The Work and the Glory (196 page)

* * *

Sidney Rigdon had been elected as the orator of the day.

Lydia explained to Caroline that Sidney had been a popular Campbellite preacher before joining the Church. The moment he began to talk, Caroline saw why. His voice was clear and pleasant, and he articulated his words precisely. Having grown up in Baltimore and then having spent several years in culture-conscious Savannah, Caroline had found the rough and profanity-filled language of the Missourians jarring to her sensibilities. But here was a man who knew what words were for and took pleasure in the use of them.

The podium was only a short distance from where the Steeds stood, so Caroline got a good look at him. He was a middle-aged man, slightly on the stout side but quite distinguished-looking. He had a full head of hair, though his hairline was quite high, and he wore a beard in the Greek style—full and thick and running from ear to ear under his chin and jawline, but leaving his face clean shaven. Her eyes jumped for a moment to Joseph for a comparison. Sidney was considerably shorter, and he didn’t have that striking grandeur of Joseph’s that was so arresting, but nevertheless Caroline was impressed.

Sidney spoke briefly of the laying of the cornerstones and the importance of what had just taken place, but then opened a sheaf of papers and moved on to his subject. This day was the sixty-second anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and Sidney began by making reference to that fact and noted that they were there assembled, isolated from former friends and associates because of their religion.

As he moved into his topic, his voice rose both in volume and in passion. He spoke of the flag of freedom and how it stood for the Constitution and for liberty from oppression. As he spoke of those freedoms he spoke also of those who were oppressed and persecuted for their religion and how the banner stood for their rights as well.

He turned and looked at the liberty pole. Almost every set of eyes in the congregation followed. Any breeze there had been had died out now, and the air was hot and muggy. The flag of the United States of America hung limply, without stirring.

Caroline felt suddenly uneasy. This was not what she expected. She stole a glance at Joshua. Rigdon was now loudly reviewing the history of their persecution as Latter-day Saints. Savannah was sound asleep now, and Joshua swayed back and forth slowly to keep her that way. He did not see Caroline look at him. His head was down, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

“And how did we respond to this violation of all human decency?” Sidney cried in indignation. “I’ll tell you how we responded. We bore it patiently. In the words of Isaiah, we gave our cheeks to the smiters and our heads to those who pluck off hair. When smitten on one cheek, we not only turned the other, but we did it again and again, until now we are wearied of being smitten, and tired of being trampled upon. We have proved the world with kindness. Though it was without cause, we have suffered their abuse with patience. We have endured their actions without resentment until this day.”

Caroline saw that many heads, especially those of the men, were nodding their assent. From the pinched look around their eyes, it was clear that Sidney Rigdon’s words were striking home.

“And what has this submission gotten for us? Have the persecutions and violence ceased? I say unto you, No, they have not ceased. Even now the Missourians talk about dealing with the ‘Mormon problem.’ Even now there are those who clamor for the chance to drive us from this state.”

He paused, his chest rising and falling. “Well,” he bellowed, “I say that from this day on, we shall suffer these things no more. We call on God and all the holy angels to stand as witnesses of what we say. We warn all men to come against us no more forever, for from this very hour we say,
We will bear it no more!
”

“Amen!” someone behind Caroline shouted. “Amen!” shouted another. She turned her head to see who it was, but there was no way to tell.

Joshua reached out and touched her arm. “I’m going to take Savannah home and put her to bed.”

Mary Ann, watching her son anxiously, stepped forward. “I’ll take her, Joshua,” she whispered.

He shook his head quickly. “No, that’s all right.” And without waiting for a response, he turned and began pushing his way through the crowd.

Mary Ann looked at Caroline, and shook her head sadly. Caroline nodded, feeling suddenly desolate. Things had been going so well.

“I say again,” Sidney was thundering, “from this very day, we declare our independence. Our rights shall not be trampled upon with impunity. Any man or set of men who attempt to do so, do so at the risk of their lives. And that mob that comes on us to disturb us, it shall be between them and us a war of extermination; for we will follow them until the last drop of their blood is spilled, or else they will have to exterminate us, for we will carry the seat of war to their own houses and their own families until one party or the other shall be utterly destroyed.”

The answering murmurings and mutterings that had been punctuating Sidney’s speech had completely stopped now. Utter silence hung over the crowd. The words were like thunderbolts being hurled at them, and they were starting to shock and stun now. Wanting to cry, Caroline turned and craned her neck, hoping that Joshua was out of earshot. But he was not. Over the heads of the people she caught a glimpse of his face. He had stopped at the edge of the crowd and was peering intently at the speaker.

Rigdon’s voice dropped, though it still carried clearly in the still air. The contrast was dramatic. “Remember it, then, all men,” he muttered. “We will never be the aggressors, we will infringe on the rights of no people; but we shall stand for our rights until the death. We claim our own rights, and are willing that all others shall enjoy theirs. No man shall be at liberty to come into our streets, to threaten us with mobs. If he attempts to do so, he shall atone for it before he leaves the place. No man shall be at liberty to vilify and slander any of us again, for in this place we will not suffer it. We shall not be the victims of vexatious lawsuits designed to cheat us of our rights. We say woe to any man who tries it.

“Do you hear me, my brothers and sisters?” he shouted triumphantly. “On this sacred day, we proclaim ourselves free and independent, with a purpose and a determination that never can be broken.” He raised one arm, his hand clenched in a fist. “No, never!” He punched the air again, his face twisted with passion, his voice nearly a scream now. “I say,
No, never!
”

For a moment the silence was startling. Not a person stirred. Even the children seemed mesmerized. Then Sidney let his hand fall to his side and stepped back, bowing his head.

Above them, high on the liberty pole, the stars and stripes of the United States of America hung majestically, silent witness to the thunderous words acclaiming freedom on this day of Independence.

Chapter Notes

The depicted events held on the Fourth of July, 1838, in Far West, including the laying of the cornerstones for the temple, follow the accounts of that day (see
HC
3:41–42;
Far West Record
, p. 197), though some specifics—such as conversations, the hymns that were sung, and so on—are interpolations made by the author.

Only a small portion of Sidney Rigdon’s oration is given in the novel. The fiery words about the Saints’ determination to endure no more persecution are taken almost word for word from the original (for the complete text of the oration, see Peter Crawley, “Two Rare Missouri Documents,”
BYU Studies
14 [Summer 1974]: 517–27).

Sidney Rigdon’s speech was later published by the Saints and was widely circulated. Unquestionably it became an important factor in the inflaming of the bitterness against the Mormons.

There is some question as to the Prophet’s reaction to the speech. There is no doubt that it was enthusiastically received by the crowd. One source says that Joseph approved the publication of the speech (see Crawley, “Two Rare Missouri Documents,” p. 504). B. H. Roberts wrote that Joseph later corrected some of the things that Sidney said, since the latter, “stirred with indignation in contemplating the sufferings the saints had endured, allowed his eloquence to carry him beyond the limits of calm wisdom” (
Persecutions
, p. 192).

Perhaps it was both. That is, Joseph did approve of the general message, that the Saints had rights that had been ignored, but thought that Sidney went too far in his saying that the Mormons would follow any mob that came against them “till the last drop of their blood [was] spilled.”

Chapter 4

   Your brother Joshua didn’t like what was said today, did he?”

Rebecca and Derek Ingalls were walking along the northern outskirts of Far West. Rebecca had her arm through his as they moved slowly along the dusty road. She looked out to the west. The sun hung low in the sky, obscured now by a line of clouds but sending golden shafts skyward against an upper level of cirrus. In a little less than an hour now, it was going to provide a spectacular sunset.

Finally she looked up into Derek’s face. “I’m not sure
I
liked what was said today. Did you?”

Derek, as was his usual habit, considered the question carefully, his eyebrows pulling down, his lips pursing slightly. “Well, I’m not sure Brother Rigdon’s choice of words was the best.”

“But?” She had to smile. This was one of the things she so loved about him. Many men made up their minds on an issue too quickly, letting their emotions be their guide. But Derek had an innate fairness about him that made him want to examine both sides of an issue, keeping an open mind so he could see all of the implications more clearly. Rebecca was not judgmental by nature, but neither was it her tendency to so carefully weigh the various points before deciding. It was a trait she very much liked and wanted to learn from this man.

He blew out his breath slowly, choosing his words with deliberation. A shock of his thick, rough-cut hair slipped down over one eye. “But there is some truth to his message,” he said, pushing it back again. “Do we always have to suffer persecution and plunder to be acceptable to God? Is there ever a point where we are justified in saying, ‘It is enough’?”

“Of course, but—”

“
But!
” he cut in quickly, grinning at her.

She laughed up at him. “Yes, but what?”

He sobered almost instantly. “To call for a war of extermination? To talk about pursuing our enemies until the last drop of their blood is shed? If the people of Missouri hear that?” He shook his head. “I don’t think that was wise at all.”

“I know,” she said soberly.

They were approaching a site where someone had begun digging the foundations for a cabin. There was a pile of logs nearby. Rebecca tugged on Derek’s arm, gesturing toward the wood. “Let’s sit down for a while.”

He glanced at the western sky. “Your mother will be getting supper soon. Shouldn’t we go back and help?”

Rebecca smiled shyly up at him. “Didn’t you hear what Mama said as we were leaving?”

“I heard her say good-bye, but that was all.”

“She said, ‘Rebecca Steed, Derek and Peter will be leaving for Di-Ahman in the morning. It may be several weeks before you will see this man again. Normally I would expect you to be here to help get supper ready, but I think you and Derek need some time alone together. So if you’re back just in time to eat, it will be all right.’”

“Eh, what?” Derek blurted. “She said all that?”

Rebecca laughed merrily. “She did. You just have to learn how mothers talk.”

They walked to the stack of logs and Derek brushed one off for her. Then they sat down, facing north, where they had an unobstructed view of the rolling prairie land stretching off to the horizon. They were both silent for a time, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Derek watched her out of the corner of his eye, marveling again at the sight of her. Her hair was long and light brown, combed straight, so that it caught the light every time she moved. When she smiled or was concentrating deeply as she was now, a dimple in her one cheek showed. He had learned to watch for it, loving to see it come and then disappear again. But it was her eyes he loved the most—wide and trusting, pale blue, the color of the Wedgwood china he had seen in the windows of the finer shops of England.

“Tell me about Di-Ahman,” she said.

His head came up in surprise, but then his eyes lightened and a softness played around the corner of his mouth. “Aye,” he murmured, “it’s beautiful, Becca.”

She looked at him sharply. For a moment he was startled by her expression, then he blushed. “Would you rather I not call you that?”

Her head went back and forth, and quickly. “No, it’s just that . . . you haven’t called me that before. Only my family ever calls me Becca.”

“If you’d rather I—”

She put a finger to his lips. “I like it,” she said firmly.

Satisfied, he leaned back, pulling up one knee. “Peter and me, we were real lucky to go up north that soon. There are so many people coming now, the best of the land is already gone. But we got us a real nice piece. It overlooks the Grand River. Everything is so green and beautiful.” His voice took on a wistful note. “In some ways it reminds me of England.”