The old Council House was a scene of profound excitement the next
morning after the events recorded in the last chapter. There were
gathered in its square brick walls the leaders of a people who had been
suspected, made an incipient war against, tried and found guilty, and
who were now about to be forgiven, when according to their own ideas
they were not guilty of one single count in the whole indictment. Up
from the South where the people were bivouacked, had come two score of
the leaders and elders. Within the larger council chamber there was not
much talk that morning and few outward semblances of the suppressed
excitement. These men were too accustomed to action to do much talking
in the face of danger.
Here and there were a few groups talking of the possible outcome of
the day, while still others exchanged whispered items of news of the
families in the South and the mountaineers in the eastern canyons.
As Brigham Young entered the room, accompanied by Heber C. Kimball,
whose eloquent, snapping black eyes, shining bald head and kingly form
towered above many of those assembled near, they were greeted cordially
by their associates, and at once took their seats on the small raised
platform at the western end of the room. Almost at the same time a
whispered word went round that the Commissioners were at the door.
Captain Stevens flung open the inner door of the council chamber and
announced quietly:
"President Young, I beg leave to announce the Peace Commission."
As these two gentlemen entered, followed at a little distance by
Governor Cumming, who had lingered to exchange a word with some one in
the hall, Brigham Young arose and cordially extended a hand of welcome
to his new visitors.
John stepped back into the hall to exchange greetings with some of his
friends and as he stood chatting for a moment he was tugged by the
coat-sleeve and turned around to find Tom Allen's jolly eyes beaming
into his face.
With the sympathetic ear of a good listener, John was soon deluged with
verbal pictures of conditions down in Prove and vicinity. He discovered
for himself the bear-hut, and saw its present rejuvenation, filled with
the families of Winthrop and Tyler, who used the two rooms as dining
room and kitchen; the half-dozen wagon boxes, as of old days on the
plains, served as bed-chambers for the two groups of families. He knew
in a trice about the birth of the Mathews twins, the quarrel of Annie
Moore with Stephen Grace; he grasped almost before it was told, all
the details of that strenuous and yet rather monotonous existence down
on the banks of the shallow Timpanogos or Provo river, as he caught at
random the pictures flung at random by his old friend and associate.
"And, oh yes, don't go yet, John; I must tell you the very latest.
Diantha Winthrop is wearing Charlie Rose's ring. How's that for high?"
The arrow struck where Tom vaguely hoped it would. If there was one
thing above another that pleased jolly Tom Allen it was to stick
teasing arrows into his friends. But he did not have the satisfaction
of even guessing how near his shot had struck home, for he was
instantly swung round and out of the way by Corporal Rose himself, who
thus addressed himself to John:
"Captain Stevens, the President is just calling the council to order,
and it is desired that you shall be with us in the council."
John instantly accompanied Corporal Rose into the inner room, and Tom
Allen was left to his own conjectures and the silence of the deserted
hall.
Within, the groups of stern-visaged men had settled themselves in
orderly lines upon the rows of benches, and on the raised platform sat
those tried and true friends, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, George
A. Smith, with handsome young Joseph F. Smith and General Wells; and
here John went quietly to find his own seat among the few Utah officers
sitting near General Wells. In the center of the aisle sat rough old
A. P. Rockwood, the commissary-general, with utter indifference to his
rawhide boots and faded blue overalls, but with a perfect appreciation
of his own great sagacity and importance.
Already the council was in operation. Governor Cumming introduced
ex-Governor Powell to the assembly, and that gentleman proceeded in
his customary smooth language to recite the facts connected with the
presence of the Commissioners in Utah. He referred to the action of
the President of the United States in sending out the Commission and
read in solemn tones the pardon sent out by that great executive. The
pardon was couched in somewhat elusive terms, but it was plain that
the "Mormons" were accused of over fifty crimes and misdemeanors, for
all of which his excellency, the President, offered amnesty to all
who would acknowledge the supremacy of the United States government,
and in this acknowledgment permit the troops now quartered outside
the Territory to enter and take up quarters within said Territory.
The paper concluded with a pledge of good faith to all peaceable
inhabitants of the Territory, and an assurance that neither the Chief
Executive of the Nation nor his representatives in the Territory would
be found interfering with the religion or faith of the inhabitants of
this region. Governor Powell emphasized the pledge on behalf of himself
and associate Commissioner. He explained somewhat loftily, yet in good
grace, that they did not propose to inquire into the past, but to let
all that had gone before alone, and to talk and act now only for the
future.
Brigham Young called upon one of his near associates to speak: John
Taylor, whose dark eyes looked out from under his splendid brows,
and whose dignified, courtly manner won the admiration of even that
bluff old Major McCulloch. This valiant friend of their late martyred
Prophet, Joseph Smith, gave utterance to some fiery discourse, tempered
with the desire to bring about peace, if it could be a peace with
honor. He was followed by Brigham Young's nearest friend, George A.
Smith, who told the Commissioners in ten minutes more of the "Mormon"
people's past history than even Governor Cumming had ever known; he
told them that the "Mormons" had come out here to these barren vales
"willingly because they had to;" and he added that they were ready
"if needs must or the devil drives" to seek other homes in the same
manner. Some few but fiery words were spoken by Adjutant-General James
Ferguson, and John's whole soul went out to his superior officer, who
voiced the sentiments of the whole Utah militia. And then Brigham
Young arose slowly, as though he were too full of thought and the
responsibility of his position to act except with full deliberation.
His voice was stern and cool, but vibrant, and it cut into every corner
of that council chamber with thrilling if somewhat sharp enunciation.
If his action were deliberate, there was no hesitancy in his speech. He
said:
"I have listened very attentively to the Commissioners, and will say,
as far as I am concerned, I thank President Buchanan for forgiving me,
but I can't really tell what I have done. I know one thing, and that
is, that the people called 'Mormons' are a lawful and loyal people, and
have ever been. It is true Lot Smith burned some wagons last winter
containing government supplies for the army. This was an overt act,
and if it is for this that we are pardoned, I accept the pardon. The
burning of a few wagons is but a small item, yet for this, combined
with false reports, the whole 'Mormon' people are to be destroyed.
What has the United States government permitted mobs to do to us in
the past? Gentlemen, you can answer that question for yourselves. I
can also, and so can thousands of my brethren. We have been plundered
and whipped; and our houses burned, our fathers, mothers, brothers,
sisters, and children butchered and murdered by the scores. We have
been driven from our homes time and time again; but have the troops
ever been sent to stay or punish the mobs for their crimes? No! Have we
ever received a dollar for the property that we have been compelled to
leave behind? Not a dollar! Let the government of our country treat us
as we deserve. That is all we ask of them. We have always been loyal
and expect to continue so. But hands off! Do not send your armed mobs
into our midst. If you do, we will fight you, as the Lord lives. Do not
threaten us with what the United States can do and will do, for we ask
no odds of them or their troops. We have the God of Israel--the God of
battles--on our side; and let me tell you, gentlemen, we fear not your
threats. These, my brethren, put their trust in the God of Israel, and
we have no fears. We have proved Him, and He is our friend. Boys, how
do you feel? Are you afraid?"
Instantly there was a crash of voiced response to the man Brigham's
fearless words. They might be termed fanatics--these men--but they
could never be called cowards.
John held his breath as Brigham Young continued:
"Now let me say to you Peace Commissioners: we are willing those troops
should come into our Territory, but not to stay in our cities. They
may pass through this city, if needs be, but must not quarter nearer
than forty miles to any city. If you bring your troops here to disturb
this people, you have a bigger job on your hands than you or President
Buchanan has any idea of. Before the troops reach here, this city will
be in ashes, every tree and shrub will be cut to the ground, and every
blade of grass that will burn shall be burned. Our wives and children
will go to the canyons and take shelter in the mountains; while their
husbands and sons will fight you to their last breath. And as God
lives, we will hunt you by night and by day till our army or yours is
wasted away. No mob, armed or otherwise, can live in the homes we have
builded in these mountains. That's the program, gentlemen, whether
you like it or not. If you want war, you can have it; but if you wish
peace, peace it is; we shall be glad of it."
Once more Governor Powell arose and in honeyed tones he soothed
the tumult of emotions now swelling upon the high tide of that
stern-visaged assembly of men. He dwelt with moving eloquence upon
the great clemency of the President of the United States and the
magnanimity of that authority in setting aside all past offenses, and
he told of the bright future which awaited a new Territory begun under
such favorable auspices of frugality and industry. He praised all for
their temperance and toil. He grew eloquent as he moved along the
current of his own fervid imagination, and his pictures of the coming
era of peace and prosperity caught, not only his own hearty sympathy,
but mollified and quieted the turbulent elements there. He assured them
that the army of the United States would not enter the Valley, only
as they were given permission by that gallant and humane Territorial
executive, Governor Cumming. And he was in full cry upon a swelling
compliment to that genial peace-promoter when the door of the hall was
flung open, and a barbaric figure, hard-ridden through miles of flying
dust and unwashed haste, flung himself into the room. The old slouch
hat upon the head of that dramatic figure was drawn down upon a mass of
braided hair, wound round and round the bullet-shaped head. The hooked
nose, the sleepy-lidded eyes, half closed upon the eagle glance of
that "Mormon" scout, Indian fighter, sheriff, and free-lance, Porter
Rockwell, sent a shivering thrill of apprehension into the breast of
every mountaineer in that chamber. Porter Rockwell bore no trifling
message!
A moment of converse followed in hasty, lowered tones with Brigham
Young behind the back of that eloquent Kentucky politician who was just
then extolling the orderliness and clemency of the troops, now quietly
resting in Fort Scott; and then, up rose, without haste, but in sudden
sternness, Brigham Young, as he said in piercing accents:
"Governor Powell, Major McCulloch, are you aware, sirs, that those
troops are on the move to this city?"
"It cannot be," answered the orator, Powell, as he swung instantly
around to face his questioner. "For we were promised by General
Johnston that they should not move until after this meeting."
"I have received a dispatch, sir, that they are on the move to this
city, and my messenger would not deceive me."
There was a hush as of the tomb on every lip and heart in that
assembly. The thunderbolt had fallen.
In that same severe but perfectly self-possessed voice, Brigham Young
asked:
"Is Brother Dunbar present?"
"Yes, sir," answered that flute-voiced musician.
"Brother Dunbar, sing 'Zion.'"
And in the electrical silence which ensued, rang out the clarion
tones of the "Mormon" battle-hymn, if such it could be called, since
it embodies a spiritual triumph rather than a temporal subjugation.
Brother Dunbar sang:
O! ye mountains high, where the clear blue sky
Arches over the vales of the free,
Where the clear breezes blow
And the pure streamlets flow,
How I've longed to thy bosom to flee.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
My own mountain home, now to thee I have come,
All my fond hopes are centered in thee.
Though the great and the wise all thy beauties despise,
To the humble and pure thou art dear;
Though the haughty may smile,
And the wicked revile,
Yet we love thy glad tidings to hear.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
Though thou wert forced to fly to thy chambers
on high,
Yet we'll share joy and sorrow with thee.
In thy mountain retreat, God will strengthen thy
feet;
On the necks of thy foes thou shalt tread;
And their silver and gold,
As the Prophets have told,
Shall be brought to adorn thy fair head.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free;
Soon thy towers will shine with a splendor divine,
And eternal thy glory shall be.
Here our voices we'll raise, and we'll sing to thy
praise,
Sacred home of the Prophets of God;
Thy deliverance is nigh,
Thy oppressors shall die,
And the Gentiles shall bow 'neath thy rod.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
In thy temples we'll bend, all thy rights we'll defend,
And our home shall be ever with thee.
It was impossible to calm the tumult any more for that day. Peace or
war, the situation was very much in the hands of Brigham Young for the
time.
As the three Eastern officials made their way slowly out of the door,
with mingled chagrin and anger, Governor Cumming asked his companions:
"What would you do with such a people?"
"Damn them, I would fight them, if I had my way," answered Major
McCulloch, unconvinced that the rumor was in any degree true.
"Fight them, would you?" answered the Governor sadly. "You might fight
them, but you would not whip them. They would never know when they were
whipped. Did you notice the fire and flash in those men's eyes today?
No, sir; they would never know when they were whipped."
"I fear," said Governor Powell, reflectively, as they retraced
their way sadly through the silent echoing streets to one of the
few inhabited houses in the city, the hotel on Main Street, "I fear
that the messenger was right. I had occasion to doubt the rashness
of General Johnston's temper before we left the camp. Yet, I hope, I
hope it is not true. I am loath to see the blood of good men shed for
naught. But what a strangely dramatic people! They sing their defiance
instead of announcing it."
There was another council held the next day; messengers were sent from
both the Peace Commission and Governor Cumming to Camp Scott, and at
length the whole matter was patched up, and the Commissioners were
permitted to have their way. But meanwhile Brigham Young, with all his
associates, had fled once more to the South and the deserted streets
of the city were pressed only by the feet of the few and scattered
non-"Mormons" who had chosen to remain through all these troubles
within the borders of the unhappy Territory.