Chapter Notes
The first and only issue of the Nauvoo Expositor was published on Friday,
7 June 1844. The prospectus promised that a new issue would be published each week thereafter. Sylvester Emmons, not a Church member but nevertheless a member of the Nauvoo City Council, was hired by Foster and the others to serve as editor and because of that was expelled from the council. Ironically, beneath the title of the paper, the motto on the masthead reads: “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” (See CHFT, pp. 275–76.)
The proceedings of the city council meeting, including the testimony mentioned here and the order to destroy the press, are given in great detail in Joseph’s history (see HC 6:432–48).
With the Steed family not being historical figures, obviously Joseph’s trip to Warsaw is not based on actual historical events. The idea was suggested by several journal entries about this time which indicate that Joseph would go out riding with Porter Rockwell (see HC 6:227, 399, 424, 451, 472).
Chapter 40
Joshua tiptoed quietly to the bedroom, then stopped when he opened the door. So much for thinking Caroline might be asleep. It might as well have been a meeting of the Relief Society. They had turned the downstairs sitting room into a bedroom so that Caroline would not have to worry about negotiating stairs when she began her recuperation. Now it was packed with people. Lydia and Mary Ann sat on chairs beside Caroline’s bed. Mary Ann had the baby. Jenny and Rebecca sat on the floor directly beside Caroline. Kathryn was in her wheelchair behind the others. Jessica and Rachel stood at the foot of the bed.
When the men had gone to Warsaw to get Caroline and bring her home, Mary Ann had paid a young man to ride to Ramus and tell Jessica of the tragedy. Solomon Garrett had immediately packed his family into a wagon and come to Nauvoo. Aside from their being there with the family in an hour of need, their presence had proven to be a blessing in another way. Jessica’s little Miriam had been born just a month after Lydia’s baby, and so Jessica and Lydia were now alternating nursing Caroline’s baby.
Caroline’s head was turned as she listened to the conversation and she saw Joshua before the others. “Hello,” she said weakly.
As they all turned, he went right to her. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said. “I slept all the time you were gone.”
“That’s good.” He laid a hand on her cheek.
“The fever’s down,” Mary Ann said, “don’t you think?”
“Yes, I think it is.” He was encouraged. Caroline’s voice wasn’t so tremulous now. Her eyes were bright again; her cheeks had good color.
“They tell me that the funeral was very nice,” Caroline said to Joshua.
He nodded. “It was. And there were hundreds of people there. That’s why I’ve been so long getting back. Everyone came up afterwards to express their condolences and to tell me they are praying for you.” There was a touch of awe in his voice. “I couldn’t break loose.”
She looked away, her eyes tearing up. “I wanted so much to be there.”
He squeezed her hand. “I know.”
Mary Ann stood and walked to the bassinet. She carefully laid the baby down and smoothed the blanket over it. Then she turned to Joshua. “We’ll go now. We don’t want to tire her.”
“Thank you, Mother. Thank you all.”
As they started to file out, Jessica touched his arm. “I’ve just fed the baby, so she’ll be all right for a time.”
Lydia nodded. “I’ll come in a couple of hours and feed her again.”
“Thank you.”
Kathryn maneuvered her wheelchair so that she faced both Joshua and Caroline. “Have you decided what you’re going to name her?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but I know what I want to call her.”
Caroline’s eyes rose a little. “What?”
He spoke very quietly. “Caroline Steed.”
There was a soft murmur of approval from the other women, but Caroline moved her head back and forth on the pillow.
“No?” he asked.
“Livvy,” she said. “I want to call her Livvy.”
Joshua’s eyes were instantly burning. He looked away. “I don’t know if I could bear to call her Olivia, Caroline,” he said in a low voice.
“Not Olivia,” she answered, a tear trickling down one cheek. “Just Livvy. I want to have another Livvy.”
Joshua knelt down beside her and began to stroke her hair. Then he looked at Kathryn again. “I think we’ll name her Livvy Caroline Steed,” he said huskily.
He walked them to the door and bid them good-bye, then came back to sit beside Caroline. He took her hand.
“Tell me all about it, Joshua.”
“Are you sure you’re not too tired?”
“No, I want to hear it from you. I want to hear everything.”
He talked softly and with an occasional tear or two. She too wept as he spoke. He spent the most time telling her about what Joseph had said—how he had talked about the spirit world, and that Livvy was there now, still with all of her personality, her laughter, her love of music. Finally, Joshua had to stop.
She looked up, and when she saw his eyes, she started to cry again. “You’re not sure it’s true, are you?” she asked.
He stared at her for several seconds, then looked away.
“Oh, Joshua,” she cried. “How can you bear it if you don’t know?”
He had held it back for so long—speaking at the services, accepting the kind wishes of all the people, keeping his emotions in check. Now his hands began to tremble and his lip quivered. “I don’t know if I can bear it, Caroline,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I . . . If only I could see her once more. Take her in my arms and tell her how terribly sorry I am for being such a fool.”
“She knows, Joshua,” Caroline said, taking his hand in both of hers. “She knows.”
Finally, he pulled free, sniffing back the tears and wiping at his eyes with his fingertips. “I can see why the gospel is so appealing to you, Caroline, but . . .” He took a deep breath and shook his head, the stubbornness in him not allowing him to let it lie. “But just wanting something, even desperately wanting something, doesn’t make it so. I wish it did.” His voice cracked again and he dropped his head. “I wish it did. It would be so simple then.”
Caroline reached up and pulled his head down against her chest and began to stroke his hair. “Oh, my poor dear Joshua,” she whispered. “My poor dear Joshua.”
By the evening of June seventeenth—the day of the funeral for Olivia and a week following the destruction of the Nauvoo Expositor press—the rumors were flying as thick as a swarm of hornets. A group of men in Carthage were supposedly preparing to attack Nauvoo. Fifteen hundred Missourians had ferried across the river to join the Warsaw anti-Mormon party; Thomas Sharp was whipping them into a frenzy and they too were going to march on Nauvoo and get Joe Smith. The Laws, the Fosters, and the Higbees were bringing a mob to smash the printing offices of the Nauvoo Neighbor in retaliation. With all of that, Nauvoo was like a tinderbox. Joseph had companies of the Nauvoo Legion watching the roads. He detailed some of the police to stand guard over the printing office. Other companies of the Legion started to dig fortifications around the perimeter of the city.
It was in that air of tension that Joshua appeared at the Red Brick Store late that afternoon. Joseph was in council with city officials and Church leaders, but when he was told Joshua was outside, he came out immediately. Joshua didn’t waste any time with small talk. “Joseph, I understand Nathan is going to Springfield.”
Joseph wasn’t surprised that he knew. “Yes. I’m sending a letter to Governor Ford along with affidavits describing recent threats against the Saints.”
“I want to go with him.”
Joseph looked at him for several seconds, then shook his head.
“Why? Caroline is much better. She’s got all the women here to care for her and—”
Joseph just kept sha
king his head.
“Why? Lydia’s very worried about Nathan going alone.”
“He’ll not be alone. There are others going.” Joseph motioned to a couple of chairs that were out in the hallway and they sat down. “Joshua, Caroline is better only because we blessed her by the power of the priesthood. Do you believe that?”
Joshua hesitated. This was the other thing that kept him going around and around. The rational part of him knew that there was no way that Caroline could have made the fifteen-mile journey in a wagon and survived. The doctor in Warsaw had feared for her life even without moving her. And yet she was not only still alive, she was healing. But on the other hand . . . He shook his head angrily. There was no “on the other hand.” “Yes,” he said. “I don’t understand it, but I believe that what you did made the difference.”
“It was not me, Joshua,” Joseph reminded him softly. “It was the Lord. But the point is, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal. She is healing, but she needs you, Joshua. She can’t be worrying about you being in danger. To be out anywhere in Hancock County is a threat right now, and I can’t make her have to face that too. I can’t.”
Joshua sat there, staring at his hands, and finally he nodded. “I understand.” He looked up. “I hear you’ve called out the Legion.”
“I have. They’ll assemble first thing in the morning. The threats grow more ominous with every passing hour.”
“I would like to help.”
Joseph leaned back, appraising Joshua with that long, steady look that Joshua had come to know. “Joshua, you don’t have to prove to me that you’re sorry for what happened. You don’t have to prove to God that it’s not your fault that Olivia was killed.”
Joshua was stung. “The city is in danger. And if that’s true, my family is in danger. I want to help. I want to join the Nauvoo Legion. I’m not asking to be an officer or anything. Just let me help.”
Joseph was silent for a long moment after Joshua finished; then he spoke quietly. “Your father is a wise and wonderful man, Joshua, but he’s getting older now. As a member of the city council he is under indictment too. Your mother is worried sick about this. Remember, once before he was marched off to jail and very nearly didn’t come back. With Nathan going, your family needs someone strong, Joshua, someone to steady things. That is your place right now. It is enough.”
“I’m not strong!” he cried bitterly.
There was a kind smile, a gentle touch on the arm. “You have to be strong, Joshua. We all have to be strong now.” He stood and Joshua stood too. “You watch over your family, Joshua. If more is required of you than that, I will come to you. Fair enough?”
Joshua finally nodded. “Fair enough.” He started toward the stairs and Joseph turned to go back into his meeting, but Joshua stopped. “Joseph?”
“Yes?”
“Just tell them you were wrong.”
“About destroying the press?” he asked in surprise.
“No.” Joshua hesitated. “About plural marriage.” Seeing Joseph’s reaction, he rushed on. “I’m not being critical, Joseph. I’m just telling you, that’s what has got everyone so stirred up. The way out of this is to just admit that you were wrong.”
A slow, sad smile stole across Joseph’s face. “Oh, Joshua, Joshua. Would that it were that simple.” And with that, he turned and went back into his office, leaving Joshua alone in the hallway.
At eight a.m. the next morning, the men of the Nauvoo Legion began to gather on the assembly ground up near the temple. Matthew, Derek, and Will came together as members of the First Cohort. Benjamin, too old to be in the militia itself, served as an aide-de-camp to Joseph and was not there when the troops began to assemble. Nathan, now a lieutenant, should have been there as well, but he had left for the state capital the previous evening.
By nine o’clock, after much shouting and yelling, they were formed up into their respective cohorts. And then, as has been true of military organizations from time immemorial, they settled down to wait. By noon, any semblance of their former organization had dissipated again and they were scattered here and there, sitting or lying in the shade. Then at about one-thirty, all of that changed. The order came that their commander-in-chief wanted the Nauvoo Legion to form up in the streets by Joseph’s home. Once again they formed into their companies, and their companies into the cohorts. At two o’clock, Joseph appeared.
Across the street from the Mansion House another building was under construction. It was still only framed, but the flooring for the second story was laid down and it provided a perfect platform from which the commander-in-chief could address his troops. The streets in all four directions around the Mansion House were filled with soldiers, and every head turned in Joseph’s direction as he stepped out on the building above them.
At Joseph’s request, W. W. Phelps, one of Joseph’s clerks, began. He had a newpaper in his hands and held it up high. “Men of the Legion,” he cried in a loud voice, “I have here a copy of an extra edition of the Warsaw Signal, which has just been put in our hands. The editor, our longtime enemy Mr. Thomas Sharp, has called upon all the ‘old citizens’ of western Illinois to rise up against us. In specific and direct terms, he exhorts the citizens to exterminate Joseph Smith and the other leaders of the Church and to drive the rest of the Mormons from the state.”
That brought an angry rumble from the assembled men.
Phelps went on quickly. “We also have received word that various militia groups are even now undergoing drills in preparation for an attack upon our city. Therefore, at one forty-five p.m., on this eighteenth day of June 1844, Mayor Joseph Smith proclaimed that Nauvoo is now under martial law. We shall now be pleased to hear from our mayor and our commanding general.” He stepped back, lowering the paper.
Joseph moved forward right to the edge of the unfinished building so that he could look down into the faces of the men. Matthew could hardly bear to look up at him. He felt physically ill. Like most of the men here, he had been there when word came of Governor Boggs’s extermination order. He had seen the results of that when Jessica came stumbling into Far West after the massacre at Haun’s Mill. He had lived through the seige and fall of Far West. But then he hadn’t had a wife and two-year-old girl to worry about. He hadn’t had a sister-in-law who was paralyzed from the waist down and who couldn’t even get out of bed without someone to help her.
He glanced at Derek and saw that his jaw was clamped tightly shut and that his fingers were clutching the handle of the sword Benjamin had given him—clutching it so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Brethren, it is with considerable concern that I stand before you this afternoon. Would that the circumstances which bring us here together were more pleasant. But they are not. As you know, enemies now threaten our city. They say it is me that they want. If that were true, I would give myself up to save all of you. But such is not the case. It is thought by some that our enemies would be satisfied with my destruction; but I tell you that as soon as they have shed my blood, they will thirst for the blood of every man in whose heart dwells a single spark of the spirit of the fulness of the gospel. Make no mistake. The opposition of these men is moved by the spirit of the adversary of all righteousness. They wish to destroy not only me, but every man and woman who dares believe the doctrines that God hath inspired me to teach to this generation.”
His voice was sharp with anger now.
“You and I both know that we have never violated the laws of our country. We have every right to live under their protection and are entitled to all the privileges guaranteed by our state and national constitutions. We have turned the barren, bleak prairies and swamps of this state into beautiful towns, farms, and cities by our industry. I call on God, angels, and all men to witness that we are innocent of the charges which are brought forth against us by our enemies.”
There was a great stamping of feet, their way of applauding their commander.
“We have forwarded a particular account of
all our doings to the governor. We are ready to obey his commands if we get the protection which we know to be our just due. We have been tried before a civil magistrate on the charge of riot—not that the law required it, but because the judge advised it as a precautionary measure—and we were legally acquitted by Esquire Daniel Wells, who is a good judge of law and who”—he added pointedly—“is not a member of our church. We are American citizens. We live upon a soil for the liberties of which our fathers periled their lives and spilt their blood upon the battlefield. Those rights, so dearly purchased, shall not be disgracefully trodden underfoot by lawless marauders without at least a noble effort on our part to sustain our liberties.”
Now the men, besides stamping their feet, pounded heavily on their rifle butts or slapped their hands against their legs. The ground trembled and clouds of dust rose around them.
Joseph was visibly touched. He let his eyes sweep in each direction where the men stood. “Brethren of the Nauvoo Legion, will you all stand by me to the death and, even though your lives may be in peril, sustain the laws of our country, and the liberties and privileges which our fathers have transmitted unto us, sealed with their sacred blood?”
“Aye!” It was a mighty shout torn from thousands of throats.
Now his shoulders pulled back and one hand dropped to rest upon the handle of his sword. “I call upon all men, from Maine to the Rocky Mountains, and from Mexico to British America, to come to the deliverance of this people from the hand of oppression, cruelty, anarchy, and misrule to which they have long been made subject.” His voice rose in a great shout. “Come, all ye lovers of liberty, break the oppressor’s rod! Loose the iron grasp of mobocracy, and bring to punishment all those who trample underfoot the glorious Constitution and the people’s rights.”
With one swift motion, Joseph drew his sword and thrust it upward, as if he wanted to pierce heaven itself. “I call upon God and angels to witness that I have unsheathed my sword with a firm and unalterable determination that this people shall have their legal rights and be protected from mob violence, or my blood shall be spilt upon the ground like water, and my body consigned to the silent tomb.”
The Work and the Glory Page 331
