Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  The captain nodded. “I have an additional order from the governor, Mr. Smith.” He turned and looked around. “May I suggest that we retire to the farmhouse for a moment to discuss this.”

  Joseph nodded. “May I bring one or two others with me, sir?”

  “Of course.”

  They dismounted and Joseph walked to the house with Porter Rockwell and Willard Richards. Hyrum motioned for the rest to dismount as well. The sergeant of the company of militia-men told his to do the same. They settled in, separated by about thirty yards, each group wondering what this confrontation might have in store for them.

  Ten minutes later Joseph came striding back out. “Brethren, the governor has signed an order asking that those arms furnished to the Nauvoo Legion by the state of Illinois be surrendered to Captain Dunn here.” There was a quick cry of dismay, but Joseph rode over it. “I have countersigned that order. Captain Dunn has requested that some of us return to Nauvoo with him to see that this is done peaceably.”

  “Not our arms!” someone cried. “Not another Far West.”

  “Brethren,” Joseph said loudly, “we are not surrendering all of our arms, just the two hundred rifles and the three small cannon given to us by the state.”

  “Are the other militia groups giving up the arms furnished to them by the state?” someone called out.

  Captain Dunn just looked away, obviously a bit ashamed. The answer to that was clear. Only the Mormons were being asked to give up their arms. Joseph spoke up now. “Captain Dunn here has given me his word as a military man that we shall be protected as we return for these arms, even if it costs him his life.”

  “That’s right,” Dunn said, looking at the angry faces before him. Then he turned to face his own men. “Men,” he called, “we have given our pledge that we shall protect them. And General Smith has assured me that the Nauvoo Legion will not oppose us.”

  That must have been weighing heavily on the minds of these men. Sixty armed soldiers seemed like a lot of men until you considered marching into Nauvoo where five thousand members of the Nauvoo Legion awaited you. It was not surprising, then, that when Captain Dunn made the announcement a ragged cheer went up and down the line.

  Joseph made a quick designation, indicating that about half of his group should wait here until they returned. Nathan and Benjamin were among those assigned to stay. Nathan was just as glad. His father looked tired, and making a trip to Nauvoo and back would be an additional six or more hours of riding. And besides that, facing more farewells was not something Nathan would look forward to.

  Joseph walked to his horse and mounted. Captain Dunn did the same. As the others mounted and turned to Joseph for the signal, he looked around at those that were with him. The wide blue eyes were clear and composed. The deep sorrow of the morning was gone. He seemed relaxed and completely at ease. That made what he said next all the more startling.

  “Brethren,” he said in a voice soft enough that it wouldn’t carry to the soldiers, “I am going like a lamb to the slaughter.” He ignored the collective gasp. “But I want you to know that I am as calm as a summer’s morning. I have a conscience void of offense toward God and toward all men.” He glanced toward the militia now. “If they take my life, I shall die an innocent man, and my blood shall cry from the ground for vengeance. It shall yet be said of me, ‘He was murdered in cold blood!’ ”

  With that, not waiting either for comment or for the militia to follow, he wheeled his horse around and started back toward Nauvoo.

  Governor Ford had originally demanded that Joseph be in Carthage by ten a.m. With the order to return to Nauvoo for the arms, that deadline was extended. It was nine o’clock that evening before Joseph and his company returned to where Nathan and the rest were waiting. They decided to rest and eat for a time, and as they did so, Captain Dunn and his troops caught up to them. After half an hour’s respite, the whole party—almost a hundred in number now—set off again.

  It was five minutes before midnight when the long column finally rode into Carthage. Nathan took some comfort in the lateness of the hour, thinking that at least they wouldn’t have to face the clamoring mob that they all knew awaited them. He couldn’t have been more wrong. All that the long delay had done was make the waiting crowds all the more impatient. Gathered in Carthage, in addition to the locals, were townsmen and farmers from the surrounding communities, as well as several hundred militia from various parts of the state. The delay had also given those crowds the afternoon and evening to consume prodigious amounts of beer and whiskey. The shout went up while Joseph’s party, accompanied by Dunn’s men, were still four or five blocks from the public square. They could hear it jump from house to house, voice to voice. In seconds, torches and lamps came pouring out of the houses and saloons of Carthage. The rising roar of hundreds of angry voices swelled like a hurricane.

  “All right, men!” Captain Dunn shouted. “Form in around the prisoners. Stay steady. We’ve made a promise to bring them in safely and that’s what we’ll do.” He brought his rifle out of its saddle holster and held it at the ready. His men did the same. The Mormons left theirs where they were, lest they inflame the emotions of the mob even more.

  Benjamin looked at Nathan, and without a word having to pass between them, they spurred their horses forward a little, coming in closer together. Benjamin stared forward, his face pale, his hands gripping the saddle horn until his fingers showed white. A stream of shouting, cursing, fist-shaking humanity surged forward and enveloped them like a flood. Benjamin felt as if he were going to faint. He wanted to clap his hands over his ears. It was a reenactment of Far West. It was a scene from hell itself, with all the fiends of a thousand years unleashed at one foul moment. “There’s Joe Smith!” “There’s that damnable prophet of theirs!” “Step aside, Dunn! Give us a clear shot at him.” “Kill them all!” “Hey, Joe, hope you said good-bye to Nauvoo. You’ll never see it again!” “Let’s see the false prophet now!”

  Profanity was like thick smoke in the air around them. Some of the mob tried to push through the surrounding militia riders and grab at the boots or legs of Joseph’s group, but Captain Dunn was true to his word and his men drove them back. The Carthage Greys were the most frightening of all in the stream of abuse and invective that they hurled at the Mormons.

  Benjamin leaned over toward Nathan until their heads almost touched, but even then he had to yell to make himself heard. “I never thought I’d have to see this again,” he cried. “It makes my blood run cold.”

  Nathan nodded, one hand on his pistol butt, his eyes scanning the crowd in nervous flicks back and forth. They were just coming up on the Hamilton House, and suddenly a window in the upper story opened and a man’s head came out.

  “It’s the governor!” someone shouted, and in moments the cacophony died away. “Hey, Governor,” one of the Carthage Greys shouted, “we want to see Joe Smith. Why are you taking him away?”

  Ford glanced down at Joseph momentarily, then looked away. “Gentlemen,” he said in soothing tones, “I know your great anxiety to see Mr. Smith, which is natural enough, but it is quite too late tonight.”

  Someone booed, but Ford raised his hands, smiling generously down at them. “But I assure you, gentlemen, you shall have that privilege in the morning, for I shall cause him to pass by you upon the public square.”

  A ragged cheer and scattered applause swept across the crowd.

  “Now, with that assurance, I ask you all to return quietly and peaceably to your quarters until then.” He drew in his head again and shut the window.

  “Hurrah for Tom Ford!” someone called.

  “Yeah,” Nathan muttered, “hurrah for Tom Ford.”

  Carthage, Illinois, June 25th, 6:30 p.m.

  My dearest Lydia,

  I am writing this quick note to send home with Father. He and most of the others who were under warrant have been freed on bail and are returning to Nauvoo. Joseph and Hyrum are being bound over for reasons I shall explain in a mom
ent. Joseph has asked that some of his friends and associates remain with him. I am honored that he has requested that I be one of those.

  Our arrival last night was not a pleasant one, but I shall let Father tell you about that. This morning, at 8:00 a.m., we went to the courthouse and surrendered all those named in the warrant to Constable Bettisworth. As you know, he is the one that first came to Nauvoo with the warrant after the press was destroyed. To our surprise, Bettisworth arrested Joseph and Hyrum again, this time not on the original charges of riot for destroying the Expositor press, but on charges of treason against the state for putting Nauvoo under martial law. This later proved to be important. This afternoon, when all of the prisoners appeared before the justice of the peace, he set bond at five hundred dollars each.

  Incidentally, he set this outrageously high, thinking we could not meet it. But some of the brethren pledged all their property, and the total of seventy-five hundred dollars was met almost immediately. Pa and I put up our building lots as surety and bonded for Pa and two other men.

  But anyway, while all the others were being freed on bond, Joseph and Hyrum could not be. Treason is a capital crime and only a circuit court judge can set bail on capital crimes. The nearest circuit judge is at least a day’s ride from here. So Joseph and Hyrum have been bound over for trial in a few days.

  True to his promise to the mob, Governor Ford marched Joseph and Hyrum and a few others before the various militia formed up in the public square after we finished at the courthouse this morning. Instead of satisfying them, it almost caused a riot. The Carthage Greys went wild when Joseph and Hyrum were introduced as generals. They started to scream and yell and toss their hats in protest. One man grabbed his sword and pulled it out, waving it toward the two prisoners. “Bring them here,” he shouted. “I’ll show you the proper way to introduce these Mormons to real officers.” We feared for their lives, but finally they were taken back to the hotel again. The most chilling thing? Ford, in trying to satisfy the crowd, said, “You have my word on it, you shall have full satisfaction in this matter.” For the Carthage Greys, full satifaction will be nothing less than the blood of our beloved brethren.

  Well, I must close. All of those that were freed are ready to go. I send with this letter my deepest love. Please do not worry. Joseph continually assures me that all shall be well. I love you eternally.

  Nathan

  They were in the larger of the two hotel rooms in the Hamilton House given over for the billeting of the Mormon group. Those who had been released were bidding farewell to the others. Those staying behind, like Nathan, were sending letters and notes and personal messages back with them.

  Joseph moved from man to man, shaking hands and thanking them. When he came to Benjamin, he went to speak, wanting to say something light and filled with humor. They had joked together so often, the two of them, even in the grimmest of circumstances. But Joseph’s voice caught and suddenly he couldn’t speak. Finally, he just opened his arms and the two of them embraced, clapping each other on the shoulders. “Good-bye, old friend,” Joseph finally managed in a hoarse whisper.

  “Good-bye, Joseph,” Benjamin answered in a voice equally choked with emotion.

  Chapter Notes

  When John Taylor and John Bernhisel returned from Carthage with the governor’s letter and the gloomy report of how they were treated, Joseph immediately felt impressed that fleeing Nauvoo was the solution to the dilemma. He and Hyrum, along with Willard Richards and Porter Rockwell, crossed the river during the early morning hours of 23 June in a leaky rowboat. While they waited for horses (which Porter went back across the river to obtain) and prepared for their departure, they received a delegation from Nauvoo. The three men mentioned here came across the river with Porter Rockwell to ask Joseph to return. They carried with them a letter from Emma. That letter no longer exists and it is not known exactly what Emma said. She did ask Joseph to return. While it is not recorded exactly who said what at that point, the record does state that “Reynolds Cahoon, Lorenzo D. Wasson and Hiram Kimball accused Joseph of cowardice for wishing to leave the people” (HC 6:549).

  Chapter 42

  Carthage Jail, Hancock County, Illinois

  June 27th, 10:00 a.m.

  My dearest Lydia,

  This may be brief, as Joseph is sending Cyrus Wheelock back to Nauvoo to gather witnesses in his behalf and Cyrus will carry this with him. When he is ready to leave, I will have to close. Much has happened in the day and a half since Father left us. I shall try to catch you up on the most important things.

  Yes, as you see, I am in the Carthage jail, but do not be alarmed. I am not a prisoner, only a companion to Joseph and Hyrum, who are now in jail. When I last wrote, we were being billeted in the hotel, but much has changed since then. Shortly after Father and the others left on Tuesday evening, a constable came with a mittimus in hand. A mittimus is a legal order committing a person to jail or prison. This came as a great shock to us all. Mr. Wood and Mr. Reid, the lawyers who are representing Joseph, said this was completely illegal, since prisoners are entitled to be brought before a justice of the peace for examination before they can be sent to jail.

  Mr. Wood and Elder Taylor immediately went to Governor Ford to appeal. But to their amazement, the governor said it was purely a judicial matter and that the executive branch could not interfere. Remember, Ford is a former state supreme court justice. He knows that this is totally wrong, but will do nothing against it. So illegal or not, we are now in jail. Fortunately they allowed the others of us—John Taylor, Willard Richards, Stephen Markham, Dan Jones, John Fullmer, and myself—to stay with them and give them some protection.

  And it is a good thing. As the guards marched us to the jail, the mobs lined the streets, screaming and shouting, trying to get at Joseph and Hyrum. Stephen Markham has a stout hickory cane which he calls the “rascal beater.” Dan Jones also carries a walking stick. We used both to fend off the crowds as we walked to the jail. I know this report will worry you, but in a way, we are glad now for the mittimus. We are actually safer here than in the hotel. We have at least some protection and there is a guard posted outside.

  Yesterday, the legal farce continued. Joseph spent over an hour with Governor Ford trying to explain our case. He also told the governor that we are in great danger here. Ford brushes that aside and says there is no danger here with his troops to protect us. I find it hard to believe that he takes the threat so lightly. He has been here for several days. He has seen the troops in near riot. The governor is no fool, and therefore that leaves me only one conclusion—he has no intention of interfering.

  Last night was both a wonderful and a terrible experience. The jailer, a kind man, has allowed us to sleep in an upstairs bedroom rather than forcing us into a cell, so we are somewhat comfortable. There is only one double bed, but we have some straw mattresses to sleep on. The bedroom is not secure, and that worries us somewhat, but it is far more comfortable than being in a cell.

  We read scriptures together, particularly scriptures from the Book of Mormon that talk about prophets being in prison, such as Alma and Abinadi. In this setting, that was most touching. Then sometime after we had retired—Joseph and Hyrum in the bed, the rest of us on the mattresses on the floor—we heard a gunshot fired outside. That caused us some consternation but things quieted again. Joseph came and lay down on the floor with us, I’m sure to quiet our fears. As we were lying there, he turned to Dan Jones. I don’t know if you know him. He is from Wales. A fine man. Anyway, Joseph asked Brother Dan if he was afraid to die. That brought us all up short, but Dan answered without hesitation. “Engaged in such a cause,” he said, “I do not think death would have many terrors.” Joseph seemed pleased with that, then surprised us all by saying, “Brother Dan, you will yet see Wales again and fulfill the mission appointed you before you die.”

  Do you remember what I said some time ago about having a prophet as your next-door neighbor? I have thought of that often these last few days. Here
we are in the most terrible of circumstances, and even now, prophecy comes as natural to him as hammering steel does to a blacksmith. Though I find myself anxious at times, I consider it a great privilege to be at his side.

  When we rose this morning, Joseph sent Brother Jones to inquire about the gunshot. He encountered Frank Worrell of the Carthage Greys outside. Worrell openly bragged that he was a better prophet than old Joe Smith, for he (Worrell) prophesied that before the day is over, Joseph and everyone with him will be dead. He warned Jones that he’d better flee. Jones went directly to the governor and reported this conversation. Ford told him that he was unnecessarily alarmed, that the people “are not that cruel.” Then he refused to give Jones a pass to come back inside the jail. We talked to him briefly but they wouldn’t let him stay.

  Most alarming to us, however, is that we received word just a few minutes ago that the governor has left for Nauvoo this morning. He took Captain Dunn’s troops with him. This is not good. Captain Dunn and his men are the one militia group that has remained impartial in all of this. The governor also dismissed all the other militia groups except the Carthage Greys, who are left to guard us. This is very much like leaving the fox to guard the henhouse.

  Twice yesterday the governor talked about going to Nauvoo today, but both times he pledged his word that if he went, he would take Joseph with him. Once again we learn that the solemn word of the highest executive of our state means nothing.

  Just a few minutes ago, we learned that— Never mind. Brother Wheelock is here. I must close. I know not what this day shall bring, my beloved Lydia. I am determined to stay by Joseph’s side and see it through. I love you and rejoice in the knowledge that not even death can separate us, for we are bound together by eternal ties. Kiss the children for me. Pray that all will be well. I love you.

  Nathan

  There were just six of them now. In addition to Joseph and Hyrum and the two Apostles, only Nathan Steed and Stephen Markham remained. John Fullmer had left with Cyrus Wheelock to help secure some witnesses for the upcoming trial. The morning had been a little rainy, but it had cleared now and the early afternoon air was heavy and humid. The jail was sweltering and the mood was one of dark depression. When lunch was brought up, they ate mostly in silence.