Chapter 29.
In Memory of My Wife, Lydia.
When I married Albina, Uncle Brigham and Aunt Clara D. honored me with their presence at the banquet, which father provided. Uncle Brigham told this incident:
"The first time that I spoke on the principle of plural marriage was in the Nauvoo temple, in a room we had finished and dedicated as a prayer-circle room. At the close of our exercises, I gave permission for any one to ask questions. Dr. Bernhisel, who was on a visit from Philadelphia, arose and said:
"I have heard it reported that Joseph taught, and introduced into the Church, a principle called plural, or celestial marriage. Is it true? If so, what is the nature of that principle?'
"I answered, 'Joseph gave us a revelation on celestial marriage, and had Hyrum read it to the high council. Let the brethren of the high council who heard Hyrum read the revelation, hold up their hands.' Several hands were raised. I asked, 'Does that satisfy you that Joseph gave the revelation ?' 'Yes,' 'Very good; now for the principle.'
"We will suppose there are three young men, just starting out on the journey of life for themselves. They resolve that they will be farmers, as that is a labor with which they are acquainted. One says, "I am not going to rush things in the start; I want to enjoy life. I will put in ten acres of grain; that will support me, and that's all I care for.' The second one says, 'I will put in twenty acres. I can care for that amount and not work very hard; and I want to forge ahead a little.' The third one says, 'Boys, I want to make all that I can while I am young and strong. I am going to plant forty acres.'
"Now, we will suppose that they keep up their fences, and properly care for the crops. When the harvest comes, which man receives the greatest reward? You will all answer, 'The man who planted the forty acres.' And Joseph has told us, 'There is a decree eternal, that men shall be rewarded according to their works.'"
I never forgot that story; and one year from that day I married Lydia Knight, daughter of Newell Knight, who was a life-long trusted friend of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Lydia was a bright, cheery spirit, and I was proud of her. But in some respects she was the very opposite of Albina. I soon found that it required more wisdom and patience to direct the activities of two wives than it did to direct one. Lydia was strong and firm in her spiritual convictions and impressions, active and persistent in character. She became an earnest Church worker in the Relief Society and Primary Association.
For seven years we lived and worked in the Orderville United Order. Lydia had charge of the millinery department, and she put whole souled effort into the work entrusted to her. The members of the Orderville Ward entered into that communal association, believing it to be a sacred duty to do so. We came together as strangers, each handicapped with individual weaknesses, but all imbued with an earnest desire to overcome them. The very fact that 'we had all things common" tended to banish selfishness, and helped us to "love our neighbor as ourselves;" and it is a fact we became deeply attached to one another.
At the commencement of this social experiment, President Young said to us: 'If, at any time, you run up against a problem you don't know how to handle, come to me, and I will give you counsel;" and while he lived, we looked to him, and he never failed us.
Soon after his death, however, a question arose which we were divided upon. The Board of Directors sent me to Salt Lake City to lay the matter before President Taylor, and solicit his counsel. There were several brethren in the office when I stated the case to him. He listened patiently, then arose from his chair, shrugged his shoulders in a way peculiar to himself, and said:
"Brethren, I must tell you a little story. A few years ago, Horace S. Eldredge, while acting as our emigration agent, was down in Missouri buying cattle for our emigrants. Happening toward the close of the day to be in a part of the country that was once owned by the Saints—and from which they were driven by mobs—he was curious to know if any of our people were still living there. Seeing a young man chopping wood, he asked him if there were any Mormons living in the neighborhood. The boy replied, 'Well, dad used to be one of those kind of fellows, but he ain't doing much at it now days.'"
I returned to Orderville, and withdrew from the association, giving as a reason, "If the President of the Church does not approve of our labors, I am not willing to continue the experiment."
My withdrawal gave pain to some of my dearest friends, and was a source of deep sorrow to Lydia. She felt that we were under obligation by the sacred covenant of baptism (for we were all baptized into the Order) to consecrate our lives to help bring about, and establish a social system in which there should be "no rich and no poor;" that we could, and should give our hearts to God, and love our neighbors as ourselves.
However, the later dissolution of the Order by the counsel of Apostle Erastus Snow, brought Lydia back to us, and made unity once more in my family, for which I was truly thankful.
During the period of which I am writing, a wave of brutal terrorism flowing from the evils of the civil war, had inundated the southern states, "compelling the best blood of the south" to organize the "Ku Klux Klan" for self preservation. A ripple of a similar official tyranny later reached and enveloped the Mormon people. In order to enforce the laws enacted for the suppression of polygamy, our fair land was filled with "spotters, spies and deputy marshals" and it is not strange that the government in clothing with new powers so many men of low order of morals, for only characters of that class could be induced to trail honorable men and women for hire, should have some officials who were cruel and unscrupulous. A case in point was enacted when Edward Dalton of Parowan was cowardly and maliciously shot and killed, because he was a polygamist. That act stirred up bitter feeling in my heart. Going to Salt Lake City I consulted with my father who advised me to go to Mexico. I next consulted with my wives. Albina dreaded moving, and begged me to let her remain in the home at Loa, not however through unkind feeling toward me, or the other families. On the contrary, she urged me to take them, and go where I could live in peace with them.
Accordingly I sold my farm, arranging so that Albina could purchase it, and thus secure the home to herself. I then took Lydia and Tamar, with their families, and departed for Mexico. I had one four-horse team, two two-horse teams, and fifteen head of cows. Bishop Joseph H. Wright, and my son-in-law, H. T. Stolworthy, each with a team, and a plural family, accompanied me.
We left Huntington, keeping the main-traveled road for Green River, until we reached the Iron Springs. Then, fearing that we should be arrested at Blake, we turned, crossing the San Rafael desert to Hanksville. We thereby came to a forty mile stretch without water, and while crossing that waterless sand waste we encountered the worst desert blizzard that I ever experienced. The sand drifted into the road so furiously that it was almost impossible to move; and at the close of a hard day's labor, we had not made over four miles progress.
Just at night a short, sharp hail storm swept over us. We camped, blanketed our horses, cuddled into our wagons, and rested the best we could. During the night it froze hard, which proved a blessing to us. The next morning, at three o'clock, keeping the women and children in bed, we pulled out. The road was as hard and smooth as the floor of a house. For fifteen miles we sped merrily along; then the sun's rays melted the frost, and the wagon wheels dropped into the sand five spokes deep. We rested during the day, and broke camp again at midnight; and by nine in the morning, reached Hanksville without any serious suffering.
We struck the Colorado at the Dandy crossing, swam our cattle and horses, and ferried our wagons on a small boat, paying twenty dollars for the use of it. The journey to Mexico was long, tedious and expensive, but we were happy, for we had escaped imprisonment.
Upon reaching Mexico, I bought fifteen acres of land, (it is now a part of the city of Dublan) and made a home on it for Lydia; then moved Tamar to Pacheco.
Soon after that I lost my arm in an accident, and was made a cripple for life. I felt that with only one hand I could not successfully compete with Mexican labor, and as the Manifesto had been issued, giving promise that those already in plural marriage should not be disturbed, I resolved to return to my native land.
Lydia, believing that bitterness and violence would continue to follow us in the United States, chose to remain in Mexico. I deeded to her the little farm; then with Tamar I returned to the United States. I now realize that I did wrong in leaving Lydia without a husband's help when she most needed it in caring for her young family. By nature she was proud spirited, and ambitious to appear well. She therefore toiled beyond her strength, which hastened her to an early grave. She died May 8, 1905, at Dublan, Mexico. In closing, I can affirm, conscientiously, that Lydia died a martyr for the Gospel. She was a noble woman—and under favorable conditions would have been a leader in Church activities. A love of the Gospel was born with her. And many of her sorrows are traceable to her zeal in spiritual matters.
I cannot remember that there were ever disputations, or unkind jealous feelings among my wives; they ever sustained and loved one another. But Lydia and I differed in our interpretation of the Manifesto. She believed it required a severance of marriage covenants between the husband and the plural wife, while I held that it only bound the Latter-day Saints not to enter into new, additional plural marriages, that former plural marriages remained undissolved, and were sacred. On that rock we parted. She remained in Mexico, while I returned to the United States.
In my heart, I have always felt that the Father blessed me with a noble family. I loved them; and I believed in my soul what President Young said about the young man who planted forty acres of grain. I tried to lay a foundation for growth and expansion in the Kingdom of God. I may have over-taxed my strength and ability, and through lack of knowledge, may not have cared wisely for the field I sowed, but I firmly believe that when the day of recompense comes the Lord of the vineyard will confirm to me the family relations I gave my best years' dearest efforts to build up.