Chapter 20

The incidents mentioned added quickly fuel to the flame. A new warrant was issued by a magistrate in Carthage for the arrest of the Mormon leaders and placed in the hands of an officer of the State for execution. The latter at once summoned the citizens of the county, as a _posse comitatus,_ to aid in the arrests. At this critical moment Governor Ford, in the interest of peace, reached Carthage, the county seat. Upon his arrival he found the situation truly alarming. Several hundred armed men from the country around had hastily assembled and were encamped upon the public square. By order of the Governor, this force was organized into companies and placed under the immediate command of officers of his appointment. At the conclusion of a speech by the Governor, the officers and men pledged themselves to aid him in upholding the laws, and in protecting the Mormon prisoners when brought to Carthage for trial.

Meanwhile, Smith as lieutenant-general had called out the Nauvoo Legion and proclaimed martial law in that city. The Mormons from the country promptly obeyed the call of their leader and marched to his assistance, and Nauvoo became at once a vast military camp. Governor Ford now demanded of the Mormon leaders the return of the State arms furnished at the time of the organization of the Legion, this demand, if not promptly complied with, to be enforced by an immediate attack upon Nauvoo by the assembled forces encamped at Carthage.

Appreciating now for the first time the hopelessness of a conflict with State authorities, a number of the weapons were surrendered and the Smiths, accompanied by Taylor and Richards, two other Mormon leaders, went to Carthage and surrendered themselves to the officer holding the warrant for their arrest. Upon giving bond for their appearance, they were at once released on charge of riot. A new complaint, charging them with treason--in levying war against the State, declaring martial law in Nauvoo, and ordering out the Legion to resist the execution of lawful process--was immediately lodged against them, a warrant duly issued, the prisoners rearrested and committed to the common jail of the county. On the evening following this arrest, the guards stationed at the jail for the protection of the prisoners were attacked and overpowered by a mob of several hundred persons. Governor Ford states:

"An attempt was now made to break open the door; but Joseph Smith, being armed with a six-barrel pistol furnished by his friends, fired several times as the door was burst open and wounded three of the assailants. At the same time, several shots were fired into the room, wounding John Taylor and killing Hiram Smith. Joseph Smith now attempted to escape by jumping out of the second-story window; but the fall so stunned him that he was unable to rise, and being placed by the conspirators in a sitting posture, they despatched him by four balls shot through his body."

Thus perished, at the age of thirty-nine, the founder and prophet of the Mormon Church. Contradictory statements as to his real character have come down to the present generation. The estimate of Governor Ford, who knew him well, is as follows:

"He was the most successful impostor in modern times; a man who, though ignorant and coarse, had some great natural parts which fitted him for temporary success, but which were so obscured and counteracted by the inherent corruptness of his nature that he never could succeed in establishing a system of policy which looked to permanent success in the future. It must not be supposed that the pretended prophet practised the tricks of a common impostor; that he was a dark and gloomy person with a long beard, a grave and severe aspect, and a reserved and saintly carriage of his person. On the contrary, he was full of levity, even to boyish romping; dressed like a dandy, and at times drank like a sailor and swore like a pirate. He could, as occasion required, be exceedingly meek in his deportment, and then, again, be as rough and boisterous as a highway robber; being always able to prove to his followers the propriety of his conduct. He always quailed before power, and was arrogant to weakness. At times he could put on an air of a penitent, as if feeling the deepest humility for his sins, and suffering unutterable anguish, and indulging in the most gloomy foreboding of eternal woe. At such times he would call for the prayers of the brethren in his behalf with a wild and fearful anxiety and earnestness. He was six feet high, strongly built, and uncommonly full muscled. No doubt he was as much indebted for his influence over an ignorant people to the superiority of his physical vigor as to his great cunning and intellect."

Of a wholly different tenor is the tribute of Parley P. Pratt, the poet and historian of the Mormon Church:

"President Smith was in person tall and well built, strong and active; of a light complexion, light hair, blue eyes, and of an expression peculiar to himself, on which the eye naturally rested with interest and was never weary of beholding. His countenance was very mild, affable, and beaming with intelligence and benevolence mingled with a look of interest and an unconscious smile of cheerfulness, and entirely free from all restraint or affectation of gravity; and there was something connected with the serene and steady penetrating glance of his eye, as if he would penetrate the deepest abyss of the human heart, gaze into eternity, penetrate the heavens, and comprehend all worlds. He possessed a noble boldness and independence of character; his manner was easy and familiar, his rebuke terrible as the lion, his benevolence unbounded as the ocean, his intelligence universal, and his language abounding in original eloquence peculiar to himself."

For a brief period following the assassination of the Smiths, comparative quiet prevailed in the Mormon country. The selection of a successor to their murdered prophet, was now the absorbing question among the Mormon people. Revelations were published that the prophet, in imitation of the Saviour, was to rise from the dead, and some even reported that they had seen him attended by a celestial army coursing the air on a great white horse.

Sydney Rigdon now aspired to be the head of the Church as the successor to the martyred prophet. His claims were verified by a pretended revelation direct from heaven. He was, however, at once antagonized by the "quorum of the Twelve," and after a bitter struggle, Apostle Brigham Young was chosen, and Rigdon expelled from the Church and "given over to the buffetings of Satan."

The quiet immediately succeeding the tragedy was of short duration. It was only the calm which precedes the storm. While his followers were invoking the vengeance of the law upon the murderers of the prophet, the anti-Mormons were quietly organizing a crusade for the expulsion of the entire Mormon population from the State. The trial of the assassins of the Smiths resulted in their acquittal, as was to have been expected when the intense anti-Mormon feeling existing throughout the immediate country is taken into account. The result is even less surprising when it is remembered that the principal witness for the prosecution supplemented his testimony of having seen the crime committed, by the remarkable declaration that immediately upon the death of Joseph, "a bright and shining light descended upon his head, that several of the conspirators were stricken with total blindness, and that he heard supernatural voices in the air confirming the divine mission of the murdered prophet."

In the narration of these exciting events, the names of men who at a later day achieved national distinction frequently occur. The Hon. O. H. Browning, since Senator and member of the Cabinet, was chief counsel for the alleged murderers of the Smiths. He was at the time a distinguished Whig leader, and one of the most eloquent men in the State. The disorder and outrages that followed the acquittal just mentioned called Governor Ford again to the seat of war. He says:

"When informed of these proceedings, I hastened to Jacksonville, where in a conference with General Hardin, Judge Douglas, and Mr. McDougal the Attorney-General of the State, it was agreed that these gentlemen should proceed to Hancock County in all haste with whatever force had been raised, and put an end to these disorders. It was also agreed that they should unite their influence with mine to induce the Mormons to leave the State. The twelve apostles had now become satisfied that the Mormons could not remain, or, if they did, that the leaders would be compelled to abandon the sway they exercised over them. Through the intervention of General Hardin, acting on instructions from me, an agreement was made between the hostile parties for the voluntary removal of the greater part of the Mormons across the Mississippi in the spring of 1846."

Of the advisors of the Governor in the adjustment mentioned, Douglas and McDougall were at a later day distinguished Senators, respectively from Illinois and California, and Hardin was killed while gallantly leading his regiment at the battle of Buena Vista.

To the peaceable accomplishment of the purposes mentioned, a small force under a competent officer was stationed for a time in Hancock County. The Governor justly felicitates himself that thereby "the greater part of the Military Tract was saved from the horrors of civil war in the winter time, when much misery would have followed by the dispersion of families and the destruction of property."

The Mormon exodus from Illinois, once the "land of promise," now began in terrible earnest. Many farms and homes and large quantities of personal effects were hastily disposed of at a great sacrifice. The speeding was far different from the welcome but a few years before so heartily extended to the incoming "saints." The "Holy City" and sacred temple soon to be destroyed were abandoned for perilous journeyings in the wilderness. The chapter that immediately follows in the history of this people is indeed pathetic. The terrible sufferings of the aged and infirm, of helpless women and children, as the shadows of the long night of winter gathered about them on their journey, can never be adequately told. But, inspired with the thought that they were the Israel of God, that Brigham Young was their divinely appointed leader, that the pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night ever went before them on their journeyings, they patiently endured all dangers and hardships.

High upon the western slope of the Wasatch hard by the old wagon trail which led down into the valley stands a huge rock around whose base the Mormon leader assembled his followers just as the last rays of a summer sun were falling upon the mountains. In stirring words he recalled their persecutions and trials, told them that their long pilgrimage, the weary march by day and lonely vigil by night, were now ended, and their Canaan the great valley which stretched out before them.

Upon a visit to Salt Lake City nearly a third of a century ago, I attended service in the great Tabernacle when it was filled to overflowing, and yet so excellent were its acoustic arrangements that every word of the speaker and every note of the organ could be heard distinctly. The surroundings were indeed imposing. Upon the great platform sat the President and his Council, the twelve apostles, the seventy elders, with an innumerable army of bishops, teachers, deacons, and other functionaries constituting the lower order of the Mormon hierarchy. The sermon was delivered by the famous Orson Pratt, the Saint Paul of the Mormon Church, a venerable patriarch of four score years, and yet, withal, a man of wonderful power.

As our little party passed in front of the speaker's platform to reach the door, he halted in his discourse, and stated to the audience that the strangers within their gates were leaving because of the near departure of their train and not because of any disrespect to the service. Then, bowing his aged head, he invoked the blessing of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, upon the Gentile strangers, and prayed "that their long journey might be ended in safety, and that in the fulness of time, having witnessed the manifestations of Almighty Power, they might return again, not as sojourners, but as fellow-citizens with the saints, to dwell in the Holy City."

XIV A KENTUCKY COLONEL

COL. WINTERSMITH'S GREAT POPULARITY--HIS ADMIRATION FOR MR. CLAY --HIS MARVELLOUS MEMORY--HIS WIT AND HUMOR.

Few men were better known in Washington, a quarter of a century and more ago, than Colonel Dick Wintersmith of Kentucky. He had creditably filled important positions of public trust in his native State. His integrity was beyond question, and his popularity knew no bounds. Without the formality of party nomination, and with hardly the shadow of opposition at the polls, he had held the office of State Treasurer for nearly a score of years. An ardent Whig in early life, he was a devout worshipper at the shrine of Henry Clay. In the later years of his life, he would often with the deepest emotion refer to himself as "the last of the old guard." He never tired of relating interesting incidents of Mr. Clay. It was his glory that he had accompanied "the great pacificator" to Washington, when, with the fond hope of being able by his historic "compromise" to pour oil on the troubled waters, he returned to the Senate for the last time.

Wintersmith was the close friend of Theodore O'Hara, and stood beside him when at the unveiling of the monument to the Kentuckians who had fallen at Buena Vista he pronounced his now historic lines beginning--

"On fame's eternal camping-ground Their silent tents are spread."

Colonel Wintersmith knew, as he knew his children, two generations of the public men of Kentucky. His memory was a marvel to all who knew him. He could repeat till the dawn, extracts from famous speeches he had heard from the lips of Clay, Grundy, Marshall, and Menifee. More than once, I have heard him declaim the wonderful speech of Sargent S. Prentiss delivered almost a half-century before, in the old Harrodsburg Court-house, in defence of Wilkinson for killing three men at the Galt House.

It is hardly necessary to say that the Colonel was the soul of generosity. It was a part of his living faith that--

"Kind hearts are more than coronets."

That he was possessed in no stinted measure of wit and its kindred quality, humor, will appear from an incident or two to be related.

The Hon. Ignatius Donnelly, member of Congress from Minnesota, had written a book to prove that Lord Bacon was the veritable author of the plays usually accredited to Shakespeare. Soon after the appearance of Donnelly's book, he met Colonel Wintersmith on Pennsylvania Avenue.

After a cordial greeting, the Colonel remarked, "I have been reading your book, Donnelly, and I don't believe a word of it."

"What?" inquired Donnelly, with great surprise.

"Oh, that book of yours," said the Colonel, "in which you tried to prove that Shakespeare never wrote 'Hamlet' and 'Macbeth' and 'Lear' and all those other plays."

"My dear sir," replied Donnelly with great earnestness, "I can prove beyond all peradventure that Shakespeare never wrote those plays."

"He did," replied Wintersmith, "he did write them, Donnelly, _I saw him write three or four of them, myself."_

"Impossible!" replied Donnelly, who was as guiltless of anything that savored of humor as the monument recently erected to the memory of Hon. John Sherman, "impossible, Colonel, that you could have seen Shakespeare write those plays; they were written three hundred years ago."

"Three hundred years, three hundred years," slowly murmured the Colonel in pathetic tone, "is it possible that is has been so long? _Lord, how time does fly!"_

The Colonel often told the following with a gravity that gave it at least the semblance of truth. Many years ago, his State was represented in part in the Upper House by a statesman who rarely, when in good form, spoke less than an entire day. His speeches, in large measure, usually consisted of dull financial details, statistics, etc. He became in time the terror of his associates, and the nightmare of visitors in the galleries. His "Mr. President," was usually the signal for a general clearing out of both Senate Chamber and galleries.

"Upon one occasion," said Colonel Dick, "I was seated in the last tier in the public gallery, when my Senator with books and documents piled high about him solemnly addressed the Chair. As was the wont, the visitors in the gallery as one man arose to make their exit. With a revolver in each hand, I promptly planted myself in front of the door, and in no uncertain tone ordered the crowd to resume their seats, and remain quietly until the Senator from Kentucky had concluded his remarks. They did so and no word of complaint reached my ears. Hour after hour during the long summer day the speech drew itself along. At length as the shadows were lengthening and the crickets began to chirp, the speech ended and the Senator took his seat. I promptly replaced my pistols and motioned the visitors to move out. They did so on excellent time. As the last man was passing out, he quietly remarked to me, 'Mister, that was all right, no fault to find, but _if it was to do over again, you might shoot.'"_

XV FORGOTTEN EVENTS OF THE LONG AGO

THE WRITER MEETS MISS GRAHAM, SISTER-IN-LAW OF MR. GILES, A REPRESENTATIVE IN THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON--HIS MEETING WITH THE DAUGHTER OF THOMAS W. GILMER, SECRETARY OF THE NAVY UNDER PRESIDENT TYLER--THE SECRETARY KILLED, AND THE PRESIDENT ENDANGERED BY AN EXPLOSION--SPECULATION AS TO POSSIBLE POLITICAL CHANGES HAD THE PRESIDENT BEEN KILLED.

During my sojourn in Washington I visited the "Louise Home," one of the splendid charities of the late W. W. Corcoran. Two of the ladies I there met were Miss Graham and Miss Gilmer. The turn of Fortune's wheel had brought each of them from once elegant Virginia homes to spend the evening of life in the Home which Mr. Corcoran had so kindly and thoughtfully provided. It was in very truth the welcome retreat to representatives of old Southern families who had known better days. Here in quiet and something of elegant leisure, the years sped by, the chief pastime recalling events and telling over again and again the social triumphs of the long ago. Thus lingering in the shadows of the past, sadly reflecting, it may be, in the silent watches, that--

"The tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me,"

these venerable ladies were in sad reality "only waiting till the shadows had a little longer grown."

There was something pathetically remindful of the good old Virginia days in the manner in which Miss Graham handed me her card and invited me to be seated. Looking me earnestly in the face, she said, "Mr. Vice-President, you must have known my brother-in-law, Governor Giles."

"Do you mean Senator William B. Giles of Virginia?" I inquired.

"Yes, yes," she said, "did you know him?"

"No, madam," I replied, "I did not; he was a member of Congress when Washington was President; that was a little before my day. But is it possible that you are a sister-in-law of Governor Giles?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, "he married my eldest sister and I was in hope that you knew him."

I assured her that I had never known him personally, but that I knew something of his history: that he was a soldier of the Revolution; that he began his public career with the passing of the old Confederation and the establishment of the National Union; that as Representative or Senator he was in Congress almost continuously from the administration of Washington to that of Jackson. I then repeated to her the words Mr. Benton, his long-time associate in the Senate, had spoken of her brother-in-law: "Macon was wise, Randolph brilliant, Gallatin and Madison able in argument, but Giles was the ready champion, always ripe for the combat." And I told her that John Randolph, for many years his colleague, had said: "Giles was to our House of Representatives what Charles James Fox was to the British House of Commons--the most accomplished debater our country has known."

I might have said to Miss Graham, but did not, that her brother-in-law, then a member of the House, had voted against the farewell address of that body to President Washington upon his retirement from the great office. Strange indeed to our ears sound the words that even mildly reflect upon the Father of his Country. Of this, however, we may be assured, that the Golden Age of our history is but a dream; "the era of absolute good feeling,"--the era that has not been.

"Past and to come seem best; Things present, worst."

Before condemning Mr. Giles too severely the words of Edmund Burke may well be recalled: "Party divisions, whether upon the whole operating for the best, are things inseparable from free Government." Party divisions came in with our Constitution; partisan feeling almost with our first garments.

In this connection it will be remembered that this country has known no period of more intense and bitter party feeling than during the administration of the immediate successor of Washington, the period which witnessed the downfall of the Federal party, and the rise of the party of Jefferson. It was after the election but before the inauguration of John Adams, that the following words were spoken of President Washington by the brother-in-law of the little old lady to whom I have referred:

"I must object to those parts of the address which speak of the wisdom and firmness of the President. I may be singular in my ideas, but I believe his administration has neither been firm nor wise. I must acknowledge that I am one of those who do not think so much of the President as some others do. I wish that this was the moment of his retirement. I think that the Government of the United States can go on without him. What calamities would attend the United States, and how short the duration of its independence, if but one man could be found fitted to conduct its administration! Much had been said and by many people about the President's intended retirement. For my own part, I feel no uncomfortable sensations about it."

As I thus recalled the man whose public life began with that of Washington, his kinswoman at my side seemed indeed the one living bond of connection between the present and the long past, that past which had witnessed the Declaration of Independence, the War of the Revolution, and the establishment of the Federal Government.

The younger, by many years, of the two ladies, was the daughter of the Hon. Thomas W. Gilmer, a distinguished member of Congress during the third decade of the century, later the Governor of Virginia, and at the time of his death the Secretary of the Navy. The mention of his name recalls a tragic event that cast a pall over the nation and shrouded more than one hearthstone in deepest gloom. During later years, the horrors of an internecine struggle that knows no parallel, the assassination of three Presidents of the United States, and the thousand casualties that have crowded in rapid succession, have almost wiped from memory the incident now to be mentioned.