The Work and the Glory (372 page)

He stopped. The room was hushed as the impact of the words settled upon them. All were greatly sobered. Images of Kirtland and Jackson County, Far West and Haun’s Mill, filled their minds.

“Read it again,” Nathan demanded.

“ ‘Our missionaries are—’ ”

“No, further on. Where he talks about no unhallowed hand.”

Peter nodded, found the place, and started again. “ ‘No unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing—’ ” He looked up.

“Yes, there. Only more slowly.”

Peter obeyed and began one more time. “ ‘The standard of truth has been erected: no unhallowed hand can stop the work.’ ” He paused again to see if that was what Nathan was after.

“Yes! Go on!”

“ ‘Persecutions may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble, calumny may defame, but—’ ”

“Wait! Is calumny what I think it is?”

Peter smiled. “What do you think it is?”

“Slander.”

“Yes. Calumny means to spread false information about a person’s character.” He waited for a moment, but Nathan only nodded and so he continued. “ ‘But the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent till it has penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished and the great Jehovah shall say the work is done.’ ”

“What a glorious statement,” Lydia said. “It is so beautifully put.”

Now Nathan looked up. “You know what I was thinking as Peter read that?”

They shook their heads.

“Didn’t any names come to your mind as he read? Names like Simonds Ryder. Sampson Avard. Lilburn W. Boggs. General Samuel Lucas.”

“General Moses Wilson,” Mary Ann added quietly. Here was a roll call of unhallowed hands that had made every effort to stop the work, all to no avail. In fact, as you walked through Nauvoo today it was clear that, if anything, their opposition had only strengthened the Church.

“And what about those who didn’t oppose us so much as they simply didn’t stay faithful?” Benjamin said, equally sobered now. “What about Martin Harris? Oliver Cowdery? The Whitmer brothers? William McLellin? Where are they now?”

“Thomas B. Marsh,” Derek added. “He was President of the Twelve.”

There was a deep silence in the room. Then Benjamin looked up. “The only real question is, when the great day of Jehovah comes, when the purposes of God are accomplished, which side of the ledger will our names be on? That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

When Nathan came back into the kitchen from kissing the children good night, Lydia had a bolt of linsey-woolsey cloth spread across the table and was measuring it carefully with a string. Satisfied that it was the right size, she picked up the scissors and began to cut down the one side of it. He came over and stood beside her for a moment, watching her work. This was part of the ongoing work of the Steed family women’s council to help needy families. Then he leaned over and put his arms around her, pulling her back against him. “Mmm,” he murmured, “it’s so good to be back home again.”

“You’d think you had only just gotten here,” she teased.

“Well, it’s only been three days since we got back from Springfield.”

“I know. I wasn’t complaining.”

He looked down at the shirt. “Who is this for?” he asked.

She gave him a whimsical glance. “Maybe you.”

“Me? I thought this was something you were doing for the families you’re helping.”

“Not anymore,” she answered, enjoying her little joke.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, I haven’t told you. There’s been a change.” She explained quickly about Sarah  Kimball and the project of making clothes for the temple workmen. “So,” she said, “it really isn’t for you, unless you decide to become a full-time worker on the temple.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” he said, really meaning it. “And what does Hiram Kimball think of all this?”

“He seems to be pleased with what we are doing. He has even donated several bolts of cotton cloth to make some lighter summer clothing. He’s a good man.”

“He’s given more than cloth. Haven’t you heard about Sarah’s bargain with him?”

“Bargain? No, what bargain?”

“This is delightful. Joseph was telling me about this. It’s probably the most unusual way I’ve heard of for raising money for the Lord’s house.”

She laid the scissors down and sat back, curious now.

“When Sarah had her last child, according to Joseph, a few days after he was born, Hiram was at Sarah’s bedside, holding the baby and admiring his new son. Sarah watched him for a few moments, then said, ‘Hiram, what do you think a son like that is worth?’ Hiram was surprised by the question, but answered, ‘Oh, a great deal, I should think.’ ‘How much?’ Sarah persisted. ‘Would you say he is worth a thousand dollars?’ ”

Nathan was chuckling now even as he told her the story.

“‘Yes,’ Hiram agreed, ‘I would say he is worth at least a thousand dollars.’ ‘Good,’ said Sarah, ‘then my half of his worth would be five hundred dollars. I would like to give my half to the temple fund.’ ”

Lydia clapped her hands. “Really? Did she really say that?”

“She did. She caught him in her trap that easily. But that’s not the end of the story. A few days later, when Hiram saw Brother Joseph, he told the Prophet what had happened. Joseph was delighted. ‘I accept all such donations,’ Joseph promptly said, ‘and from this day forth, the record for that boy shall be marked,
Church property
.’ ”

Lydia was laughing merrily now. “And what did Hiram say to that?”

“Joseph was joking, of course, but he told Hiram that he had two options. One, he could either pay five hundred dollars to the Church and retain possession of his son, or two, he could receive five hundred dollars and turn the boy over to Joseph as the Trustee and Trust for the Church.”

“So what did Hiram do?”

Now Nathan grew more serious. “Well, believe it or not, Joseph said he deeded a piece of property to the Church which was easily worth the five hundred dollars if not more. I guess that says what kind of man he is as much as anything, doesn’t it?”

“I should say. And his wife is of that same character. Sarah has gotten so excited about the number of women who want to help with this project, she’s started to talk about forming a ladies’ society. There is going to be a meeting at her home day after tomorrow. She’s talking about electing officers, drawing up a constitution and everything.”

“Hmm,” Nathan said, surprised at that.

She frowned. “Did that little ‘hmm’ mean you think that it is a good or bad idea?”

“Oh, I think it’s a great idea.”

“Good. I want to go to the meeting.”

Chapter Notes

The ninth number of Volume 3 of the
Times and Seasons
was a highly significant issue of the Church’s newspaper. It is dated 1 March 1842, although it was probably not actually published until two or three days later (see
HC
4:542, footnote). From that issue eventually two things became canonized scripture and are now part of the Pearl of Great Price: the book of Abraham and the Articles of Faith. The famous statement about the work of God going forward is from the same letter that contains the Articles of Faith (see
HC
4:535-41).

Chapter 17

   As he and Lydia rounded the corner of Water and Main Street and moved toward the front gate to the Homestead, Nathan looked across the street a little farther to the south. It appeared that the foundations of the Nauvoo House were in place now. He stopped for a moment. “That is going to be some building,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” Lydia agreed. It was going to be a large brick building, L-shaped, with one wing parallel to the street and the other facing the river, and would have almost eighty rooms. She slipped an arm through her husband’s. “I’ve always found it interesting that the Lord would tell Joseph to build a hotel at the same time he told him to build a temple.”

Nathan’s head bobbed up and down. He had thought the same thing on several occasions. “But when you think about it, it makes sense. The Lord doesn’t want his people to be cloistered away from the world. How did he say it in the revelation? ‘Let there be a delightful habitation for man, and a place of rest for the weary traveler.’”

“Something like that. But aside from that, it’s a practical thing too. Joseph and Emma are constantly entertaining visitors. They’ve always got someone staying with them.”

“Oh, I know,” he agreed.

“Well, it is going to be beautiful. And the view from the top floors will be magnificent.”

It would, Nathan thought. The Nauvoo House was going up right at the south end of Main Street, just a few rods from the river’s edge. Already plans were under way for turning the small boat dock there into a second full riverboat landing to match the one on the north side of the city. And to have a grand hotel right at the landing, that made good business sense.

“Well,” she said, giving his arm a slight tug, “speaking of visitors, it’s a pleasant morning. Let’s see if Joseph and Emma are home to receive some guests right now.”

As they went through the side gate and came around to the south of the Homestead, they found two boys playing in what was left of the snow on the grass. Lydia’s face immediately was wreathed in smiles. “Well, what have we here? Two young Joseph Smiths, I think.”

The two boys looked up, then straightened. The nearest was Joseph Smith III, Joseph’s son and namesake. He had turned nine in November and was in that time of his life where he was shooting up so quickly that his arms were always too long for the sleeves of his coat, and his legs too long for his trousers. He had Emma’s dark hair and eyes but Joseph’s open, pleasant features. He was a cheerful boy and a joy to both of his parents.

His head bobbed quickly. “Morning, Sister Steed. Good morning, Brother Steed.”

“Hello, Joseph,” Nathan smiled.

“And good morning to you too, young Joseph F.,” Lydia said.

The second boy was only three and a half years old and about half his cousin’s size. He stepped up behind Joseph III and peeked out bashfully from around his arm.

Joseph Fielding Smith—or Joseph F., as virtually everyone called him to distinguish him from the other two Josephs in the family—had not been named for his uncle Joseph Smith, but for his uncle Joseph Fielding, his mother’s brother. He was the first child born to Hyrum Smith and Mary Fielding, who were married in 1837 after Hyrum’s first wife had died. Except for their size, the two boys could have been brothers, almost twins, which wasn’t too surprising considering how much alike their fathers were.

Joseph III nudged his younger cousin. “Say hello to Sister Steed, Joseph F.”

“Morning, ma’am,” came the murmured reply.

Lydia smiled at his shyness. She knew that when he wasn’t around strangers, he was a rollicking lad who talked almost nonstop. Here was a young boy who almost hadn’t made it past infancy. Born in the fall of 1838 during the final tragic days of Far West, his father wasn’t even present for his birth. He and Joseph had been dragged off to prison by a mob. A few days later, the boy had nearly been killed when some of the mobbers broke into Mary’s house looking for Hyrum’s papers. As they ransacked the home, a mattress was thrown over the tiny baby lying on a bed. When the problem was finally discovered, the family thought the child had suffocated, but he had proved too hardy for that.

Lydia smiled at the older boy. “Are you taking care of Joseph F. today?”

He nodded, looking proud. “Aunt Mary is helping out at the store. Julia’s staying with the other children, but I’ve got Joseph F.”

“Good for you,” Nathan said. “Are your father and mother home, Joseph?”

“Mama’s home,” he said. “Father has gone to get Mary.”

Lydia nearly said, “
Aunt
Mary.” It was expected that nieces and nephews always address their aunts and uncles by title, but she decided that it was not her place to correct him.

Joseph III left his cousin and ran to the front door. He opened it and stuck his head inside and hollered. “Mama! Your friend Sister Steed is here. And her husband.”

There was a sound from inside as they walked over to the small doorstep. In a moment, Emma appeared. When she saw them, her face broke into a wide and genuine smile. “Lydia! How good to see you.” She opened the door wider. “Nathan, how wonderful. Come in, come in.”

“We were just out walking and thought we’d stop and say hello. Is this a bad time?”

“No, no!” There was real pleasure in her voice. “It’s so good to see you. Please come in. Joseph should be back in a moment or two.”

As they stepped inside, Lydia took both of Emma’s hands in hers. “How are you, Emma?”

Emma nodded slowly. “I’m all right.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m feeling better every day now.”

Nathan watched her as they continued to talk. Her voice was strong, but her appearance was still enough to give serious concern. In three more days it would be a full month since she had lost the baby. He and Lydia had gone to visit her a few days after that, and he had been shocked by her appearance. She was much better now, but she still looked haggard and drawn. Her face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Come in and sit down. Joseph has just gone to get Mary. He should be back in a few minutes.” There was a moment’s hesitation, and then even more earnestly, she finished. “It’s so good to see you.”

As they sat down on the sofa together, Emma took a large overstuffed chair across from them. She looked at Nathan. “You know that you have an angel of a wife here, don’t you?”

He smiled. “I do. I was very fortunate to get her to marry me.”

Emma smiled. “And how is Mother Steed?”

Nathan answered that question, and then Lydia began asking after Emma’s children. They were still discussing family when a sound in the adjoining room brought their heads around. The door opened and then shut again.

“Is that you, Joseph?” Emma called.

“Yes, dear.”

“We’re in here. Lydia and Nathan are here.”

A moment later Joseph appeared at the entry to the parlor. “Well, well,” he boomed, “this is a pleasant surprise.” He still had his coat on, but, to Lydia’s surprise, in his arms he carried a baby, all wrapped up in a small quilt.