by Gale Sears
As I pen these words to you, another year draws to a close, and though the time seems fleeting I have endeavored to fill it with the earnestness of my calling. The translation of the Book of Mormon into the Italian language is complete, and a hundred books have thus far been printed. Several dozen I have sent to Elder Woodard to distribute among the Saints in the Piedmont for their instruction. He reports that several more of the Waldenese have joined with the branch in the Angrogna Valley, and even though there is persecution, the Saints remain steadfast in their commitment to the restored Church.
A spirit of inquiry is abroad in Italy, Eliza, and this mission has been attended with much solicitude. Many have felt that labors bestowed in Italy would prove futile and unavailing—that doctrines of present revelation would not be able to obtain credence with the people. But we endeavor to establish the Church of Jesus Christ upon the most substantial basis—the rock of revelation, and I believe the veil over Italy has begun to burst. The Alpine hills have commenced to reverberate the tidings of salvation and the gift of the Holy Ghost to those who have wandered long in darkness. I look with wonder upon the road in which the Lord has led me since I came to this land. From the first day I trod the Italian soil, there has been a chain of circumstances, which has not sprung by chance, but from the wise arrangements of Him who ruleth in the kingdoms of men.
How lovely to contemplate that at some future time the fulness of the gospel ordinances may be the reward of those who embrace our message. In thoughts of temple blessings, my heart is drawn to the experiences of the Kirtland Temple. There we had the gift of prophecy, the gift of tongues, the interpretation of tongues, and visions. We heard the singing of heavenly choirs, and saw wonderful manifestations of the healing power through the administrations of the elders. The sick were healed, the deaf made to hear, the blind to see, and the lame to walk. It was plainly manifest that a sacred and divine influence—a spiritual atmosphere—pervaded that holy edifice.
And now, I extend my memory to the temple in Nauvoo, where thousands of resolute Saints received their sacred ordinances, though evil mobs threatened their very existence. How venerated is the house of the Lord to the Saints of God, my dear sister? Think how we in the valley will rejoice when a temple is again raised in our midst. Then think how those in the far-flung reaches of the world who accept the gospel will long for the clarity of the temple. This is why we labor. This is why Elder Toronto, Elder Woodard, Elder Stenhouse, and I sacrifice for the precious souls of our brothers and sisters.
Elder Stenhouse reports from Geneva that many have shown an interest in the gospel message, and declares that the pamphlet The Voice of Joseph is receiving genuine inquiry. I will leave England soon, having accomplished the Lord’s requested task, and sojourn for a brief time in Switzerland to evaluate conditions. Then I will once again ascend the forbidding Alpine mountains in order to return to the cherished people of the Piedmont valleys. You may well find it amusing that I vowed never again to cross those rugged heights in the grip of winter, but I will not delay my return for more clement weather. I am fixed in my course of spreading the truth of the gospel to the world, for I know it to be the primitive Christian faith restored, the ancient gospel brought back again. I know that though you and I may not be present, Eliza, the Church is here in the last dispensation to usher in the Millennium.
Thank you for the watchful care extended to my family. Whenever I receive a letter from my little band of Saints, they refer to your consideration. I have a difficult time expressing what comfort this affords me, one who longs to be with my precious darlings and to be responsible for their safekeeping.
I pray that the Lord’s Spirit will attend your endeavors.
I remain, as always, your very affectionate brother,
L. Snow
Note
With a few minor changes, this is an actual letter written by Lorenzo to his sister that was included in his autobiography.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Angrogna Valley
January 2, 1852
An outsider—that is what Albertina Guy knew herself to be. An outsider. The cold that swept across the Angrogna River was mirrored in her feelings. She stood at the side of the river watching the water run beneath the slivered sheets of ice clinging to the bank. While others of the company chatted in lowered voices, she stood in silence, ruminating about her early-morning argument with her father.
“Why are you going to this baptism if you are not going to be baptized?”
“Madeleine is being baptized, and she is my friend.”
“A friend whom you haven’t seen for months.”
“I have been busy with Uncle.”
“I thought you were going to mind your mother’s and my wishes.”
“I have minded you. For months I have not been to their meetings.”
“Then I don’t see why you should want to be a part of this ceremony.”
“Madeleine is my friend. This day is important to her, and I’m going to be there.”
“Albertina, I—”
“No, Father, I’m going.”
The wind stopped blowing and the sun came from behind a bank of clouds, giving a brief respite from the chill to those waiting to enter the water for baptism. Albertina opened her eyes to find Madeleine shivering at her side.
“Will you hold my coat for me when I go in?” Madeleine asked.
“Of course.”
Madeleine reached down and took her friend’s gloved hand. “I am glad you came.”
“Ah! I can feel your cold hand through my glove. Where are your mittens?”
“In the pocket of my coat. I can’t wear them into the water.”
“No, but you can wear them now. Put them on! Put them on! No wonder you’re shivering.”
Madeleine pulled the mittens from her pockets and put them on. “I think I’m nervous, too.”
“About your decision?”
“No. Our decision is right. I just wonder what comes after this day.”
Philippe Cardon came to stand beside his daughter, slipping his arm around her shoulder and giving her a hug. “Well, my girl, your dream is coming true.”
“Yes.”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes. Nervous.”
“Perhaps it is the thought of putting your feet in that cold water.”
She smiled up at him. “We are pioneers now. Should we be worried about a little cold water?”
“That’s my girl.” He looked over at Albertina. “You are a true friend to come out on such a cold day, Mademoiselle Guy.”
“It is an important day.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Elder Snow drew near, standing with his back to the water and addressing the group. “The weather dictates that my comments be brief.”
The people smiled as they gathered closer to hear his words.
“I am grateful that I have returned from England in time to be here with you. I am grateful that many of you have been able to read the Book of Mormon in Italian. I am grateful for your faith in the gospel, and your desire to take upon you this holy ordinance, for it surely is the gateway into eternal life. John, in his revelation, chapter fourteen, verse six, having seen and spoken of the wandering of the church into darkness, speaks of the restoration of the gospel: ‘I saw another angel flying in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth.’ It is evident that prophecy was to be fulfilled at some time previous to our Savior’s second advent. I now bear testimony, having the highest assurance by revelation from God, that this prophecy has already been fulfilled, that an angel from God has visited man in these last days and restored that which has long been lost, even the priesthood, the keys of the kingdom, the fulness of the everlasting gospel.”
Albertina was surprised when Madeleine leaned over to her and wh
ispered, “It is my dream—my dream of the everlasting gospel.”
Elder Snow smiled as he looked into the face of Madeleine Cardon, and then to her parents. “You have been a people prepared with visions and dreams, and the Lord is pleased that even though you have had to leave precious traditions and face persecution, you have been true to those promptings and stand now at the waters of baptism.”
Albertina took her friend’s hand. She glanced around at the waiting believers, noting that Madeleine’s entire family was joining the Church—all except her older sister Ann, whose husband refused her any association with the faith. Movement from Elder Snow caught Albertina’s attention. He was motioning for John Malan to step forward.
“I have called upon President Malan, as your branch president, to perform the baptisms, while Elders Woodard, Toronto, and I will act as witnesses. After the baptisms, we will adjourn to the Cardons’ home, where they may change and get warm prior to their confirmations. President Malan, would you please take Sister Cardon into the water?”
Elder Malan reached out his hand for Madeleine’s mother. The girls huddled closer together and stepped nearer the river’s edge, watching the two move carefully out into the deepest part of the frigid water. When they were nearly waist deep, Brother Malan stopped and instructed Sister Cardon to take his wrist. He then raised his other arm to the square, and, in a voice loud enough for all on the bank to hear, he called her by name and proclaimed that, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, he baptized her in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. He put his hand on her back and buried her in the water.
Just as Sister Cardon disappeared under the surface, Albertina Guy inched her foot forward and put the toe of her boot into the water.
Note
It is historically accurate that Brother John Malan was the branch president at the time of the Cardons’ baptism and performed that sacred ordinance for the Cardon family. Records indicate that Philippe and Marie Cardon were baptized January 2, 1852, followed later that year by other family members. Other records indicate that Philippe Cardon was baptized June of 1851. For the sake of story cohesion, I chose to place all the baptisms together.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Torre Pellice
February 10, 1852
“The first thought of the day?”
“God.”
“The first act of the day?”
“Prayer.”
“The first thought?”
“God.”
“The first act?”
“Prayer.”
“Hold up three fingers.”
“Albertina.”
“Do as you’re told.”
Father Andrew glared at his great-niece.
“Do it, or I won’t let you go to morning prayers.”
“You would keep me from the first act of the day?”
“Do not be petulant.”
“Oh, ho! That is a big word.”
“I learned it from your behavior. Now, three fingers.”
Andrew condescended.
“Now six.”
He obliged.
“Now two.”
“You are a tyrant.”
“Two.”
His two fingers shot forward as if to poke her in the eyes.
“Wait now! Just for that you don’t get any breakfast.”
“Tchet! That is no loss. Nothing tastes good anymore.”
“Such a pity. Mother sent country bread with plum jam.”
Andrew sat straighter. “Plum jam? I would agree to walk an extra twenty steps for your mother’s plum jam.”
“Actually, I made it.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t look so surprised. I help with most of the cooking now.”
“Getting ready for a home of your own?”
Albertina gave her great-uncle a cautionary look. “I think you are talking too much today.”
Andrew chuckled. “All I’m saying is that you’re not a girl anymore, adventuring in the mountains with your friend Madeleine. Your life has gone in a different direction.”
“That is the way of things.”
“Where has she been, by the way?”
“Who?”
“Madeleine Cardon. We still have not finished reading The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“So?”
“She and I have both been busy with other things.”
“Yes—taking care of me, for one,” Andrew growled, sitting back in his chair. “I have been wasting too much of your time.”
Albertina sat forward and took both of her uncle’s hands. “Stop growling, old bear. There is nothing I’d rather be doing.”
He gave her a serious look. “Well, that is a sad statement.”
She stood to put another log on the fire. “So you don’t like my company?”
“I love your company, but at eighteen you should be off with your friends or spending time with a beau.”
“A beau? I didn’t know matchmaking was part of your priestly calling.” She gazed into the fire. “I am content where I am.”
The room grew quiet except for the snap of the burning log.
Andrew thought back to eighteen and his time in Paris with his uncle Jacques: the girls in their pale, empire silk gowns, their hats festooned with pastel ribbons and bows, the glazed pastries, and the late-night carriage rides. He wandered the halls of the grand libraries, running his hand along the backs of leathered books, and saw again the great statesman, tall and elegant. How far away the sculpted gardens of Versailles and the lavish salons of Venice? How many winters had come and gone—how many summers? He felt a light touch on the back of his hand, and looked up into Albertina’s lovely face.
“Drifting?” she asked.
He sighed. “Back to when I was your age—I remember the blood of eighteen. You may not think so, but I do. The blood so restless and insatiable. I have lived my life, Albertina, and I am content where I am, but I do not think the same is true for you.”
Albertina set his writing desk across his legs and tapped the parchment. “Let’s continue with your exercises.”
He held the small desk out to her. “No. And this time I will not let you bully me.”
“Uncle—”
“Sit down, please.”
“But I—”
“Please.”
She took the writing desk and placed it on one of the library tables. Reluctantly she went back to the chair and sat. “Father Nathanael will be in soon.”
“This I know. We will talk until then.”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“Albertina, I have known you all your life—tears, happiness, struggles.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he went on. “And though you may not have shared every worry, I have read it in your face.” She lowered her head. “For the past several months you have been unhappy, and though you mask it with gentleness and work, I see it there.”
“I have been worried about you.”
“Yes, and I thank you for that, but I think you are unhappy because you have broken a promise to the Lord.”
“What?”
“You told me of the promise, remember? After the singing competition in Pinerolo.”
Albertina labored to find the words. “I . . . that . . . that was just my will for the moment. Like you said, I hadn’t thought it through. It was foolishness to think of joining another church and of leaving you. I could never do that.”
“May I tell you a story?” She gave a slight nod. “After I watched the guillotine drop on Danton’s neck, I doubted the road I was on. It was a dark time. I wandered the streets of Paris searching for purpose, for answers. The only answers that come from the streets are of the streets. Do you understand
this?”
“I think so.”
“For years the world called my name. For years I opened my hands to the gold and my heart to the praise, but I was not happy. The darkness followed me wherever I went. By the time I stumbled into the cathedral at Lyon, I was a wretched man.”
“Uncle—”
“Without question, a wretched man. That day, as I gave up my pride and my sins to God, a light came into my heart, at first a small flame like the light from a candle.” He placed his hand over his heart. “And then it grew to encompass every part of me. It was a feeling I could not deny.” He leaned forward. “I think you have felt a similar light, my dear one.”
Albertina studied his face. “I have.”
“Then you must be true to your feelings.”
“But you said—”
“I was wrong.”
“But Mother and Father—”
“You must honor them. You must honor their wishes. But there will come a time when you must do as the Lord directs.”
The library door opened and Father Nathanael came in, followed by Elder Snow. Albertina turned in her seat and gasped when she recognized the apostle.
“Well, this is a timely meeting,” Andrew said.
“Are you finished with your exercises?” Father Nathanael asked as he drew near. “I do not mean to interrupt you, but Monsieur Snow has come for a visit, and it is time for prayers and breakfast.”
“It is no interruption,” Andrew said. “You have rescued me from my punisher.” He reached out his hand and Lorenzo took it. “Elder Snow, welcome. Please sit down.”
“I cannot stay for a visit. Perhaps another time. We are on our way to preach in Pinerolo.” He opened his satchel and brought out a book. “I wanted to stop and offer you one of the Italian copies of the Book of Mormon.”
Andrew looked at the book and then to Elder Snow’s face. A half grin printed itself onto his mouth as he reached for the book. “Ah, so here it is. Here it is. You realize that when you publish and distribute this book, you risk coming in collision with the government?”
Lorenzo grinned back. “We are aware.”