CHAPTER XLIV.

CHAPTER XLIV.

MOUNTAIN MEADOWS MASSACRE—COMPLETE CONFESSION OF BISHOP JOHN D. LEE.

In the month of September, 1857, the company of emigrants, known as the “Arkansas Company,” arrived at Parowan, Iron county, Utah, on their way to California. At Parowan young Aden, one of the company, saw and recognized one William Laney, a Mormon resident of Parowan. Aden and his father had rescued Laney from an anti-Mormon mob in Tennessee several years before, and saved his life. He (Laney) at the time he was attacked by the mob was a Mormon missionary in Tennessee. Laney was glad to see his friend and benefactor, and invited him to his house and gave him some “garden sauce” to take back to the camp with him. The same evening, it was reported to Bishop (Colonel) Dame, that Laney had given potatoes and onions to the man Aden, one of the emigrants. When the report was made to Bishop Dame, he raised his hand and crooked his little finger in a significant manner to one Barney Carter, his brother-in-law, and one of the “Angels of Death.” Carter, without another word, walked out, went to Laney’s house with a long picket in his hand, called Laney out and struck him a heavy blow on the head, fracturing his skull, and left him on the ground for dead.

C. Y. Webb and Isaac Naoman, President of the “High Council,” both told me they saw Dame’s manœuvres. James McGuffee, then a resident of Parowan, but through oppression has been forced to leave there and is now a merchant in Pahranagat Valley, near Pioche, Nev., knows these facts. About the last of August, 1857, some ten days before the Mountain Meadows Massacre, the company of emigrants passed through Cedar City. George A. Smith, then first counsellor in the Church and Brigham Young’s right-hand man, came down from Salt Lake City, preaching to the different settlements. I at that time was in Washington county, near where St. George now stands. He sent for me. I went to him and he asked me to take him to Cedar City by way of Fort Clara and Pinto settlements, as he was on business and must visit all the settlements. We started on our way up through the canyon. We saw herds of Indians, and he (George A. Smith) remarked to me that these Indians, with the advantages they had of the rocks, could use up a large company of emigrants, or make it very hot for them.

After pausing for a short time he said to me, “Brother Lee, what do you think the brethren would do if a company of emigrants should come down through here making threats? Don’t you think they would pitch into them?” I replied that “they certainly would.” This seemed to please him, and he again said to me, “And you really think the brethren would pitch into them?” “I certainly do,” was my reply, “and you had better instruct Colonel Dame and Haight to tend to it that the emigrants are permitted to pass, if you want them to pass unmolested.” He continued, “I asked Isaac (meaning Haight) the same question, and he answered me just as you do, and I expect the boys would pitch into them.” I again said to him that he had better say to Gov. Young that if he wants emigrant companies to pass without molestation that he must instruct Col. Dame or Major Haight to that effect; for if they are not ordered otherwise they will use them up by the help of the Indians.

He told the people at the Clara not to sell their grain to the emigrants, nor to feed it to their animals, as they might expect a big fight the next spring with the United States. President Young did not intend to let the troops into the territory. He said: “We are going to stand up for our rights, and will no longer be imposed upon by our enemies, and want every man to be on hand with his gun in good order and his powder dry,” and instructed the people to part with nothing that would sustain life. From the 1st to the 10th of September, 1857, a messenger came to me—his name was Sam Wood—and told me that President Isaac C. Haight wanted me to be at Cedar City that evening without fail. This was Saturday. He told me that a large company of emigrants had gone south. I think he lived at Harmony, twenty miles south of Cedar City.

I obeyed the summons. President Haight met me. It was near sundown. We spent the night in an open house on some blankets, where we talked most all night. He told me that a company of emigrants had passed through some two days before, threatening the Mormons with destruction, and that one of them had said he had helped to kill old Joe Smith and his brother Hyrum, that other members of the company of emigrants had helped drive the Mormons out of Missouri; that others had said they had come to help Johnson’s army clean the Mormons out of Utah; that they had the halters ready to hang old Brigham and Heber, and would have them strung up before the snow flew; that one of the emigrants called one of his oxen (a pair of stags) “Brig.” and the other “Heber;” and that several of the emigrants had used all kinds of threats and profanity. John M. Higbee, the City Marshal, had informed them that it was a breach of the city ordinance to use profane language, whereupon one of them replied that he did not care a —— for the Mormon laws or the Mormons either; that they had fought their way through the Indians, and would do it through the —— Mormons; and if their god, old Brigham, and his priests would not sell their provisions, by —— they would take what they wanted any way they could get it; that thus enraged, one of them let loose his long whip and killed two chickens, and threw them into the waggon; that the widow Evans said, “Gentlemen, those are my chickens; please don’t kill them; I am a poor widow;” that they ordered her to “shut up,” or they would blow her —— brains out, etc.; that they had been raising trouble with all the settlements and Indians on their way; that we were threatened on the

North by Johnson’s army; that now our safety depended on prompt and immediate action; that a company of Indians had already gone South from Parowan and Cedar City to surprise the emigrants, who were then at the Mountain Meadows, and he wanted me to return home in the morning (Sunday), and send Carl Schurtz (Indian interpreter) from my home (Harmony), to raise the Indians South, at Harmony, Washington, and Santa Clara, to join the Indians from the North and make the attack upon the emigrants at the Meadows. I said to him, “Would it not be well to hold a council of the brethren before making a move?” He replied that “every true Latter-Day Saint that regarded their covenants knew well their duty, and that the company of emigrants had forfeited their lives by their acts,” and that Bishop P. K. Smith (Klingensmith) and Joel White had already gone by way of Pinto, to raise the Indians in that direction, and those that had gone from Parowan and here would make the attack, and might be repulsed. “We can’t now delay for a council of the brethren.

Return immediately, and start Carl Schurtz; tell him that I ordered you to tell him to go; and I want you to try and get there before the attack is made, and make the plan for the Indians, and will send Nephi Johnson, the interpreter, to the Meadows as soon as he can be got to help Carl Schurtz manage the Indians.” I did just as I was ordered. The Indians from the North and about Harmony had already started for the Meadows before I reached home. Schurtz started immediately to do his part.

I arrived at home in the night, and remained till morning. I thought over the matter, and the more I thought the more my feelings revolted against such a horrid deed. Sleep had fled from me. I talked to my wife Rachel about it. She felt as I did about it, and advised me to let them do their own dirty work, and said that if things did not go just to suit them the blame would be laid on me. She never did believe in blood atonement, and said it was from the devil, and that she would rather break such a covenant, if she had to die for so doing, than to live and be guilty of doing such an act. I finally concluded that I would go; that I would start by daybreak in the morning, and try to get there before an attack was made on the company, and use my influence with the Indians to let them alone. I crossed the mountains by a trail, and reached the Meadows between nine and ten in the morning, the distance from my place being about twenty-five miles.

But I was too late. The attack had been made just before daybreak in the morning, the Indians repulsed, with one killed and two of their chiefs from Cedar City shot through the legs, breaking a leg for each of them. The Indians were in a terrible rage. I went to some of them that were in a ravine. They told me to go to the main body, or they would kill me for not coming before the attack was made. While I was standing there I received a shot just above the belt, cutting through my clothes to the skin, some six inches across. The Indians with whom I was talking lived with me at Harmony. I was Indian Farmer. They told me I was in danger, and to get down into the ravine. I said that it was impossible for me to do anything there, and I dare not venture to the camp of the emigrants without endangering my life. I mounted my horse and started south to meet Carl Schurtz. I travelled sixteen miles and stopped on the Megotsy to bait my animal, as there was good grass and water. I had rode over forty miles without eating or drinking. This is the place where Mr. Tobin met his assassinators. About sunset I saw Schurtz and some ten or fifteen white men and about one hundred and fifty Indians. We camped.

During the night the Indians left for the Meadows. I reported to the men what had taken place. They attacked the emigrants again, about sunrise the next morning, which was Tuesday, and had one of their number killed and several wounded. I, with the white men, reached the Meadows about one o’clock p.m. On the way we met a small band of Indians returning, with some eighteen or twenty head of cattle. One of the Indians was wounded in the shoulder. They told me that the Indians were encamped east of the emigrants, at some springs. On our arrival at the springs we found some two hundred Indians, among whom were the two wounded chiefs, Moqueetus and Bill. The Indians were in a high state of excitement; had killed many cattle and horses belonging to the company. I counted sixty head near their encampment, that they had killed in revenge for the wounding of their men. By the assistance of Oscar Hamblin (brother of Jacob Hamblin) and Schurtz, we succeeded in getting the Indians to desist from killing any more stock that night. The company of emigrants had corraled all their waggons but one for better defence. This corral was about one hundred yards above the springs. This they did to get away from the ravine and from the rocks on the west. The attack was renewed that night by the Indians, in spite of all we could do to prevent it.

When the attack commenced, Oscar Hamblin, William Young, and myself started to go to the Indians. When opposite the corral, on the north, the bullets came around us like a shower of hail. We had two Indians with us to pilot us; they threw themselves flat on the ground to protect themselves from the bullets. I stood erect and asked my Father in heaven to protect me from the missiles of death, and enable me to reach the Indians. One ball passed through my hat and the hair of my head, and another through my shirt, grazing my arm near the shoulder. A most hideous yell of the Indians commenced. The cries and shrieks of the women and children so overcame me that I forgot my danger and rushed through the fire to the Indians, and pleaded with them, in tears, to desist. I told them that the Great Spirit would be angry with them for killing women and little children. They told me to leave or they would serve me the same way, and that I was not their friend, but a friend of their enemies; that I was a squaw, and did not have the heart of a brave, and that I could not see blood shed without crying like a baby, and called me cry-baby, and by that name I am known by all the Indians to this day.

I owe my life on that occasion to Oscar Hamblin, who was a missionary with the Indians, and had much influence with the Santa Clara Indians. They were the ones that wanted to kill me. Hamblin shamed them, and called them dogs and wolves for wanting to shed the blood of their father (myself), who had fed and clothed them. We finally prevailed on them to return to camp, where we would hold a council; that I would send for big Captains to come and talk. We told them that they had punished the emigrants enough, and may be they had killed nearly all of them. We told them that Bishop Dame and President Haight would come, and may be they would give them part of the cattle, and let the company go with the teams. In this way we reconciled them to suspend hostilities for the present. The two that had been with Hamblin and myself the night before said they had seen two men on horseback come out of the emigrant’s camp under full speed, and that they went toward Cedar City.

Wednesday morning I asked a man—I think his name was Edwards—to go to Cedar City and say to President Haight, for God’s sake, for my sake, and for the sake of suffering humanity, to send out men to rescue that company. This day we all lay still, waiting orders. Occasionally a few of the Indians withdrew, taking a few head of animals with them. About noon I crossed the valley north of the corral, thinking to examine their location from the west range. The company recognized me as a white man, and sent two little boys, about four years old, to meet me. I hid from them, fearing the Indians, who discovered the children. I called the Indians, who wanted my gun or ammunition to kill them. I prevailed with them to let the children go back to camp, which they very soon did when they saw the Indians. I crept up behind some rock, on the west range, where I had a full view of the corral. In it they had dug a rifle-pit. The wheels of their waggons were chained together, and the only chance for the Indians was to starve them out, or shoot them as they went for water.

I lay there some two hours, and contemplated their situation, and wept like a child. When I returned to camp, some six or eight men had come from Cedar City. Joel White, William C. Stewart, and Elliot C. Weldon, were among the number, but they had no orders. They had come merely to see how things were. The Meadows are about fifty miles from Cedar City. Thursday afternoon the messenger from Cedar City returned. He said that President Haight had gone to Parowan to confer with Col. Dame, and a company of men and orders would be sent on to-morrow (Friday); that up to the time he had left, the council had come to no definite conclusion. During this time the Indians and men were engaged in broiling beef and making up their hides into lassos. I had flattered myself that bloodshed was at an end. After the emigrants saw me cross the valley, they hoisted a white flag in the midst of their corral.

Friday afternoon four waggons drove up with armed men. When they saw the white flag in the corral, they raised one also, but drove to the springs where we were, and took refreshment, after which a council meeting was called of Presidents, Bishops, and other Church officers and members of the High Council, societies, High Priests, &c. Major John M. Higbee presided as chairman. Several of the dignitaries bowed in prayer, invoked the aid of the Holy Spirit to prepare their minds, and guide them to do right, and carry out the counsels of their leaders. Higbee said that “President J. C. Haight had been to Parowan to confer with Col. Dame and their counsel, and orders were that, this emigrant camp must be used up.” I replied, “Men, women, and children?” “All,” said he, “except such as are too young to tell tales; and if the Indians cannot do it without help, we must help them.” I commenced pleading for the company, and I said, though some of them have behaved badly, they have been pretty well chastised. My policy would be to draw off the Indians, let them have a portion of the loose cattle, and withdraw with them, under promise that they would not molest the company any more; that the company would then have teams enough left to take them to California.

I told them that this course could not bring them into trouble. Higbee said, “White men have interposed, and the emigrants know it, and there lies the danger in letting them go.” I said, “What white man interfered?” He replied that in the attack on Tuesday night two men broke out of the corral and started for Cedar City on horseback; that they were met at Richey’s Spring by Stewart, Joel White, and another man, whose name has passed from me. Stewart asked the two men their names when they met at the spring, and being told in reply by one of the men that his name was Aden, and that the other was a Dutchman from the emigrant’s company, Stewart shoved a pistol to Aden’s breast, and killed him, saying, “Take that, —— you.” The other man (the Dutchman) wheeled to leave as Joel White fired and wounded him. I asked him how he knew the wounded Dutchman got back to the emigrants’ camp. He said because he was tracked back, and they knew he was there. I again said that it was better to deliver the man to them, and let them do anything they wished with them, and tell them that we did not approve such things.

Ira Allen, high councillor, and Robert Wiley, and others, spoke, reproving me sharply for trying to dictate to the priesthood; that it would set at naught all authority; that he would not give the life of one of our brethren for a thousand such persons. “If we let them go,” he continued, “they will raise hell in California, and the result will be that our wives and children will have to be butchered, and ourselves too, and they are no better to die than ours, and I am surprised to hear Brother Lee talk as he does, as he, who has always been considered one of the staunchest in the Church, now is the first to shirk from his duty.” I said, “Brethren, the Lord must harden my heart before I can do such a thing.” Allen said, “It is not wicked to obey counsel.” At this juncture I withdrew, walked off some fifty paces, and prostrated myself on the ground and wept in the bitter anguish of my soul, and asked the Lord to avert that evil.

While in that situation Councillor C. Hopkins, a near friend of mine, came to me and said, “Brother Lee, come, get up, and don’t draw off from the priesthood. You ought not to do so. You are only endangering your own life by standing out. You can’t help it, if this is wrong; the blame won’t rest on you.” I said, “Charley, this is the worst move this people ever made; I feel it.” He said, “Come, go back, and let them have their way.” I went back, weeping like a child, and took my place, and tried to be silent, and was until Higbee said, they (the emigrants) must be decoyed out through pretended friendship. I could no longer hold my peace, and said I, “Joseph Smith said that God hated a traitor, and so do I: before I would be a traitor, I would rather take ten men, and go to that camp and tell them they must die, and now to defend themselves, and give them a show for their lives; that would be more honourable than to betray them like Judas.”

Here I got another reproof, and was ordered to hold my peace. The plan agreed upon there was to meet them with a flag of truce, tell them that the Indians were determined on their destruction; that we dare not oppose the Indians, for we were at their mercy; that the best we could do for them (the emigrants) was to get them and what few traps we could take in the waggons, to lay their arms in the bottom of the waggon and cover them up with bed-clothes, and start for the settlement as soon as possible, and to trust themselves in our hands. The small children and wounded were to go with the two waggons, the women to follow the waggons, and the men next, the troops to stand in readiness on the east side of the road ready to receive them. Schurtz and Nephi Johnson were to conceal the Indians in the brush and rocks till the company was strung out on the road to a certain point, and at the watchword, “Halt; do your duty!” each man was to cover his victim and fire.

Johnson and Schurtz were to rally the Indians, and rush upon and despatch the women and larger children. It was further told the men that President Haight said, if we were united in carrying out the instructions, we would all receive “celestial reward.” I said I was willing to put up with a less reward if I could be excused. “How can you do this without shedding innocent blood?” Here I got another lampooning for my stubbornness and disobedience to the priesthood. I was told that there was not a drop of innocent blood in the whole company of emigrants. Also referred to the Gentile nations who refused the children of Israel passage through their country when Moses led them out of Egypt—that the Lord held that crime against them, and when Israel waxed strong the Lord commanded Joshua to slay the whole nation, men, women, and children. “Have not these people done worse than that to us? Have they not threatened to murder our leaders and prophets, and have they not boasted of murdering our patriarchs and prophets, Joseph and Hyrum?

Now talk about shedding innocent blood.” They said I was a good, liberal, free-hearted man, but too much of this sympathy would be always in the way; that every man now had to show his colours; that it was not safe to have a Judas in camp. Then it was proposed that every man express himself; that if there was a man who would not keep a close mouth, they wanted to know it then. This gave me to understand what I might expect if I continued to oppose. Major Higbee said, “Brother Lee is right. Let him take an expression of the people.” I knew I dared not refuse; so I had every man speak and express himself. All said they were willing to carry out the counsel of their leaders; that the leaders had the spirit of God, and knew better what was right than they did. They then wanted to know my feelings. I replied, I have already expressed them. Every eye was upon me as I paused; “but,” said I, “you can do as you please; I will not oppose you any longer.” “Will you keep a close mouth?” was the question. “I will try,” was my answer. I will here say that the fear of offending Brigham Young and George A. Smith had saved my life. I was near being “blood-atoned” in Parowan, under J. C. L. Smith, in 1854, but on this I have spoken in my autobiography.

Saturday morning all was ready, and every man assigned to his post of duty. During the night, or rather just before daylight, Johnson and Schurtz ambushed their Indians, the better to deceive the emigrants. About 11 o’clock a.m. the troops under Major Higbee took their position on the road. The white flag was still kept up in the corral. Higbee called William Bateman out of the ranks to take a flag of truce to the corral. He was met about half way with another white flag from the emigrants’ camp. They had a talk. The emigrant was told we had come to rescue them if they would trust us. Both men with flags returned to their respective places and reported, and were to meet again and bring word. Higbee called me out to go and inform them the conditions, and if accepted, Dan McFarland, brother to John McFarland, lawyer, who acted as aid-de-camp, would bring back word, and then the waggons would be sent for the firearms, children, clothing, etc. I obeyed, and the terms proposed were accepted, but not without distrust.

I had as little to say as possible; in fact, my tongue refused to perform its office. I sat down on the ground in the corral, near where some young men were engaged in paying their last respects to some person who had just died of a wound. A large fleshy old lady came to me twice, and talked while I sat there. She related their troubles; said that seven of their number were killed, and forty-seven wounded on the first attack; that several had died since. She asked me if I were an Indian agent. I said, “In one sense I am, as Government has appointed me farmer to the Indians.” I told her this to satisfy her. I heard afterwards that the same question was asked and answered in the same manner by McFarland, who had been sent by Higbee to the corral to “hurry me up, for fear that the Indians would come back and be upon them.”

When all was ready, Samuel McMurdy, counsel to Bishop P. K. Smith (Klingensmith), drove out on the lead. His waggon had the seventeen children, clothing, and arms. Samuel Knight drove the other team, with five wounded men and one boy about fifteen years old. I walked behind the front waggon to direct the course, and to shun being in the heat of the slaughter; but this I kept to myself. When we got turned fairly to the east, I motioned to McMurdy to steer north, across the valley. I, at the same time, told the women, who were next to the waggon, to follow the road up to the troop, which they did. Instead of saying to McMurdy not to drive so fast (as he swore on my trial), I said to the contrary, to drive on, as my aim was to get out of sight before the firing commenced, which we did. We were about half a mile ahead of the company when we heard the first firing. We drove over a ridge of rolling ground, and down on a low flat.

The firing was simultaneous along the whole line. The moment the firing commenced McMurdy halted and tied his lines across the rod of the waggon-box, stepped down coolly with double-barrelled shot-gun, walked back to Knight’s waggon, who had the wounded men, and was about twenty feet in the rear. As he raised his piece, he said, “Lord, my God, receive their spirits, for it is for the kingdom of heaven’s sake that we do this,” fired and killed two men. Samuel Knight had a muzzle-loading rifle, and he shot and killed the three men, then struck the wounded boy on the head, who fell dead. In the meantime I drew a five-shooter from my belt, which accidentally went off, cutting across McMurdy’s buskin pantaloons in front, below the crotch. McMurdy said, “Brother Lee, you are excited; take things cool; you was near killin’ me. Look where the bullet cut,” pointing to the place in his pantaloons. At this moment I heard the scream of a child. I looked up and saw an Indian have a little boy by the hair of his head, dragging him out of the hind end of the waggon, with a knife in his hand, getting ready to cut his throat.

I sprang for the Indian with my revolver in hand, and shouted to the top of my voice, “Arick, oomo, cot too sooet” (stop, you fool!). The child was terror-stricken. His chin was bleeding. I supposed it was the cut of a knife, but afterwards learned that it was done on the waggon-box, as the Indian yanked the boy down by the hair of the head. I had no sooner rescued this child than another Indian seized a little girl by the hair. I rescued her as soon as I could speak; I told the Indians that they must not hurt the children—that I would die before they should be hurt; that we would buy the children of them. Before this time the Indians had rushed around the waggon in quest of blood, and despatched the two runaway wounded men. In justice to my statement I would say that if my shooter had not prematurely exploded, I would have had a hand in despatching the five wounded. I had lost control of myself, and scarce knew what I was about.

I saw an Indian pursue a little girl who was fleeing. He caught her about one hundred feet from the waggon, and plunged his knife through her. I said to McMurdy that he had better drive the children to Hamblin’s ranch, and give them some nourishment, while I would go down and get my horse at the camp. Passing along the road I saw the dead strung along the distance of about half a mile. The women and children were killed by the Indians. I saw Schurtz with the Indians, and no other white man with them. When I came to the men, they lay about a rod apart. Here I came up with Higbee, Bishop Smith, and the rest of the company.

As I came up, Higbee said to me, “Let us search these persons for valuables,” and asked me to assist him; gave me a hat to hold. Several men were already engaged in searching the bodies. I replied that I was unwell, and wanted to get upon my horse and go to the ranch and nurse myself. My request was granted. Reaching Hamblin’s ranch—being heartsick and worn out—I lay down on my saddle-blanket and slept, and knew but little of what passed during the night.

About daybreak in the morning, I heard the voices of Col. Dame and Isaac C. Haight. I heard some very angry words pass between them, which drew my attention. Dame said he would have to report the destruction of the emigrant camp and company. Haight said, “How, as an Indian massacre?” Dame said he did not know so well about that. This reply seemed to irritate Haight, who spoke quite loudly, saying, “How the —— can you report it any other way without implicating yourself?” At this Dame lowered his voice almost to a whisper; I could not understand what he said, and the conversation stopped.

I got up, saw the children, and among the others the boy who was pulled by the hair of his head out of the waggon by the Indian and saved by me; that boy I took home and kept until Dr. Forney, Government agent, came to gather up the children and take them East; he took the boy with the others; that boy’s name was William Fancher; his father was captain of the train; he was taken East and adopted by a man in Nebraska, named Richard Sloan; he remained East several years, and then returned to Utah, and is now a convict in the Utah Penitentiary, having been convicted the past year for the crime of highway robbery. He is now known by the name of “Idaho Bill,” but his true name is William Fancher. His little sister was also taken East, and is now the wife of a man working for the Union Pacific Railroad Company, near Green River. The boy (now man) has yet got the scar on his chin caused by the cut on the waggon-box, and those who are curious enough to examine will find a large scar on the ball of his left foot, caused by a deep cut made by an axe while he was with me.

I got breakfast that morning. Then all hands returned to the scene of the slaughter to bury the dead. The bodies were all in a nude state. The Indians, through the night, had stripped them of every vestige of clothing. Many of the parties were laughing and talking as they carried the bodies to the ravine for burial. They were just covered over a little, but did not long remain so; for the wolves dug them up, and, after eating the flesh from them, the bones laid upon the ground until buried, some time after, by a Government military officer. At the time of burying the bodies Dame and Haight got into another quarrel. Dame seemed to be terror-stricken, and again said he would have to publish it. They were about two paces from me. Dame spoke low, as if careful to avoid being heard. Haight spoke loud, and said, “You know that you counselled it, and ordered me to have them used up.” Dame said, “I did not think that there were so many women and children. I thought they were nearly all killed by the Indians.”

Haight said, “It is too late in the day for you to back water. You know you ordered and counselled it, and now you want to back out.” Dame said, “Have you the papers for that?” or “Show the papers for that.” This enraged Haight to the highest pitch, and Dame walked off. Haight said, “You throw the blame of this thing on me, and I will be revenged upon you, if I have to meet you in hell to get it.” From this place we rode to the waggons; we found them stripped of their covers and every particle of clothing, even the feather beds had been ripped open and the contents turned upon the ground, looking for plunder. I crossed the mountains by an Indian trail, taking my little Indian boy with me on my horse. The gathering up of the property and cattle was left in the charge of Bishop P. K. Smith. The testimony of Smith in regard to the property and the disposition of it was very nearly correct.

I must not forget to state, that after the attack a messenger by the name of James Haslem was sent with a despatch to President Brigham Young, asking his advice about interfering with the company, but he did not return in time. This I had no knowledge of until the massacre was committed. Some two weeks after the deed was done, Isaac C. Haight sent me to report to Governor Young in person. I asked him why he did not send a written report. He replied that I could tell him more satisfactorily than he could write, and if I would stand up and shoulder as much of the responsibility as I could conveniently, that it would be a feather in my cap some day, and that I would get a celestial salvation, but that the man who shrank from it now would go to hell. I went and did as I was commanded. Brigham asked me if Isaac C. Haight had written a letter to him. I replied, not by me, but I said he wished me to report in person.

“All right,” said Brigham; “were you an eye-witness?” “To the most of it,” was my reply. Then I proceeded and gave him a full history of all except that of my opposition. That I left out entirely. I told him of the killing of the women and children, and the betraying of the company. That, I told him, I was opposed to, but I did not say to him to what extent I was opposed to it, only that I was opposed to shedding innocent blood. “Why,” said he, “you differ from Isaac (Haight), for he said there was not a drop of innocent blood in the whole company.” When I was through, he said that it was awful; that he cared nothing about the men, but the women and children was what troubled him. I said, “President Young, you should either release men from their obligation or sustain them when they do what they have entered into the most sacred obligations to do.” He replied, “I will think over the matter, and make it a subject of prayer, and you may come back in the morning and see me.”

I did so, and he said, “John, I feel first-rate; I asked the Lord if it was all right for that deed to be done, to take away the vision of the deed from my mind, and the Lord did so, and I feel first-rate. It is all right. The only fear I have is of traitors.” He told me never to lisp it to any mortal being, not even to Brother Heber. President Young has always treated me with the friendship of a father since, and has sealed several women to me since, and has made my house his home when in that part of the territory, until danger has threatened him. This is a true statement according to the best of my recollection.

JOHN D. LEE.

KILLING A RIVAL PROPHET.

Enough has been already written to satisfy all with whom facts have any weight that the Mormonism which claims in Europe to be “of Christ,” is in Utah a despotism of the harshest character, allied to falsehood, murder, and the worst of crimes that degrade human nature. And here would I rest my pen; but it seems that one other episode in Utah life should still be added, showing as it does the intolerance of the ruling Mormon Priesthood when their own sway is challenged.

Thirty-five miles north of Salt Lake City—a short distance from where the Union Pacific debouches from Weber Canyon—a Welchman named Joseph Morris had found eager listeners to new revelations. The Bishop of Kington Fort, Richard Cook, formerly a noted Missionary in Manchester, England, and a number of intelligent men and women, received gladly the new prophet who had been raised up by “the Lord” to “deliver Israel from bondage.” Numerous believers in a very short time gathered from various parts of the territory, and Kington fort, on the Weber, became an important place. Morris abounded with revelations. His “gifts” exceeded in profusion those of all who had ever gone before him. The founder of Mormonism was nothing in comparison with his disciple from Wales. The adherents of the new prophet were perfectly overjoyed at the abundance of light that now shone upon their path, and some very intelligent men gathered to the Weber. Three English and three Danish clerks were daily employed in writing the heavenly communications from the mouth of the new prophet. Brigham had been barren—Morris was overflowing.

The new disciples “consecrated” all they possessed to a common fund. Christ was seen to descend among them, and their wants would only be of short duration. As “the Lord” tarried, the enthusiasm of some of the converts cooled, and here began the difficulty with the new prophet. It became a question how much of their property they could reclaim. It had all been “consecrated.” The leading men of the sect decided to let them peacefully retire; but it was expected that they would honestly meet their accrued share of the obligations of the little colony. Some of them proved dishonest, and attempted to take away better cattle than they had brought, and they refused to make allowance for the support they had derived from the property of others. A feud arose, the dissenters applied to the Mormon Courts, and the latter were pleased with the opportunity afforded. Writs were issued, served and repulsed. The dissenters waited for the chance of seizing the moveable property of the colony, and as wheat was sent to mill they pounced upon it, and took teams and waggons as well.

On one occasion the Morrisites arose early in the morning, and spread themselves over the country, keeping within view of the advancing teams. As the dissenter and two others pounced upon the convoy the second time, up sprang the Morrisites from places of concealment, and took them prisoners. They were taken to Kington Fort and imprisoned. The friends of the captured men sought their release ineffectually, for the Sheriff in that country could do nothing. One or two of the wives of the prisoners went to Brigham, but he refused to interfere. He was too shrewd to meddle directly in the affair. Justice Kinney was next visited. As judge of that judicial district a petition was filed before him, setting forth that these men were kept in close confinement and heavily ironed by order of Joseph Morris, John Banks, and Richard Cook. On the 24th of May, 1862, a writ of habeas corpus was issued to the Territorial Marshal, and by his deputy served, but no attention was paid to it. On the 11th of June a second writ was issued and was also disregarded.

Kinney was intensely indignant, and insisted upon the militia being called out as a posse comitatus to accompany the Territorial Marshal. Acting Governor Fuller issued the necessary order. The Morrisites had been warned by the “Lord” that the “Brighamites” were plotting their destruction, and accordingly purchased all the rifles and ammunition possible. Early on the morning of the 13th of June an armed posse were seen on South Mountain overlooking the Morrisite community, and the following proclamation was sent to the Morrisites by one of their herd-boys:

Head-quarters, Marshal’s Posse, Weber River, June 13, 1862.

_To Joseph Morris, John Banks, Richard Cook, John Parsons, and Peter Klemgard_:

Whereas you have heretofore disregarded and defied the judicial officers and laws of the Territory of Utah: and whereas certain writs have been issued for you from the Third Judicial District Court of said Territory, and a sufficient force furnished by the executive of the same to enforce the laws. This is therefore to notify you to peaceably and quietly surrender yourselves and the prisoners in your custody forthwith. An answer is required in thirty minutes after the receipt of this document; if not, forcible measures will be taken for your arrest. Should you disregard this proposition and place your lives in jeopardy, you are hereby required to remove your women and children: and all persons peaceably disposed are hereby notified to forthwith leave your encampment, and are informed that they can find protection with this posse.

H. W. LAWRENCE, _Territorial Marshal_.

Per R. T. Burton and Theodore McKean, deputies.

A gentleman who was then in the Morrisites camp has furnished the author with the following statement:—Morris, a firm believer in the revelations he received, remarked, in answer to the inquiry “What shall be done?” that he would “go and inquire of the Lord.” He was soon heard in solemn and earnest prayer. In the meantime word was sent round the camp for the people to at once assemble in meeting and consult on the question. Women and children came together hurriedly, yet there was no excitement, and soon the Bowery was well filled. Morris was seen to come out from his dwelling with a paper in his hand. This paper proved to be a written revelation. His council were awaiting him. The revelation was read to the council, and a peculiar document it was. It purported to be from God, who was represented as being pleased with his faithful people there, and as having brought the posse against them to show his own power in the complete destruction of their enemies. It also promised that now the triumph of his people should come.

Their enemies should be smitten before them, but that not one of his faithful people should be destroyed—that “not a hair of their heads should be harmed.” The council at once stepped out into the Bowery, close to which lived all the leading men, and, to save time, singing was omitted, and the meeting was opened briefly by prayer. John Parsons (previously a noted Mormon preacher in London), in his clear sonorous voice, then read the revelation. R. Cook arose to consult with the people as to which should be obeyed—the proclamation demanding the surrender of the prisoners held in custody of Peter Klemgard, and four of the leading men of the Church, or the revelation forbidding the surrender of these men. Before the people had a chance to speak or vote, or do anything at all in the matter, the booming sound of a cannon was heard, and screams arose from the third seat from the stand in the Bowery, and instantly two women were seen dead in the congregation, and the lower jaw, hanging only by a small strip of skin, was shot off a young girl of from twelve to fifteen years of age.

It was the fearful and heart-rending screams of this girl that stopped the meeting. The people arose in utter confusion. Cook, still on his feet, suggested to all to go at once to their homes, and that each man should take care of his own family as best he could. Never was a revelation more immediately falsified, for scarcely had the promise of absolute safety been made than sudden destruction came. Panic-stricken men and women rushed hither and thither, some seeking safety in cellars, some in potato-pits; in short, anywhere or in any place in which security could be either reasonably or unreasonably hoped for. The first shot was in a few minutes followed by another and still another, and the attack was continued. The posse drew nearer and nearer, and the firing was kept up incessantly both with cannon and musketry. Had Burton or McKean had the pluck of a common constable, they could have gone safely into the fort, served the summons, and saved all effusion of blood. There was not a Morrisite in the fort that was armed or thought of arming.

They met to consider the question, and to pray over it. About an hour and a half after the firing commenced they got their arms and effected an organization, and a regular defence was made. After fighting three days they raised the white flag, and ceased firing. Cautiously Burton and his aids, with a number of men, entered into the camp, and then transpired a bloody scene, concerning which the following affidavit has been made:

United States of America, Territory of Utah, S. S.

Alexander Dow, of said territory, being duly sworn, says: “In the spring of 1861 I joined the Morrisites, and was present when Joseph Morris was killed. The Morrisites had surrendered, a white flag was flying, and the arms were all grounded and guarded by a large number of the posse. Robert T. Burton and Judson L. Stoddard rode in among the Morrisites. Burton was excited. He said, “Where is the man? I don’t know him.” Stoddard replied, “That’s him,” pointing to Morris. Barton rode his horse upon Morris, and commanded him to give himself up in the name of the Lord. Morris replied, “No, never, never!” Morris said he wanted to speak to the people. Burton said, “Be d—d quick about it.” Morris said, “Brethren, I’ve taught you true principles.” He had scarcely got the words out of his mouth before Burton fired his revolver. The ball passed in his neck or shoulder. Burton exclaimed, “There’s your prophet.” He fired again, saying, “What do you think of your prophet now?” He then turned suddenly and shot Banks, who was standing five or six paces distant. Banks fell. Mrs. Bowman, wife of James Bowman, came running up crying, “Oh, you bloodthirsty wretch!” Burton said, “No one shall tell me that and live,” and shot her dead. A Danish woman then came running up to Morris, crying, and Burton shot her dead also. Burton could easily have taken Morris and Banks prisoners, if he had tried. I was standing but a few feet from Burton all this time. And further saith not.

ALEXANDER DOW.

Subscribed and sworn before me, this 18th day of April, A. D. 1863.

CHARLES B. WAITE, _Associate Justice, U. T._

In the fight two of the Marshal’s posse were killed, and six of the Morrisites, and three of the latter were wounded. Only one in the Morrisite camp was killed by rifle-ball. It was the cannon at long range that did the damage. The first shot killed two women as before stated, and wounded a girl; another cannon-ball killed a woman and her child in the “wickiup.” The mother-in-law of the new prophet was also killed in her “wickiup.” A little infant had two narrow escapes. The first shot killed its mother, Mrs. Marsh, while it was in her arms, and it was in the arms of Mrs. Bowman when she was shot down. After the surrender all the prisoners were marched to Salt Lake on the 17th, and on the 18th they were examined before Judge Kinney in chambers, and placed under bonds to appear at the next regular term of Court. In urging measures against the Morrisites, Kinney claimed to be satisfied that he did only do his duty. It is difficult to see how he could long be passive when the order of his Court was disregarded.

Burton committed the atrocity of which he is accused most undoubtedly, and it was the work of a devoted fanatic, who, seeking to please the Prophet Brigham, did not hesitate to do so by ridding him of a troublesome rival. That John Banks was foully dealt with there seems little room to doubt. He was wounded at the time of Morris’s death, but not fatally. The manner of his “taking off” only is obscure. In the evening he was well enough to sit up and enjoy his pipe. Suddenly he died. Was he poisoned, shot, or “knifed?” is the only query. It is generally believed that Dr. Clinton “knifed him.” Banks was among the first to receive Mormonism in Preston, Lancashire, England. He was soon ordained a high-priest, and during many years of labour among the Saints he had presided over the largest conferences in Britain, and at one time was one of the Presidency over the whole Church there. He was the most eloquent preacher that was ever in the Mormon Church. As his faith waned in Mormonism he was painfully grieved, and at times became intemperate.

Before he was a Mormon he had been a Chartist, and the “despotism” of the ruling Priesthood was irksome to him. Years before he left England for Zion he silently mourned over the one-man power. His best life had been spent for Mormonism, and he was then too far advanced in years to begin a new life, and he emigrated to Zion when ordered, hoping that his fears might be removed by better experience. Brigham Young was personally kind to him after he arrived at Salt Lake, and sought to help him over his material troubles; but there was in the heart of John Banks more than he could tell the Prophet. When he heard Morris, it was the opening of a fresh career to him, and he eagerly embraced the new faith.

Before the regular session of the Third Judicial District Court, at which the Morrisites were to be tried, an element was imported into Utah that was destined to trouble the happiness of the Prophet. A new Governor, in the person of Stephen S. Harding, of Indiana, was appointed to succeed Dawson; and Thomas J. Drake of Michigan and Charles B. Waite of Illinois, were appointed Associate Justices. At the same time a body of California volunteers, under command of Colonel Connor, were sent on the overland mail route to protect that and the telegraph line across the Plains, but the Commander had also instructions to establish posts near Salt Lake City. At the March session of the Third Judicial District Court the Morrisites were tried. Ten of them were indicted for killing two of the posse during the flight; seven of these were convicted, one was “nolled,” and two were acquitted. Sixty-six others were fined $100 each for resisting the posse. Of the seven convicted of “murder in the second degree,” one was sentenced to fifteen years’ imprisonment, one to twelve years, and five to ten years each. Governor Harding, regarding the prisoners as deserving of clemency, pardoned them all. Most of those who had professed the Morrisite faith, and who did not immediately leave the Territory, found employment and refuge at Camp Douglas.

A month later, Colonel Connor took 250 of them and a company of the California volunteers, to Soda Springs, where he established a post in Idaho, immediately beyond the northern Territorial limits of Utah, and the Morrisites have there lost their peculiarities among a more humane population. After the “Morrisite war” Burton enjoyed the respect of the community and the honours of the Church. Offices and appointments were showered upon him, and wives multiplied in his household. If Brigham was horrified at the murder of Morris, Banks, and the two women, he was unfelicitous in its expression. Burton was, through his influence, made United States Assessor of Internal Revenue, was made a Bishop of the Church, and grew from Colonel Burton to Brigadier and Major-General. He was made a member of the City Government and Sheriff of the county of Great Salt Lake. His wealth increased with his honours, and he was associated with Brigham in nearly all of his enterprises. About four years ago the first move was made against him by the grand jury for the murders on the Weber, and he managed to conceal himself for about a year, and was sent on a mission “to preach the gospel” in England, with the indictment for murder hanging over him. There he was further elevated, and when he returned to “Zion” he was again honoured by being appointed the second counsellor to the chief Bishop of the whole Mormon Church. For the last eighteen months he has enjoyed perfect freedom, and has attended to his numerous affairs with the utmost assurance that nothing could be done with him, and in that he is probably correct, for nothing has ever been done against a prominent Mormon like Burton when a jury had the disposal of the business.

On the 6th of March, 1879, with all this evidence, and the testimony of living eye-witnesses before them, Major-General Burton was acquitted, by a jury in Salt Lake City, of the murder of Mrs. Bowman!

FOOTNOTES

[1] I myself made a movement with my hand—for I believed that my life was at stake, and I dared not do otherwise. The words of the oath I did not utter. [See explanation at the end of the chapter.]

[2] _Mormonism Exposed_, p. 236.

[3] Besides poor Mary’s family, in _every_ other instance [with the solitary exception of Sister Ann—my “talkative friend”—who is still living, and is so well known in Salt Lake City], I have been as scrupulous in giving _real_ names as I have been in stating only facts which I had either witnessed or knew beyond question were true.