"We shall behold no more our homes in the village of Grand Pre."
The property which had before escaped the hands of the spoilers was now laid waste on the plea of discouraging the return of the exiles, who, through their blinding tears, saw the land of their homes and their hopes fade from view.
No preparations had been made for their settlement elsewhere; nor did they receive any compensation for their property from which they were forced, or that had been wickedly destroyed. In a starving and penniless state, they were put ashore in small groups at different points along the coast of New England, where many of them perished through the hardships they endured. A pathetic representation of their wrongs was addressed to the English government, and by reference to solemn treaties made between them and the provincial government, they proved their banishment to be "as faithless as it was cruel." "No attention, however," says Marcus Wilson, "was paid to this document, and so guarded a silence was preserved by the government of Nova Scotia upon the subject of the removal of the Acadians, that the records of the province make no allusion whatever to the event."
After the close of the French and Indian war, France ceded all her possessions in Canada to victorious England. The case of the Acadians was again brought before the English government, but no compensation was ever allowed them for the outrages committed against them. The property of which they were ruthlessly plundered was never restored. They were allowed to return to the province, and, on taking the customary oaths, could receive lands; but of the eighteen thousand that were banished, less than two thousand returned:
Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its branches
Dwells another race, with other customs and language.
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic
Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile
Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom.
For such atrocious acts as these, we find no apologist among our historians. On every hand they meet with execration. Such wanton cruelty—such palpable violations of human rights are stains upon the escutcheon of the nation that permits them to be perpetrated within her borders.
It is quite generally supposed that such atrocious crimes as this against the French peasants of Acadia are only to be met with in former ages or among non-Christian countries. But in writing the history of the Rise and Fall of Nauvoo—strange as it may appear, and almost past believing—it is my task to relate events which have taken place in the nineteenth century, in this age of boasted enlightenment and toleration, that shall make the expulsion of the French peasants from Acadia pale in comparison with them; events which have occurred in the United States, the boasted asylum for the oppressed of all nations; events which would be more in keeping with the intolerance of the dark ages and the cruelty of Spain, during the reign of the inquisition, than in this age and in this nation. What events are these that so thunder in the index? Such deeds as outrage humanity, and well-nigh destroy one's confidence in human governments; mock justice; deride the claims of mercy; and pull down the wrath of an offended God upon the people who perform them, and upon the government which allows them to go unwhipped of justice. Listen to the history of the Rise and Fall of Nauvoo.
THE RISE AND FALL OF NAUVOO.
CHAPTER I.
NAUVOO.
THE history of the Rise and Fall of Nauvoo is worthy the attention of the readers of this book because its story is connected with one of the most important religious movements of this or any other age; and with the life and death of one of the world's greatest and most unique characters, the Prophet Joseph Smith. It is worthy of the reader's attention because the religious institution founded under God by this man—the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—survives him, and presents to the world the greatest religious wonder of the age, a right conception of which cannot be formed without a knowledge of this Nauvoo period of the history of The Church; a period which is essentially a formative one, especially in regard to what may be considered the higher and more complex doctrines of Mormonism. It was in Nauvoo that Joseph Smith reached the summit of his remarkable career. It was in Nauvoo he grew bolder in the proclamation of those doctrines which stamp Mormonism as the great religion of the age. It was in Nauvoo that Joseph Smith's life expanded into that eloquent fullness which gives so much promise of what that man will be in eternity. It was in Nauvoo he contended against a world of opposition; against the power of falsehood and misrepresentation; against priestcraft; against corruption in high places; from here he corresponded with statesman, and rebuked demagogues; from here he went to martyrdom—to seal his testimony with his blood. And after his death, it was from here his people fled to the wilderness in the most remarkable exodus of modern times. The Church fled into the wilderness—not, however to be hidden from the world, but to be lifted up on high as an ensign to the nations, to be as a city sitting upon a hill that cannot be hid, but on the contrary, from its lofty eminence challenges the attention of the world. In Illinois, as in Missouri, the religious toleration guaranteed in the Constitutions of both the State of Illinois and of the United States—religious toleration, at once the boast and pride of Americans, and also the test of true enlightenment and the highest civilization—this vaunted toleration was in Nauvoo put to the test and found wanting. That is, before the exodus of The Church from Nauvoo, it became evident that a people accepting what to their neighbors was a singular faith, and one that was unpopular withal, could not live in peace among their fellow-citizens of other faiths, and hence the exodus, not only from Nauvoo but from the entire State of Illinois and also from the United States. The Latter-day Saints, in a word, were expatriated from the United States,[1] and sought an asylum in the wilderness, and among tribes of savages. From whence, after half a century, that same Church emerges, enlarged, prosperous, more firmly rooted in safety and in strength of faith than ever before—a greater enigma to the religious world than when it made its exodus from Illinois.
All these things have a relation to Nauvoo, for The Church had a sort of second birth there, which makes the Rise and Fall of Nauvoo a theme of peculiar interest to those interested in what the world calls Mormonism, and who is not or should not be interested in a religious movement of such proportions, of such pretensions and of such achievements in the face of such opposition as it has met? * * * * * *
Nauvoo, then, its rise and its fall, is to be the subject of my discourse. The word Nauvoo comes from the Hebrew, and signifies beautiful situation; "carrying with it also," says the prophet Joseph Smith, "the idea of rest." And, indeed, the location of the city is beautiful. No sooner does one come in view of it than he exclaims, "It is rightly named!" The city, or at least the marred remains of it, stands on a bold point around which sweeps the placid yet majestic "Father of Waters"—the Mississippi. The city is at least half encircled by that noble stream. From its banks the ground rises gradually for at least a mile where it reaches the common level of the prairie that stretches out to the eastward, farther than the eye can reach, in a beautifully undulating surface, once covered by a luxuriant growth of natural grasses and wild flowers, with here and there patches of timber; but now chequered with meadows, and, at the time of my visit, in 1885, with fields of waving corn.
Opposite Nauvoo, on the west bank of the river, the bluffs rise rather abruptly, almost from the water's edge, and are covered, for the most part, with a fine growth of timber. Nestling at the foot of one of the highest of these bluffs, and immediately on the bank of the river, is the little village of Montrose, to which I shall have occasion to refer in these pages. Back of these bluffs before mentioned, roll off the alternate prairie and woodlands of Iowa. Between Montrose and Nauvoo, and perhaps two thirds of the distance across the river from the Illinois side, is an island, from three-fourths of a mile to a mile in length, and from fifty to one or two hundred yards in width, having