Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Now there was no hesitation. “Yes, I do, Brother Joseph.”

  He visibly relaxed. “Bless you for your faith, Livvy. There are many who think I am lying about all this, that for selfish reasons I say God has commanded me to do this thing. That, or they think I am being deceived by Satan.”

  “I don’t think that,” Olivia said, surprised to realize she really meant it. It had done much for her to talk it all through with Joseph, and now his kindly face and positive manner were greatly reassuring.

  “I don’t know all of the reasons why God has asked this of us, but I am certain of one thing. It is a great test of our faith and obedience. And it is proving to be a great sieve, separating out the wheat from the chaff.”

  “I—” Her head dropped. “I have to admit that I doubted, Brother Joseph. When I first heard them talking about it, I really wondered if you were still a prophet.”

  “I understand. If it is of any consolation, you should know that I greatly questioned my own standing with God. God had to be very direct with me before I would obey him.”

  “Will I ever be asked to let my husband—when I have a husband—take another woman?” she asked, sounding very much now like a little girl.

  “I don’t know, Livvy,” he answered frankly. “I have been surprised at times by those whom the Lord commands me to bring into this order. So far, only a very small number have been asked to live this law. Perhaps a greater test for you would be to be asked to be the second or third wife to someone else.”

  She rocked back, clearly shocked by that thought. Over the past few days, she had mused painfully over what it would mean to share her future husband with someone else, but she had never considered the possibility that someone else might have to share her husband with Olivia. “But—”

  Joseph’s eyes were infinitely gentle now. “Only God knows what will test your faith to the greatest, Livvy. What if I were to come to you right now and say, ‘Olivia Steed, you are to be wife to Heber C. Kimball, or Brigham Young, or John Taylor’?”

  She paled. “I . . . I don’t know,” she stammered.

  Joseph’s face immediately softened. “Please,” he said quickly, “I’m just using this as an example. Right now the Spirit whispers that you are not expected to live this law. Nor,” he said as an afterthought, “are any of your family going to be asked to live it right now.”

  Her relief was so real she could almost taste it. “That’s good,” she breathed.

  “But do you see what I’m saying, Olivia? That is what I mean by a test. Ask your mother about the test that Heber and Vilate Kimball had to face. Tell her I said that she is free to share that with you. Then you’ll begin to sense what I mean. And though you are still young, you must prepare yourself to respond to whatever God may ask of you, whether that’s plural marriage or some other thing.”

  “I understand,” she said, a little shakily. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

  “Olivia,” he said in great earnestness now, “from this very

  day I want you to start praying for two things every night and morning.”

  “What?”

  “First, I want you to ask God to give you faith. I don’t know what all the future holds for us, but I know it is going to take great faith. Ask your Heavenly Father to strengthen you so you can face whatever comes. Second, I want you to ask your Heavenly Father if I am truly his servant. Not just was I his prophet, but am I now? Do I still speak for him?”

  “I . . . I think I understand, Brother Joseph.”

  “Good.” He stood, and she stood too. He walked to the door and opened it. As she went to leave, he smiled down at her.

  “All that matters is that we do God’s will, Livvy. And when we do, he blesses us. Even when it seems like he is making our lives so painful we can hardly bear it, he only designs to bring us greater happiness and joy. That is his whole purpose, to make his children happy.”

  She sighed, feeling as though the weight of a thousand days had been lifted from her. “Thank you, Brother Joseph. I’m glad I came to see you.”

  On impulse, he held out his arms and she stepped forward. He gave her a quick hug, then kissed her on the top of her head. “I hope my Julia turns out to be just like you, young lady.”

  “Thank you, Joseph,” she said, stepping back. “And I hope someday that I can learn to have even half as much faith as you do.”

  He laughed. “Let me tell you something, Olivia. If my enemies think I claim to be perfect, they are fools. I am but a rough stone. The sound of the hammer and chisel was never heard on me until the Lord took me in hand. And it has been a painful process at times.”

  “Really? Even for you?”

  “Even for me. Not long ago I told the Saints that I am like a huge, rough stone rolling down from a high mountain. The only polishing I get is when some corner gets rubbed off by coming in contact with something else. The faster I roll, the more I strike with accelerated force against such things as religious bigotry, priestcraft, and all manner of evil.” His voice softened noticeably. “So it has always been with me, and so, I suppose, it shall always be—all hell knocking off a corner here and a corner there until I shall become a smooth and polished shaft in the quiver of the Almighty. I ask for nothing more, and hope for nothing less.”

  Amy Appleby was waiting for Olivia as soon as she came out the front door of the store. “What did he say, Livvy! I’ve been dying. You were in there a long time.”

  Olivia looked at her friend. “It was wonderful, Amy. He was so kind and so patient. He wasn’t angry with me at all for having questions.”

  “But what did he say?”

  Olivia stopped and faced her friend. “I had to promise not to tell.”

  “But . . .” There was open dismay on Amy’s face. “You can tell me, Livvy. We’re best friends. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I know, Amy, but I swore I wouldn’t.” Olivia had a sudden thought and reached out and grabbed her friend’s hand. “You haven’t told anyone else, have you, Amy? About what I told you the other day?”

  There was a momentary shadow that darkened her eyes, but then Amy shook her head firmly. “Of course not.” She pulled her hand free. “Are you really not going to tell me anything?” she said, half pouting now.

  “All I can tell you is that I feel so much better now. But I can’t say anything more. I swore, Amy. And I must keep that promise, no matter what.”

  When Robert Foster slipped outside through the back door of the store, he stopped at the corner of the building, checked to make sure no one was coming, then moved quickly down Water Street. He had gone only a block when Appleby, Soby, and Higbee stepped out from behind some bushes.

  “Well?” Francis Higbee demanded.

  Foster was expansive. Smiling, he laid his hand on Higbee’s shoulder. “Well, Frank, let’s just say this. When Steed gets back from Wisconsin, I think he’ll be very glad to talk to us.”

  “Did you hear it, then?” Soby demanded.

  “Every word,” Foster said exultantly. “I was in the room right across from his office, and those doors are as thin as rice paper. Every single word!”

  “And?” the high councilor prodded.

  “And,” Foster said with quiet triumph, “it was everything I hoped for. Everything!”

  On Monday, January twenty-ninth, shortly before ten a.m., Nathan Steed walked into the mayor’s office. To his surprise, the only other one there besides Joseph and Hyrum and the Twelve was John P. Greene, Brigham’s brother-in-law and the city marshal. He stopped for a moment, not sure if he had gotten Joseph’s invitation right. But Joseph was up and had him by the hand, pulling him into the room even as he shook it.

  “Come in, Nathan, don’t let this august and rather solemn group frighten you. I want you here because . . .” He laughed. “Well, actually, I’ve got several reasons, but I think it best if you don’t know them all, lest you bolt and run.”

  He showed Nathan to a chair, then looked around. �
�Everyone here, Brother Brigham?”

  “All are present, Brother Joseph.”

  And that was a thrill for Nathan as he realized how unusual it was for Brigham to be able to say that everyone was present. The Twelve were together again. Orson Hyde had returned late in 1842 from his momentous trip to the Holy Land, and Parley P. Pratt finally returned a few months after that, having spent almost three years of service in England.

  Joseph nodded and called on Wilford Woodruff to open with prayer. They sang a hymn and then the discussion turned to the subject of a presidential candidate. Joseph frankly declared that he could not in good conscience vote for any of the candidates currently put forth. There was total agreement on that part. The moment Joseph ceased speaking, Willard Richards’s hand shot up.

  “Brother Willard,” Joseph said, inclining his head toward him.

  “I hereby move that we nominate another candidate for president of the United States. I move that we, as a body, form an independent electoral ticket and that we have Joseph Smith, mayor of Nauvoo and lieutenant general of the Nauvoo Legion, be a candidate for president of the United States of America. I further move that we use all honorable means in our power to secure his election.”

  “Hear! Hear!” a couple of them said, stomping their feet on the floor to express their approval.

  Nathan was startled, but no one else seemed too surprised. They had obviously discussed this previously.

  “Second the motion,” Brigham called.

  Joseph was very solemn. “We have a motion and it has been seconded. All in favor?”

  Every hand in the room shot up.

  He smiled, a trifle wanly, Nathan thought. “Thank you, brethren, for your confidence. This is truly an honor. Who would ever have thought that a young boy from a small village in Vermont would come to this position in his lifetime? But I must say that if we attempt to accomplish this, we must send every man in the city who is able to speak in public throughout the land to electioneer and make stump speeches. I propose that after the April conference we have general conferences all over the nation, and I will attend as many as convenient. Let us tell the people we have had Whig and Democratic presidents long enough. We want a president of the United States and not the president of this party or that. If I ever get into the presidential chair, I will protect the people in their rights and liberties.”

  Again there was the rumble of feet. “Hear! Hear!” called one. “Bravo!” cried another.

  “Thank you, brethren. It is important that we draft a platform stating our position and that we mail it out immediately. As I have considered that problem, I have decided that I shall dictate my ideas to Brother W. W. Phelps. He and Brother John M. Bernhisel, both men of considerable literary skills, can then make us a draft that will be acceptable to the people. The election is only a few months away and there is much to do.”

  He turned now to Nathan. “My old friend, you have a good head for boiling things down to their essence. Would you be so kind as to assist me in reviewing the statement once it is finished? Then I would like a brief summary of the document that outlines its major points.”

  Nathan dropped his head slightly, surprised but pleased. “I would be honored to help in any way possible, Joseph.”

  “Good. We shall reconvene in a few days to consider the draft and make revisions thereto.”

  Nathan was in the mayor’s office, working laboriously from the long draft that Phelps and Bernhisel had titled “General Smith’s Views of the Powers and Policy of the Government of the United States.” He made a mistake in spelling and muttered something under his breath as he crossed it out.

  “Now, careful, Brother Nathan,” a voice said from the door. “You wouldn’t want a menial task to drive you to profaning, would you?” Nathan grunted as Joseph came into the room to stand beside him. “How is it coming?”

  Nathan pushed his chair back, frowning deeply. “You have other scribes, Joseph. They are so much better than me in these kinds of things.”

  Joseph peered over his shoulder at the sheets of paper. “Nathan, you’re not to be worrying about correct spelling or if a sentence sounds just right. What I need from you is a simple summary of what our position is. You and I have been friends for many years. You know what is important to me, how I think, what I feel. That’s what I need you to do. Then we’ll let the literati fix it, all right?”

  Nathan sighed. “I suppose.” He reached over and retrieved his previous sheet. “It’s right here.”

  He started to hand it to him, but Joseph waved him off and dropped into a chair. “Read it to me, Nathan. I want to hear how it sounds.”

  “All right. I have summarized it into seven points.”

  “Good. Let me hear them.”

  “Well, first of all, the noble sentiments on the purpose of the United States government are reviewed. This part draws heavily on the words of Benjamin Franklin, as well as statements from several of the inaugural addresses of some of our previous presidents—Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and so on.”

  “Good, good. Go on.”

  “Second, the proposal is made that the size of Congress be reduced by two-thirds, with two senators per state and only two representatives per million population. Also that congressional pay and power be reduced so that our officers serve the people more faithfully.”

  Joseph chuckled. “That should raise some hackles in those hallowed halls. But pay them two dollars a day, I say. That is more than a farmer gets, and he lives honestly enough.”

  Nathan nodded. “Third, let there be significant prison reform, and in this vein it is proposed that many people now in prison be pardoned, that public service sentences be established for lesser crimes, and that our prisons be turned into seminaries of learning rather than places of rigor and seclusion, which change no man for the better.”

  “Yes, that’s good.”

  “Fourth, that the United States government abolish slavery by 1850, not by mere fiat but by raising money through the sale of public lands and through the reduction of the salaries for congressmen. Then with that money the government will purchase the slaves from their masters so that the slave owners will not be economically ruined.”

  “That will be very popular in the North but totally rejected in the South,” said Joseph. “But be that as it may, I say break off the shackles from the black man and let him earn his bread for wages as is the privilege of other men and he shall be blessed.”

  Nathan continued. “Fifth, let military court-martial for desertion be abolished. Make honor the standard of the soldier and desertion will cease to be a problem. Sixth, practice greater economy in state and national government so that the people are not so heavily taxed. And finally, number seven, let Congress grant the creation of a national bank, with branches in each state and territory. One of the purposes of this bank would be to circulate a standard medium of exchange.”

  Nathan laid the paper down. “That’s it.”

  “Good, good,” Joseph said again. “I am meeting with the Twelve again on Wednesday. We will read the entire document, but I would like you there to first give your summary. It will help clarify their minds on the matter.”

  “I’d be happy to, Joseph.” He started to straighten the papers. “Is there anything else you need?”

  Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. Joseph got up and opened it. William Weeks, the temple architect, was there. He had a thick roll of plans under his arm. “Oh, Brother Joseph,” he said, obviously not in a jovial mood. “Do you have a minute that I may talk with you?”

  “I was just leaving,” Nathan said, standing up.

  “No you weren’t,” Joseph said. “Sit down. Brother Weeks doesn’t have any great secrets he’s trying to hide, do you?”

  That won him a brief smile. “No, Brother Joseph.” Weeks looked at Nathan. “And how are you, Brother Steed?”

  “I’m fine. It’s good to see you again. The temple seems to grow higher with every passing day.”
>
  “Thank you.”

  “What can I help you with, Brother Weeks?” Joseph asked.

  Weeks withdrew the plans from beneath his arm and waved them at Joseph, instantly agitated again. “It’s about those circular windows, Brother Joseph. We simply must discuss this matter further.”

  He started to unroll the plans but Joseph shook his head. “I don’t need to see them, William. I am very familiar with them. And as I have said on more than one occasion, the circular windows are designed to light the offices in the dead work of the arch between the two stories.”

  “Brother Joseph, begging your pardon, sir, but I have been an architect and builder for many years. I had a reputation of some renown back in New England. And I tell you, round windows in the broad side of a building are a violation of all the known rules of architecture. The building is too low for round windows. They must be semicircular or the whole will look completely out of balance.”

  There was a patient smile, and then Joseph laid his arm across Weeks’s shoulder. “Brother William, I tell you again, I will have the circles, even if we have to make the temple ten feet higher than we originally calculated. Close your eyes for a moment. See if you can’t picture this in your mind. Inside the temple there will be one light at the center of each circular window sufficient to light the whole room. From the outside, when the whole building is thus illuminated, the effect will be remarkably grand.”

  “But Brother Joseph—”

  “No buts, Brother William,” he said, cutting him off. “I wish you to carry out my designs. This is not just a whim of Brother Joseph’s, you see. If you remember, in the revelation which commanded us to build another temple here, the Lord said, ‘And I will show unto my servant Joseph all things pertaining to this house.’”

  “I know, but—”

  Joseph shook his head at the man, chiding him gently. “William, William, the Lord has kept his promise. I have not wanted to say this before, lest you think I was trying to force your hand, but you need to know that I have seen this house in vision, and what I saw there were circular windows. I saw the splendid appearance of that building when it was all illuminated.” There was a long pause. Weeks had bowed his head in submission now. “And,” Joseph concluded firmly, “I will have it built according to the pattern shown me.”