The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “But you don’t think he’s the one?” Carl asked.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “He’s opposed to plural marriage,” Melissa said suddenly. “I heard that he and Joseph disagreed strongly over that question.”

  That brought a long silence to the room. No one looked at Melissa, who was watching her father, her eyes almost pleading.

  “That’s true, Melissa,” Benjamin finally said. “Sidney would probably set aside the teaching of plural marriage.”

  She said nothing. She didn’t have to. It hung in the air like some invisible presence, the words that she had not spoken: “Then I would vote for Sidney Rigdon.”

  Finally, feeling pressured by the silence, Melissa spoke again. “Sidney has done a lot of wonderful things for the Church. Joseph himself said some wonderful things about him.”

  “He also refused to support Joseph in a time of crisis,” Nathan said, keeping his voice gentle. “He was sympathetic to John C. Bennett during that whole mess. Don’t you remember? That’s why Joseph wanted to release Sidney from the Presidency. John C. Bennett wrote to Sidney after he left Nauvoo. He was trying to find a way to get Joseph back into Missouri so his enemies there could get their hands on him. Sidney said nothing to Joseph about the letter. Orson Pratt finally told Joseph.”

  Matthew had sat quietly through it all, listening, nodding occasionally, but mostly thinking about what was said. “The Savior said that the way you tell a true prophet from a false one is by their fruits. If you’ll remember, when we came out of Missouri and started gathering at Quincy, Sidney told us that we shouldn’t do that. He said that we had to scatter to be safe. We had to stay apart so as not to offend the non-Mormons.” Now he looked at Melissa. “If we had followed him back then, there would be no Nauvoo right now.”

  “I—” Melissa stopped. She did remember Sidney’s posture back then, and thought of Nauvoo and all that it now held. It was a telling point.

  “And he left Joseph when the situation started getting dangerous,” Nathan jumped in. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just forget that.”

  “I heard that Joseph asked him to leave,” Carl said, “so he wouldn’t be killed. Just like he tried to get Hyrum to leave so he would be safe.”

  “Yeah,” Nathan shot back, more hotly than he intended, “that’s Sidney’s story. But even if that’s true, isn’t it interesting? Sidney went to Pittsburgh. Hyrum went to Carthage.”

  Suddenly Mary Ann spoke up. She spoke to Carl. “Does it look like Jane Manning is going to work out?”

  For a moment there was bewildered silence. It was totally unrelated to anything they had been talking about. Then several began to grin. Benjamin was chuckling softly. This was Grandma’s role in these family gatherings. She usually said little in the discussions, but she listened—not just to the words, but to the feelings as well. And if things started down the wrong path, she was the monitor that pulled them back.

  “She is going to work out wonderfully well,” Melissa said, smiling and understanding what was going on as clearly as Benjamin did. “I invited her to be here tonight, but Sunday is her day off and she wanted to be with her family.”

  “The children adore her,” Carl said. “Thank you for suggesting her, Mother Steed. She’s going to work out just fine.”

  Mary Ann nodded in satisfaction. “Now, I’d like to say one more thing.”

  Every eye was on her. Nathan dropped his head a little, expecting a rebuke. He was the one who had let his emotions get away with him a little.

  Instead, she smiled sweetly and asked, “How about some bread and milk?”

  They all laughed at that, relieved that she had done her work again. Melissa looked to her gratefully. “I would like that,” she said softly.

  As they began to rise, Will had to make one last shot. “So,” he said, “come Thursday, will the Saints vote for Sidney Rigdon to be their guardian or not?”

  It was a sobering question, and they fell silent as they considered it. Finally it was Nathan who spoke. “There’s one last thing to consider. Think about what Sidney said today. What he claimed the Lord told him. What did he say he was told to do about the Church?”

  “To be the guardian?” Derek ventured.

  “No, that’s what Sidney is to be. But what did he say he was to do as guardian?”

  “He is to build the Church up to Joseph,” Matthew answered.

  “Yes. Exactly. He said it twice. That he was called to build up the Church to Joseph.”

  “Yes. So?” Joshua queried. “I thought that was a wise move on his part. It says to the Saints that he’s not in this for himself.”

  Nathan looked around at his family, first to Lydia, then to his mother, and finally stopped at his father. “Suppose Joseph were here and you asked him what his successor was supposed to do. What do you think Joseph would say? Would he say that the man who was called to replace him was supposed to build up the Church to Joseph Smith?”

  There were instant expressions of discovery and understanding. “No,” said Jenny slowly. “That’s not what he would say.”

  “What would he say?” Nathan asked softly.

  “He would say that whoever follows is to build up the Church to Jesus Christ, not Joseph Smith.”

  “Exactly,” Nathan said. “Exactly the point.”

  As they left the room and went into the kitchen, Nathan lingered until Carl and Melissa came up beside him. With a warm smile, he put his arm around his sister and pulled her against his shoulder. She looked up in surprise.

  “We may disagree about Sidney Rigdon, little sister,” he murmured, “but I want you to know how happy we all are to have you back in Nauvoo.”

  She seemed startled, and then there was an instant sheen of tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Nathan,” she whispered, as she leaned against him.

  He reached down and kissed her cheek. “We missed you,” he said, his voice husky. He released her and looked at Carl. “Welcome home.”

  Matthew and Jenny Steed and Kathryn McIntire were gathered around a kerosene lamp reading passages from the Book of Mormon, specifically the account of the Savior’s visit to the peoples living in America. Betsy Jo was asleep in her crib down the hall and they read in soft voices, even though it took a great deal to wake Betsy Jo up once she fell asleep. The windows were open, and a soft breeze off the river was stirring the curtains in gentle motions. The house had been unbearably hot during the afternoon, but with the breeze, it had become quite pleasant now. Through the open windows they could hear the sound of the crickets or an occasional barking dog. Now and then the soft murmur of voices would pass—someone out for an evening’s stroll—or they would hear the clop-clop of a horse’s hooves as a rider went by, moving up or down Granger Street.

  In her wheelchair, Kathryn was reading, her hair falling softly around her cheeks, her head bent slightly to better catch the light falling on the book. “‘And when he had said these words, he wept, and the multitude bear record of it, and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them. And when he had done this he wept again.’”

  Kathryn stopped and looked at Jenny and Matthew. “I just can’t imagine what that must have been like,” she said quietly. “Can you imagine the Savior taking Betsy Jo and Savannah and Sarah and little Joseph—” She had to stop as the image of each of the children filled her mind. “And taking them in his arms and blessing them,” she finished, her voice breaking a little.

  Jenny reached up and brushed at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “This is my favorite passage in all the Book of Mormon. When I try to think what it must have been like for the parents to watch that happen with their children, I always start to cry.”

  Kathryn nodded and lifted the book again. “‘And he spake unto the multitude, and saith unto them, behold your little ones. And as they looked to behold, they cast their eyes towards heaven, and they saw the heavens open, and they saw angels descending out of heaven as it
were, in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled about with fire; and the angels did minister unto them.’”

  She stopped and silence filled the room. Each was trying to picture that glorious event so many centuries before.

  “What must it have been like to be there?” Matthew finally said in a low whisper.

  “Incredibly wonderful,” Jenny said.

  Kathryn could only nod.

  And then, through the window, they heard the sound of a carriage going by. “Whoa!” someone called, and the carriage came to a halt in the street in front of their house. There was a murmur of voices, the sound of the carriage door opening and shutting again, the creak of springs. Then one voice spoke just loudly enough to be heard above the others.

  “You go on, brethren. I can make my way home from here.”

  Matthew stiffened as though he had been jabbed with a sharpened stick. He was staring at the window, dumbfounded.

  From outside, the first voice spoke to the horse, and over the sound of the carriage starting to move again there were calls of farewell. Then clearly now, more loudly, the first voice spoke again. “We’ll meet in the morning in council. At Brother Taylor’s house.”

  Matthew was on his feet, gaping at the window and the dark beyond it. “That’s Brigham!” he cried in a hoarse whisper. He swung around to Jenny and Kathryn. “That’s Brigham’s voice,” he said.

  “But—,” Jenny started.

  Matthew didn’t hear her. He was across the room, pulling open the door. Even as he did so there was the sound of heavy steps on the porch. “Brigham!” Matthew cried. “It is you!”

  There was the chief Apostle standing at the door, a knapsack over his shoulder, looking very tired and rumpled, but grinning as though he were a miner who had just struck a vein of pure silver. “Hello, Matthew.”

  Matthew flung the door open and threw his arms around the older man. They grabbed one another and pounded each other on the back. “I can’t believe it,” Matthew said over and over. “You’re home.”

  Jenny was on her feet now, and Kathryn wheeled her chair around to face the door.

  Brigham saw them over Matthew’s shoulder and pulled free. “And here are two of my favorite people,” he exclaimed. In three great steps he was across the room and swept Jenny up into his arms, swinging her around and around. Then he dropped to one knee, taking Kathryn’s hands in his. “Dear, sweet Kathryn. How are you?”

  “I’m wonderful,” she said, still a little dazed. “But how—”

  “We just arrived at the north landing. Came down the river from Galena.”

  “Oh, Brigham!” Jenny said. “You don’t know how glad we are to have you back.”

  “And the others of the Twelve?” Matthew said, realizing with Jenny’s words just what this meant for Nauvoo.

  “There are five of us—Wilford, Heber, Orson Pratt, Lyman Wight, and myself. We came as quickly as we could.”

  “Won’t you sit down?” Jenny said, motioning toward a chair.

  “No, no! I saw your light and just wanted to stop and say hello to my partner. I haven’t been home yet. We just arrived, not twenty minutes ago.”

  “And just in the nick of time,” Matthew said. “Sidney Rigdon’s here, saying that he should lead the Church. There’s much confusion.”

  A quick frown momentarily crossed the Apostle’s face. “We heard. That’s why the Twelve will gather tomorrow. I understand there’s to be a big meeting on Thursday.”

  Kathryn answered him. “Yes. Sidney wanted it for today, but there were protests and so President Marks said it would be—” Suddenly her eyes grew wide. “If it had been today, you wouldn’t have been here.”

  He nodded, as though he had already considered that. “Well, we are here. Everything’s going to be fine.” He turned back around to Matthew. “I also hear that my partner is running the finest woodworking and cabinet shop in all of Hancock County.”

  Matthew flushed a little under Brigham’s open look of admiration. “Well, business has been good and—”

  Reaching out with both hands, Brigham grasped Matthew’s shoulders and shook him gently. “How can I ever thank you, dear friend? I’m afraid affairs in the kingdom haven’t left me much time to be a good business partner.”

  “It’s fine. Things are going well.”

  “Thank you,” Brigham said again, his voice husky now. “Thank you, Brother Matthew.” Then he stepped back. “Well, as you can imagine, I am most anxious to see Mary Ann and the children again. I shall be off. But I just had to stop and say hello to three of my dearest friends. It is so good to see you all again.”

  And then he was gone as quickly as he had come, leaving the three of them to stare at each other in wonder.

  “Brigham’s back,” Matthew finally said, grinning happily. He swung around. “I’ve got to go tell Nathan and Pa. They won’t believe it.”

  Under date of August sixth, 1844, Elder Wilford Woodruff recorded the following in his journal: “We arrived in the city of Nauvoo at 8 o’clock in the evening at the upper stone house. We were hailed with joy by all the citizens we met. I accompanied the Quorum of the Twelve to their families, after which I was conveyed to my own and truly felt to rejoice to once more embrace my wife and children. I spent the night at home with my family. Thus it is with me. I have not spent but one summer either at home or with the Church for the last 10 years, as my lot has been all the day long in the vineyard. I go and come from year to year. . . . When we landed in the city, there was a deep gloom seemed to rest over the city of Nauvoo which we never experienced before.”

  By morning, news that five more members of the Twelve had returned, including Brigham Young, President of the Quorum, did much to dispel that gloom. The Twelve were back. This is what the people had been told to wait for. Now a decision could be made. This was more than simple good fortune. Many saw the clear hand of Providence in the return of the Twelve at this particular juncture.

  The next morning, Wednesday, August seventh, eight men came to the home of John Taylor. For the first time in months, a majority of the Twelve were together to meet in council. Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Parley P. Pratt, Orson Pratt, Willard Richards, Wilford Woodruff, George A. Smith, and Lyman Wight—all assembled together at the home of the wounded Apostle. William Smith, John Page, and Orson Hyde had not yet returned. But there were nine Apostles present. Three-fourths of the Quorum. A clear majority. It was enough. It was a time of sorrowing for the loss of their beloved Joseph and Hyrum. It was a time of rejoicing that they were together again. It was a time for action. With the meeting called by President Marks scheduled for the next day, they could not delay.

  “Brother Brigham is going to let President Marks go ahead with the meeting tomorrow,” Benjamin said, reaching out to take his wife’s hands.

  “He is? Is that wise? They have barely had time to assess the situation.”

  “I know, but Brigham told me Sidney is now claiming that it’s only meant to be a prayer meeting. And think what it will mean if they try to cancel it. First of all, it is President Marks who called the meeting. I think if Brigham asks him to cancel it, he will refuse. Second, if they do cancel, it will look as though the Twelve are afraid of Sidney’s power.”

  “So what will they do?”

  “The Twelve have called for a meeting of the stake high council and the high priests quorum. It will be held at four o’clock this afternoon at the Seventies Hall.”

  “But I didn’t think the hall was finished yet.”

  “No, but it is close enough. There won’t be benches, but it is still a good place to meet.”

  “So you and Nathan will be going.”

  “Yes, and a lot more. Brigham has sent out runners to spread the word across the city.”

  The moment President Marks, president of the Nauvoo Stake, finished his prayer and sat down, Brigham Young stood and came to the pulpit. The hall was jammed to capacity. Every temporary b
ench was filled, and men stood three and four deep around the perimeter of the hall. Great solemnity was the prevailing mood. There had been little talking as they assembled and waited for the appointed hour. Benjamin and Nathan Steed sat near the center. Nathan looked at his father and smiled as Brigham stood. The crisis was not yet over, but the Twelve were here. It would be all right now.

  “Brethren,” Brigham began, “as you know, President Sidney Rigdon has recently returned to Nauvoo. Many of you have already heard him speak about a vision and revelation he has received which has to do with the leadership of the Church. Unfortunately, only a few of the Twelve were here to hear that statement. Therefore, I should like to call on President Rigdon now to speak to us and to put forth his claims.”

  There was a stir and many men looked at each other in surprise. They hadn’t expected Brigham to turn the podium over to Brother Rigdon. Sidney nodded and stood, waiting for Brigham to be seated again before he moved to the pulpit.

  He stood there for a moment, calm and dignified, though it surely must have created some anxiety within him. “Brethren, the object of my mission was to visit the Saints and offer myself to them as a guardian. As I said on Sunday, I had a vision at Pittsburgh, on June twenty-seventh. I did not know at that time that it was the very day that our beloved Joseph was slain. This vision was presented to my mind not as an open vision, but rather a continuation of the vision mentioned in the book of Doctrine and Covenants, the one having to do with the three degrees of glory.”

  Benjamin turned and looked at Nathan. That was not quite how he had expressed it at the Sunday meeting. He had not said anything about it not being an open vision. Nathan nodded, understanding exactly what his father was thinking, and they both turned back to the front.

  “In that vision, it was shown to me that this church must be built up to Joseph, and that all the blessings we receive must come through him. I have been previously ordained as spokesman to Joseph. In the vision I was told that I must come to Nauvoo and see that the Church is governed in a proper manner. Joseph sustains the same relationship to this church as he has always done. No man can be the successor of Joseph.