Daniel H. Wells.--Baptism for the Dead.--Lorenzo D. Young's
Mission.--Wilford Woodruff.--Saved by Prayer.
The little band of one hundred twenty-five men who for three days
defended the city of Nauvoo against fearful odds, are to me patriots
and heroes, and their names and deeds should be handed down in history;
for the wealth of history is the noble ideals it creates. Had there
never been an angry Jewish mob, we should not have the martyr Stephen.
Had there been no Gesler to hoist his cap on a liberty pole, there
would have been no William Tell. Had there been no George III., there
would have been no Patrick Henry nor Lafayette; and had there been no
battle of Nauvoo, we should have had no Daniel H. Wells, as noble a
patriot, and as true a lover of justice and liberty, as ever lived.
Daniel Hanmer Wells was one of the first settlers of Commerce, later
called Nauvoo. When Joseph came in 1839 and bought land for the Church,
Wells met the Prophet for the first time. He noted the intelligence
and activity of the young leader. He (Wells) was studying law, and
his legal attainments made him a useful man in the community. For
several years thereafter he was justice of the peace, and thus became
thoroughly acquainted with the people and their history. The result
was that when the war-cloud broke, he shouldered his gun and for three
days fought in defense of the weak and oppressed; and when they were
overpowered, rather than submit to the enforced humiliation, he mounted
his horse, bade adieu to his old home, and fled to the wilderness,
casting his lot with the exiles, and becoming one of their staunchest
leading men.
Now a few words about the ill-fated temple, that beautiful edifice
which the Saints reared with so much love and sacrifice, and in which
so many of our hopes and expectations centered. Like all other of our
temples, it was erected for the benefit alike of the living and the
dead. The Apostle Paul says, "If the dead rise not at all, then why are
ye baptized for the dead?" Around that doctrine, amplified by later
revelation, the Latter-day Saints have woven a social service that lays
hold of the deepest affections of the heart, and in its scope is as
broad as the ocean and as endless as eternity.
In the sacred font of that temple in Nauvoo, parents were baptized for
their dead children, and children for their dead parents. There the
husband and wife were sealed as such for eternity, and family ties were
cemented to last forever. In the faith of every Latter-day Saint, the
temple was therefore the holy of holies, the most sacred of all sacred
places. Our enemies knew this; and fearing, that as long as the temple
stood, we might be tempted to return, they resolved to destroy it.
A purse of five hundred dollars was raised by subscription and given
to Joseph Agnew if he would burn it. On the night of October 6, 1848,
Thomas C. Sharp and Agnew rode from Carthage to Nauvoo, twenty miles,
and having a key to the front door. Sharp stood guard, while Agnew
ascended to an upper floor and fired it. At sunrise the next morning
there was nothing left but its four blackened walls.
Afterwards the Icarians, getting possession of the ruins, started, in
1850, to repair it for educational purposes; but a hurricane swept
through the city and blew down the walls. Finally, piece by piece, the
rock was hauled away, until not a stone was left to mark the place
where the noble edifice once stood.
As soon as word of the mob's treachery reached Winter Quarters, teams
were sent back to bring up the suffering remnants; and they were given
all the care and attention possible under existing conditions. They
received at least one comfort--they had the privilege of dying, if die
they must, with sympathizing friends.
And die many of them did. As previously remarked. Winter Quarters was
the Valley Forge of Mormondom. Our home was near the burying ground;
and I can remember the small mournful-looking trains that so often
passed our door. I also remember how poor and same-like our habitual
diet was: corn bread, salt bacon, and a little milk. Mush and bacon
became so nauseating that it was like taking medicine to swallow it;
and the scurvy was making such inroad amongst us that it looked as if
we should all be "sleeping on the hill" before spring, unless fresh
food could be obtained.
While we were in this condition there happened one of these singular
events which so often flit across the life of a Mormon. President Young
called one day at the door of our cabin, and said to my father:
"Lorenzo, if you will hitch up your horses and go down into Missouri,
the Lord will open the way, so that you can bring up a drove of hogs,
and give the people fresh meat, and be a blessing to you."
As I remember, the next day father took me in the wagon, and with
a "spike" or three-horse team, started on that mission. The only
recollections that I have of that wonderfully productive land,
were given me by that journey. The Mormons believe that Missouri
embraces, in its bounds, that portion of the earth where Eden stood.
Adam-Ondi-Ahman, the place where Adam gathered his children and blessed
them, is situated five miles northwest from Gallatin, on Grand river.
I will now relate some incidents that took place on that trip to St.
Joseph, Missouri. Soon after reaching the frontier settlements we
camped for the night with a man who claimed to have been living on his
ranch for sixteen years. The home was rather primitive, but the farm
must have been a good one. His bins were full of corn, and his horses,
cows, sheep, and hogs were fine and fat.
Father asked if he would sell a horse.
"Yes, if I can get a good price for one."
What was the grey Messenger filly worth?
"Well, that is a good animal; a wonderful traveler," and he wanted
a dollar a mile for every mile that he had driven her in a day. And
though we might not believe it, yet it was gospel truth, that he had
driven that mare in his spring cart, thirty-five miles from sun to sun.
The next morning my father pulled out 'with a four-horse team. The
Messenger fully proved one of the best animals that we ever owned.
After a lapse of sixty years I tell this story to my children to show
them the difference of ideas about hard driving between the people of
the woolly west and the stay-at-home farmer near St. Joseph.
Upon arriving at St. Joseph we put up at Polk's Tavern. A Mormon family
by the name of Lake had left Winter Quarters in search of work. One
of the daughters had found employment at Mr. Polk's. Being frequently
questioned, she had told much about the sufferings and the present
conditions of our people. She knew my father well, and joyfully
recognized him.
In the evening the bar room was full of gentlemen, all eager to learn
the news and for two hours they listened almost breathless to father's
talk. The next day parties approached father and offered to load him
with merchandise. This he declined; but he secured the loan of one
thousand dollars--I believe from a Jewish merchant--and wasted no time
in getting down to business.
The first move was to buy a forty-acre field of unharvested corn. He
paid four dollars an acre for the corn as it stood in the field. It
was estimated to average sixty bushels to the acre. The best corn was
gathered and put in bins. Heavy logs were then drawn crosswise over the
field to mash down the stalks. Then a notice was posted for hogs. As a
rule, they came in droves of about thirty and were bought in the bunch,
at seventy-five cents a head. They would weigh from one hundred and
fifty to four hundred pounds each. Father returned to Winter Quarters
with a thousand head of hogs, and in this way President Young's promise
to him had been realized.
We read in the good old Bible of an angel giving water to Hagar and
Ishmael in the desert, when the patriarch Abraham had sent them away;
and when Moses led two million Hebrew bondsmen from slavery to freedom,
we read of how God rained manna down from heaven for their sustenance,
and so wrought upon the elements, that for forty years their garments
did not wax old. And I understand that the Hebrew children to this day
remember with grateful hearts those special acts of providence.
Now, while I do not claim for the Latter-day Saints manifestations so
marked as these, yet was there many a providential help given to us.
What caused the quails to come in such tame flocks to our suffering
camps on the west bank of the Mississippi river? They were so tame that
many of them were caught by little children. And who led the Mormon
maiden to Mr. Polk's tavern, and inspired her tongue to utter words of
deep interest to citizens of St. Joseph, and thus prepared the way for
my father to bring to our camps large quantities of food as sweet and
nutritious as the quails or manna bestowed so providentially upon the
camps of the Hebrews in the land of Palestine?
I remember well the place where I first saw Wilford Woodruff. It was
out in the timber west of Winter Quarters. I was driving a yoke of
oxen on a sledge, after a load of wood. Father and a man by the name
of Campbell were chopping. The wood was oak and hickory. There were
several men in the grove chopping, among them Apostle Woodruff. A cry
came for help and the men ran together. Brother Woodruff had been
caught by a falling tree and pinned to another one. The tree that
imprisoned him was so heavy that the men could not lift it away until
they had chopped it in two.
All said his breast was crushed, and they feared he was dead.
Nevertheless, the brethren took off their hats, and kneeling around
him, placed their hands on his body and prayed. Then some quilts were
placed on the sledge and father hauled him home. I was but a boy; yet
the earnestness and power of that prayer entered my soul, and gave me a
testimony that has never left me.[A]
[Footnote A: President Woodruff's statement makes it plain that I am
wrong. My memory has become confused. It must have been some other man
that father hauled home.]
I know that the brave, resolute men who left their homes in Nauvoo
rather than renounce their faith, were God-fearing men. Prayer was the
balm applied by them for every ill. It was their comfort and solace
from every pain. It was their first thought in the moning [sic], and
the last word they breathed at night. It burst from the lips of the
father and the mother at our camp fires, or from the hearth stones
in our humblest dugout homes. In case of misfortune or accident, the
first thought was for an Elder. The admonition of the Apostle James,
as recorded in the New Testament, was engraven on the hearts of the
Latter-day Saints. "If any are sick let them call in the Elders of
the Church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the
name of the Lord, and the prayer of faith shall save the sick." And
I testify that our hearts were often gladdened by the reception and
fulfillment of that gracious promise. In this instance our hearts were
again comforted. Our people were passing through a period of sorrow and
suffering. It was one of the darkest days in the history of the Church.
Death was reaping a rich harvest from our stricken and depleted camps.
We felt keenly the giving up of five hundred of our young men. Their
absence made men precious with us, and Wilford Woodruff, being such an
active, helpful man, how could we spare him! That cry came from our
hearts, and God heard our prayers and answered them. In three weeks'
time, Wilford Woodruff was again on the "firing line" as active and
helpful as ever. Thus we saw recorded another miracle to strengthen our
faith.