishopshave taken thousands of pounds of wheat in tithing which they have neverreported to the general tithing-office,--proof that they stole the wheatto let their friends speculate upon."
Under this very pointed denunciation many of the flock complainedbitterly. But Brigham only increased the flow of his wrath upon them."You need," said he, "to have it rain pitchforks, tines downward, fromthis pulpit, Sunday after Sunday."
Still there were rebellious Saints to object, and, as Brigham drew thelines of his wrath tighter, these became more prominent in thecommunity. When they voiced their discontent, they angered thepriesthood. But when they indicated their purpose to leave the valley,as many soon did, they gave alarm. An exodus must be prevented at anycost, and so the priesthood let it be known that migrations from thevalley would be considered as nothing less than apostasy. In Brigham'sown words: "The moment a person decides to leave this people, he is cutoff from every object that is desirable in time or eternity. Everypossession and object of affection will be taken from those who forsakethe truth, and their identity will eventually cease."
But, as the reform wave swept on, it became apparent that these wordshad been considered merely figurative by many who were about to seekhomes outside the valley. From every side news came privately that thisfamily or that was preparing to leave.
And so it came about that the first Sunday Joel Rae was able to walk tothe tabernacle, still weak and wasted and trembling, he heard a sermonfrom Brigham which made him question his own soul in an agony of terror.For, on this day, was boldly preached, for the first time in Zion,something which had never before been more than whispered among thehighest elect,--the doctrine of blood-atonement--of human sacrifice.
"I am preaching St. Paul, this morning," began Brigham, easily."Hebrews, Chapter ix., and Verse 22: 'And almost all things are by thelaw purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission.'Also, and more especially, first Corinthians, Chapter v., Verse 5: 'Todeliver such an one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, thatthe spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus.' Remember thesewords of Paul's. The time has come when justice will be laid to the lineand righteousness to the plummet; when we shall take the old broadsword,and ask, 'Are you for God?' And if you are not heartily on the Lord'sside, you will be hewn down."
There was a rustling movement in the throng before him, and he pauseduntil it subsided.
"I tell you there are men and women amongst you who ought to come andask me to select a place and appoint a committee to shed their blood.Only in that way can they be saved, for water will not do. Their sinsare too deep for that. I repeat--there are covenant-breakers here, andwe need a place set apart and men designated to shed their blood fortheir own salvation. If any of you ask, do I mean you, I answer yes. Wehave tried long enough with you, and now I shall let the sword of theAlmighty be unsheathed, not only in words but in deed. I tell you thereare sins for which men cannot otherwise receive forgiveness in thisworld nor in the world to come; and if you guilty ones had your eyesopened to your true condition, you would be willing to have your bloodspilt upon the ground that the smoke thereof might go up to heaven foryour sins. I know when you hear this talk about cutting people off fromthe earth you will consider it strong doctrine; but it is to save them,and not destroy them. Take a person in this congregation who knows theprinciples of that kind of life and sees the beauties of eternity beforehim compared with the vain and foolish things of the world--and supposehe is overtaken in a gross fault which he knows will rob him of thatexaltation which he desires and which he now cannot obtain without theshedding of his blood; and suppose he knows that by having his bloodshed he will atone for that sin and be saved and exalted with the Gods.Is there a man or woman here but would say, 'Save me--shed my blood,that I may be exalted.' And how many of you love your neighbour wellenough to save him in that way? That is what Christ meant by loving ourneighbours as ourselves. I could refer you to plenty of instances wheremen have been righteously slain to atone for their sin; I have seenscores and hundreds of people for whom there would have been a chance inthe last day if their lives had been taken and their blood spilt uponthe ground as a smoking incense to the Almighty, but who are now angelsto the Devil because it was not done. The weakness and ignorance of thenations forbids this law being in full and open force; yet, remember, ifour neighbour needs help we must help him. If his soul is in danger wemust save it.
"Now as to our enemies--apostates and Gentiles--the tree that brings notforth good fruit shall be hewn down. 'What,' you ask, 'do you believethat people would do right to put these traitors to death?' Yes! Wh
atdoes the United States government do with traitors? Examine the doingsof earthly governments on this point and you will find but one practiseuniversal. A word to the wise is enough; just remember that there aresins that the blood of a lamb, of a calf, or of a turtle-dove, cannotremit."
Under this discourse Joel Rae sat terrified, with a bloodless face,cowering as he had made others to cower six weeks before. The wordsseemed to carry his own preaching to its rightful conclusion; but nowhow changed was his world!--a whirling, sickening chaos of sin andremorse.
As he listened to Brigham's words, picturing the blood of the sinnersmoking on the ground, his thoughts fled back to that night, that nightof wondrous light and warmth, the last he could remember before thegreat blank came.
Now the voice of Brigham came to him again: "And almost all things areby the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is noremission!"
Then the service ended, and he saw Bishop Wright pushing toward himthrough the crowd.
"Well, well, Brother Rae you do look peaked, for sure! But you'll pickup fast enough, and just in time, too. Lord! what won't Brother Brighamdo when the Holy Ghost gets a strangle-holt on him? Now, then," headded, in a lower tone, "if I ain't mistaken, there's going to be somework for the Sons of Dan!"
The Lions of the Lord: A Tale of the Old West Page 16