Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Joshua accepted that. He knew Jackson County well, and Joseph was not being overly dramatic. “So,” he finally asked, “what can I do for you?”

  Joseph’s demeanor smoothed a little now, but there was still concern in his eyes. Only now it was for another reason. “Joshua, I know how you feel about everything that has gone on. I want you to know that I respect your right to believe as you choose. I really do. I am a firm believer in the doctrine that every man should be free to choose his own way in matters of religion. It disturbs me a little that some of our number tend to shun those who don’t believe as we do.”

  That much Joshua had to admit was true. Joseph was a tolerant man. “I know that, Joseph, and I appreciate it.”

  “So,” Joseph went on, “I know that what I am about to say may not be well received. I could tell you that I come only in response to the whisperings of the Spirit, but I know that doesn’t cut much leather with you either. But I still wanted to come to you first.”

  “First?” Joshua asked warily.

  Joseph straightened, his face determined now. “Yes. I’d like to call Will on a mission to England, Joshua.”

  Joshua shot to his feet. “What?” He stared at Joseph angrily. One of the reasons why Joshua had given in on the baptism was to stop Will from leaving. Joseph knew that. And now . . . He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

  There was a sad, slightly sardonic smile now on Joseph’s face. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

  “Fair?” Joshua cried. “How could you even think of doing such a thing, Joseph? After all that’s happened, how could you even think it?”

  “Well,” Joseph pointed out with equanimity, “I know this isn’t very helpful, but it’s not me who is asking this, Joshua. It’s the Lord.”

  “Don’t give me that business,” Joshua snapped. “I don’t care if it’s the president of the United States who’s asking. You’re not taking my son.”

  “I’m sorry, Joshua, but I have to ask him. The Lord has called him to England. It will be for at least one year, maybe two. Whether he’ll accept the call or not, I don’t know. But I have to ask.” He stood. “I’m sorry. This is something I’ve been dreading having to do for three days now. I’m sorry.”

  In the end, it was not as hard a decision as Joshua thought it would be. He went home that night, grabbed Caroline, and took her for a walk. He told her everything, his anger rising all over again with the retelling of it.

  “What more does this man want of me?” he fumed, throwing his hands out in frustration. “Haven’t I given enough?”

  He turned to look at his wife when she didn’t answer. Her eyes were filled with tears and she was biting her lower lip.

  “Now, Caroline, don’t start that on me,” he began. “I’ve bent over backwards—”

  But she shook her head firmly. “I don’t blame you, Joshua. You’ve been wonderful, and now this.”

  That took him aback. If she wasn’t crying because of his reaction, then why? He reached out and took her hand. “Then what’s the matter?”

  “You’re the one who said it,” she reminded him, “just the other night.”

  “What?”

  “About how restless Will is getting.”

  He frowned. He had said that, and it had been worrying him. Will was pretty well running the freight yard now and was making an occasional trip to St. Louis for Joshua. But the itch was on him as if he had rolled in a patch of poison oak. “Yeah,” was all Joshua said.

  “He won’t say anything to you, Joshua,” she went on, “not after what you did for him in letting him be baptized. He’s very grateful to you for that. But it’s still there, this whatever it is. It’s not from anger anymore. It’s just that . . .”

  He nodded glumly. Joshua knew exactly what it was. After the blowup between him and Benjamin, Joshua had headed west. For the next two years he had been totally on his own—working the river rafts up and down the Ohio, starting a freight business in Independence. Though he missed his family, the freedom was exhilarating. Will had experienced that too, only at an even younger age than Joshua had. He had been all through the Caribbean—Mexico, Cuba, the Bahamas. He had been to Europe and then on around the world to China. Nauvoo had to seem pretty confining after that. “Yeah,” he said again.

  “You know what it means to me to have him here, don’t you?”

  He looked at her and finally nodded. She had gone through months of agony when Will had been shanghaied and sent to sea. She had missed him terribly for the months he was with Joshua in Wisconsin. Now he would be gone again. “Yes, I do.”

  “If he goes to sea, that will be it. You know that, don’t you?”

  He thought about that and finally grunted. “Yes. I know he loves it.”

  “Is having him gone to England for one or two years any worse than losing him forever to being a sea captain?” she asked softly. “At least this way he’ll come back home to us.”

  So in the end, Joshua had to admit that she was very probably right, and he stepped aside and let Will go. Accepting it, however, did not mean that Joshua liked it. His resentment against Joseph and the Church now had one more thing added to it. He could live with it, but it still galled him deeply that Mormonism kept intruding itself into his life.

  Will caught a stagecoach headed east on the second of August. The whole family had come to the stage station to see him off, and it was a tearful farewell. But when he had finished with Charles and Savannah, Olivia and Caroline, Will finally turned to his father. Nothing was said. Neither of them could have spoken at that moment had they wished to. Will just threw his arms around his father and they held each other tightly for almost a full minute. Finally, he pulled back, wiping at his eyes. “I love you, Papa,” he whispered. “I’ll miss you.”

  Joshua nodded and stepped back. “I love you too, Will. Come back to us.”

  “I will, Papa. I will.”

  There was no question but what John C. Bennett was proving to be a formidable enemy. His decision to go public spread the poison of his lies like thistle pods blowing in a windstorm. The anti-Mormon factions were jubilant. They had long known there was a great wickedness in this accursed church; now at last they had the “proof” for which they were seeking.

  In Nauvoo, Joseph and other Church leaders worked vigorously to undo the damage. Depositions were taken which directly contradicted Bennett’s claims that he had been forced to make his confessions. Letters were written to Governor Carlin of Illinois and Governor Reynolds of Missouri outlining Bennett’s slanderous nature and immoral conduct. Affidavits from those who had been seduced by Bennett and his associates were brought forward to support those claims. The Relief Society sent a petition to Governor Carlin with signatures from almost a thousand women testifying that Joseph was not immoral in any way. Another petition, signed by many non-Mormons as well as members, also testified to Joseph’s integrity and morality.

  But it was like throwing shovels of sand at a raging torrent. Sometime during that summer, Orson Pratt finally learned about what had been going on with his wife while he had been in England. The problem was, he was only told the Bennett version of events. Feeling wounded and betrayed, Orson withdrew into a shell, refusing to discuss the matter with Joseph. When the Twelve drafted the paper announcing Bennett’s excommunication, Orson refused to sign it. When the general petition to Governor Carlin was passed around, Orson refused to sign that as well. Joseph confronted him directly. “Have you personally a knowledge of any immoral act I have committed toward the female sex or in any other way?” he demanded to know. Orson admitted that he did not, but he would not budge. Joseph asked Brigham and the Twelve to labor with their brother. He was unreachable. Before August ended, Orson Pratt, one of the senior members of the Quorum of the Twelve, was excommunicated. The casualty list had now reached into the highest circles of the Church.

  On the sixth of August, Nathan and Benjamin crossed the Mississippi and accompanied Joseph and Hyrum Smith and several othe
r brethren to Montrose, Iowa. Joseph had come with the deputy grand master of the second Grand Lodge of Illinois, from Springfield, to create a Masonic lodge in Montrose. Benjamin was a member of the Masonic lodge in Nauvoo, but Nathan was not. Nevertheless, Benjamin had convinced him to come over with him so they could look at some land while they were there.

  They met at a small block schoolhouse, where the ceremony was to take place. While the grand master and Hyrum went in to train the new officers—only Hyrum was high enough in the order to participate—the rest of the men moved around to the east side of the school where they were shaded from the afternoon heat. The day was stifling, and the hosting brethren had thoughtfully filled a large barrel with water, then brought several chunks of ice from one of their icehouses to put into it. The shade was a welcome respite from the sun. The ice water was like a gift from heaven.

  The men stood around the barrel, dipping their tin cups and drinking deeply. In the easy company that he kept with his brethren, Joseph stood among them, talking quietly. The talk turned to the whole thing with Boggs. Would Governor Carlin respond to the request of Missouri’s governor and issue a warrant for the arrest of Porter Rockwell and Joseph Smith? That generated a rumble of angry mutterings and shaking of heads. Would the Missourians never give up? This had been going on now for almost ten years, ever since the Saints had been driven from Jackson County. Would they never leave them in peace?

  Joseph slowly shook his head. “Brethren, it isn’t over yet.”

  That brought an immediate quieting among the men.

  “It has been a constant annoyance which has followed us since we were driven from that state, but I tell you, we have not seen the last of our persecutions. We shall yet suffer much affliction. We shall yet be driven from our homes.”

  “No!” someone said in a shocked whisper.

  Anson Call had at that moment been reaching into the barrel and refilling his tin tumbler with water. Joseph turned to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Anson, don’t be too free with this wonderful water.”

  That brought Anson up and caused even more surprise among the group. They had barely lowered the level of the water in the barrel; there was plenty for everyone. Then suddenly, Nathan started. Joseph was not looking at Anson Call any longer. He was gazing beyond him, as though looking at something very far away. His own cup was still in hand but forgotten now. “Brethren,” he said solemnly, “this ice water that has so kindly been provided for us today is a wonderful thing. The water tastes much like the water from the crystal streams which tumble down from the Rocky Mountains. I see those mountains now, with their snowcapped peaks and the broad and beautiful valleys.”

  Nathan glanced at Benjamin with a look of wonder. There was a light on Joseph’s face and in his eyes now that was remarkable. Nathan had seen this before, this transformation when Joseph was wrapped in the spirit of inspiration and vision. “We shall go to the Rocky Mountains and there we shall become a mighty people.”

  He swung around suddenly, now looking at them. “There are some of you here who shall do a great work in that land.” His hand was still on Call’s shoulder. “Here is Anson,” he said. “He shall go and shall assist in building up cities from one end of that country to the other.” His gaze swept over them, the blue eyes almost fiery now in their power as he looked from face to face. “You shall perform as great a work as has been done by man. The nations of the earth shall be astonished, and many of them will be gathered in that land and assist in building cities and temples, and Israel shall be made to rejoice.”

  “When, Joseph?” Benjamin breathed.

  It was as if Joseph hadn’t heard him. “Oh, the beauty of those snowcapped mountains! The cool, refreshing streams that are running down through those mountain gorges!” He turned, as if looking in another direction, and a shadow crossed his face. “Oh, the scenes that this people will pass through! The dead that will lie between here and there.”

  Nathan was transfixed. Everyone else was too. Horror and shock filled their faces, and yet it was as though Joseph had set them on fire as well.

  Again the Prophet turned his head, seeming to gaze on yet another scene. “Oh, the apostasy that will take place before my brethren reach that land!” Then suddenly there was a confident smile. “But,” he went on, “the priesthood shall prevail over its enemies. We shall triumph over the devil and be established upon the earth, never more to be thrown down!”

  The light in his eyes faded and gradually his body relaxed again. He drank deeply from his cup, then set it on the bench that stood beside the barrel. No one moved. Every eye was on him. “Brethren,” he said finally, “I charge you with all the force and power I have within me. Be faithful to those things that have been and shall be committed to your charge, and you will have the promise of all the blessings that the priesthood can bestow. Remember these things and treasure them up, and all will be well.” He paused, and there was a gentle smile. “Amen,” he said softly.

  “Amen!” came the amazed and yet answering affirmation from those around him. “Amen!”

  On August eighth, a deputy sheriff and two other men arrived in Nauvoo. With them they brought a warrant signed by the governor of Illinois for the arrest of Joseph Smith and Porter Rockwell. The intent of the law officers was to carry their two prisoners to Missouri and turn them over to the authorities there.

  When the Nauvoo Charter had been passed by the state legislature, Joseph worked hard to ensure that the city courts would have the power to issue a writ of habeas corpus. This legal document was a powerful weapon in protecting a person from illegal arrests or being dragged off to another venue where the person’s rights would not be protected. Joseph immediately obtained a writ for both him and Rockwell, preventing the law officers from carrying out the arrest. Not sure what that meant, the law officers returned to Springfield for further instruction. Fearing that their legal rights might be compromised, Joseph went into hiding near Nauvoo, and Porter Rockwell took an assumed name and fled the city, heading east.

  The failure to arrest Joseph and his “Destroying Angel,” as Bennett had labeled Rockwell, raised a howl of protest from the enemies of the Church. They had long claimed that the Mormons had carved out for themselves an independent kingdom with their Nauvoo Charter. Here, they said, was proof that the Mormon prophet was above the law.

  By late summer John C. Bennett had made an interesting discovery. Sensationalism paid handsomely. After his successful trip to see Lilburn Boggs, Bennett headed east. Writing letters to the editor, composing articles for newpapers, and offering lectures in the evening became his pattern. Louisville, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Buffalo, New York, Boston—he moved from city to city, embellishing his story as he went. The claims got more and more fantastic. Members of the Church were required to consecrate all their property—including their wives—to Joseph Smith for his personal gratification. Joseph had often been seen roaring drunk and falling into the sewers of Nauvoo, he said. Joseph claimed to be Jesus Christ and Sidney Rigdon was the Holy Ghost. When Sidney got sick, Bennett told his shocked audiences, he (Bennett) had become Holy Ghost pro tem. There was a secret lodge of women in Nauvoo, ran another of his claims. This was Joseph’s seraglio, his private harem, and the women were totally given over to satisfying Joseph’s every desire.

  Though Bennett was drawing huge crowds, not all who read or came to listen were totally taken in by Bennett’s lectures. The editor of the New York Sun, though glad to see the delusion of Mormonism exposed, suggested that Bennett was “just about as big a rogue as Joe.” Others asked why Bennett had not come forth sooner to expose the wickedness of the Mormons. Why had he stayed in a leadership position for over a year? Bennett neatly sidestepped that question. The fact that he was making healthy profits from these lectures also was noted with suspicion. One editor said of him, “I know of no man who invents testimony so fast as he who makes his living from his testimony.”

  By late August, word of Bennett’s writings and lectures
were filtering back to Nauvoo. These kinds of scurrilous lies could not simply be ignored, lest the honest in heart believe that the Church had no answer, no defense for the charges being leveled against it. On August twenty-sixth, Joseph met with the Twelve and decided that it was time to send missionaries out to “deluge the earth with a flood of truth.” Three days later Joseph made his first public appearance since the attempt to arrest him and spoke at a conference of the Saints. There he issued the call for elders to go forth and refute the lies of John C. Bennett. When the meeting was finished, about three hundred and eighty brethren stepped forward to answer the call.

  Unquestionably, Bennett turned many against the Church, even some members who lived in the cities where he lectured. But as time wore on something else became evident. Sometimes the suspicious were led to investigate further and found the Church to be something far different from what Bennett was representing it to be. In Chicago, after a debate between Bennett and one of the elders, large numbers started coming to the meetings where the elder was teaching and eventually twelve people were baptized.

  Nathan, Derek, and Matthew all stepped forward on August twenty-ninth and volunteered to go out as missionaries. Peter Ingalls also answered the call, but John Taylor persuaded him that his work with the Times and Seasons was a mission of its own. The newspaper was publishing a great deal of information about Bennett, and while it wasn’t reaching much of the world, it was an effective voice to the Saints. Reluctantly, Peter agreed and withdrew his name.

  Most of the elders left almost immediately, knowing the urgency of the mission. With Joseph’s encouragement, the three men of the Steed family delayed their departure until September fourth. The reason for the delay was that they wanted to be present for the wedding.

  On the third day of September, 1842, on a cool, late summer afternoon, Solomon Garrett and Jessica Roundy Steed Griffith were married by Hyrum Smith. Rachel, now a maturing ten years old, and Kathryn in her wheelchair flanked Jessica on both sides as maids of honor. Several families had come from Ramus to share in the celebration, and with the large number of guests from Nauvoo, they decided it would be best to hold the ceremony in the grove west of the temple. Hyrum jokingly told Benjamin that at the rate he and Mary Ann were going, the Church would