AFTER WE LEFT THE CHURCH—INTERESTING FACTS AND FIGURES—THE MORMONISM AND
MORMONS OF TO-DAY.
“The world was all before them where to choose
Their place of rest: with Providence their guide,
They hand in hand, with trembling steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.”
_Paradise Lost._
When we left the Mormon Church, we were not quite as badly off as were
our first parents when they began life, although in some respects we
certainly resembled them. The world was all before us, and it was
necessary that we also should choose a place of rest; but it was by no
means an Eden from which we were dismissed—or, rather, had dismissed
ourselves—and in the matter of experience in the thorny ways of that
world in which we were about to begin afresh the battle of existence, we
certainly had the advantage over the exiles from Paradise.
The crisis of our own lives had now arrived. The act of sending in our
resignation as members of the Church cut us off from all the associations
of the past and all the friendships and pleasant intimacies of so many
years. A great gulf divided our by-gone life from the unknown future
which lay before us.
My husband was now made painfully aware that it was altogether useless
for him to attempt to carry on his paper; for his subscribers, as I
before stated, had been “counselled” to discontinue taking it in. The
_Daily Telegraph_ had had a very large circulation, but as there was very
little money in the Territory, the yearly subscriptions were mostly paid
at harvest time, and many of them in grain. At the time, therefore, when
the paper was finally given up, the Mormon people, as the book-keeper in
Ogden informed me, owed about twenty thousand dollars; but when it was
discovered that we were “Apostates,” the majority of them considered that
they were released from all obligations on that score, and my husband
being an easy, generous-minded man, most of them evaded payment. The idea
that, because we had left the Church, no Saint was bound to pay us any
debts which they might happen at the time to owe, was the natural result
of the teachings of the Tabernacle. Apostates are delivered over to “the
buffetings of Satan,” and the Saints consider it is _their_ duty to begin
in this world their master’s work of castigation. Any ill turn that can
be done to an Apostate is consequently a good action in the opinion of
the Mormons, and they neglect no opportunity of showing that these are
the sentiments which influence them.
Although we had now left the Mormon Church, never to return, my husband
could not at once shake off entirely that influence which had so long
held him captive. His thoughts and belief, his hopes and ambitions, had
for a quarter of a century all pointed in one direction, and the very
idea of rebellion on his part against the authority of the Priesthood,
would, but a very little while before the time of which I speak, have
been considered by him an utter impossibility. It was impossible, in a
few short months only, to undo the work of five-and-twenty years—the
best years of his life. He could no longer remain in the Church or
conscientiously support Brigham Young; but he had not outgrown Mormonism
sufficiently to enable him to throw off the yoke entirely and make his
paper an opponent of Brigham and his faith. Could he have done so, I
think it is highly probable that the _Telegraph_ might yet have been
saved, for I know that many of the more influential of the Gentiles would
have aided him materially in such a course. As it was, nothing remained
but to give it up with the best grace he could.
Two offers in reference to the paper were received by Mr. Stenhouse, and
it remained for him to decide which he would accept. One of them came
from a Gentile, who proposed to run it in opposition to Brigham Young,
and the other came from a certain Mr. Fuller, who had for some time been
my husband’s travelling agent, and was a very intimate friend of John W.
Young, Brigham’s youngest son by his first wife. We knew that this Mr.
Fuller had nothing beyond his salary; but, as the friend of Brigham’s
son, we thought that probably it was the Prophet’s wish that he should
have this paper, and we believed that he was simply buying it for the
Church. My husband argued that, although he could no longer unite with
the Mormons, he could at least refrain from doing them any injury; he
therefore concluded that, rather than let the paper go into the hands of
an avowed enemy, he would sell it to Mr. Fuller, who, on account of his
friendship for the Prophet’s family, would, he presumed, try to be just
to the people.
This, no doubt, was very conscientious and just, although, of course, no
Mormon would give my husband credit for entertaining such sentiments.
For my own part, I naturally wished him to accept the offer that would
pay him best, which was that made by the Gentile. He could not, however,
bring his mind to do this. The paper, therefore, was sold to Mr. Fuller,
who ran it for a few months and then himself ran away, leaving behind
him debts enough to swallow up everything. Thus ended the _Telegraph_
under that name, but destined, however, to rise again as the _Salt Lake
Herald_—a paper devoted to the interests of Brigham and the Priesthood.
To my husband it was an utter loss, but it was hardly fair that his
conscientious conduct should meet with such an ill return.
It was now necessary that some steps should be taken to provide for our
family. The reader may, perhaps, remember that when we first arrived
in Salt Lake City, as I stated, I myself engaged in business until
my husband was able to find some suitable and profitable employment.
When the _Telegraph_, however, was established and proved such a great
success, and we were in a position of affluence, I considered—the
pressure of necessity being removed—that I should do well to resign my
own business connection and employ my time more profitably in domestic
affairs. This was a great relief to me, for I always felt considerable
repugnance to mixing with the world in the way of business, while among
my children and attending to their wants and interests I found myself in
my own legitimate sphere. But there was now no alternative. All interest
in the _Telegraph_ had been resigned; my husband’s property had been
wasted in an attempt to keep it up, and he had nothing now to depend
upon. Something must be done, and I resolved that I would not be backward
in bearing my full share of the burden.
It was only natural that we should feel very much unsettled in mind by
the great change which had taken place in our position, for it is no
easy matter to cut asunder the ties and associations of a lifetime. Any
one suddenly changing his religious faith would, to a certain extent,
feel and understand what I mean in this respect. But in reference to any
ordinary religion, the person forsaking it would probably experience
comparatively little alteration in his every-day life. In Mormonism it
is very different, especially to any one who has occupied a prominent
position among the Saints. To resign our religion was to revolutionize
our lives. Everything was changed: the friends of years would look coldly
on us and avoid us; persons whom we had before shunned as Gentiles or
Apostates would be the only individuals who would regard us with favour;
our entire position in the midst of a most exclusive community was
completely reversed; in a word, we ourselves were now “Apostates!”
Thinking to turn the current of his thoughts, and believing that change
would be beneficial to him, I suggested to my husband that he should
pay a visit to the Eastern States. In New York I believed he could find
employment which would help to divert his thoughts from Mormon affairs,
and, at the same time, would be profitable to him in other respects. My
suggestion was acted upon, and my husband set out East, while I prepared
to engage again in the same business which I had formerly conducted so
successfully.
Now, for the first time since I embraced Mormonism, I mixed freely with
Gentiles and those who had left the Church, and it was not long before I
found that this intercourse with the outer world produced a marked and
decided effect upon my mind. My views were enlarged, and my thoughts
became more liberal in their tone. My husband’s letters showed me that a
similar change was taking place in him.
We were not the only Apostates from the Church at that time. The New
Movement, as the reaction against the tyranny of Brigham Young was
called, was then in progress; and the minds of all intelligent Saints
were led to reflect upon the unheard-of claims of Brigham’s “Infallible”
Priesthood. At this time the Prophet endeavoured to rivet still more
firmly the fetters which bound his deluded followers, by establishing
“Zion’s Co-operative Mercantile Institution” and reviving the “Order of
Enoch.”
The Co-operative Institution was announced as a joint-stock concern,
established under the pretence that it would be a benefit to the working
classes, and all the members of the Church were invited to purchase
shares, which were sold at twenty-five dollars each. The statement so
often made by Brigham and repeated by strangers, to the effect that
the exorbitant prices charged by Gentile merchants necessitated the
establishment of such an institution was, as every Mormon knows, only a
pretence, and a very shallow one too; for the Walker Brothers and other
merchants had, for many years, supplied goods to Mormons and Gentiles
alike, at what, under the circumstances, were reasonable and just
prices; for the railway not then being constructed, and every article of
commerce being of necessity carried across the Plains—a distance of over
a thousand miles—by horse-teams, prices were, of course, very high, and
would, if this circumstance were not taken into consideration, appear
extortionate. In fact, subsequently, the “Co-operative” stores, which
had started with high rates, under the belief that every rival would be
crushed, were compelled to lower their prices to those of the Walker
Brothers, or, in spite of their faith, the Mormons would have forsaken
Brigham’s Institution for the sake of their pockets. Many, in fact, did
secretly go to Gentile stores, but they were watched by the police and
reported to the teachers.
That large Mormon store, in which Brigham Young had such a heavy
interest, was to become the parent establishment—the fountain-head
from which temporal blessings, in the shape of cheap goods of every
description, were to flow unto the people. Each Ward was to have its
own store, and there the Saints of that Ward were expected to deal
exclusively, and, as the teachers said, “keep off Main street where the
Gentile stores were located.” These Ward-stores purchased their goods
from the parent store, where nothing was sold by retail.
All the lesser Mormon merchants were “counselled” to sell out their stock
to the Church, for just what the Church chose to offer them, or dispose
of it otherwise as best they could, and then they might go farming, or on
mission, or anything else; but sell out they must, for they were plainly
told that they would not be allowed to carry on business in opposition to
the new Institution.
Now, instead of benefiting the poorer Saints, by supplying goods to them
at a small advance upon cost prices, as was at first proclaimed to be
the object of the “Co-op”—as the Institution was briefly and familiarly
called—the reverse was the case, for competition was altogether banished.
All the trade of the Gentile merchants—with one or two exceptions—was
forcibly taken from them, for the people were not to trade in any store
without first looking to see if the sign of the Institution—a picture of
“The All-seeing Eye,” and the words “Holiness unto the Lord” were over
the doorway. How often I have seen groups of country people straggling
along, with their heads thrown back and their eyes straining aloft in
eager quest of that sign, although perhaps their purchases would only
amount to a few yards of ribbon or a paper of pins!
No one can predict what the Church—otherwise Brigham—will do, if money
should chance to tempt him. In this case, the parent Co-operative store
turned, as I might say, traitor to the Ward-stores—its own children—for
no sooner had they all been established, and had bought up all the old
stock from the parent store, than it was whispered abroad that the
latter was about to open in the retail line with a splendid stock of new
goods—to suit the Gentiles, of course; for the Saints were not allowed
to trade outside of their own Ward-stores, where they were expected to
buy up all the old goods. In fact, in order to gain Gentile trade and
fill the pockets of Brigham and the leading Elders who really constituted
the Institution (and do so still), the same prices were asked at the
parent store as had been charged the poor confiding stock-holders of the
Ward-stores at wholesale. This, of course, caused great dissatisfaction,
and many of the Saints rebelled, declaring they would go where
they pleased to spend their money, when they had any to spend. The
Ward-stores, in consequence, were obliged, at great loss, to lower their
prices, and many were utterly ruined. Others which had more capital tided
over the difficulty, and learned a lesson concerning the honesty of the
Church leaders which it is to be hoped did them good.
As an example of the way in which matters were managed, I may instance
a very old and infirm woman who was one of their victims. She came to
me one day and said, “Sister Stenhouse, will you buy out my stock in
the Co-operative store? Our store has failed, and I have my twenty-five
dollars’ worth in my basket. I pitied her and asked her to let me see
her stock, and thereupon she brought out _a pound and a half of nails!_
I _did_ buy out her stock, for I thought that the nails might be handy
to have in the house, although I did not give her twenty-five dollars
for them. Another person—a Frenchman, whom I knew—bought a share, and
when he saw certain ruin looming over his Ward-store, he went to the
head-quarters and purchased twenty-five dollars’ worth of goods, and
having got them all secured, laid down his shareholders’ receipt in
payment and beat a hasty retreat. He was a fortunate man and acted
prudently, but alas! for the poor souls who ventured all their little
savings in these Church “Institutions” and then were left to poverty and
starvation.
About this time, also, it was that the Mormon women, under the auspices
of Eliza R. Snow and the Female Relief Society, got up a petition to Mrs.
Grant, begging her to use her influence with the President in favour of a
toleration of Polygamy. The names to that petition were affixed without
any reference to propriety or right. Hundreds of names were copied from
the books of the Society without any permission being obtained, or even
asked, of their owners. It was then, as I before stated, that the names
of the dead were actually added as subscribers to the petition; and in
one case, when a lady mentioned that her dead daughter had never belonged
to the Church, as she died before her mother heard of Mormonism, she was
told that her daughter would now, of course, have found out that Polygamy
was the true order of domestic life in heaven, and that she would
certainly be willing to subscribe if she could return to earth. Her name
was, therefore, added without any further ceremony, although she had been
dead a good many years.
In January, 1872, a counter-petition was got up by the Gentile and
Apostate ladies. It set forth the cruel bondage which Polygamy inflicts
upon women; spoke of the heartless conduct of the Mormon leaders, and
of the murders and other foul crimes which had been committed by them
or at their instigation; showed that, should Utah become a State, under
the name of _Deseret_—which has ever been the ambition of Brigham
Young—there would be no protection for life or property; stated that the
authorities themselves had declared that when statehood was conferred,
Gentiles and Apostates would have good cause to tremble; and, finally,
prayed the National Government to stretch forth its long arm of power
for the defence and protection of honest and law-abiding citizens. This
petition was signed by four hundred and forty ladies of Utah, most of
them members of the Mormon Church, whose _real_ names were all fairly
and openly _affixed by their own selves_. It was presented to the Senate
by the Hon. Schuyler Colfax—then Vice-President; was read, discussed,
and ordered to be printed. As might be supposed, it excited a great
deal of angry discussion on the part of the Church authorities; and the
following Sundays the names of those who had signed were read out in
the Tabernacle, and _strong_ remarks made upon their conduct, in order
to intimidate them and prevent others from following their example. The
consequence was that many of their husbands and sons were threatened with
loss of employment, and they were thus forced to retract.
That same year a bill was brought into the Territorial Legislature,
providing that _boys of fifteen years of age and girls of twelve
might legally contract marriage_, with the consent of their parents
or guardians! In stating this disgraceful fact, I feel certain that
the reader who has never lived among the Saints, and is not versed in
Utah affairs, will think that I must be mistaken in what I say. It
is, however, I am sorry to say, only too true, and the records of the
Legislature will bear me witness.
With the exception of the little literary efforts which I have made from
time to time to expose through the press the iniquity of the “Celestial
Order of Marriage,” no event of more than personal and private interest
has, since I left the Mormon Church, interrupted the even tenor of my
life. Last year, however, I was able to deal another blow—weak, it might
be, but still it was a blow—directed at that false system against which I
have sworn eternal enmity. I lectured upon Mormon Polygamy in Washington
and Boston, and other large cities, and attempted in my humble way to
attract the attention of the Gentile world to the iniquities of that
terrible superstition which, in Utah, has degraded womanhood and wrecked
the happiness of thousands of my deluded sisters. I met with sympathy
everywhere; and then, as now, I resolved that efforts like these I would
never relax until, if God spared my life, I should see the last stone in
the fabric of Mormonism overturned and Mormon Polygamy counted among the
sins and follies of the past.
His literary work accomplished, my husband returned to Salt Lake City.
Looking back over the past, our Missionary life and our faith in
Brighamism seems like a dream, so difficult is it for us to realize that
we ever submitted our souls to the slavery of the Priesthood or placed
any credence in that mass of folly, superstition, and licentiousness,
known as Mormonism. During all his efforts to obey counsel and build
up a “kingdom,” my husband, I know, never ceased to love me. For the
misery which he then, in—as I firmly believe—his conscientious endeavours
to live his religion, inflicted upon me, I have long ago freely and
fully forgiven him. I think that during all that time he never ceased
to entertain the fondest affection for me; and, if he was foolishly
confiding in those who he believed were divinely authorized and speaking
by inspiration, can I blame him when I remember that I myself was
actuated by the same faith?
It was impossible to obliterate utterly the education and influences
of a whole life’s experience. That wall of partition—Polygamy—which
separated my husband from me for so many years, is now for ever broken
down. But the effects of Mormonism will, no doubt, though unconsciously
to ourselves, tinge the whole of our future life. We can never forget the
past. The mournful sympathy which, according to the poet, the Peri at the
gate of Paradise expressed over the sins and sorrows of humanity, might,
with a slight variation, be applied to our own lives:—
“‘Poor race of men!’ said the pitying spirit,
‘Dearly ye pay for your primal fall;
Some traces of Eden ye still inherit,
But the trail of the serpent is over them all.’”
L’ENVOI.
In the preceding pages I have endeavoured to present to the reader the
story of my life’s experience in Mormonism and Polygamy, and to place
before him a truthful picture of the doctrines and practices of the
Saints.
Two objects influenced my mind when I first proposed to write this
volume. In the first place, I earnestly desired to stir up my Mormon
sisters to a just sense of their own position. I longed to make them
feel, as I do, the cruel degradation, the humiliating tyranny, which
Polygamy inflicts. I wanted to arouse them to a sense of their own
womanhood, and a just appreciation of those rights and duties which,
as women, God has conferred upon them. I was anxious that they should
understand and know the inconsistency and folly of that superstitious
faith by which they have been so egregiously deluded; that they might
learn to hate and loathe the falsely-named “Celestial” system of
marriage; and rising in honest indignation and disgust against the
tyranny of the oppressor, break asunder the yoke of bondage, cast from
them for ever the moral, religious, and social fetters wherewith they are
bound, and, walking in the light of truth, assert their perfect equality
with their sons, their husbands, their fathers, and their brethren, and
henceforth claim and occupy that position which God assigned them, and
which _by right_ is theirs!
In the second place, I was anxious to enlist for them the sympathy of the
Gentile world. Most strenuous efforts have been made, large sums of money
have been spent, and secret intrigues, as well as open and honourable
negotiations, have been carried on for the purpose of obtaining admission
for Utah into the Union, under the title of _The State of Deseret_. The
name “Deseret” itself is taken from the Book of Mormon, and is said
to signify in the celestial tongue a honey-bee; wherefore it is that
the escutcheon of Utah Territory is a bee-hive; and to grant that name
“Deseret” alone would be a concession to Mormon superstition. Out here
in the Valley of the Great Salt Lake we are perfectly well aware that,
with Utah once admitted as a State, it would be almost impossible for
Gentiles to live peaceably and safely among the Mormons; and of this fact
their leading men and their official organs have repeatedly boasted. With
Utah as a State, the enslavement of the people to the Priesthood would be
complete, and the cruel bondage of Polygamy would be rivetted a thousand
times more firmly upon the unfortunate women. I was anxious, therefore,
to attract the attention of Congress and the nation at large to these
facts; that thus, when Mormon bills and Mormon petitions, replete with
falsified statistics, and perverted, and—in many instances—utterly
untrue, statements are presented to the National Legislature, neither the
representatives of the nation nor the nation itself might be deceived
thereby. These were the two objects which I had proposed to myself in
writing my own experience as a wife and mother among the Mormons, and I
trust to some extent at least I have realized them.
I send forth this little book with many earnest prayers and many
heartfelt aspirations that my Mormon sisters may be benefited thereby.
Out of the evil which man originates, God alone can produce good; and I
trust that my feeble attempt to portray the cruel wrong which Polygamy
inflicts upon the women of Utah may excite the sympathy of every man
and woman whose influence may avail to hasten that time when this relic
of ancient barbarism may be utterly rooted out before the advancing
civilization of the age.
The night—the gloomy night of superstition—cannot last for ever. Already
there are signs of the coming dawn. The time, I trust and pray, will
not long be delayed when the veil shall be removed from the eyes of the
enslaved men and women of our modern Zion, and they shall cast aside for
ever the yoke of the Priesthood. I trust that I shall yet live to see the
day when the Mormon wives and mothers shall awake to a sense of their
position and responsibilities, shall understand that God never required
that their womanhood should be degraded, their love crushed out, and
the holiest instincts of their nature perverted; I trust to see them
assert their inalienable rights—their womanly prerogatives—their very
birthright itself; I trust to see them shake off the slavery of that
cruel superstition which has so long held them captive; I trust to see
them take their places side by side with Gentile matrons—the honoured
wives and mothers of the men of Utah; I trust to see that dark shadow
banished from their features, banished from their hearts, banished from
their lives; I trust to see them FREE!
Full of love for them—my sisters, my friends, the companions of my life
hitherto, whose religion was once my own, whose hopes and joys I have
shared, whose sorrows and trials have been also mine—with hopeful prayer
I lay down my pen and present my labours to the world. And if my humble
efforts shall have conduced, even in the smallest degree, to keep one
sister from entering into this sinful “Order”; if they shall have aroused
the women of Utah to investigate the foundations of their faith, to
calmly and impartially consider the iniquities of the system of Polygamy,
to renounce the man-made slavery of the “Celestial Order”; if I shall be
found to have awakened in the minds of thinking men and women a hatred
for the licentious doctrine which enslaves the wives and daughters of
the Saints; if I have to any extent enlisted active, practical sympathy
in their behalf, I shall feel that my endeavours have been abundantly
rewarded, and that my labours have not been bestowed in vain.
POSTSCRIPT.
The publication of this book has probably contributed more to bring the
terrible realities of Mormon life to the knowledge of the public, and to
hasten their day of judgment, than has any other human agency.
The officers of justice in Utah were from that time urged to bring the
notorious criminals to justice, but many well-contrived plans for their
arrest failed in the accomplishment.
Unexpectedly, John D. Lee, the hero of the Mountain Meadows Massacre,
was, while visiting one of his wives, surprised and placed under
confinement in the U.S. Military Fort near Beaver City.
In the summer of 1875 a lengthy trial ensued, and as there were Mormons
among the jurors, they failed to agree in a verdict.
Public indignation grew intensely against the system of falsehood
constantly practised by the Mormon jurors, when the Church or any of its
leaders were interested in the courts, and a second trial of John D. Lee
was earnestly demanded.
During his first trial the Apostle George A. Smith, Brigham’s favourite
and counsellor, who was undoubtedly the instrument through whom Lee and
his associates had been “counselled” to destroy the emigrants, was still
living, and to screen him it was necessary that Lee should escape the
penalty of his crime.
Between the first and second trials of John D. Lee, Smith died, and
Lee might now confess what he pleased, for the link in the chain of
communication from Brigham Young to the murderers was for ever broken.
Continually striving to gain the admission of Utah into the Union as
a State, and being always met with a repulse based upon the wholesale
murder crimes in Utah that had gone unpunished, Brigham, having no longer
anything to fear from Lee’s confessions of his (Brigham’s) complicity
in the Mountain Meadows Massacre, resolved to sacrifice Lee to appease
the public clamour; accordingly the testimony from eye-witnesses was
overwhelming, and Lee was condemned by his own Mormon brethren, who for
nearly twenty years had carried in their minds this guilty evidence.
Lee was sentenced to be executed on the 23rd of March, 1877, and as he
had the choice of the manner of his death, he elected to be shot. The
court so approved, and ordered him to be, on the day named, taken to the
Mountain Meadows, where the great slaughter of the innocent men, women,
and children, had been consummated, to there meet his doom.
How truthfully I had told the story of this great crime will be seen
in the confession of Lee before his execution; and what a dreadful
commentary that document is on the Mormon Priesthood will be apparent to
every intelligent reader.
Under the name of a Prophet of Jesus Christ, Brigham Young could rule
with unchallenged sway hundreds of thousands of honest men and women, who
were born of Christian parents, and trained in the civilized customs of
Europe and America!
It would seem impossible, yet it is within this book revealed to be an
astounding and humiliating fact.
In the escort conducting Lee to the place of execution there were in all
about eighty persons, one of whom was a photographer, who deemed the
circumstance worthy perpetuation by the unerring camera. From one of
those present I copy the sketch of the ending of John D. Lee.
It was Friday morning when the party stopped at their destination, and
Lee was immediately ordered to descend from the waggon in which he rode,
which he did without delay.
Marshal Nelson then read the orders of the court regarding the execution,
and when the reading was concluded, Lee was asked if he had anything to
say. Just at this moment the photographer was arranging his camera to
take a picture of the prisoner. Lee caught sight of him, and pointing
to him said, “I want to see that man,” and added in a louder voice,
addressed to the photographer, “Come over here.”
Mr. Fennimore, the artist, replied, “In a second, Mr. Lee,” and very soon
after was by the side of Lee, who said,—
“I want to ask a favour of you, sir; I want you to furnish each of my
three wives with a copy of the photograph—one to Rachel A., Emma B., and
Sarah C.”
He had had in all eighteen wives; but only the three named remained.
Rachel was the oldest and most faithful to his interests.
The artist consented to do as he had been requested, and Lee then sat for
his picture, which was successfully taken. Then he arose and, looking
over those standing about, said,—
“I have but little to say this morning. Of course, I feel that I am upon
the brink of eternity, and the solemnity of eternity should rest upon my
mind at the present moment. I have made out, or endeavoured to do so, a
manuscript and an abridged history of my life. This will be published.
Sir, [turning to District Attorney Howard] I have given my views and
feelings with regard to all these things. I feel resigned to my fate. I
feel as calm as a summer morning. I have done nothing adversely wrong.
My conscience is clear before God and man, and I am ready to meet my
Redeemer. This it is that places me on this field. I am not an infidel;
I have not denied God or His mercy. I am a strong believer in these
things. The most I regret is parting with my family. Many of them are
unprotected, and will be left fatherless. When I speak of those little
ones, they touch a tender chord within me.”
At this moment his voice trembled, and he perceptibly faltered in his
words. He continued, however, as follows:—
“I have done nothing designedly wrong in this affair. I used my utmost
endeavours to save those people. I would have given worlds were they
at my command to have avoided that calamity, but I could not. I am
sacrificed to satisfy feelings, and am used to gratify parties; but I am
ready to die. I have no fear of death. It has no terrors for me; and no
particle of mercy have I asked for from court or officials to spare my
life. I do not fear death. I shall never go to a worse place than the one
I am now in. I have said it to my family, and I will say it to-day, that
the Government of the United States sacrifices their best friend, and
that is saying a great deal; but it is true. I am a true believer in the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. I do not believe everything that is now practised
and taught by Brigham Young. I do not agree with him. I believe he is
leading his people astray. But I believe in the gospel as taught in its
purity by Joseph Smith in former days. I have my reasons for saying this.
I used to make this man’s will my pleasure (evidently alluding to Brigham
Young), and did so for thirty years. See how and what I have come to
this day! I have been sacrificed in a cowardly, dastardly manner. There
are thousands of people in the Church—honourable, good-hearted—whom I
cherish in my heart. I regret to leave my family. They are near and dear
to me. These are things to rouse my sympathy. I declare I did nothing
designedly wrong in this unfortunate affair. I did everything in my power
to save all emigrants, but I am the one that must suffer. Having said
this I feel resigned. I ask the Lord, my God, to extend His mercy to me
and receive my spirit. My labours are here done.”
This ceremony, altogether, had occupied about an hour, and it was now
close upon eleven o’clock. The sun, which had been fitfully bright during
the morning, had become veiled behind a passing cloud, yet the sky was
only partially overcast, as down the horizon were bright streaks of
golden light; and the effect of light and shadow, as portrayed upon the
scene, soon to culminate in the execution of the law, was one that seemed
to be in full harmony with the painful silence that prevailed. Then it
was that the words upon the rude monument, which once had stood to mark
the spot of the massacre, came out with vivid force—
“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.”
The stillness of the occasion was broken by Lee’s seating himself,
according to orders, upon the coffin provided for his burial. He tried
to appear calm as he faced the squad of soldiers whose rifles were
soon to discharge their contents into his body. A Methodist preacher,
Parson Stokes, then knelt beside the coffin and offered a short prayer,
following which a white handkerchief was placed over Lee’s eyes. While
the marshal was arranging the handkerchief, Lee said in a low but firm
tone of voice—“Let them shoot the balls through my heart; don’t let them
mangle my body.”
He was assured that the aim would be as true as possible, and the marshal
then stepped back and gave his order to the five riflemen who had been
selected to do the work,—
“READY! AIM! FIRE!”
The men made ready by raising their weapons to the shoulder, and then
took deliberate aim at the blindfolded man, who was about twenty feet
off, and at the word “fire!” the volley was discharged, with but a single
sound perceptible to the ear, and Lee fell back upon the coffin, dead,
without a cry or even a moan. He was shot through the heart, as he had
hoped to be, and died instantly. The marshal, after a few moments, viewed
the body, and said: “He is quite dead; the law is satisfied at last.”