The Work and the Glory (376 page)

Joseph was nodding too, and was probably thinking the same thoughts as Mary Ann. He whispered something in Emma’s ear, then kissed her on the cheek. She smiled back at him, then returned to her chair.

“You have heard the names of Elizabeth Ann Whitney and Sarah Cleveland proposed as counselors. Those in favor?” There was no need to call for any opposing votes. Again it was clearly unanimous.

“You now have a president and two counselors to lead you,” Joseph said to the group. “I commend Emma for her selection of counselors. I know both of these sisters very well and heartily concur in the choice.” He turned and walked to a small table near the front of the room where copies of the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the Doctrine and Covenants all sat on one end. He picked up the copy of the Doctrine and Covenants, then turned back to them.

“I need not tell you how I feel about your choice of my dear Emma to be your president. I may be a little prejudiced in this matter”—he stopped as the laughter rippled across the room— “but I think you will agree with me that she is a woman who has a unique standing in the Church. She has been at my side from the very beginning of the Restoration. She has endured loss and privation, ridicule and persecution. She has never wavered—not when I have been gone from her for long periods, not when we have had to have bodyguards sleep at the foot of our bed, not when we have been driven from state to state.”

His voice caught now and he had to stop for a moment. “This woman has watched me be torn from her very arms, and from those of my children, and dragged off to what seemed like certain execution and she did not falter. She carried the precious manuscripts under her skirts as she and my children fled from the lawless rabble that ruled western Missouri. She has not stumbled. She has not fallen. Even now she stands by my side.”

The sound of sniffing could be heard now, and Emma’s eyes were moist as Joseph gave his tribute. He opened the book in his hands. “Just a few months after the Church was organized, I was privileged to receive a revelation from the Lord which was directed to Emma. I would like to read you something from that revelation now, for it is most appropriate in light of what has just transpired.”

Looking down, he turned a few pages, found his place, then raised the book higher, “‘Hearken unto the voice of the Lord your God, while I speak unto you, Emma Smith, my daugh-
ter. . . . Behold thy sins are forgiven thee’”—his voice rose sharply to emphasize the next phrase—“‘and
thou art an elect lady,
whom I have called.’”

He lowered the book. “Shortly after that revelation was given, I laid my hands on Emma’s head and set her apart to become an elect lady, to expound the scriptures to all, and to teach the female part of our community. On this day, you have raised your hands and
elected
Emma to preside over you.”

He paused for a moment to let the import of what he had just said sink in. “This day, a prophecy, which was given almost twelve years ago now, is fulfilled.”

Now his eyes came back to his wife, and Joseph spoke with great tenderness. “As we have said, this organization will have as its primary purpose the doing of good to those in need. Is there any better than Emma Smith to lead you in that endeavor? If you were to walk a block to the east of here, to the little house we all know as the Homestead—our home—you would find we have several others living with us at the moment. Many of you remember those terrible days in the summer of 1839, when every room in our house, when practically every square inch of grass around our house, was covered with the sick and the dying. And who ministered to them? Emma Smith.

“A few years ago, Emma once said something like the following to me: ‘Joseph, I desire to be a blessing to all who may in any wise need anything at my hands.’” Now he had to stop and look down. He was blinking rapidly. Finally he reached up and brushed at the corners of his eyes with the back of his finger. “If there was ever a woman who deserved to preside over the organization we are putting into place this day, it is my beloved wife, Emma Smith.”

Emma was weeping openly now, and so were most of the women in the room. Mary Ann could barely see Emma through her own tears. Beside her, Lydia and Bathsheba Smith were holding one another’s hands. Rebecca was wiping at her eyes with her handkerchief. Melissa just let the tears stream down her cheeks.

Joseph looked up again at Emma, started to speak once more, but couldn’t. He finally motioned for John Taylor to come up and join him. As he did so, the Prophet took a breath, then another, trying to regain his composure. “As I said,” he finally managed, “some years ago I laid hands on Emma and set her apart to this calling. I’d like Brother Taylor to now give Emma a blessing and then ordain Sisters Whitney and Cleveland to their callings.”

The blessings given to Emma and her two counselors were simple but filled with beautiful promises and gentle admonitions about fulfilling their duty. When he was finished and Sarah Cleveland had returned to her seat, the Apostle looked around. “Sisters, we have referred to what has just happened as an ordination, and so it is in a way. But this should not be confused with priesthood ordinations where priesthood power is given. Rather this is a setting apart to an office and calling by the hands of the priesthood. The blessings are real and will be ratified as these sisters fulfill their callings faithfully.” And with that, he too sat down.

Three additional officers were selected—Elvira Cowles was chosen to be treasurer, Eliza Snow as secretary, and Phebe Wheeler as assistant secretary. Mary Ann didn’t know the other two that well, but she couldn’t help but nod at the choice of Eliza. She was an accomplished writer and a gifted poet. Many of her poems had been published throughout Illinois, and she was now referred to as “Zion’s poetess.” It was also interesting to Mary Ann that Eliza and Sister Cowles were not married and that Sister Wheeler was a widow.
Good!
she thought. This would tell the sisters that this was an organization of sisters, not just of wives.

Joseph next arose and spent some time teaching the sisters the rules of proper parliamentary procedures. This was the way to allow for discussion and even dissent in an orderly and amiable fashion, he told them. This would be important as they met and worked out how their society was to operate. Then Joseph gave them an opportunity to practice the principles he had just taught them. “Emma,” he said, “I think it is appropriate that the first item of business for your new organization is to decide upon a name. As its president, the meeting is now yours.”

Emma stood and came to the front. She stood quietly for a moment, just looking around at the sisters before her. Lydia watched her closely. There was still some evidence of what she had been through in the past six months, but this was more like the old Emma. Her face, for so long pale and drawn, was filled with color again. Her jet black hair hung in shining ringlets. The dark brown eyes were clear and wide, though they were still glistening from the emotions of the moment. Lydia felt a great surge of affection for this beautiful woman who stood before them now. Aside from being a wonderful friend, she was all that the “first lady” of the Church should be—kind, generous, giving, patient, gracious, articulate. It was little wonder that every hand had come up so swiftly to sustain her election as president.

As Emma began to speak, her voice trembled a little and she clasped her hands together to keep them steady as well. “My heart is full,” she finally began. “This is such an honor to be so elected by you wonderful sisters.” She glanced at Joseph and her mouth softened into a smile. “And to know that some twelve years ago, the Lord foresaw this day. I am truly humbled.”

She took a deep breath, then became more businesslike. “Now, as to a name for our society.”

Rebecca leaned over. “I like Society of Sisters,” she whispered to Lydia.

Lydia nodded; then they both turned back to listen.

“I will express my feelings,” said Emma, “and then we will hear suggestions from the floor.” She took another breath, collecting her thoughts. “I feel very strongly that we should not be called after other societies of the world, especially when some of them have such a tarnished reputation. Those are my feelings, but I wish now to hear yours.”

Sarah Cleveland’s hand came up immediately.

“Sister Cleveland.”

“What we are hoping to do is to provide relief for the poor and those in need. Therefore I would like to suggest that we call ourselves ‘The Nauvoo Female Relief Society.’”

That brought a ripple of response from the sisters. John Taylor raised his hand. Emma nodded in his direction. “I agree that helping others will be the aim of this society, but it seems to me that
benevolent
is a better word than
relief.
Benevolence suggests charity and caring. I know that other societies have used that name, but it is still a noble word.”

“But it is too much used by the rest of the world,” Lydia spoke up. Then, a little embarrassed by her spontaneity, she raised her hand. Emma smiled and nodded for her to continue. “It is a good word, but if we make it part of our name, it will suggest to everyone that we are just another benevolent society. And I don’t think we are.”

Several around the room nodded at that, and Lydia was pleased to see that after a moment, John Taylor nodded too.

Now Eliza Snow’s hand was up.

“Sister Eliza.”

She stood. Now that she was secretary, she too was making a record of the proceedings and she had the papers and pen clutched in one hand. “I agree that
benevolent
is a tainted word and that we should not use it. On the other hand,
relief
seems too limited in my mind.
Relief
seems to suggest that we rise to meet the needs of people on some extraordinary occasions only. I think what we are after is meeting the more common occurrences of needs.”

“I agree with that,” Emma said quickly. “I agree that we do not want people to think we are simply responding to great crises around us. But then, we are going to do something extraordinary too. When a boat is stuck on the rapids, with a multitude of Mormons on board, we shall consider that a loud call for relief. We expect extraordinary occasions and pressing calls for help. But at the same time, we must not ignore the commonplace needs. We must be observant and aware of what is right around us, perhaps even next door. Take, for example, Philindia Myrick, who is with us here today. She lives right among us, and yet she is in need. Her husband was martyred at Haun’s Mill. Philindia is an industrious woman; she performs her work well, doing excellent needlework. But she has three children to support and care for. Think what a relief it would be to her if we in this society not only used her services when possible but also recommended to others the patronage of her needlework.”

She stopped and smiled warmly at Philindia Myrick. Sister Myrick looked a little uncomfortable, but it was clear that she also appreciated Emma’s concern and her suggestions.

Emma looked around at the others. Her words had had an effect, and she saw no more hands. “Unless there is further discussion, I then move that we call our organization, as recommended by Sister Cleveland, ‘The Nauvoo Female Relief Society.’”

Again Eliza Snow’s hand shot up. There was a quick, embarrassed smile. “I guess this is just the poet in me, but if we changed that slightly to be ‘The Female Relief Society of Nauvoo,’ it has a little better ring to it.”

Emma smiled. “I agree. The motion is amended to read, ‘The Female Relief Society of Nauvoo.’ All in favor?”

She looked around, her face infused with pleasure. “Let it be shown that the motion has been passed unanimously.”

Joseph stood and came to her. He slipped an arm around her waist. “This is wonderful, sisters. I now declare this society organized with president and counselors according to proper parliamentary procedures.” He reached inside his coat pocket, giving his wife a huge grin. “From henceforth, all I have to give to the poor I shall give to this society so that it can be administered properly.”

He extracted a five-dollar gold piece from a small purse. “Let me be the first to contribute to this wonderful cause.” He handed the money to Emma and then gave her a solid kiss. That brought the women to their feet, and the room filled with the sound of enthusiastic applause.

Chapter Notes

The natural progression from various informal women’s service movements to the sewing society for workmen’s temple clothes proposed by Sarah Kimball led to the drafting of a constitution and bylaws as mentioned here. The intent was to organize a “ladies’ society.” Joseph’s reaction to that draft led to the meeting in the Red Brick Store on 17 March 1842. Excellent minutes were kept of that meeting and we have extensive detail of what transpired. Wherever possible, the words found here are those actually spoken by those present or follow closely the summary of what was said. (See
Women of Covenant,
pp. 26–31, which offers a detailed and excellent treatment on the founding of the Relief Society.) In the original meeting there were twenty women listed as attending. Later, the names of Nancy Rigdon and Athalia Rigdon Robinson, daughters of Sidney Rigdon, were crossed out, probably because of their dissent and the fact that they eventually left Nauvoo. For this reason, later sources often say there were only eighteen present on the day of the organization. (See
Women of Covenant,
p. 444 n. 15.)

John Taylor’s explanation that the sisters’ “ordinations” were not priesthood ordinations but instances of what we now call being “set apart” was actually not given until much later (see
Woman’s Exponent
9 [1 September 1880]: 53–54). It is added here for clarity.

Elvira Cowles is listed as Cole in Joseph’s history (see
HC
4:567).

Chapter 19

   After several weeks of wet and cold, the last week of March saw spring come in its full power. The days dawned bright and clear, and the sun warmed the long-dormant earth. A frost of green began to cover the fields and hillsides. Suddenly there were songbirds again. The temperature soared into the sixties, which, after months of winter, felt like the heat of full summer. People came out of their houses in droves. Women sat on the porches with babies on their laps and toddlers playing nearby. The older children were like prisoners on a chain gang suddenly cut loose from their bonds. They roamed the city, rolling metal hoops, playing “run, sheepie, run” or “red rover.” They flowed into the vacant lots for games of stickball. There was hardly a flat, open spot of ground that didn’t have either a ring of boys around a marbles circle or a scattering of girls jumping their way through the hopscotch pads scratched into the ground.