The Work and the Glory (458 page)

Mary shook her head sadly. “When you’re only two years old, it’s hard to understand such things.” She looked deliberately at the roundness of Rebecca’s belly. “Are you all right?”

Rebecca laid a hand on her stomach, remembering when, with her second pregnancy, she first realized that things were different than they had been when she had carried Christopher. Finally in concern she had gone to see John C. Bennett, who was a doctor, setting off a whole chain of events that were not happy memories for her. “Yes,” she said gratefully, “everything’s fine this time.”

“And how are your parents doing?” Mercy asked. “They made it to Nashville all right?”

“Oh, yes. We’ve had two letters from Mama now. She says Papa is reveling in the work. That’s the word she used. She said she has never seen him derive so much satisfaction from what he’s doing.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mary said. “Your father is such a good man. I just love him. I would love to be in his branch.”

Now Rebecca decided to change the subject away from her and the family. She had already inquired about how the two sisters were getting along, so she asked another question. “Tell me, Mercy, what is this I hear about the penny fund?”

Mercy, the younger of the two, and in her mid-thirties now, leaned back, smiling with pleasure. “You heard about President Young’s request?”

“Only briefly. Tell me.”

“Well, you remember how this whole thing came about, don’t you?”

“I do. I remember Hyrum making the announcement at the Christmas party last year.”

“It was a direct answer to prayer, you know. I watched how hard Hyrum and the brethren were working to complete the temple and I wanted to know what I could do as a sister. And then the answer came, clear as the ringing of a bell. ‘Get the sisters to contribute one penny a month to the temple fund.’” Her eyes had softened with the memory. “A penny a month isn’t much—just barely more than a dime per year, but I knew that if we could get all the sisters to contribute, we could perhaps get enough to help purchase window glass and nails for the roof, two of the commodities that we cannot make ourselves.”

“It was a wonderful idea,” Rebecca said enthusiastically. “Mary told me the other day that you have collected five or six hundred dollars.”

“Closer to six hundred, I think. We have a large bag”—Mercy held out her arms to demonstrate—“a very large bag of pennies now.”

“And heavy,” Mary came in. “We had to find a place in that pile of bricks out back to hide it.”

“So tell me about President Young,” said Rebecca.

“Well,” Mercy went on, thoughtful now, “about ten days ago, President Young wrote to us. He said the Church was facing a serious financial crisis. There were some notes coming due for land held in the name of the trustees-in-trust for the Church. Thirty-one hundred dollars was needed within ninety days as payment on the notes.”

“Whew!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Over three thousand dollars!” In a society that was not rich in cash, that was a small fortune.

“Yes, but one-third of that amount was needed immediately or the title holders were threatening to foreclose on the property.”

Now Mary came in again. “Brigham said the land is worth some ten to fifteen thousand dollars, so to lose it would be a major blow to the Church.”

“But the Church simply does not have a thousand dollars in cash right now,” Mercy went on, nodding, “and so they were on the verge of foreclosure. Then Brigham remembered the penny fund. He asked if we would be willing to turn the pennies over to the Twelve to pay off the note. By spring, when they will need the money for the windows and the nails, they will be able to pay it back, he said. But the real crisis was now.”

“And so you agreed?”

“Of course. We were very pleased that our little penny fund might prove to be a way to save the Church a lot of money.”

“I should say,” Rebecca echoed.

“I thought it was wonderful of the Twelve to ask,” Mary said. “I mean, in a way, it is the Church’s money, not ours, and they could have just taken it. But Brigham made it clear that it was only a request and we could say no if we wanted.”

“So it’s done?”

“Yes. They found the other four hundred dollars somewhere else and made the first payment. Brigham told me yesterday that he is confident they can raise the rest of it in time now.”

“That is wonderful news. You must feel very proud.”

Mercy smiled. “Well, as Hyrum once told us, in the scriptures pride is always considered a sin. But when God wants to talk about how he feels about his Son, he says, ‘This is my Beloved Son,
in whom I am well pleased.
’” She smiled shyly, almost like a young girl. “I suppose it would be all right if Mary and I said that we are well pleased with what happened.”

They fell silent for a few moments as they finished their tea. Rebecca set it aside and murmured contentedly, “That tastes so good. It is miserably cold outside today.”

“I notice that there’s ice running in the river already,” Mercy said. “It must be very cold up north.”

They nodded at that, and then Rebecca asked another question, a question that was one of the main reasons she had come. “How is Emma doing?”

Mary and Mercy looked at each other, shaking their heads. “Not very good,” Mary said sadly.

“And the baby, little David Hyrum?”

“I’m afraid he is going to be a sickly child,” Mercy murmured. “He is not in any danger, mind you, but neither is he a strong and healthy baby.”

“One more burden for her to bear,” Rebecca said.

“Yes, but at least it wasn’t another silent child,” said Mercy. “The fear of that weighed heavily on her mind, as you know.”

“And to have to face it without Joseph,” Mary broke in. “Poor Emma.”

Rebecca hesitated for a moment, then went on. “Do you think she and Brother Brigham will be able to reconcile matters?”

Again there came that dual shaking of the heads.

“Lydia spends two or three days a week now with Emma and says that Emma grows more bold in expressing her strong feelings about President Young. She fears that the rift between them grows deeper and deeper.”

“We are greatly concerned too,” Mary said.

Rebecca drew a quick breath. “One of the reasons I have come is that Lydia wants to know how to best help Emma. She wants to try and understand the whole situation so that as she speaks with her, she will better know what to say. She wanted to come herself this morning and talk to you. There is too much gossip in the city and she does not want to base her actions on gossip. But unfortunately, Elizabeth Mary had bad croup last night and is still struggling to overcome it this morning, and so Lydia dared not leave her. She asked if I would represent her concerns to you and see if you might help.”

Again the two sisters looked at each other, and a brief nod passed between them. “We hope she can help,” Mary said. “We have tried, but have learned that it only raises Emma’s resentment. Where she and Lydia are so close, perhaps that is the answer.”

“One of the main problems,” Mercy explained, “is that Emma feels that Brigham and the other Apostles did not come immediately to see her and pay their condolences when they arrived back in Nauvoo last August.”

“But Matthew says they did go to see her.”

“Yes, but only after some time had passed.”

“We understand why,” Mary interjected quickly. “As you know, the very moment Brigham and the other four stepped off the boat, they were caught up in the crisis with Sidney Rigdon. The Twelve barely had a chance to get a full night’s sleep before Brigham had them in council trying to determine what was to be done. President Marks had already set the meeting to call for a vote on Brother Rigdon’s guardianship.”

“I know,” Mercy sighed. “And to be honest, Emma was not reluctant to express her feelings about who should replace Joseph. She was clearly in favor of it being either President Rigdon or else President Marks.”

“A lot of people took unfair advantage of her, I think,” Mary added. “She was the widow of the Prophet and had great influence. So men who wanted to take over the reins sought her support as they jockeyed for position. Claims were made publicly by them that I’m not sure Emma ever said privately.”

Rebecca nodded. “As you know, Matthew is very close to Brother Brigham, and Brigham was upset by what was going on. He felt strongly that this was not Emma’s choice, nor anyone else’s, for that matter. This was the Lord’s decision.” She took in a deep breath. “There’s something else,” she said slowly. “Matthew shared this with Lydia and me when we told him that we planned to speak to you today. We’ve not spoken about it to anyone else, but I think it is an important factor.”

“What?” they both asked together.

“Matthew says Brigham wonders what would have happened if Emma had not sent that letter across the river, begging Joseph not to flee to the West but to come back and face his accusers.”

“Yes,” Mary said very quietly, and there were just the tiniest lines of bitterness now around her mouth. “Joseph and Hyrum would have been gone by that afternoon otherwise. The letter was one thing, but then when the men who brought the letter called Joseph and Hyrum cowards . . .” She shook her head slowly. “Who knows how things might have been different?”

“Well, in Brigham’s mind, that decision to return sealed their fate.” Then Rebecca sighed. This was such a twisted and complicated problem. “Lydia attributes much of all this to Emma’s emotional state. She has seen so much tragedy in the last few years—the horror of Far West and Joseph’s imprisonment, little Don Carlos dying, then shortly after that giving birth to a silent child.”

“No question about it,” Mary said, the bitterness gone as quickly as it had come. “She was terribly frightened to think she might have to face another birth alone.”

They were quiet now for a time, each lost in her own thoughts of tragedy and how slim were the hinges upon which it swung.

Finally, Mercy straightened, looking at Rebecca. “What has happened most recently is the deep disagreement over the properties of the Church and Joseph’s own private properties. This is what is widening the rift between Emma and Brigham now. And these are complicated questions, Rebecca. I am glad that I am not the one to have to sort them out. One can see justice on both sides of the issue. For Brigham’s part, he believes that while some things were put in the name of Joseph Smith, that was done only because Joseph was the trustee-in-trust for the Church. For example, many tithing funds went toward the purchase of land or the construction of certain buildings, including the Mansion House. Therefore, in Brother Brigham’s mind, they clearly belong to the Church. Emma, on the other hand, claims that these things were done by Joseph for his family.”

“And,” Mary said, “Emma has one strong point. She often worked alongside Joseph in certain endeavors in order to make them a success. For example, look how many hours she spent getting the store built and stocked. Joseph was there sometimes, but with his duties, she was the one who basically ran it. And at the Mansion House, she took in boarders, cooking and washing for them. Is she not entitled, then, to some remuneration or part title to these properties?”

“So that’s it,” Rebecca said. “Lydia said that Emma keeps making comments about Brigham trying to rob her.”

Mary nodded. “Even Brother Brigham agrees that the line between personal and Church ownership was rarely, if ever, clearly drawn by Joseph. Particularly galling to Brigham,” she went on, “is Emma’s insistence that the sacred manuscripts—particularly the notes from Joseph’s work on translating the Bible—belong to her and not to the Church. In Brigham’s mind, this is one area where there should be no question. But as you know, during those terrible days in Far West, at great risk to herself, Emma preserved those manuscripts by carrying them about beneath her skirts. When she fled from Missouri to Illinois, she even carried them across the frozen Mississippi with four children hanging on to her. So in her mind, they were Joseph’s private property, and by saving them she earned full rights to them.”

“That is a difficult question,” Rebecca said softly, not sure exactly how she would rule on that if it were put to her. Finally she looked at her two friends. “Thank you. That will help Lydia as she tries to help Emma.”

“Tell her we appreciate her concern very much,” Mercy responded.

“How is Mother Smith taking all of this?” Rebecca asked.

“Mother Smith is Mother Smith,” Mary answered with a warm smile. “She is strong, wise, caring. She tries to negotiate peace between all of us.”

“Does she side with Emma or Brigham?”

“She is careful to try and not to appear to take sides,” Mary replied, “but there is no question but what she believes Brigham and the Twelve are the ones to lead the Church. I suspect Joseph said enough to her before he died that she knows Brigham’s claim that the Twelve hold the keys is correct.”

“And the Twelve have been wonderful to her and to us,” Mercy added. “They have announced that they are building Mother Smith a home of her own. Brigham also has given her unlimited use of one of the carriages that belong to the Church. She is obviously getting older now, but she is still the wonderful, tireless, ever-cheerful Mother Smith. What a dear woman! What an inspiration to all of us!”

“What dear women you all are!” Rebecca exclaimed. “I was counting the other day. With you two, and the wives of Samuel and Don Carlos, and, of course, Mother Smith and Emma, there are six widows now in the Smith family. And numerous fatherless children as well. And yet you go on in faith and good cheer.” There was a sudden shininess in Rebecca’s eyes. “You are all an inspiration to the rest of us. How can I complain about having Derek gone for only four months when I know what each of you faces?”

Chapter Notes

The story of how the penny fund started by the Fielding sisters in the winter of 1843 was used to stave off a financial crisis for the Church is told in Mary Fielding Smith’s biography (see Don Cecil Corbett,
Mary Fielding Smith: Daughter of Britain
[Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1966], pp. 177–78).

For a thorough discussion on the conflict between Emma and Brigham, see
American Moses,
pp. 117–18.