A Religious Commonwealth.--General Clark's Decree.--Brigham's Indian
Policy.--Its Peaceable Fruits.--The Glory of the Immigrants' First View
of The Valley.
On April 10, 1847, that historical band of one hundred forty-three men,
three women, and two children, known as the Mormon pioneers, started
for the West, led by Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball. The story of
that journey has been so often told, and our western people are so
accustomed to traveling with team, and camping out, that I fear my weak
descriptions would not be interesting. But the conditions of colonizing
Utah were so different from those of any other state of the union, that
the history will bear repetition.
The Latter-day Saints' founding of a commonwealth was actuated by
almost purely religious motives and influences. They came West because
they had to, or else give up their faith. As early as 1838 General
Clark said to us, "You must no more organize with Presidents and
Bishops; you must scatter out among the people. And if you ever get
together again, I will be upon you, and I will not show the mercy that
I have shown this time."
That, in effect, was the decree of the Nauvoo mob. It was not couched
in the definite words that Darius's decree was, but it meant, "Daniel,
if you pray to the God of the Hebrews, we will cast you into the Lion's
Den." The same spirit that over two thousand years ago decreed what the
Hebrew children should worship was today dictating to sons of America
what they should, and what they should not do, in matters of faith.
And it was the loyalty of the Mormon people to God, and their country,
that led them to travel westward over trackless and timberless plains.
Rather than submit to this belated tyrrany [sic] of intolerance, on and
on they came westward for more than a hundred days until they struck
the valley of the Dead Inland Sea, the spot where Brigham had in vision
seen the tent come down from Heaven, and had heard a voice saying,
"Here shall Israel find rest."
But to return to the starting point. Anticipating that they would
come into frequent contact with the Indians, President Young sought
earnestly to imbue the men with a feeling of friendship toward the Red
Man. He pointed out that from the first coming of the white man to
America the Indian had been pushed off his lands, his game had been
wasted, and feelings of hatred had been fostered until the dictum had
been reached that no Indian is a good Indian until he is dead.
"We shoot them down as we would a dog. Now, this is all wrong, and not
in harmony with the spirit of Christianity. In only one instance, that
of William Penn, has Christian treatment been accorded them. But even
aside from the aspect of Christian duty, I am satisfied it will be
cheaper to feed them, than to fight them."
Such was ever Brigham's policy thereafter. In later years the annual
passing of thousands of our people in peace through the lands of the
Sioux, the Shoshones, and Utes, gave to the world the belief that
the Mormons were in collusion with and had secret treaties with the
Indians. Such, however, was not the case. Our friendship with them
was the natural outgrowth of following the wise counsel given to us
in those early days. Light cleaveth to light, and love begets love as
readily in the heart of a heathen as in the bosom of a Christian.
As an illustration of this fact I may relate a little incident in
my own life. My father and my younger brother, a lad of five years,
went with the advance company of pioneers. My brother Franklin W. and
I followed in Jedediah M. Grant's company. On Ham's Fork, near Fort
Bridger, a cow gave out, and I was left behind the train to try to
bring her into camp. At sunset, while about three miles behind the
camp, letting the cow rest, I saw an Indian just across the creek move
from behind a tree. Needless to say I made quick tracks toward camp.
In the morning we found that the Indians had killed the cow. It proved
to be a band of Sioux, on the war path after Shoshones. Had they been
angry at us, they could have killed me as well as the cow,--Brigham's
counsel was bearing fruit. Neither my scalp, nor our cattle, beyond
that one cow, were interfered with, while Fort Bridger was heavily
raided.
To me the migration of our people for the next twenty years was a
wonderful history. Our companies often scattered far apart in order
to get feed for the cattle; our men, weak in numbers and but poorly
armed; our women and children often compelled to walk, and therefore,
sometimes quite unconsciously going too far ahead to be safe, or,
in spite of the vigilance of the guards, becoming weary and lagging
behind, yet not a single life was lost by the hand of the Indians.
Again the cheerfulness with which the people passed under the rod
during these unparalleled journeys was no less marvelous than the
protecting providence that was over them. Picture in your mind starting
out on a certain morning, in company with five hundred men, women,
and children. We walk eight or ten miles, then halt for dinner. Five
hundred head of cattle have to be unyoked, watered, then driven
to pasture and guarded, while fires are built and dinner is being
prepared. Then the cattle are reyoked, the wagons packed, and the line
of travel is taken up again.
Thousands of our people, many of them mothers with babes in their arms,
walked every foot of that ten hundred thirty-seven mile stretch from
Winter Quarters to Salt Lake. Day after day the toilsome journey is
renewed. At night a quilt or blanket is spread upon mother earth for a
resting place. Days pass into weeks, and weeks into months, before the
longing eyes find rest and the weary feet pass down the dusty road of
Emigration Canyon. Picture then, their feelings, when, on reaching a
certain eminence, the Salt Lake Valley, with the Dead Sea glimmering
beyond, burst like a vision of glory upon their view! Old and young
break down, and weep for joy.
O, marvel not, dear reader, if on this day and place
Unbidden tears bedew each care-worn, sun-burnt face!
If long enshrined hope, and over-burdened heart
Cause weary, toiling pilgrims here to act the childish part,
If the glory of this vision, of a truly "sought out land,"
Like a cloud of joy descending, enshroud the little band,
Reveal to them the blessings their future life shall gain,
And blurs the recollections of former toils and pain--
Recall the days of sorrows, of Diahman, and Far West,
When the cup of bitter anguish to their trembling lips was pressed,
When hordes of heartless mobbers, led by Lucas, and by Clark,
Despoiled them of their homes--the fruits of honest work;
Confined in chains and dungeons their youthful prophet guide--
And scattered wives and children on Missouri's prairie wide,
Then like a bird of plunder, followed on their footsore trail
Till Joseph and Hyrum were martyred, in Carthage bloodstained jail.
And still the lash and fire brand, to our backs and home applied,
Compelled us to surrender, and cross the Mississippi's tide,
Take to our tents and travel, like Israel of old,
To the valleys of the mountains, a standard to unfold,
An ensign to the nations, a banner ever blest--
Where the children of the covenant can find God-given rest,
Where the "stone cut from the mountain," not by mortal hand,
Shall become a mighty people, and fill "the promised land."
Such was the glorious vista that opened to their souls
And filled with joy and gladness, their hearts beyond control,
Filled hearts with joy and gratitude, and bent each willing knee,
To Him, their loving Father, the Lord who set them free.