An Englishwoman in Utah: The Story of a Life's Experience in Mormonism

by Mrs. T. B. H. Stenhouse

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MOUNTAIN MEADOWS MASSACRE:—“I WILL REPAY, SAITH THE LORD.”

I feel myself utterly incompetent to tell the story of the Mountain Meadows Massacre—it is so shocking, so fiend-like. And yet it must be told.

While the work of “Reformation” was going on, and when the United States troops were constantly expected in the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, a large train of emigrants passed through Utah on its way to California. The train consisted of one hundred and twenty or one hundred and thirty persons, and they came chiefly from Arkansas. They were people from the country districts, sober, hard-working, plain folks, but well-to-do, and, taken all in all, about as respectable a band of emigrants as ever passed through Salt Lake City.

Nothing worthy of any particular note occurred to them until they reached the Valley—that was the point from which they started towards death.

My old friend Eli B. Kelsey travelled with them from Fort Bridger to Salt Lake City, and he spoke of them in the highest terms. If I remember rightly he said that the train was divided into two parts—the first a rough-and-ready set of men—regular frontier pioneers; the other a picked community, the members of which were all more or less connected by family ties. They travelled along in the most orderly fashion, without hurry or confusion. On Sunday they rested, and one of their number who had been a Methodist preacher conducted divine service. All went well until they reached Salt Lake City, where they expected to be able to refit and replenish their stock of provisions; but it was there that they first discovered that feeling of enmity which finally resulted in their destruction.

Now it so happened that the minds of the Saints in Salt Lake City were at that time strongly prejudiced against the people of Arkansas, and for a most unsaintly reason. The Apostle Parley P. Pratt was one of the earliest converts to Mormonism, and who so ably defended his adopted creed with his pen and from the platform, had not very long before been sojourning in Arkansas, and had there run away with another man’s wife. This was only a trifle for an “Apostle” to do, and the husband—Mr. McLean—might have known it. But he was a most inconsiderate man, and was actually offended with the amorous Apostle for what he had done. He pursued him and killed him, for in those rough parts it was considered that the Apostle did wrong in marrying the man’s wife. Nobody, however, took any notice of the matter or brought the murderer to trial. The Mormon people, of course, took the side of the Apostle Parley P. Pratt. Sensitive themselves to the highest degree concerning their wives and daughters, they considered McLean a sinner for doing just exactly what any Saint would have certainly done. Their opinion, however, would have been a matter of consequence only to themselves, had not such fatal consequences resulted from it. Reasoning without reason, they argued that McLean was the enemy of every Mormon, and every Mormon was the enemy of McLean; McLean was protected in Arkansas—therefore every man from Arkansas was an enemy of the Mormons;—an enemy ought to be cut off—therefore it was the duty of every Mormon to “cut off”—if he could—every Arkansas man.

This appears to have been the tone of thought which actuated the minds of the leaders of the people at the time when this emigrant train arrived in the City.

Weary and footsore they encamped by the Jordan River, trusting there to recruit themselves and their teams, and to replenish their stock of provisions. The harvest in Utah that year had been abundant, and there was nothing to hinder them from obtaining a speedy and full supply. Brigham Young was then Governor of Utah Territory, Commander-in-Chief of the Militia, and Indian Agent as well: he was therefore responsible for all that took place within his jurisdiction. It was his duty to protect all law-abiding persons who either resided in or travelled through the country. The emigrants, so far from being protected, were ordered to break up their camp and move on; and it is said that written instructions were sent on before them, directing the people in the settlements through which they would have to pass to have no dealings with them. This, considering their need of provisions, was much the same as condemning them to certain death.

Compelled to travel on, they pursued their journey slowly towards Los Angeles. At American Fork they wished to trade off some of their worn-out stock and to purchase fresh—they also desired to obtain provisions. There was abundance of everything from the farm and from the field, for God had very greatly blessed the land that year; but they could obtain nothing. They passed on, and went through Battle Creek, Provo, Springville, Spanish Fork, Payson, Salt Creek, and Fillmore, and their reception was still the same,—the word of the Mormon Pontiff had gone forth, and no man dared to hold communion or to trade with them. Now and then, some Mormon, weak in the faith or braver or more fond of money than his fellows, would steal into the camp, in the darkness of the night, bearing with him just what he was able to carry; but beyond this they could procure nothing. Their only hope now lay in the chance of holding out until they could push through to some Gentile settlement where the word of the priestly Governor of Utah was not law. Through fifteen different Mormon settlements did they pass, without being able to purchase a morsel of bread. With empty waggons and on short allowance, they pushed on until they reached Corn Creek, where, for the first time in saintly Utah, they met a friendly greeting from the Indians, and purchased from them thirty bushels of corn, of which they stood very greatly in need.