With the jubilant Saints at Quincy the prophet could not remain long. He
journeyed up the banks of the Mississippi. Here and there communities of
his people welcomed him with touching joy; their numbers and their
faithfulness must have raised his heart. He came at last to a poor,
sickly locality, around which the great river took a majestic sweep, and
here the prophet saw what no one else had seen--a site of great beauty
and advantage. The inhabitants were dying of malarial fever. Smith
bought their lands at a low price and drained them. Thus arose the
beautiful city of Nauvoo.
In the Illinois State Legislature two parties were nearly equal in
strength, and both coveted the Mormon vote. When Smith applied for the
city charter, for charters also for a university and a force of militia
to be called "The Nauvoo Legion," they were granted, and worded to his
will.
White limestone, found in great abundance near the surface of the earth,
served as material for the public buildings and the better houses.
Wooden houses, and even log huts, were washed with white lime. On three
sides of the town the air of the beautiful river blew fresh and cool
from its rippling tide; the surrounding land was fertile. Fortune
certainly smiled upon the sect that had borne itself so sturdily under
persecution. The prophet's laws had much to do with the prosperity;
neither strong drink nor tobacco were admitted within the city limit;
cleanliness and thrift were enforced.
The Saints in settlement in the town of Quincy and other places remained
while they could obtain lucrative employment and thus transmit the
larger tithes for the building up of their future home; but from the
poorer settlements artisans and farmers flocked to Nauvoo. Thither also
the missionaries scattered in the eastern States, in England, and in
further Europe sent the bands of converts who had been kept waiting till
a city of refuge was founded. It was not long, not many months, before
fifteen thousand people were hurrying up and down the broad streets of
the new city.
During the rise of Nauvoo, Emma Smith was living at Quincy in a small
house with her three children. She was Susannah's best neighbour. The
prophet's enormous activity was fully occupied with the new city and the
care of the scattered Church, so that he could not visit his wife often.
Each time he came he sent for Susannah to listen with Emma to the
triumphant accounts that he gave of his present successes. He was all
aglow with the resurrection of his Church, tender towards its renewed
enthusiasm for himself, compassionate more than ever for the pains it
had endured; fixed in purpose to establish his suffering and loyal
people in such a manner as might reward them for all that they had
undergone. His spirit of revenge against the Gentiles, and especially
against the perverts from his own sect who had sought to trample it
down, was also increased; the prayers of the Hebrew Psalmist against the
enemies of Israel were constantly upon his lips. More than once when at
Quincy he preached to the little flock there with great effect from the
blessings and cursings conditionally delivered to Israel in the Book of
Deuteronomy, arguing that evils of a very material kind were to befall
apostates, and blessings of a like kind were to be given to the faithful
in the new city.
"It is not true," Susannah said to him defiantly. "There is no
righteousness in desiring the downfall of your enemies, and earthly
wealth can never have any fixed connection with spiritual blessing."
"Do I understand you, my sister, to say that the prophet Moses did not
teach a true religion?" As he spoke he laid his hand upon a huge copy of
the Bible, bound in velvet and gold, which lay as the only ornament upon
Emma's centre table.
In these days Susannah began to have some fear of the word "apostate."
Contrary to the freedom which had existed in the Kirtland community,
the present Church, with its dogmas cast into iron moulds from the
furnace of persecution, had begun to authorise a sentiment against
perverts which differed not only in degree, but in kind, from the purely
spiritual anathemas which had formerly fallen upon them. Personally she
had no fear. The prophet knew of her unbelief, and his conduct was
increasingly kind and deferential, but for others she disliked
exceedingly the new symptoms of tyranny. Yet it was but natural, she
admitted; men who had offered their own lives in sacrifice for a creed
were likely to think it of more worth to the soul of another than his
liberty. The sin, she thought, lay chiefly with the persecutors.
Sometimes during these visits Smith came and sat beside her in her own
small room and talked to her about his plans, about new revelations
which had come to him, about the future of the Church, just as if he
were trying to persuade himself that she at last believed in the solemn
importance of these things. He said to her that her judgment would
always weigh greatly with him, that he was reserving a portion for her
in the new city such as would have belonged to her husband and child if
they had lived. He spoke of his pleasure in seeing the companionship
between herself and Emma. He spoke also of Emma's worthiness, and of her
devotion to himself.
His words about Emma were kind, but it was not thus that he had spoken
of her in the first years. Susannah perceived a change analogous to
that which she could not deny had taken place in Emma herself. In the
beginning Emma had been slim, with a spiritual look in her eyes, giving
herself to absorbed pondering over all Smith's words and ways. Now she
was stout, and was given much to the practical care of her children,
and, devoted as she was to her husband, she assumed often a tone of
remonstrance, setting aside many of Smith's vagaries as unworthy of
attention. She thought to please him and his Church by dressing well and
appearing to be a person of some figure and consequence, but in private
she grumbled at his personal extravagance. At both these changes
Susannah smiled, but to her heart, ever weighing the chances in favour
of Ephraim's constancy, they seemed an ill omen. It was because she was
absorbed in the personal application of all things to her own secret
case that she paid less attention to the prophet's remarks.
Once, passing through the street, when she saw him standing with Darling
at the door of the tithing office, through which the mail for the Mormon
settlement still went and came, she observed the two men were noticing
and speaking of her; she received a disagreeable impression from their
manner.
She supposed that she had found a complete explanation of this sinister
parley when, the next time Smith came, he brought with him an elderly
and foolish man, a new convert who had brought great wealth to the new
city, whom he proposed as a suitor for Elvira's hand. Susannah was very
angry.
Elvira had continued for many months in the lassitude that malarial
fever leaves behind it. Susannah had need to support her, as well as
herself, by the small fees which her day-scholars could afford. She had
had the satisfaction of seeing Elvira restored in a great degree to
health, but so capricious and fantastic were the bright little lady's
words and actions that it was impossible to say whether or not she had
slipped across the wavering line that separates the sane from the
insane.
Susannah stood now in her small sitting-room fiercely facing Smith and
his new satellite. She still adhered to the plain Quaker-like garb that
her husband had liked, and the muslin kerchief crossed upon her breast
was a quaint pearl-like frame to the beauty of feature which had slowly
but surely, in spite of adverse circumstance, come to its prime. Smith's
stalwart figure and the decrepit form of his friend were both clad in
sleek broadcloth. They wore the high white collar and stock of the
period. In Smith's light hair there was not a gray thread, nor were
there many wrinkles in his smooth forceful face. The old man was gray
and wrinkled; he cringed and leered as Susannah rated them for the
proposition they had made.
But the answer to this proposition did not lie in her hands; before she
could compel Smith to withdraw it, or know if his mind was tending
towards that obedience, Elvira, curious to see the strangers, entered.
Elvira raised a coquettish finger and told Smith that he was a very
naughty man. This was a new freak in her conduct toward the prophet.
Light and frivolous as she had become, the title of prophetess, coveted
among Mormon women, had been conferred upon her because some strange
power of divination governed her freaks.
"A very naughty man." With her delicate prettiness, decked in what
gewgaws she could afford, Elvira stood shaking her forefinger. "You
don't know why? Oh, fie! you know very well, naughty, naughty creature."
Smith had the air of some unwieldy animal trying to adapt itself to the
unexpected gambols of a light one. The first supposition was that Elvira
had in some way learnt the object of his mission, so he began to declare
it with a reproachful look at Susannah. "Our sister Halsey," he said,
"does not wish you to wear jewels and beautiful clothes, and yet it is
said in the Scripture that the clothing of ladies should be even of
wrought gold."
"Naughty creature," she cried, "don't quote the Scriptures to me. I am
not the lady you are thinking about. I am not the lady that you come
here to see."
So intent they all were upon her and her affairs that this statement was
somewhat puzzling. The only sign that Smith gave that he gathered any
sense out of the vivacious nonsense she was pleased to talk was that he
precipitated his explanation.
The brother by his side was very rich; it had been foretold him in a
vision of the night that when he had professed the Mormon faith a pretty
wife would be his reward. Smith had had it borne in upon his mind that
Elvira was the lady designed by the vision. "For," said he unctuously;
"the Holy Scripture saith that the solitary shall be set in families."
Elvira laughed. "How very amusing," she cried. "And into what family
shall our sister Susannah be set?"
Smith frowned. "Our sister Susannah," he said, "is not solitary, but is
surrounded by her spiritual children, to whom she imparts her own
learning and goodness, to the great benefit of the Church; and I cannot
but think, Sister Elvira"--the severity in his voice was growing--"that
you are a great care to her, for she toils hard to give you even such
poor raiment as you are now wearing, not wishing to accept of the bounty
of the Church, while she would be an example of industry to others."
The hard truth of this statement, combined with the commanding voice and
manner he now assumed, controlled Elvira. She stood for some minutes
meekly contemplating her senile and smirking suitor. Susannah protested
and warned her, but in caprice, as sudden as it was unexpected, Elvira
decided to comply with the prophet's request without further persuasion
or command.
When left alone with Susannah she only shrugged her shoulders and said,
"I saw that I should lose my soul if I didn't; the prophet was so
determined. Why should we bicker and consider, and why should I fly
round and round, like a bird round the green eyes of a cat, or try to
escape half a dozen times like a mouse when it is once caught, when I
know from the beginning that Joe Smith will curse me if I don't do his
will?"
"You are quite mistaken. He was not determined; he told me that he only
wished to lay the matter before you and let you decide for yourself."
Elvira let her white eyelids droop until but a narrow slit of the dark
eye was visible. "La! child," she said.
"And you cannot seriously think that Smith's curse, even if he were
barbarous enough to denounce you, could make the slightest difference to
your soul's salvation. You often talk that way, but you cannot seriously
think it, Elvira."
But here Susannah struck against a vein of darkness in her companion's
mind which it seemed to her had lain there like a black incomprehensible
streak since the awful day of anguish and massacre at Haun's Mill.
"Don't speak of it," cried Elvira with a shudder. "Don't you know that
Joe Smith is our prophet, and that he holds the keys of life and death?
Didn't Angel Halsey die to teach us that? Weren't we baptized into it by
being dipped in blood?"
She sat shuddering in the dusk and repeating at intervals "dipped in
blood," "dipped in blood."
Whether Elvira was mad or not, Susannah had no power to stop this
nefarious marriage. The prophet had departed hastily out of reach of her
indignant appeals, and there was no one whose interference she could
seek. In vain she besought Elvira, using both argument and passionate
entreaty. With precipitate waywardness the strange girl was married by
Elder Darling, in the shed of the tithing house.
No letter came from Ephraim Croom or from his friends.
After Elvira's departure Susannah began to save out of her little
income, trying to put by enough dollars not only for the eastern
journey, but to give her respectable support afterwards until she could
obtain employment. She had little heart for the object of her saving;
she might, she knew, be going to ignominy and starvation, for with the
stigma of Mormonism upon her, she felt that it was unlikely that she
would be received with credit in any town where she was friendless and
unknown.
Although the community prospered greatly, Smith did not again interfere
to increase Susannah's school fees. Emma began to talk largely of the
splendour of Nauvoo, reading from her husband's letters of the Nauvoo
House, a huge hotel, which was being rapidly and grandly built for the
perpetual occupation of himself and family and the entertainment of all
such as the Church of the Saints should delight to honour.
Susannah found it hard to understand why Emma was not taken to Nauvoo
even before the great house was built for her reception. It was indeed
commonly reported among the Gentiles at this time that the prophet had
secretly espoused other wives; but a malignant report of this nature,
together with accusations of drunkenness and rank dishonesty, had
persistently followed the sect from its beginning, and, as far as
Susannah knew, were now, as before, totally untrue. This special report,
however, reached Emma in an hour of depression, and she came to Susannah
for sympathy, shaken with grief and indignation.
"What does it mean that they always say that of him when the one thing
that he's done has been to excommunicate any of the brethren that taught
any such thing? And there's just been an awful row on in the Council of
Nauvoo against Sydney Rigdon and some pamphlet he's written on a
doctrine he calls 'Spiritual Wives,' and Joseph has risen up and cast
him out, even though he was his best friend."
The reason of the calumny seemed to Susannah clear enough; it was a
natural one for low-minded politicians who hated Smith to formulate, and
the religious world outside thought they were doing God service by
believing any ill of a blasphemer; but this charge was an old one, and
she probed further to-day for the real cause of Emma's excitement. She
was first given a letter in which Smith told of Rigdon's
excommunication.
"Rigdon's doctrine," wrote Smith, "is a vile one because it is held by
the whole sect of Perfectionists which are now scattered through the
Churches of the eastern States, and is a proof that the glory of the
Lord is departed from them, for they say that a man may be married to
one wife in an earthly manner, and she who is to be his in a spiritual
and eternal manner may be another woman, and this is vile; therefore
I've cast out Sydney Rigdon and called him apostate. But it seems to me
in this matter and in the perpetual slander of the Gentiles it may be
that it is being shown to us, even as things were shown by outward signs
at times to the ancient prophets, that there is somewhat concerning the
existing form of marriage that it would be well to reconsider, for I
perceive that the more my revelations cause a difference to be set
between our people and the Gentiles, the more shall we be bound closely
together, which unity is undoubtedly of the Lord."
Susannah always found it difficult to gather much information from the
prophet's vague and incoherent style. "Has he ever written anything else
about this affair of Rigdon's?" she asked.
Then it transpired that another letter had that day arrived, giving
another and more graphic account of Rigdon's rebellion and overthrow,
after which Joseph inconsistently wrote:
"Yet with regard to the matter of his heresy it remains undoubtedly true
for men who are called to some great and special work one woman may be
needed as a bride upon earth and another woman may be called as a
spiritual bride" (this word "bride" was crossed out, though left legible
enough, and "guide" written above it) "to lead him into higher and
heavenly places prepared of the Lord for this purpose."
After perusing this passage carefully, and with inward laughter at its
inconsistency, she gave the letter back, endeavouring to render some
help.
"Have you not observed that your husband's mind is very peculiar? When
any idea is forcibly suggested to him, all his thoughts seem to eddy
round it until he thinks that the whole world is to be revolutionised by
it, and then when diverted to something else he forgets all about it
like a child, and never thinks of it again perhaps for years."
Emma, unable to comprehend the analysis, drew back offended.
"Joseph has a great deal finer mind than any person I know." The last
words were levelled with a nettled glance at Susannah.
On Emma's behalf Susannah confidently hoped that the prophet would
forget this theory, as he had apparently forgotten the many theories
which had ere now proposed themselves to his excitable brain, and which
he had found unworkable. His practical shrewdness acted as a critic on
his visionary notions--never in thought, for he did not seem able to
exercise the two phases of his mind at once, but always in practice--and
Susannah could not conceive that a new order of marriage would appear
feasible, even though it would certainly raise a new barrier around the
fold, and in consequence draw its votaries closer together.
Soon after this Emma was greatly comforted by a summons to Nauvoo. She
could now enter in triumph upon the more glorious stage of her chequered
career.
For a few days Susannah worked on still with a sense of mission towards
her pupils, but of necessity also, for her work meant daily bread. It
produced little more than that.
But at Nauvoo new schools in emulation of the State schools of other
towns had been set up, and now a teacher with certificates of the latest
style of education arrived in the Mormon settlement at Quincy,
commissioned by the prophet to gather all the Mormon youth there into a
new school under the direction of the Church. Susannah's mission and
her means of livelihood were alike gone.
The change was made. It was not until Susannah had passed the first
desolate day of her dethronement that Darling came to her, sent with
profuse apologies from the prophet and the explanation that the chief
motive of the change had been to relieve her from labour now that the
Church was in a position to offer her adequate support. The message was
accompanied by many compliments upon her work and her fidelity, and a
document officially signed, in which it was set forth that the part and
lot which would have pertained to Halsey in the Holy City was considered
as hers; rooms and entertainment at the Nauvoo House were offered. It
was handsomely done. Smith in his poverty had been no niggard, and of
his wealth he was lavish. The documents explained what rooms, size and
position given, should be hers, what furniture at her disposal, what
ailment, what allowance from the Treasury for clothing and charity. The
scale was magnificent. Darling was also commissioned to offer her a
ticket on one of the river boats to Nauvoo, and his own escort. He urged
her instant acceptance. Darling had been promoted from his post at
Quincy to that of postmaster at Nauvoo, and he could not delay his
journey.
Susannah sat long into the night and counted her little hoard, and
figured to herself what the long-eastward journey, then a matter of
great expense, would cost. Since Elvira left her she had with all her
efforts saved hardly fifty dollars. No course lay open to her but to go
first to Nauvoo, and there compound with Smith for a sum of money to be
given in return for the relinquishment of all further claim upon the
Church.
_Book III._
CHAPTER I.
In a suite in the pretentious Nauvoo House Susannah found herself
established.
She stood at her windows and looked east and west upon the fair white
city, and more immediately upon the broad public square in which
well-dressed people and handsome equipages were constantly seen. In this
square a man called Bennet drilled the Nauvoo Legion in the cool of the
evenings. This man had served in the regular army and had a native
genius for soldiery. Smith, alive always to the educational importance
of shows, now provided money lavishly for uniforms, horses, and
accoutrements, and the Nauvoo Legion formed a much grander spectacle
than any body of State militia.
Twice a day under Susannah's windows Smith's carriage drew up, a pair of
fine gray horses carrying the prophet to and fro upon the affairs of
Church and State. When he took Emma with him Susannah observed that she
was always richly attired, and the other members of the Mormon
hierarchy resident in Nauvoo, "bishops," "elders," "apostles,"
"prophets," passed constantly in and out of the house, positively
shining in broadcloth and silken hats, their wives and daughters also in
brilliant array.
Externally the success appeared to be complete, and beyond even the
visionary's most glorious dreams. In the whole of the city no one was
poor, no one ignorant of such knowledge as school-books could afford, no
one drunken. Every one was uplifted and animated beyond their ordinary
capacity for effort and enjoyment by this material fulfilment of
prophecy and the more glorious future hope which it involved. Susannah
was not well rested after her journey when Emma descended upon her with
lavish gifts of silks and fine feathers. Emma, grown patronising with
prosperity, always plain and maternal, displayed her gifts and argued
for their acceptance with broad satisfaction.
"Joseph says now that the Lord has given us freedom as touching wealth
and plenty, it looks real mean, when your husband gave all he had to the
Church in her tribulation, for you to be wearing plain clothes when
you're riding out with us. What will the folks say? Joseph says it looks
to him as if you were real offended at being left so long up to Quincy
when he was only waiting to get your rooms finished."
Carried away, as was only natural, by her husband's doctrine that the
era of indulgence was ordained and not to be rejected, there was
temporary deterioration in the fibre of Emma's character.
Susannah would gladly have walked out and seen the beauty of the city
and its surroundings alone, but she did not think it kind or polite to
resist the good-natured importunity of her friends. She was invited to
drive with Smith to a grand review of the Nauvoo Legion which was to
take place outside the town; then, finding that Emma and the children
were to occupy another carriage, she made objection. It ended in
Susannah being driven alone in a very fine carriage. Smith, resplendent
in uniform and seated upon a very fine charger, rode in his capacity of
Commander-in-Chief. Several other men whom she had known first in
homespun, and latterly in cloth, were also riding in bedizened uniforms.
The scene was very perplexing to Susannah. Elvira, with great display of
dress and equipage, was not far from her, and waved her hand with
patronising encouragement. The coach in which were Emma and her children
presented also a very smart appearance. All the town drove to the scene
of the review in what splendour they could afford.
Susannah was greatly occupied in looking from face to face, striving, to
recognise some of her husband's friends of earlier days. She fully
expected to see Smith or some of his friends fall from their saddles,
as they could be little accustomed to manoeuvring such light-footed
steeds, but she was forced to admit that Smith rode well and his
officers kept their seats. She had so much to observe, so much to think
about, she hardly noticed that Smith rode constantly by her carriage,
pointing out the beauties of the road.
When they stopped at the place of parade, many of the gentlemen in
uniform approached her, and as this was her first appearance in public,
Smith performed the introductions. Among them was the Rev. General John
Bennet, a man who had "knave" written on his countenance, but who
appeared to have duped Smith, for, as Lieutenant-General of the forces,
he was actually in command. Her old friend the Danite also came, older
than when she had seen him last by the hardships of an arduous
missionary journey. He passed now by the name of "Apostle Heber."
Susannah was so glad to be able to inquire concerning his welfare, so
curious to speak with him again and judge of his development, that her
manner gained the appearance of animation.
After some time Susannah perceived that she was, as it were, holding
court. In their carriages the other women sat comparatively neglected.
It was in vain that she tried to put a quick end to this curious and
undesirable state of things. Smith continued to bring to her side all
those whom he delighted to honour.
And this was only one of several fêtes which took place in rapid
succession, to all of which Susannah was by some persuasion taken. At
each she found herself an object of public attention. She was told that
this occurred because she was a stranger, or out of respect to her
husband's memory, and she placed more trust at first in these statements
than a less modest or more worldly-wise woman would have done.
Soon her credulity ceased. She despised her own beauty because it was
made a gazing stock. An article in the Nauvoo newspaper, officially
inspired, spoke of her as a "Venus in appearance and an angel at heart."
She was elsewhere publicly mentioned as the "Venus of Nauvoo."
It was indeed a strange experience, a strange time and place for the
social _début_ of this beautiful woman. Smith had calculated well when
in her youth he had told her that her beauty would not diminish but
increase until her prime was past, but she very modestly inferred that
she might have passed, as heretofore, without much notice, if an
agitation concerning her had not urged to admiration a band of men who
were fast growing luxurious and pleasure-loving, and she knew that Smith
was the author of that agitation.
It appeared to Susannah more dignified to ignore than to upbraid. She
secretly laughed, she secretly cried with vexation, but she desired to
leave the place without betraying her recognition of the homage offered.
She sought to discuss her plan for departure with Emma, but Emma's
manner had changed to her. It was not jealousy so much as constraint
that she showed, as if secretly persuaded into unusual reticence.
Susannah then asked Smith for such a sum of money as he should consider
to be a right acknowledgment of the property Halsey had given to the
Church. At this Smith looked greatly aggrieved, and withdrew muttering
that he would consider her request.
The only sign of this consideration which she immediately received was a
gift of showily-bound books, and a rich shawl which he had fetched from
New York.
Susannah's career as the queen of Nauvoo society came to a swift end,
for she determinedly retired into seclusion. This was not because the
men who paid court to her were all ignoble. Among the officers of the
Church or of the Legion there were not few who were wholesome and
friendly companions, or who, like her early Danite friend, the Apostle
Heber, had frank modest eyes, incapable of any enthusiasms that were not
religious. But in her long companionship with Angel Halsey Susannah had
had her soul deep dyed in a delicate hue of Quaker sentiment. She could
not admit for a moment that conscious display of personal charm was
consonant with dignity.
She again sought friendly intercourse with Emma.
"There ain't no use in opposing the Lord," said Emma excitedly. "If the
Lord, as Joseph says, has given you beauty and wants to set you to be a
star, or a Venus; or whatever he calls it, in Nauvoo, I don't see that
there's any good your talking of going away. I guess the Lord'll have
his own way."
Susannah remembered how before her marriage the bigness of the authority
quoted had confused her as to the truth of the message. "Ah! Emma,
Emma," she cried, taking the fat, comfortable hand in her own, "if in
the first days I had offered a little more humility, a little more love,
to those to whom I owed duty, I should never have believed what you told
me about the 'Lord's way,' but I have learned by hard experience, and I
do not believe you now, Emma." She spoke the name in quicker tone, as if
recalling her companion to common sense. "Emma," she repeated the name
with all the tenderness she could muster, "don't you know that it is
better for me to go away--better for you, better for _us all_?"
But Emma was obstinately evasive. She seemed almost like one possessed
by a hardened spirit, not her own. On the afternoon of that same day she
bustled cheerfully into Susannah's room asking the loan of what money
she had to meet a temporary call.
Susannah never had the slightest reason to suspect Emma's good faith and
good nature. She gave her money without a thought.
CHAPTER II.
The parlour which Joseph Smith had provided for Susannah was large and
high. On its Brussels carpet immense vases of flowers and peacock's
feathers sprawled; stiff and gaudy furniture was ranged round the
painted walls; stiff window curtains fell from stiff borders of
tasteless upholstery. Susannah, long ignorant of anything but deal and
rag carpets, knew hardly more than Smith how to criticise, and her taste
was only above his in the fact that she did not admire.
Smith came to reason with the rebellious woman.
Susannah no sooner saw him than she knew that he had come braced to try
the conclusion with her. He sat himself before her in silence. His
waistcoat was white, his neck-cloth white, his collar starched and high;
his thick light hair was carefully oiled according to the fashion of the
day, and brushed with curling locks upon the sides of the brow. At this
critical hour Susannah observed him more narrowly than ever before. His
smooth-shaven face, in spite of all his prosperity, was not so stout now
as she had seen it in more troublous years; the accentuated arch of the
eyebrows was more distinct, the beak line of the nose cut more finely.
She noted certain lines of thickness about the nape of the neck and the
jaw which in former years had always spoken to her of the
self-indulgence of which she now accused him; yet she could not see that
they were more accentuated. She had been schooling her heart to remember
that Smith had been her husband's friend; Angel Halsey had loved him,
had daily prayed for his faults and failings, and thanked God for his
every virtue and success. Through the medium of these memories now
Susannah looked upon him with the clearness of insight which the more
divine attitude of mind will always give, the insight which penetrates
through the evil and is focussed only on the good.
The prophet's breath came quickly, making his words a little thick.
"Emmar tells me that you have some thoughts of wanting to leave us."
"You know that very well, for I have told you so myself. I want you to
give me money for my journey. If I can I will repay it, as you well
know; if not, I will take it instead of all this finery you offer."
He had folded a newspaper in his hand, and now he unfolded it. She was
surprised to see that his hands trembled slightly as he did so, for she
had seen him act in many a tragic scene with iron nerve.
"'Tain't often that the Gentile newspapers have a word of justice to
say about us," he observed. "This is a number of the St. Louis Atlas. It
seems there's one man on it can speak the truth." He gave forth the name
of the newspaper as if expecting her to be duly impressed by its
importance, and she looked at the outspread sheet amazed.
He went on, "There's an article here entitled, 'The City of Nauvoo. The
Holy City. The City of Joseph.' I'd like to read it to you if you don't
object, Sister Halsey."
The pronunciation of the last title seemed to inflate him; his hands
ceased to tremble. A flicker of amusement lighted the gravity of
Susannah's mind.
Joseph read, "'The city is laid out in streets of convenient width,
along which are built good houses, and around every good-sized house are
grounds and gardens. It is incorporated by charter, and contains the
best institutions of the latest civilisation.'" He gave this the
emphasis of pause. "Is that true. Sister Halsey, or is it not?"
She smiled as upon a child. "Yes, Mr. Smith, it is true."
"'Most conspicuous among the buildings of the Holy City is the temple
built of white stone upon the hill-top. It is intended as a shrine in
the western wilderness whereat all nations of the earth may worship, for
on March 1, 1841, the prophet gave it as an ordinance that people of all
sects and religions should live and worship in the City if they would,
and that any person guilty of ridiculing or otherwise deprecating
another in consequence of his religion should be imprisoned.' Is that
true?" Smith inquired again. His questions came in the tone of a pompous
refrain.
"Except in the case of those who have joined you and gone back from your
doctrine," she said, but not thinking of herself.
He read on: "'Here, as elsewhere, Mr. Smith has attended first to the
education of his people. The president of the Nauvoo University is
Professor James Kelly, a graduate of Trinity College, Dublin, and a ripe
scholar; the professor of English literature is Professor Orson Pratte,
a man of pure mind and high order of ability, who without early
advantages has had to educate himself amid great difficulties and has
achieved learning. The professor of languages is Professor Orson
Spencer, graduate of Union College, New York, and of the Baptist
theological seminary of that city. No expense has been spared upon
school buildings for the youth of both sexes, and the curriculum is
good.' Is that true?"
"Yes," she replied.
He read on: "'The population is made up chiefly from the labouring
classes of the United States and the manufacturing districts of England.
They have been grossly misunderstood and shamefully libelled. They are
at least quite as honest as the rest of us, in this part of the world or
any other. Ardent spirits as a drink; are not in use among them;
tobacco is a weed which they almost universally despise. There is not an
oath to be heard in the city; everywhere the people are cheerful and
polite; there is not a lounger in the streets. Industry is insisted
upon, and with the hum of industry the voice of innocent merriment is
everywhere heard. Now, as to their morality, if you should throw cold
water upon melted iron, the scene would be terrific because the contrast
would be so great; so it is with the Saints; if a small portion of
wickedness happens among them, the contrast between the spirit of
holiness, and the spirit of darkness is so great that it makes a great
up-stir and excitement. In other communities the same amount of crime
would hardly be noticed.'" Again he asked, "Sister Halsey, does this
evidence of an impartial witness coincide with your observation?"
"Of the people it is undoubtedly true," she said. There was a
reservation in her mind concerning certain leaders in the Church, but
she did not make it in words.
He read on: "'With a shrewd head like that of the prophet to direct,
with a spiritual power like his to say "do" and it is done, what wonder
that this thrifty and virtuous people should have made Nauvoo that which
its name denotes--the Beautiful City, the home of peace and joy.'"
He laid down the newspaper upon the marble-topped table, his large hand
outspread upon it. "My sister, why do you wish to leave this beautiful
city? It is a place where each may have home and part and lot in its
delights, but to you _all_ its wealth and power and beauty is offered.
Did I not say unto you, when as a beautiful damsel you gave up home and
kindred for the sake of the Church, that you should be as a queen among
its elect women, riding as in a carriage drawn by white horses and
receiving the elect from among the nations?"
The recollection of the prophecy which he had delivered concerning her
upon the desolate autumn road at Fayette brought with it another
recollection--that of her parting with Ephraim the same morning--so
vividly that her eyes filled with tears. Yet she marvelled too, with
inquisitive recognition of the miracle, that the words of the visionary,
then a beggar, should have been so nearly fulfilled.
"It is quite true, Mr. Smith, and very marvellous that what you promised
me should almost be literally fulfilled. We have come to it, as you also
foretold, by a path most terrible, and now we arrive at the
consummation. We live in a palace, and at its doors pilgrims from
England and all parts of Europe are arriving every day, and the richest
of gowns, the grandest of carriages, and the whitest of horses are truly
at my disposal. But there is one discrepancy between your vision and the
fact--I will not wear the silk robes, nor welcome the pilgrims with the
assurance that they have here reached the City of God. I will not
because I cannot. I refuse to accept from the hand of God such paltry
things as money and display, or even the honest affluence of our people,
as compensation for the fire and blood through which we have waded. If
there be a God who is the shepherd of those who seek him, this is not
the sort of table that he spreads, this is not the cup which he causes
to run over"--she had begun lightly, but her voice became more earnest.
"Mr. Smith, we have walked through the shadow of death together; if you
would be exalted in the presence of your enemies, have done with your
childish delight in such toys."
Smith moved uneasily on his velvet-covered chair, and it, being of a
rather cheap sort, creaked under his bulk.
"What says it in the end of the Book of Job, Sister Halsey? and what
compensation did the Lord give for the sore temptations with which he
had allowed the devil to tempt his servant? As I read, it was fourteen
thousand sheep and six thousand camels, and--"
She gave him credit for knowing the passage by heart; she had the
rudeness to interrupt. She rose and stood before him. All the long
latent defiance which her heart had treasured against him found vent in
her tone, "Very well, Mr. Smith, if that satisfied Job, it will not
satisfy me."
Smith, cast out of all his shrewd calculations as to what would win
this woman, fell back upon the inner genius of that priestcraft which so
often surpassed his conscious intelligence.
"_What would satisfy you?_" It was a simple question, and he asked it
with overwhelming force. "By the hand of trust and affection which your
husband gave me; by the memory of the beautiful babe that he brought
first to me for my blessing (and I laid my hand on its little warm head
and blessed it); by these I claim the right to ask, Sister Halsey, what
is it that in Nauvoo or in any other city would satisfy you?"
She was humiliated in her own eyes. Alas! she had strong evidence that
Ephraim's affection, on which she had staked all earthly hope of
happiness, had in some way failed. Now under Smith's eye all courage to
hold the unrealised ideal was lost; as the fixed stars twinkle, so her
faith went out for the moment of his interrogation. Her head sank in a
shame she could not confess.
While she hesitated he was looking at her shrewdly. "You know not what.
Shall I tell you? There is but one thing, and that is love--the love
that works, for those who are in need. Work for the needy is love to God
and man, my sister."
He paused, looking at her with a glow of enthusiasm. Whatever he might
be to others, this man, coarse in his outer nature, but liable always to
eruptions of the sensitive inward soul of the visionary, was in this
woman's presence often merely what she compelled him to be. If she had
known that this was the secret of his power over her, the spell might
have been less.
"Is it not true, Sister Susannah?" he asked.
She gave the admission mechanically.
He went on, "I don't take it at all hard that you should feel that we
are none of us up to you, but feel as you do that we are beneath you,
for there isn't a lady in the place that's equal to you in delicate ways
and sense and a mind to study books; but it seems to me that that's a
reason why you should love us, Sister Halsey. There is work for you to
do; we need your guiding hand. You say to me that I am content with
horses and sumptuous living and fine raiment; and knowest thou not that
there is upon my soul a great burden, even the burden of this great
people, to go in and out before them and guide them aright? I have need
of thy counsel, my sister; there's that which at this time is greatly
agitating my own mind and the minds of our bishops and apostles, Sister
Halsey, and it is of such nature that we cannot proclaim it openly until
we know the mind of the Lord. On all other matters we have accepted the
teaching of the Scriptures. For, behold, we have now the priesthood of
Aaron in our midst, and the priesthood of Melchizedek, and the rites of
the temple, save only the spilling of the blood of bulls and goats,
which has been done away with by the Gospel. We have gone back to the
first things, as is well known to you, Sister Susannah, and even here in
the wilderness we have set up our theocracy, and for its civil law we
have sought where alone such law can be found, in the command given unto
the children of Israel before they desired a king, just as for all
spiritual law we have accepted the commands given to the apostles in the
new dispensation, taking them as they were, without whittling them away
as a boy whittles a stick with a knife, as all those sects which will
not hear our voice have done. Now, Sister Susannah, is this true?" He
put his head a little on one side and looked at her with his eyes
partially closed.
"You need not take very long to explain that you worship the letter of
the Scriptures, for I know it already, Mr. Smith."
But he was in full tide, and went on, "When the Book says, 'Heal the
sick,' we don't say that that means something else, but we set about and
heal 'em." He slapped his knee with the palm of his hand. "When it says,
'Cast out devils,' we don't stare round like the other sects and say,
'There ain't no devils,' but we cast 'em out; and in the same way, when
the Book says that the priesthood of Aaron and the priesthood after the
order of Melchizedek shall be serving always in the church and in the
temple, then we say, 'Amen, so shall it be'; and the same way with
regard to tithing, for the Lord's tithes are recognised among us, and
the first-fruits, and the Sabbath day, and all such ordinances, no
picking and choosing as others."
Then he explained to her again, as in Kirtland, that he was in doubt
concerning the marriage laws of the State. He said that, having searched
the Scriptures, and learned what he could from other books, he was fully
convinced that it was the modern so-called "orthodox" Christian Church
(in which little else but signs of deadness and lack of faith appeared)
that alone condemned the ancient usage of the patriarchs, which in the
Bible was nowhere condemned. He had read in a book that many of the Jews
and most of the Asiatics had more than one wife at the time of the
apostles, and yet they had not preached against this as an evil.
"They did not preach against slavery," said Susannah.
"They did not," he said, "and I would say parenthetically, my sister,
that it may be that our views on that subject, coming from the northern
States as you and I have done, have not been according to the mind of
the Lord. I would have no man a slave because of misfortune, but if a
man proved himself unfit to rule himself, I'm not sure about his being
free."
"Do you intend to revive slavery in our own race? Will your own people
when they fail in business be sold, with their wives and children, as
in the Old Testament?"
"I can't see but that it would be a deal less mean to arrange it that
way than to bring a race of free blacks from their own country and make
every child they have a slave because he happens to be a nigger." She
remarked that his mild blue eye lit up with the true flash of the
indignation of contemplative justice. "There's one thing certain,"
continued he, "in my Church of the Latter-Day Saints no man shall be a
slave to his brother because he happens to have a black skin, for, as
the Scripture says, 'Can the Ethiopian change his skin?'"
Surrounded as they were by the atmosphere of slavery, there was the
resonance of true heroism, of true insight into the right, in his tone,
but the reason he gave--could it be possible that he thought that the
text he quoted was an authority for his instinctive justice? It was
obvious to her that he was only a fool who walked by the light of sundry
flashes of genius, but there was still the chance that the sum of idiocy
and the genius might prove greater than the intelligence of common men.
He went on, "But, anyhow, it isn't the institootion of slavery that's
come up for me to decide just here and now. Since we have been blessed
with peace and prosperity, the female converts that our missionaries
have been making all over the world (whom they have kept back from
coming to us, letting no unmarried female come whilst the fires of
persecution were passing over us) have arrived in great numbers, and the
question is, Sister Susannah, how are we to steady 'em?"
What seemed so impossible to achieve in a pioneer State had in Nauvoo
actually been achieved--the women were in excess of the men. He had, in
sober truth, a social problem to solve, and the responsibility rested
alone upon him. Brotherly love having been inculcated, the manners of
the Saints were cheerful and familiar, more familiar, he said, than he
desired; but after all that they had endured he was fain to lay upon
them no greater burden than need be. He appealed to her, asking if on
his first release from imprisonment he had not been strict in his
injunctions.
"But now," he said, "who am I that I should be able to take care of all
the young women that the Lord is sending to us from all parts of the
world? or am I to deny to them the privilege of coming to live among the
Lord's people? Am I to say to them that unless they have learning and
wisdom and are perfect they shall not come? I guess that if it had been
required of me to be perfect before I came to seek salvation, I wouldn't
have come at all. But it's just like this--here they are! and they are
nothing but poor ignorant working girls from England and Ireland and all
parts of Europe. And am I to make nunneries to put them into?"
He confessed with some delicacy of language and words of bitter regret
that there had been of late some cases in Nauvoo such as were common
enough, alas! in Gentile society, but whose occurrence among the Saints
had caused excitement. Joseph Smith paced Susannah's room; his
harassment and distress on behalf of his people were either deeply felt
or well feigned, and Susannah had no doubt that his feeling was true,
that phase of him being for the time uppermost. When he came to sit down
beside her again, it was to sketch the misery to men and women and
children which existed in Gentile society from this evil, which he
affirmed to run riot through the warp and woof of so-called orthodox
communities.
Her ignorance of the world was so great that she assumed this accusation
to be of the same stuff as the anathemas he constantly cast against the
integrity of the orthodox clergy. The point that she grasped was that he
believed the thing that he said. She had at first assumed that should he
propose to institute polygamy she would know then, once for all, that he
was a villain; but now this test deserted her. He was meditating this
step, and it seemed that his arguments, if the facts on which he based
them were admitted, had some value.
"There's that for one thing, Sister Susannah," Smith went on in a broken
voice; "it has been a mean sort of thing to have to tell you, but it
had to be said, and now there's another thing to be considered. Among
the Gentiles who is it that has the most children? Is it your man that's
high up in the ranks of society, who has money enough to give them a
good education, to feed and clothe 'em? or is it your poor man, whose
children run over one another like little pigs in a sty, and he caring
nothing for them, and they have rickety bones and are half starved and
grow up to be idle and steal? I have noticed that a good man is apt to
have good children, and a clever man is apt to have clever children, and
a worthless man is apt to have worthless children. Ain't that so? And
what sort of children do we want the most of? Well, in this way we
wouldn't let your worthless fellow have any wife at all until he had
brought forth fruit meet for repentance, and your common man only one;
but I don't see but that it would be a real benefit to the State if your
good, all-round man, as would be apt to have pious and clever children,
had two or three or four families agrowing up to be an honour to him and
to the Church, if it ain't against the command of the Lord; and in Holy
Writ the Lord himself says to Solomon that he would have given him as
many wives as he wanted, barring them being Gentiles."
"I will not argue about the Bible; you and I interpret it very
differently," she cried. "Your social argument might be well enough if
it were not that your good man when he had more than one wife _would
cease to be a good man_"--her voice was vibrating with faith--"and his
children would therefore have the poorest chance from inheritance or
training."
He was again pacing, but paused in his ponderous walk, struck by a flaw
in his argument which he had not before seen. "But if it were commanded
by the Lord, Sister Susannah?"
"God does not command this wickedness. What you command in his name is
at your own peril, Mr. Smith."
He paused before her, asking with reflective curiosity, "Why are you so
sure that it would be wickedness, sister?"
She had not arguments at command; she held fast to her assurance with
the same dogged unreasoning faith with which Ephraim's mother had of old
held her belief that this Smith must be an arch-villain; she had put the
whole power of her volitionary nature upon the side of faith in the
ideal marriage, although she was painfully conscious that she had come
across no particle of evidence for the existence of such a state. Out of
faith, out of mere instinct of heart, which had not worked itself out in
intelligent thought, she gave her unhesitating judgment. "I say that it
would be wicked because I _feel_ that it would be wicked; and any good
woman," she paused and looked him straight in the eyes, "and any good
man, would know its wickedness without arguments, and without weighing
all possible considerations."
His eyes fell before hers. He looked not angry, but grieved. As for
Susannah, in the heat of her indignation she did not know that her own
long effort to resist the unreasoning acceptance of cut-and-dried
doctrines and any dogmatic insistance upon opinion had here failed.
Smith stood for some moments before her, and her fire cooled. He sighed
at her dictum. Then he said gently, "But your judgment in this matter
has great weight with me, sister, and if I accept it you will perceive
that you are indeed the elect lady, and that by living in the light of
your countenance I shall obtain peace."
It was difficult for her not to suppose that her influence was
beneficial. She thought at the moment that when she had left this place
she might still correspond with Smith if he desired it. If it was part
of his eccentricity to be willing to listen to her, why should she not
be willing to speak, and thus keep his madness under control?
Smith, regarding her, caught the gracious look upon her face which had
opposed to him so often only a mask of reserve. His imaginative hopes
were always ready to magnify by many dimensions the smallest fact which
favoured them. His unsteady mind was fired by the presumption of some
triumph.
"Have not I, even the prophet of this great people, waited with great
patience? As the apostle saith, 'Let patience have her perfect work.'"
Susannah started and wondered.
"For behold I did not desire that our dear brother, Angel Halsey, should
go into the forefront of the battle, nor would I trouble the first grief
of thy widowhood, but behold I have waited."
"For what?" Her question came sharply. His tone had changed her mood
suddenly; a memory flashed on her of the ill-written letter which Emma
had shown her of the phrases concerning the spiritual "bride" or "guide"
who, even if all licence were denied to humbler folk, was to be a
prophet's special perquisite. "What have you been waiting for, Mr.
Smith?
"Nay, but I have waited, sister, until, having eyes, you should see, and
ears, you should hear, till you should understand that, going in and out
before this great people, it is necessary for me to seek wisdom in
counsel, and, above all, of a woman who hath a finer sense than man. And
it has been revealed to me, sister, that this may only be if thou
shouldst give the counsels of thy mind and the smile of thy beauty to me
alone and to none other, for that which is divided is not to be accepted
for the building up of the Church."
"You would have me believe that you have waited many years with the
virtue of patience before you say this? Understand yourself better. It
was not patience; it was fear. You have known perfectly well always that
I would never have listened to such a proposal for a moment. It has been
fear and prudence that have hitherto kept you silent. What is it that
has made you speak now?"
With sharp decisive tones she chid him as children are chidden in anger,
but childish as he often was, he had yet other elements in his
character; his blue eyes gave an answering flash that was ominous; the
droop of his attitude stiffened.
"That which is ordained by the Lord is ordained, sister, and it causeth
me grief to know that this revelation, which I told thee many years
since, is yet to be received of thee as a grievous thing,
nevertheless--"
"Nevertheless," she repeated in a mocking tone, as one weary of
foolishness, "what nevertheless? Let us talk on some better subject, Mr.
Smith, and after this be kind enough to have no dreams or revelations
about me. Dream of your Church, if you like. I cannot hinder your
people's credulity, and I hope that you will continue, as you have
begun, to lead them in the main by righteous paths. And have your dreams
and visions about yourself, if you must, for I sometimes think that you
cannot be much madder than you are now, but be kind enough to leave me
out of them, for I am going away."
She had now made him very angry. He was standing with flushed face,
quivering with uncertain impulses of rising wrath, yet he still
struggled for self-control.
"Sister Susannah Halsey, it is not meet that you should make a mock of
that which is sacred"--he gave a gasp here of stifled anger, and there
was a perceptible note of wounded affection beside the louder one of
offended vanity--"of that which is above all sacred," he stuttered, "it
is not meet--meet--to mock--to mock." The veins on his forehead were
standing out and growing purple.
She had often heard of Joseph Smith's power of rage, before which all
the Saints quailed. She saw it now for the first time.
She rose up, trying now a tone of gentle severity. "I spoke lightly
because your words appeared to me childish and silly, but the more in
earnest you were, Mr. Smith, the more need there is you should have done
with a thought that could lead to no good. I am no elect lady. Why do
you deceive yourself? I have told you before that I do not even believe
in your religion."
As she spoke she became more and more amazed at the thought of what his
self-deception must have been, for in his ever-shifting mind he knew her
infidelity perfectly, and yet had persuaded himself that she would
accept some fantastic position as prophetess-in-chief.
"How mad you are," she said pityingly, "to know a thing and yet to
pretend to yourself you do not know it. Go and get your supper, Mr.
Smith. Emma will be waiting to give it to you. And when you have
thought quietly over what I have said, you are quite clever enough to
see that my way of looking at it is more sensible than yours."
She had perhaps supposed that the mention of the domestic supper would
be punitive rather than soothing, but she was not prepared to find that
she had displayed scarlet to the blood-shot eyes of a bull.
"Woman," his voice, deep and hoarse, was like thunder about her ears,
"woman, is it not enough that the Lord has spoken?"
She saw by his purple face and parched lip, by the hard shudder that
went through his frame, that his fury was stronger than he. She quailed
inwardly.
"It is not enough for me that you say the Lord has spoken."
His lips worked as if in the effort to form anathemas his dry throat
refused to utter. Then, regaining his loud hoarse speech, with a choking
noise he lifted his hand in a gesture of sacerdotal menace.
"Woman, it is the last time. Choose ye this day between blessing and
cursing, for the Lord shall send the cursing until thou be destroyed and
perish quickly, because of the wickedness of thy doings whereby thou
hast forsaken me."
She cried in answering excitement, "I choose your curse rather than your
blessing under the conditions you propose. You are mad; go and calm
yourself."
Then, having exhausted her physical courage in this last defiance, she
went into her inner room, locking the door, leaving him in the manifest
suffering of an almost unendurable rage.
CHAPTER III.
That night Susannah packed her possessions in the smallest possible
compass. The money she had lent to Emma would be sufficient for the
journey to Carthage, which was the nearest Gentile town, and thither she
was determined to go without an hour's delay, ready now to work or beg
her way on the journey farther eastward.
As soon as the business of the next day was fairly started she went to
the suite of rooms inhabited by the Smiths, confident that Joseph's
excess of fury had been transient. Emma was surrounded by her children,
to whom she had just given breakfast. The prophet was about to descend
to his business office. They both received Susannah with moderate
kindness.
The March sun shone in through the large windows upon the garish
furniture of the apartment, upon Emma's gay attire, and upon the shining
faces of the three children, who stood gazing upward at Susannah, quick,
as children always are, to perceive signs of suppressed excitement.
Susannah explained that she had determined to go to Carthage that day,
where she hoped soon to find some party of travellers in whose escort
she could travel farther; she hoped that it would be quite convenient
for Emma to return the money that morning.
Smith gazed at Susannah intently, but only for a few moments. It seemed
that his mood had changed entirely, that he was now too much absorbed in
the business of the day, whatever it might be, to care whether she went
or stayed. He left them, saying that he would send money to Emma as soon
as he could, that the trifling debt might be paid.
Money flowed in such easy streams through the hands of the leading men
of Nauvoo, that Susannah supposed that a messenger with the required
amount would come up the stairs in a few minutes. She sat with Emma in
this expectation.
"You are offended with me for going?" she asked, for Emma's mask of
indifference was worn obviously.
"You wish to destroy your soul," said Emma.
"Ah, but you know, you have long known, that I do not believe that
salvation in this world or the next depends on the rites of Mr. Smith's
Church."
"If I told this child that he would be dashed to pieces if he walked out
of the window, and he did not believe me, would that save him?"
Emma made this inquiry with triumphant scorn; then she rose and began to
attend to the wants of her children in a bustling manner.
Susannah sighed and smiled. "I have at least the right to reject your
faith at my own peril, for there is not in the wide world, as far as I
know, man or woman who cares whether I save my soul or not."
"And whose fault?" cried Emma, coarse now in her discomposure. "If you
are so stuck-up that you think you can read your books and look down on
us all, just because you are a beauty and the gentlemen bow down to you,
'tisn't likely that you'd have any friends acting that way. You can't
even behave civil to the gentlemen when they offer you the best that's
going."
It was evident that some version of Smith's interviews with her had been
given to his wife. Susannah wondered how much truth, how much fiction,
had been in the relation. It did not matter much to her now, since she
had resolved to go at once. The whole of her life with that troublous
sect seemed to be dropping from her like a dream.
Leaving word that she would receive the money on her return or else call
at Smith's office for it when she was ready, she went down into the
cheerful noise of the street and bargained with a man who had horses and
vehicles for hire. Having arranged that he should come for her at noon,
she went about to make the few farewells she felt to be desirable.
Darling was now postmaster of Nauvoo and one of the first presidency. To
him she went first. She shrank from him because of his coarseness and
the jocular admiration which he sometimes had the audacity to express
for her, but she could not forget how assiduous his kindness had been in
the days of Elvira's illness. She found him sitting, his heels on the
upper part of a chimney-piece with a fireless grate, reading the
Millenial Star. The hot April sun, streaming through the windows of his
office, had caused him to take off his coat, which was no longer
thread-bare. His shirt sleeves were fine enough and white; the high hat
that was pushed far on the back of his head was highly polished.
Opulence, self-indulgence, good-nature, and a certain element of
fanatical fire mingled in the atmosphere of the postmaster's office, and
made it somewhat turgid.
When Darling heard Susannah's errand he became serious enough. An
apoplectic sort of breathlessness came over him, expressing a degree of
interest which she could not understand. He settled his hat more firmly
upon his head. "Does the prophet know?"
"He knows. I have said good-bye to him and to Mrs. Smith. It is sad to
part with friends that I have known for so many years."
"And the prophet's going to let you go, is he?"
Darling, clumsy at all times, in this speech conveyed to Susannah the
first faint suspicion that Smith might dream of detaining her by force.
Darling's youngest daughter, who had been an affectionate pupil to
Susannah at Quincy, waylaid her as she came out, and clasped her about
the waist with the ardour of an indulged child. She was a blithesome
girl of about fourteen.
"I heard you tell father that you are going away. Is it true?" she asked
impetuously.
Susannah tried to release herself from the embrace. "Yes, it is true.
Never mind, you like your new teacher, you know, just as well as you
used to like me."
"I just guess I don't," cried the child defiantly. "But anyhow, if you
are going away, I'm going to tell you something."
Whether the childish love of telling a secret, the girlish love of
mischief, or a dawning sense of womanly responsibility was uppermost, it
would be hard to tell. There, in the open square, while worthy Saints
hurried to and fro on the pavement beside them, while horses jangled
their harness and drivers shouted and exchanged their morning greetings,
Darling's youngest daughter drew Susannah's head downward and hastily
whispered to her the fate of her letters to Ephraim Croom.
"I know, for one day since we came here I heard father talking to the
prophet. He said you'd written lately while you were at Quincy, and all
your letters had been burned. Now that's the truth; and I said to myself
'twas a sin and a shame, and that you ought to know. Now don't go and
tell tales of me, or father will be mad--at least, as mad as he ever can
be with _me_." A toss of the pretty head accompanied these words, a
flash of conscious power in the bright eyes, the spoilt child knowing
that her father was in her toils now, as truly as any future lover would
ever be. The school bell was ringing. The girl, her bag of books hanging
from her arm, ran with the crowd of belated children.
Susannah walked on, almost stunned at first by the throb of intense
anger that came with this surprise. Then the anger was suddenly
superseded, hidden and crushed down by a rush of joy. Ephraim had not
neglected her; Ephraim had given her up for dead; but she had no reason
to suppose that he was dead, no reason to doubt his faithfulness.
Susannah trod the common street in love with motion as some happy
woodland creature treads the dells in the hour of dawn and spring.
When Elvira looked up to see Susannah enter her gate she saw her friend
transfigured in a glow of returning youth and hope. Elvira looked at her
timidly; this Susannah she had never seen before. Elvira's husband was
not present. The interior of the house was fantastic almost as its
mistress, but sultry with luxury.
"Well now, you think you are going," said Elvira. "Who'd have thought
it? And only last week General Bennet said to the prophet that if he'd
marry you to him he'd send to New York for diamonds both for you and
Emma Smith. He said he'd get a thousand dollars' worth of diamonds
apiece for each of you; but Mr. Darling said that you ought to be
married to Mr. Heber, who has just been elected an apostle, because--"
She stopped suddenly, nodding her head. "You know why--blood is blood,
and we have seen it run in rivers, but we don't mention it here in
Nauvoo."
Elvira set the French heel of her slipper in the centre of a rose upon
her carpet and spun round upon it till her flounces stood out.
"We don't mention it here in Nauvoo."
She sang as if it were the refrain to a song.
Susannah felt from within her shield of new delight an immense pity.
Here again was a revelation of the coarse and frivolous talk that went
on at the church meetings, and Elvira was privy to it through that old
fool, her husband. How could she endure him!
"O Elvira, in the last few days I have realised as I did not before that
riches are making fools of these men. How glad I am that my husband died
before he knew that this was to be the reward of his lifework and his
prayers!"
Elvira stopped dancing. The mystical side of her character now, as
ever, came forward suddenly in the midst of her other interests. The
sunshine was bright in the gaudy room. A tiny spaniel, which Elvira's
senile slave had procured for her, lay on a red cushion in its full
beam, looking more like a toy than a living thing. When Elvira stopped
dancing her flounces settled themselves with an audible rustle, and her
thin delicately-cut face looked at Susannah from out its frame of curled
hair and gold ornaments like the face of a spirit imprisoned in some
unseemly place.
"Heaven help us, Susannah," she cried shrilly, "if you call Nauvoo the
reward of Angel's prayers. Look!" she cried, pointing out of the window,
"see how the new temple rises; how its white walls shine in the sun! We
are putting thousands upon thousands of dollars into it. It will be the
grandest building this side of the Alleghany mountains." She let her
small jewelled hand, with its pointing finger, fall suddenly, "and there
shall not be left one stone of it upon another, for the House of God is
not made with hands."
"I see little signs of its foundations here." Susannah spoke with fire.
"Treachery and tyranny are poor bricks."
"Child, its foundations are in the whole earth, here and everywhere, in
every nation and kindred. Men like Angel Halsey sow wheat; other people
have sown tares. The tares happen to be in blossom just now here in
Nauvoo." She seemed to forget her seriousness as suddenly, for again
she spun round upon the centre of her rose, singing her little musical
refrain.
Susannah made one more appeal of the sort that she had made so often
before Elvira's marriage.
"You will not come away with me, Elvira? I do not like to leave you
here; you have not been yourself since Angel died. You are not bound to
this man because you were not sane enough to make a valid choice."
It was plain speaking, but it did not ruffle Elvira's composure in the
slightest. She laughed and began to caress her spaniel. "Mad. Oh yes, we
are all mad, and growing madder, but it is because they have huddled us
together at the point of the sword, until now to be a Mormon means to be
shut out from the world and shut in to--to what? To the prophet's
dreams; and some of them are good, and some of them are bad, and some of
them are mad; and let us thank Heaven that they are as good as they are,
for to go back to the Gentiles who shot down Angel and the children he
was teaching to pray, and your child in your arms, that would be the
baddest and maddest act of life." She rose up suddenly again. "Go!" she
cried. There was a flame of real anger in her eyes. "Since the wish is
in your heart, go! We believe now in strange doctrines. Two new
doctrines we have learned at Nauvoo. Do you know what they are? One is
'baptism of the dead.' If you get off safely, Susannah, and die in your
sins, one of us must be baptized again for you, so that you will be
saved in spite of yourself. But the _other_ doctrine is '_salvation by
the shedding of blood_.' Do you understand _that_ doctrine?"
"Indeed I do not."
"And you speak with a tone that says that you neither know nor care what
new things we have been learning. But you may have reason to care before
many hours are over."
She came near and whispered, "They teach us now that if a _man_ sin
wilfully and will not repent, it is better that a minister of the church
should slay him, for then his blood will make atonement for his soul."
She ceased to speak until she had thrust Susannah out of her door, and
her last words were in a whisper of awesome import. "Perhaps _a woman's
soul can be saved in the same way_."
Susannah was out again in the cheerful busy street. She made haste to
fulfil the one remaining call before she met her chaise at the hotel.
She felt that her last word was due to the member of the Danite band who
had saved her in her hour of need and who had avenged her husband's
blood.
To each of those who had made sacrifice for the sect, a lot of land in
the best part of the city had been awarded. Heber, Danite and apostle,
had built upon his lot, and there she found him at the back of the
cottage feeding a mare and foal which were tied in a small plot of
ragged grass. He was much older now than when she had first seen him;
daring and danger can lengthen time. He had the same indomitable
frankness in his dark eyes, but his face was hardened and fanaticism was
stamped thereon. It was a homely precinct, with utensils of house and
stable-work lying about. The mare was drinking from a bucket, her gentle
head so near his shoulder that her love for him was easily seen.
"I am going away," Susannah said. "I have come to thank you for the last
time for all your kindness to me and to say good-bye."
"You shall not go," he said harshly.
It was the echo of something which she had heard twice before this
morning. This time it began to enter her mind with some sharpness.
"Why not?"
"If you saw a friend hastening to destruction would you not stop her? It
is well known amongst us that you desire to go, and at the meeting of
the presidency last night the prophet told us that you sought to
apostatise. Go home, Sister Halsey, and repent, and obtain forgiveness
from the Lord and from his prophet for your unbelief."
She was able to stand for a moment quietly and watch him still busy
watering the mare, admiring the skill and gentleness with which he did
it, thinking sadly enough that she would never see this remarkable man
again, nor know to what the mingled fierceness and gentleness of his
nature would grow. Then she offered him her hand in farewell without
further argument.
He shook the mare's head from his shoulder and, taking her hand, held it
in an iron grasp. "As your friend, and for the sake of that good man,
your husband, I beseech you to repent; but if you will not repent, for
his sake and for our sakes, because we have prayed for you, you shall
still be saved."