No sooner would his hands drop the critical labors of the moment, than his mind would turn forcefully to preparing for the onward move, which all knew would come in the early spring. From the various camps he selected the hardy, robust, and energetic men whom he wished to have with him in the pioneer movement that the council had decided should be made as soon as grass grew.
In my frequent use of the name Brigham, I do not wish to convey the idea that there was only one capable man, only one great leader in our camps. On the contrary, I consider that we had a collection of able men. Joseph Smith, in his short prophetical career of fifteen years, had not only given the Book of Mormon to the world, but had brought forth and established the most perfect church organization that we have any record of. In doing this he had gathered around him many able, and some very learned men. Among the latter were such men as Sidney Rigdon, Willard Richards, Lorenzo Snow, Orson Spencer, Orson Pratt and Dr. Bernhisel; while of the former the new faith had gathered into its fold, a legion of strong, intelligent spirits, such as Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, George A. Smith, John Taylor, and a host of others equally honorable and worthy of mention; men who have since made notable history. These were now numbered in the camps of Israel and Brigham Young valued their stalwart character, their sterling integrity, and their wise counsel, and honored their decisions.
As a matter of fact, it was not President Brigham Young's personal superiority which gave him preeminence. His leadership came by calling and ordination from Joseph, and the approval of the people. Hence in Mormon theology, back of Brigham stood Joseph and the people, and back of Joseph stood the mighty Lord, even Jesus Christ, from whom came the power and influence that held this multitude of moving families together, and made it possible for one man—Brigham Young—to select the men he desired to accompany him on the wonderful journey that still lay before them.
Of course our people knew, or had reason to believe, that in Oregon there were grand rivers, and extensive forests, with rich intervening glades, inviting the home-seeker to come and take possession; but experience had taught us that prosperity and wealth excite jealousy, and invite turmoil and trouble, and so far had culminated in expulsion from our homes. On the other hand, the interior of California was marked on our maps as an uninhabitable desert, and Brigham said: "If there is a place on this earth that our enemies do not want, that's the place I'm hunting for."
If the reader will bear in mind that in July we had given a battalion of five hundred of our ablest men to fight our country's battles in Mexico, it will help them to realize the additional sacrifice the people would now have to make to fit out and part with one hundred and forty men for a pioneer advance guard, whose duty it would be to find the place where, under the blessing of God, the Saints might rest in peace. By parting with the battalion boys, our camps were so weakened that in many instances mothers and children had to do the rough, out-of-door work of husbands and fathers; and many of the early converts to Mormonism were from the eastern states, and came from homes where refinement had clustered round the family hearth and music and song had happified their lives. The strenuous nature of frontier struggles was consequently new to them. Nevertheless, in building up temporary homes at Winter Quarters, it was no strange thing to see the sisters hauling logs for the cabin, or mixing and carrying mud for the chinking and daubing; and in the winter, when death stalked through our camps, it seemed that a heavy per cent of the "called ones" were our strongest, bravest men; men whose places could not be filled, no matter how willing the substitutes were.
Nature seldom qualifies the woman to do the work of the man. There is, however, much truth in the adage, "Where there's a will there's a way," and the deeds accomplished under the most trying circumstances prove that the Mormon people had the will, for what, indeed, is will but another name for faith? And to those who have faith, all things are possible. Only by this God-given power, so little known and comprehended, were our people enabled to cross the trackless plains, subdue the wilderness, and make the "desert to blossom as the rose."
Often in our public meetings the Elders would liken the Church to a ship, and the "Ship Zion" was no mean figure of speech. Let us carry it further and see her launched upon a boisterous, unknown sea; then let an emergency arise in which the captain and many of the ablest sailors are called away and the ropes have to be manipulated by inexperienced hands; for that is exactly the condition we were in.
How appropriately even we might paraphrase Nelson's historical signal: "England expects every man to do his duty." England was not disappointed, and to this day the English nation is proud of the record made by her gallant sailors. In simple justice, that is the way the United States should feel toward the Mormon people; for never in the history of the world was a grander movement made for the establishment of liberty, than the exodus of the Saints from Nauvoo. Like the cutting; of the dykes of Holland, or the burning of Moscow, it was the making of a whole-souled sacrifice, that they and all the children of men might receive an expansion of religious freedom. And, we, their descendants, have reason now to rejoice that it was the Latter-day Saints who were thus resisting oppression and injustice, and suffering untold sorrows, that this nation might retain the proud distinction of being an asylum for the oppressed and down-trodden of the world. Coming generations will award the Mormons the just praise that is now withheld from them.
On the 6th of April, 1847, the annual Church conference was held at Winter Quarters. It lasted only one day, for the labor of fitting out the pioneers seemed to engross everybody's time. Hearts had not yet ceased aching over the parting with the battalion boys; yet now a band of the fathers were on the eve of starting on a perilous journey, and the end thereof no man knew. Their departure would leave a poverty-stricken community of widows and orphans. Thoughts of that parting dampened every attempt at revelry and would have filled every bosom with gloom, save that we knew it was God's will. For a year we had been singing:
"In upper California, O that's the land for me—
It lies between the mountains and the great Pacific sea.
The Saints can be protected there, and enjoy their liberty
In upper California, O that's the land for me."