The Women of Mormondom

by Edward W. Tullidge

"Tell the government that the troops now on the march for Utah shall not enter the Great Salt Lake Valley. Tell the people of the United States that should those troops force an entrance they will find Utah a desert, every house burned to the ground, every tree cut down, and every field laid waste. We will apply the torch to our own dwellings, cut down those richly-laden orchards with our own hands, turn the fruitful field again into a desert, and desolate our cities, with acclamations."

Such was the tenor of the communication carried by Captain Van Vliet to the government. And he had seen the whole people lift up their hands in their tabernacle to manifest their absolute resolution to the nation, and heard those acclamations in anticipation of their act.

The very nature of the case brought the women of Mormondom into supreme prominence. Their hands would have applied the torches to their homes; they would have been the desolaters of the fast-growing cities of Utah. The grandeur of the action was in these unconquerable women, who would have maintained their religion and their sacred institutions in the face of all the world.

The example of the wife of Albert Carrington will, perchance, be often recalled, generations hence. Capt. Van Vliet, of the United States Army, had arrived in Salt Lake City in the midst of the troubles out of which grew the "war." He was received most cordially by the authorities, but at the same time was given to understand that the people were a unit, and that they had fully determined upon a programme. The sisters took him into their gardens, and showed him the paradise that their woman-hands would destroy if the invading army came. He was awed by the prospect—his ordinary judgment confounded by such extraordinary examples. To the lady above-mentioned, in whose garden he was one day walking, in conversation with the governor and others, he exclaimed:

"What, madam! would you consent to see this beautiful home in ashes and this fruitful orchard destroyed?"

"Yes!" answered Sister Carrington, with heroic resolution, "I would not only consent to it, but I would set fire to my home with my own hands, and cut down every tree, and root up every plant!"

Coupled with this will be repeated the dramatic incident of Governor Cumming's wife weeping over the scene of the deserted city after the community had partly executed their resolution.

The saints had all gone south, with their leader, when Governor Cumming, with his wife, returned from Camp Scott. They proceeded to the residence of Elder Staines, whom they found in waiting. His family had gone south, and in his garden were significantly heaped several loads of straw.

The governor's wife inquired their meaning, and the cause of the silence that pervaded the city. Elder Staines informed her of their resolve to burn the town in case the army attempted to occupy it.

"How terrible!" she exclaimed. "What a sight this is! I shall never forget it! it has the appearance of a city that has been afflicted with plague. Every house looks like a tomb of the dead! For two miles I have seen but one man in it. Poor creatures! And so all have left their hard-earned homes?"