Footnotes.
[1]. Elder Parley P. Pratt in his Autobiography referring to this betrayal of the brethren on the part of Hinkle and their reception and treatment by the mob, says: "Colonel George M. Hinkle, who was at that time the highest officer of the militia assembled for the defense of Far West, waited on Messrs. Joseph Smith, Sidney Rigdon, Hyrum Smith, Lyman Wight, George W. Robinson and myself, with a request from General Lucas that we would repair to his camp, with the assurance that as soon as peaceable arrangements could be entered into we should be released. We had no confidence in the word of a murderer and robber, but there was no alternative but to put ourselves into the hands of such monsters, or to have the city attacked, and men, women and children massacred. We, therefore, commended ourselves to the Lord, and voluntarily surrendered as sheep into the hands of wolves. As we approached the camp of the enemy General Lucas rode out to meet us with a guard of several hundred men. The haughty general rode up, and, without speaking to us, instantly ordered his guards to surround us. They did so very abruptly, and we were marched into camp surrounded by thousands of savage looking beings, many of whom were dressed and painted like Indian warriors. These all set up a constant yell, like so many bloodhounds let loose upon their prey, as if they had achieved one of the most miraculous victories that ever graced the annals of the world. If the vision of the infernal regions could suddenly open to the mind, with thousands of malicious fiends, all clamoring, exulting, deriding, blaspheming, mocking, railing, raging and foaming like a troubled sea, then could some idea be formed of the hell which we had entered.
In camp we were placed under a strong guard, and were without shelter during the night, lying on the ground in the open air, in the midst of a great rain. The guards during the whole night kept up a constant tirade of mockery, and the most obscene blackguardism and abuse. They blasphemed God; mocked Jesus Christ; swore the most dreadful oaths; taunted Brother Joseph and others; demanded miracles; wanted signs, such as 'Come, Mr. Smith, show us an angel.' 'Give us one of your Revelations.' 'Show us a miracle.' 'Come, there is one of your brethren here in camp whom we took prisoner yesterday in his own house, and knocked his brains out with his own rifle, which we found hanging over his fireplace; he lays speechless and dying; speak the word and heal him, and then we will all believe.' 'Or, if you are Apostles or men of God, deliver yourselves, and then we will be Mormons." Next would be a volley of oaths and blasphemies; then a tumultuous tirade of lewd boastings of having defiled virgins and wives by force, etc., much of which I dare not write; and, indeed, language would fail me to attempt more than a faint description. Thus passed this dreadful night, and before morning several other captives were added to our number, among whom was Brother Amasa Lyman."—Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, pp. 203-205.
[2]. This incident of sentencing the Prophet and his companion prisoners to be shot on the public square at Far West is also referred to in the History of Caldwell county, compiled by the St. Louis National Historical Company, and the formal orders of General Lucas to Brigadier-General Doniphan and also Doniphan's reply are given. I quote the following: "Yielding to the pressure upon him, it is alleged that General Lucas, at about midnight, issued the following order to General Doniphan, in whose keeping the hostages were:
" 'Brigadier-General Doniphan:
" 'Sir:—You will take Joseph Smith and the other prisoners into the public square of Far West, and shoot them at 9 o'clock to-morrow morning.
" 'Samuel D. Lucas,'
" 'Major-General Commanding.'
But General Doniphan, in great righteous indignation, promptly returned the following reply to his superior:
" 'It is cold-blooded murder. I will not obey your order. My brigade shall march for Liberty tomorrow morning, at 8 o'clock; and if you execute these men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God.
" 'A. W. Doniphan,
" 'Brigadier-General.'
"The prisoners somehow heard of the order, and kneeled in prayer, and prayed fervently that it might not be executed. And it was not. Flagrantly insubordinate as was General Doniphan's refusal, he was never called to account for it. The 'Mormons' have always remembered General Doniphan's humanity on this occasion, as well as on others, and when, in 1873, he went to Salt Lake City, he was received with much feeling, and shown every regard and attention by Brigham Young and the other authorities of the Church and city, and by even the masses of the people."—(History of Caldwell County, p. 137).
Parley P. Pratt, referring to this incident, says: "We were informed that the general officers held a secret council during most of the night, which was dignified by the name of court martial; in which, without a hearing, or, without even being brought before it, we were all sentenced to be shot. The day and hour was also appointed for the execution of this sentence, viz., next morning at 8 o'clock, in the public square at Far West. Of this we were informed by Brigadier-General Doniphan, who was one of the council, but who was so violently opposed to this cold-blooded murder that he assured the council that he would revolt and withdraw his whole brigade, and march them back to Clay county as soon as it was light, if they persisted in so dreadful an undertaking. Said he, 'It is cold-blooded murder, and I wash my hands of it.' His firm remonstrance, and that of a few others, so alarmed the haughty murderer and his accomplices that they dare not put the decree in execution."
[3]. Of these scenes connected with the separation of the prisoners from their families, Parley P. Pratt writes as follows: "We were now marched to Far West, under the conduct of the whole army; and while they halted in the public square, we were permitted to go with a guard for a change of linen, and to take final leave of our families, in order to depart as prisoners to Jackson county, a distance of sixty miles.
"This was the most trying scene of all. I went to my house, being guarded by two or three soldiers, the cold rain was pouring down without, and on entering my little cottage, there lay my wife sick of a fever, with which she had been for sometime confined. At her breast was our son Nathan, an infant of three months, and by her side a little girl of five years. On the foot of the same bed lay a woman in travail, who had been driven from her house in the night, and had taken momentary shelter in my hut of ten feet square—my larger house having been torn down. I stepped to the bed; my wife burst into tears; I spoke a few words of comfort, telling her to try to live for my sake and the children's; and expressing a hope that we should meet again though years might separate us. She promised to try to live. I then embraced and kissed the little babies and departed. Till now I had refrained from weeping; but, to be forced from so helpless a family, who were destitute of provisions and fuel, and deprived almost of shelter in a bleak prairie, with none to assist them, exposed to a lawless banditti who were utter strangers to humanity, and this at the approach of winter, was more than nature could well endure. I went to General Moses Wilson in tears, and stated the circumstances of my sick, heart-broken and destitute family in tears which would have moved any heart that had a latent spark of humanity yet remaining. But I was only answered with an exultant laugh, and a taunt of reproach by this hardened murderer. As I returned from my house towards the troops in the square, I halted with the guard at the door of Hyrum Smith, and heard the sobs and groans of his wife, at his parting words. She was then near confinement; and needed more than ever the comfort and consolation of a husband's presence. As we returned to the wagon we saw Sidney Rigdon taking leave of his wife and daughters, who stood at a little distance, in tears of anguish indescribable. In the wagon sat Joseph Smith, while his aged father and venerable mother come up overwhelmed with tears, and took each of the prisoners by the hand with a silence of grief too great for utterance. In the meantime hundreds of the brethren crowded around us, anxious to take a parting look, or a silent shake of the hand; for feelings were too intense to allow of speech. In the midst of these scenes orders were given and we moved slowly away, under the conduct of General Wilson and his whole brigade."—Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, pp. 207, 208.
The Prophet's mother describes these scenes of sorrow and parting in the following vivid manner:
"At the time when Joseph went into the enemy's camp, Mr. Smith and myself stood in the door of the house in which we were then living, and could distinctly hear their horrid yellings. Not knowing the cause, we supposed they were murdering him. Soon after the screaming commenced, five or six guns were discharged. At this, Mr. Smith, folding his arms tight across his heart, cried out, 'Oh, my God! my God! they have killed my son! they have murdered him! and I must die, for I cannot live without him?'
"I had no word of consolation to give him, for my heart was broken within me—my agony was unutterable. I assisted him to the bed and he fell back upon it helpless as a child, for he had not strength to stand upon his feet. The shrieking continued; no tongue can describe the sound which was conveyed to our ears; no heart can imagine the sensation of our breasts, as we listened to those awful screams. Had the army been composed of so many bloodhounds, wolves, and panthers, they could not have made a sound more terrible. * * * *
"When they [the division of the mob in charge of the prisoners] were about starting from Far West, a messenger came and told us that if we ever saw our sons alive, we must go immediately to them, for they were in a wagon that would start in a few minutes for Independence, and in all probability they would start in a few minutes for Independence, and in all probability they would never return alive. Receiving this intimation, Lucy and myself set out directly for the place. On coming within about a hundred yards of the wagon, we were compelled to stop, for we could press no further through the crowd. I therefore appealed to those around me, exclaiming, 'I am the mother of the Prophet—is there not a gentleman here who will assist me to that wagon, that I may take a last look at my children, and speak to them once more before I die?' Upon this, one individual volunteered to make a pathway through the army, and we passed on, threatened with death at every step, till at length we arrived at the wagon. The man who led us through the crowd spoke to Hyrum, who was sitting in front, and, telling him that his mother had come to see him, requested that he should reach his hand to me. He did so, but I was not allowed to see him; the cover was of strong cloth, and nailed down so close that he could hardly get his hand through. We had merely shaken hands with him, when we were ordered away by the mob, who forbade any conversation between us, and, threatening to shoot us, they ordered the teamster to drive over us. Our friend then conducted us to the back part of the wagon, where Joseph sat, and said, 'Mr. Smith, your mother and sister are here, and wish to shake hands with you.' Joseph crowded his hand through between the cover and wagon, and we caught hold of it; but he spoke not to either of us, until I said, 'Joseph, do speak to your poor mother once more—I cannot bear to go till I hear your voice.' 'God bless you, mother!' he sobbed out. Then a cry was raised, and the wagon dashed off, tearing him from us just as Lucy pressed his hand to her lips, to bestow upon it a sister's last kiss—for he was then sentenced to be shot."—History of the Prophet Joseph by his Mother, Lucy Smith, pp. 249, 250.
[4]. On this passage the prophet makes the following comments:
"Gallant bravery," that some thousands of men should be so anxious to wash their hands in the blood of five hundred poor Saints? I claim not the honor of commanding such a brave army.
[5]. Again the Prophet comments:
"The wicked flee when no man pursueth" This saying was truly verified in the first retreat of this army—they fled precipitately through fear and a great proportion of the men were anxious to get back to the creek, where they could dispense with some of their clothing and wash themselves in the water.
[6]. "Profound silence." It might have been silence to the general for aught I know; for the shoutings, bellowings and yells of this army of mobocrats was sufficient to deafen anyone, not guarded by some higher spirit, and could only be equalled in the savage war whoop, and the yells of the damned.