BROTHER DUNBAR SINGS ZION

The old Council House was a scene of profound excitement the next morning after the events recorded in the last chapter. There were gathered in its square brick walls the leaders of a people who had been suspected, made an incipient war against, tried and found guilty, and who were now about to be forgiven, when according to their own ideas they were not guilty of one single count in the whole indictment. Up from the South where the people were bivouacked, had come two score of the leaders and elders. Within the larger council chamber there was not much talk that morning and few outward semblances of the suppressed excitement. These men were too accustomed to action to do much talking in the face of danger.

Here and there were a few groups talking of the possible outcome of the day, while still others exchanged whispered items of news of the families in the South and the mountaineers in the eastern canyons.

As Brigham Young entered the room, accompanied by Heber C. Kimball, whose eloquent, snapping black eyes, shining bald head and kingly form towered above many of those assembled near, they were greeted cordially by their associates, and at once took their seats on the small raised platform at the western end of the room. Almost at the same time a whispered word went round that the Commissioners were at the door.

Captain Stevens flung open the inner door of the council chamber and announced quietly:

"President Young, I beg leave to announce the Peace Commission."

As these two gentlemen entered, followed at a little distance by Governor Cumming, who had lingered to exchange a word with some one in the hall, Brigham Young arose and cordially extended a hand of welcome to his new visitors.

John stepped back into the hall to exchange greetings with some of his friends and as he stood chatting for a moment he was tugged by the coat-sleeve and turned around to find Tom Allen's jolly eyes beaming into his face.

With the sympathetic ear of a good listener, John was soon deluged with verbal pictures of conditions down in Prove and vicinity. He discovered for himself the bear-hut, and saw its present rejuvenation, filled with the families of Winthrop and Tyler, who used the two rooms as dining room and kitchen; the half-dozen wagon boxes, as of old days on the plains, served as bed-chambers for the two groups of families. He knew in a trice about the birth of the Mathews twins, the quarrel of Annie Moore with Stephen Grace; he grasped almost before it was told, all the details of that strenuous and yet rather monotonous existence down on the banks of the shallow Timpanogos or Provo river, as he caught at random the pictures flung at random by his old friend and associate.

"And, oh yes, don't go yet, John; I must tell you the very latest. Diantha Winthrop is wearing Charlie Rose's ring. How's that for high?"

The arrow struck where Tom vaguely hoped it would. If there was one thing above another that pleased jolly Tom Allen it was to stick teasing arrows into his friends. But he did not have the satisfaction of even guessing how near his shot had struck home, for he was instantly swung round and out of the way by Corporal Rose himself, who thus addressed himself to John:

"Captain Stevens, the President is just calling the council to order, and it is desired that you shall be with us in the council."

John instantly accompanied Corporal Rose into the inner room, and Tom Allen was left to his own conjectures and the silence of the deserted hall.

Within, the groups of stern-visaged men had settled themselves in orderly lines upon the rows of benches, and on the raised platform sat those tried and true friends, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, George A. Smith, with handsome young Joseph F. Smith and General Wells; and here John went quietly to find his own seat among the few Utah officers sitting near General Wells. In the center of the aisle sat rough old A. P. Rockwood, the commissary-general, with utter indifference to his rawhide boots and faded blue overalls, but with a perfect appreciation of his own great sagacity and importance.

Already the council was in operation. Governor Cumming introduced ex-Governor Powell to the assembly, and that gentleman proceeded in his customary smooth language to recite the facts connected with the presence of the Commissioners in Utah. He referred to the action of the President of the United States in sending out the Commission and read in solemn tones the pardon sent out by that great executive. The pardon was couched in somewhat elusive terms, but it was plain that the "Mormons" were accused of over fifty crimes and misdemeanors, for all of which his excellency, the President, offered amnesty to all who would acknowledge the supremacy of the United States government, and in this acknowledgment permit the troops now quartered outside the Territory to enter and take up quarters within said Territory. The paper concluded with a pledge of good faith to all peaceable inhabitants of the Territory, and an assurance that neither the Chief Executive of the Nation nor his representatives in the Territory would be found interfering with the religion or faith of the inhabitants of this region. Governor Powell emphasized the pledge on behalf of himself and associate Commissioner. He explained somewhat loftily, yet in good grace, that they did not propose to inquire into the past, but to let all that had gone before alone, and to talk and act now only for the future.

Brigham Young called upon one of his near associates to speak: John Taylor, whose dark eyes looked out from under his splendid brows, and whose dignified, courtly manner won the admiration of even that bluff old Major McCulloch. This valiant friend of their late martyred Prophet, Joseph Smith, gave utterance to some fiery discourse, tempered with the desire to bring about peace, if it could be a peace with honor. He was followed by Brigham Young's nearest friend, George A. Smith, who told the Commissioners in ten minutes more of the "Mormon" people's past history than even Governor Cumming had ever known; he told them that the "Mormons" had come out here to these barren vales "willingly because they had to;" and he added that they were ready "if needs must or the devil drives" to seek other homes in the same manner. Some few but fiery words were spoken by Adjutant-General James Ferguson, and John's whole soul went out to his superior officer, who voiced the sentiments of the whole Utah militia. And then Brigham Young arose slowly, as though he were too full of thought and the responsibility of his position to act except with full deliberation. His voice was stern and cool, but vibrant, and it cut into every corner of that council chamber with thrilling if somewhat sharp enunciation. If his action were deliberate, there was no hesitancy in his speech. He said:

"I have listened very attentively to the Commissioners, and will say, as far as I am concerned, I thank President Buchanan for forgiving me, but I can't really tell what I have done. I know one thing, and that is, that the people called 'Mormons' are a lawful and loyal people, and have ever been. It is true Lot Smith burned some wagons last winter containing government supplies for the army. This was an overt act, and if it is for this that we are pardoned, I accept the pardon. The burning of a few wagons is but a small item, yet for this, combined with false reports, the whole 'Mormon' people are to be destroyed. What has the United States government permitted mobs to do to us in the past? Gentlemen, you can answer that question for yourselves. I can also, and so can thousands of my brethren. We have been plundered and whipped; and our houses burned, our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and children butchered and murdered by the scores. We have been driven from our homes time and time again; but have the troops ever been sent to stay or punish the mobs for their crimes? No! Have we ever received a dollar for the property that we have been compelled to leave behind? Not a dollar! Let the government of our country treat us as we deserve. That is all we ask of them. We have always been loyal and expect to continue so. But hands off! Do not send your armed mobs into our midst. If you do, we will fight you, as the Lord lives. Do not threaten us with what the United States can do and will do, for we ask no odds of them or their troops. We have the God of Israel—the God of battles—on our side; and let me tell you, gentlemen, we fear not your threats. These, my brethren, put their trust in the God of Israel, and we have no fears. We have proved Him, and He is our friend. Boys, how do you feel? Are you afraid?"

Instantly there was a crash of voiced response to the man Brigham's fearless words. They might be termed fanatics—these men—but they could never be called cowards.

John held his breath as Brigham Young continued:

"Now let me say to you Peace Commissioners: we are willing those troops should come into our Territory, but not to stay in our cities. They may pass through this city, if needs be, but must not quarter nearer than forty miles to any city. If you bring your troops here to disturb this people, you have a bigger job on your hands than you or President Buchanan has any idea of. Before the troops reach here, this city will be in ashes, every tree and shrub will be cut to the ground, and every blade of grass that will burn shall be burned. Our wives and children will go to the canyons and take shelter in the mountains; while their husbands and sons will fight you to their last breath. And as God lives, we will hunt you by night and by day till our army or yours is wasted away. No mob, armed or otherwise, can live in the homes we have builded in these mountains. That's the program, gentlemen, whether you like it or not. If you want war, you can have it; but if you wish peace, peace it is; we shall be glad of it."

Once more Governor Powell arose and in honeyed tones he soothed the tumult of emotions now swelling upon the high tide of that stern-visaged assembly of men. He dwelt with moving eloquence upon the great clemency of the President of the United States and the magnanimity of that authority in setting aside all past offenses, and he told of the bright future which awaited a new Territory begun under such favorable auspices of frugality and industry. He praised all for their temperance and toil. He grew eloquent as he moved along the current of his own fervid imagination, and his pictures of the coming era of peace and prosperity caught, not only his own hearty sympathy, but mollified and quieted the turbulent elements there. He assured them that the army of the United States would not enter the Valley, only as they were given permission by that gallant and humane Territorial executive, Governor Cumming. And he was in full cry upon a swelling compliment to that genial peace-promoter when the door of the hall was flung open, and a barbaric figure, hard-ridden through miles of flying dust and unwashed haste, flung himself into the room. The old slouch hat upon the head of that dramatic figure was drawn down upon a mass of braided hair, wound round and round the bullet-shaped head. The hooked nose, the sleepy-lidded eyes, half closed upon the eagle glance of that "Mormon" scout, Indian fighter, sheriff, and free-lance, Porter Rockwell, sent a shivering thrill of apprehension into the breast of every mountaineer in that chamber. Porter Rockwell bore no trifling message!

A moment of converse followed in hasty, lowered tones with Brigham Young behind the back of that eloquent Kentucky politician who was just then extolling the orderliness and clemency of the troops, now quietly resting in Fort Scott; and then, up rose, without haste, but in sudden sternness, Brigham Young, as he said in piercing accents:

"Governor Powell, Major McCulloch, are you aware, sirs, that those troops are on the move to this city?"

"It cannot be," answered the orator, Powell, as he swung instantly around to face his questioner. "For we were promised by General Johnston that they should not move until after this meeting."

"I have received a dispatch, sir, that they are on the move to this city, and my messenger would not deceive me."

There was a hush as of the tomb on every lip and heart in that assembly. The thunderbolt had fallen.

In that same severe but perfectly self-possessed voice, Brigham Young asked:

"Is Brother Dunbar present?"

"Yes, sir," answered that flute-voiced musician.

"Brother Dunbar, sing 'Zion.'"

And in the electrical silence which ensued, rang out the clarion tones of the "Mormon" battle-hymn, if such it could be called, since it embodies a spiritual triumph rather than a temporal subjugation. Brother Dunbar sang:

O! ye mountains high, where the clear blue sky
Arches over the vales of the free,
Where the clear breezes blow
And the pure streamlets flow,
How I've longed to thy bosom to flee.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
My own mountain home, now to thee I have come,
All my fond hopes are centered in thee.

Though the great and the wise all thy beauties despise,
To the humble and pure thou art dear;
Though the haughty may smile,
And the wicked revile,
Yet we love thy glad tidings to hear.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
Though thou wert forced to fly to thy chambers on high,
Yet we'll share joy and sorrow with thee.

In thy mountain retreat, God will strengthen thy feet;
On the necks of thy foes thou shalt tread;
And their silver and gold,
As the Prophets have told,
Shall be brought to adorn thy fair head.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free;
Soon thy towers will shine with a splendor divine,
And eternal thy glory shall be.

Here our voices we'll raise, and we'll sing to thy praise,
Sacred home of the Prophets of God;
Thy deliverance is nigh,
Thy oppressors shall die,
And the Gentiles shall bow 'neath thy rod.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
In thy temples we'll bend, all thy rights we'll defend,
And our home shall be ever with thee.

It was impossible to calm the tumult any more for that day. Peace or war, the situation was very much in the hands of Brigham Young for the time.

As the three Eastern officials made their way slowly out of the door, with mingled chagrin and anger, Governor Cumming asked his companions:

"What would you do with such a people?"

"Damn them, I would fight them, if I had my way," answered Major McCulloch, unconvinced that the rumor was in any degree true.

"Fight them, would you?" answered the Governor sadly. "You might fight them, but you would not whip them. They would never know when they were whipped. Did you notice the fire and flash in those men's eyes today? No, sir; they would never know when they were whipped."

"I fear," said Governor Powell, reflectively, as they retraced their way sadly through the silent echoing streets to one of the few inhabited houses in the city, the hotel on Main Street, "I fear that the messenger was right. I had occasion to doubt the rashness of General Johnston's temper before we left the camp. Yet, I hope, I hope it is not true. I am loath to see the blood of good men shed for naught. But what a strangely dramatic people! They sing their defiance instead of announcing it."

There was another council held the next day; messengers were sent from both the Peace Commission and Governor Cumming to Camp Scott, and at length the whole matter was patched up, and the Commissioners were permitted to have their way. But meanwhile Brigham Young, with all his associates, had fled once more to the South and the deserted streets of the city were pressed only by the feet of the few and scattered non-"Mormons" who had chosen to remain through all these troubles within the borders of the unhappy Territory.