The President Elect: Book Three – General Joseph Smith

Joseph Smith

The President Elect

Book Three: The General

Copyright 2013 Kurt F. Kammeyer

Smashwords Edition

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Introduction

This is a book about what might have been. Nearly all the characters depicted in this book were real people, and their actual histories are a matter of record. There are only a very few instances where the characters are completely fictitious. Since I am dealing with real people, I have tried to respect the memory of the many greats and not-so-greats mentioned in this novel. The actual heroes, for the most part, remain heroes, and the villains are still villains.

Most of the scenes in this book are based on real events that took place in America around the years 1844-1845. However, in many cases the dates have been changed to improve the flow of the narrative. In some cases, actual statements made by one person are quoted by another. For example, in a few places Joseph Smith says things which in reality were said by Brigham Young or others. The recurring theme of this book, so to speak, might be: History precedes itself.

This book uses an entirely different approach than any previously used by LDS authors who have written about Joseph Smith. Instead of just fictionalizing the Prophet’s short life, I have extended his life into a work of fiction that explores what could very well have happened, if only he had survived Carthage.

Since the 1930s a discipline has grown up under the name of Counterfactual History – the study of what might have been, if only small events were changed at certain key turning points in history. What if Hitler had repulsed the Normandy invasion? What if William the Conqueror had lost the Battle of Hastings? What if Annie Oakley had missed her shot and killed Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1889, when he challenged her to shoot a lighted cigar from between his teeth? In my estimation, Joseph and Hyrum Smith’s presence in Carthage Jail was just such a turning point in history. I have no doubt that if they had survived, our nation and the world would be a very different place today.

I have gone to great lengths to make this book as true to life as possible. In particular, I have tried to make these people speak and sound the way they actually did in 1840s America. A quotation from Mark Twain in his introduction to Huck Finn best says what I have attempted:

In this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Missouri Negro dialect; the extremest form of the backwoods Southwestern dialect; the ordinary Pike County dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech.

I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.

(Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)

Would that I were as conversant with these dialects as Mark Twain was! In addition to some of the dialects he mentioned, I have sometimes made use of the broadest, most flap-jawed southern patois of all, as found in the writings of Sut Lovingood (George Washington Harris), a contemporary and inspiration to Mark Twain.

Many of the early leaders of the Church came from New England, including Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, and they no doubt spoke with a rather strong West New England twang which I have not attempted to imitate here. However, I have tried to mimic the following accents, with varying degrees of success: Southern English, Irish, Cockney, Welsh, Yorkshire/Cumbrian, Yiddish, German, and French. The accents of persons such as William Clayton, Charles Lambert, and Dan Jones were not written haphazardly, but are based on their place of origin in the British Isles.

Writing in dialect is an imprecise business at best, and the overusage of it can get in the way of the narrative. After awhile, the many dropped h’s and apostrophes can become a liability. Unfortunately, there are simply not enough letters in the alphabet to portray the subtle nuances of all the English dialects used here. I found that certain dialects were fairly easy to render (Welsh, Cumbrian), while others were nearly impossible (Received Southern Pronunciation, the Queen’s English). Unless you have actually heard a Yorkie or a Lankie’s speech patterns, much of the effect of this dialect may be lost on you. Also, the use of written dialect can mislead us into thinking that the less proper (i.e., 21st century American-sounding) a person’s speech was, the less educated they were. While this is certainly true of some of the characters in this book (Prudence Bigelow, for instance), it was not generally the case, then or now.

As a final check on the accuracy of this book, I have carefully compared it against Webster’s 1828 Dictionary, in order to weed out any 21st-century anachronisms. Whether these efforts have made this a better yarn, I shall leave to the reader to decide.

To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever succeeded in fictionalizing Joseph Smith’s life while still respecting his character. How could they? To the non-Mormons, he was and is a complete mystery. At the other end of the spectrum, Latter-day Saint authors tend to treat him with such reverence (and rightly so) that it is well-nigh impossible to explore his true personality.

Those who have written about Joseph Smith – and they are legion – have generally used two approaches. They either turn him into something he was not (a charlatan, a clever but lazy oaf, or a modern Mahomet) or, if they are more honest, they simply write around him. In the latter category are several extremely popular series written recently by Latter-day Saint authors, which I would prefer not to mention here by name.

No novel about Joseph Smith can surpass the true history of his life. As he said of himself,

You don’t know me; you never knew my heart. No man knows my history. I cannot tell it; I shall never undertake it. I don’t blame any one for not believing my history. If I had not experienced what I have, I would not have believed it myself.

Since this book is an historical extrapolation, no one should assume that it represents the official views of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed here are solely my own. I have tried to tread lightly when it comes to Church doctrine or sacred matters, and I have relied heavily on historical records concerning polygamy, the Nauvoo temple, Church organization, Joseph Smith’s campaign for President, and slavery. In addition, most of the miracles portrayed here are based on historical accounts – they actually happened.

The first chapter of this book is a meticulously accurate depiction of the actual events leading up to the instant of the martyrdom. As near as we can tell from the many written accounts, it really happened this way. After that, all kinds of amazing alternate timelines unfold, as Joseph Smith pursues his campaign for the Presidency.

For the record, these are the historical facts: Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were incarcerated in Carthage Jail, Illinois, where on June 27th 1844, they were both killed by an armed mob. John Taylor was severely wounded in the attack; Willard Richards escaped with just a nick on his left ear. The campaign to elect Joseph Smith President of the United States died with him. In February of 1846, Brigham Young led the first company of Saints out of Nauvoo, and in 1847 the first pioneer company made the long journey to the Valley of the Great Salt Lake. The rest, as they say, is history...

Kurt F. Kammeyer

CHAPTER 33

WASHINGTON, Saturday, February 1 1845

The Mormon Battalion finally arrived in Washington. Major Lyman Wight and his men debarked from the train at the northwest end of Pennsylvania Avenue, then they marched proudly down the Avenue to 17th Street, just outside the War Department building. The musicians struck up a well-known hymn, the soldiers picked up the tune, and in a moment Joseph Smith poked his head out of an upper window.

When Joseph his brethren beheld,

Afflicted and trembling with fear,

His heart with compassion was fill’d,

From weeping he could not forbear.

By the fourth verse Joseph was out in the street, striking hands with his brethren and singing right along with them.

I am Joseph, your brother, he said,

"And still to my heart you are dear;

You sold me, and thought I was dead,

But God, for your sakes, sent me here."

Lyman Wight folded Joseph in a bear hug, then he saluted him.

All present and accounted for, sir! Five companies, seventy-five officers and 435 enlisted men, as you ordered!

Joseph wiped a tear from his eye. Well done, men! I feel like Helaman of old, with his two thousand stripling warriors! I feel inspired to promise you in the name of the Lord, that if you will keep your covenants, remain faithful to the gospel, and obey your officers, that not one of you shall fall in battle.

NAUVOO, Sunday, February 2

Hosea, Jessie, Chism and Harriot finally reached Nauvoo. Hosea arranged for the other three to stay for the time being at the Mansion, which was under the management of Ebenezer Robinson while Joseph Smith was away. Then he wearily made his way up Main Street to his own home, wife, and family. Louisa was suffering from the asthma, but she ran to the door and threw her arms around him.

Oh, Hosea, I missed you so much! she cried. Promise me, you’ll never, ever leave us again!

NORFOLK, Monday, February 3

General Scott’s Army of the South embarked from Norfolk aboard the same warships and transports that had carried them to Baltimore, under the command of Commodore Matthew Perry. The dress rehearsal in Baltimore had served the General well. He now had a small but well-disciplined army with experience in amphibious assaults, which was exactly what he needed for an attack on the relatively isolated town of Port Royal, South Carolina. From there, he planned to strike inland towards the State Capital at Columbia and quickly end the conflict.

Also embarking with the army was Lieutenant General Joseph Smith, Commander in Chief of the United States Army. At a meeting earlier in the day at the Executive Mansion, Joseph had discussed his plans with the Executive Committee. Henry Clay and George Dallas had argued strenuously against his going, on several counts.

General Scott is fully capable o’ carryin’ out this mission, Clay argued. An’ you, Mr. Smith, ah’ a ‘paper’ general, with no field experience!

Joseph bristled at this insult.

On the contrary, I have commanded field militias in Ohio, Missouri, and Illinois. General Scott will still have overall command of the campaign, but I strongly feel that this is something I must do. This land hasn’t had a prophet-general for many centuries now, and if ever there was a time when we needed the Lord’s guidance, it is now.

After the meeting had broken up, James Polk turned to Henry Clay and said,

He’s completely mad, you know.

Yes, quite... a fit subject fo’ Bedlam, Clay replied. We must rid ou’selves of him, at the earliest oppo’tunity.

Couldn’t you simply ship him to Liberia?

Shore, an’ then what? He draws follerers like flies to molasses. ‘Fore you knowed it, he’d be singin’ ‘Go down Moses’ to ever’ black boy in Africa an’ America to boot.

CHATTANOOGA, Tuesday, February 4

General Kearny’s Army of the West was camped just to the east of Chattanooga.

Private Charles Davenport wrote the following letter to his wife in Nauvoo:

Near Chattanooga, Tennessee

February the 4th, 1845

My Dearest Sarah,

If it seems I have been remiss in writing to you, it is only due to a lack of opportunity these past few weeks. Would that I could write to you every day! We were first crammed aboard steamboats for a week, with scarcely room to stretch out and sleep. These past few days we have been continually marching, only God knows where to. I have learnt that armies are more or less the same, no matter the insignia – the mud, the senseless commands, and the complaints know no borders. The British army is perhaps more disciplined, but these American chaps have more than enough élan to make up for their lack of spit and polish. Our General treats us respectably.

We landed a few days ago near a town called Chattanooga. There, we met our first opposition from Rebel forces who were stationed on the top of Lookout Mountain. A rifle company from Springfield distinguished themselves most nobly as they fought their way to the summit of this mountain, from the top of which the entire Tennessee Valley below may easily be commanded.

We had a battle yesterday at a place they call Chickamauga – these American chaps have such outlandish names for places! We are fortunate that the rebels have as yet been unable to muster a force sufficient to slow our advance. The Georgian rebels we defeated at this place are under the command of a Major Albert Sidney Johnston, as I understand.

You must pardon my hen-scratches, but I am perched on a stump, writing this letter on my knee. If my ink continues to bleed through this paper, so much the better, I shall have a permanent copy of this letter tattooed on my thigh to remember you by. I am,

Your Loving Husband,

Charles Davenport

On this day, General Winfield Scott’s Army of the South rounded Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.

NAUVOO, Tuesday, February 4

Late in the day, Hosea Stout and Jessie Frémont met with Brigham Young at his home. They were surprised to find that William Clayton and Porter Rockwell were also there.

We left Washington nobbut a few days after ye, wi’ th’ copy o’ Captain Frémont’s manuscript, William said. We took th’ northern route, up th’ Hudson River an’ across th’ Great Lakes. T’was surprisin’ ta me, but th’ weather, ‘twas mild most o’ the way an’ the lakes, they warn’t frozen o’er. I arrived aboot ten days ago wi’ th’ copy o’ yair husband’s manuscript, Mrs. Frémont.

Brigham Young put his hand out to take the leather-bound manuscript, but William instead handed it to Jessie, who held it close.

Thank you, Mista’ Clayton, she said softly. You have no idea what this means to me.

Brigham Young harumphed and withdrew his hand, then he turned back to face Hosea.

I hear tell you and your companions had quite an adventure getting here. Please, tell me about it.

Hosea and Jessie alternated telling bits and pieces of the tale; of how Joseph had requested a copy of the manuscript, and the miraculous way Hosea had obtained it; of the freeing of Chism, and their departure from Washington; of the incident aboard the General Brooke and the death of Lily. Brigham was quite moved and shed tears as Hosea recounted their cruel treatment by the soldiers. Hosea decided to omit telling of their visit to Jessie’s mother in Palmyra, as it was still painfully fresh in Jessie’s memory.

When they had finished, Brigham leaned back in his chair and looked at the two of them.

And now, Brother Stout, what are your intentions? Brigham said with a faint smile.

Intentions? I, ah, I don’t know, Hosea stammered. I had thought to enlist in the army, but they left without me. If my old policeman’s job is still available...

I withdraw the question, Brigham said diplomatically. But the city does need policing, and I may have a special assignment for you in a few weeks besides. In the mean time, I believe you have a family to take care of.

That I do, Hosea said with relief. Thank you, President Young.

As they departed, Jessie turned to Hosea and asked,

Hosea, just what did Mista’ Young mean ba’ that question, ‘What are yo’ intentions?’

I, ah, I don’t really know, Hosea stammered. Good day, Jessie. He turned away from her, red-faced, and headed up Granger Street.

CHARLESTON, Thursday, February 6

The Army of the South passed Charleston, South Carolina. As the flotilla sailed south past Folly Island, General Scott gazed north through his spyglass at the fortifications surrounding Charleston’s harbor. He studied Fort Moultrie for a long time, then he growled,

Don’t get your hopes up, Calhoun. Your home town is on our list after Port Royal. If we can bag you here, we might not even need to move against Columbia.

CHATTANOOGA, Thursday, February 6

The Army of the West continued to advance with little opposition in a southeasterly direction from Chattanooga. General Kearny quickly made good use of the nearly completed Western and Atlantic Railroad, which stretched from Chattanooga south to the town of Marthasville on the Chattahoochee River. The railroad soon became a lifeline supplying him with men, food and equipment.

General Doniphan and his Army of Observation departed New Orleans for Texas.

NAUVOO, Friday, February 7

In the afternoon Jessie carded wool at the Mansion with her newfound friends, Eliza R. Snow and Mary Elizabeth Lightner. As she tugged at a skein of coarse gray wool with her carding comb, the other women inquired politely about her.

Ah was born in Levington, Virginia in 1824, she said. Ma father was already a senator fro’ Missouri since 1821, just a year after it became a state. Ah ‘member growin’ up on his plantation in Palmyra, and oh, what a splendid time it was to be alive! Then the troubles began. Ah recall the endless stream of Mormons crossing the river in thirty-nine, fleeing the persecutions. It must’a touched me somehow, otherwise ah prob’ly wouldn’t be here today.

Yes, we all lived through that dreadful scene, said Mary Elizabeth, pulling at her comb. We only hope that such awful times ne’er come again.

Jessie told them about her experiences with Hosea and the others on their way to Nauvoo, including the death of her daughter Lily. Then she said earnestly,

Miss Snow – Eliza, why is it that folks seem to despise you Mormons so? You seem like fairly respectable folk to me.

Eliza said, That’s a complicated question, Jessie, with many answers. The Latter-day Saints believe passionately in something unique and precious, and we are a different sort of people. Some folks just can’t abide the idea of someone being different from them, so they persecute us for it. I think that’s the general reply.

Ah see... said Jessie. Ah now know from experience that you don’t even have to be a Mormon to suffer like them, you only have to take sides with them.

The women resumed their carding. Presently Jessie asked slyly,

So, what ah your stations in life, Eliza, Mary? Ah’ you betrothed, or have you at least taken a bead on some eligible bachelors in Nauvoo?

Mary Elizabeth paused, then she looked at Eliza, who nodded slightly.

We’re already married, Jessie, Mary Elizabeth said softly. That is why we’re living in the Mansion here. We’re married to Joseph Smith. This is his house.

Jessie was taken aback. You – that is, you mean, both of you? You’re both married to him? Then it’s true, what ah’ve heard about polygamy?

I’ll wager that what you’ve heard is nowhere near the truth, said Eliza.

Jessie stammered. Well ah... that is... ah... No, ah suppose not... Is this practice common among all Mormons?

No, not many. But it is a principle of our religion, and perfectly legal under the laws of our nation.

Jessie pondered this for a moment, then she exclaimed,

But how could two women share one man? Ah could never share Mr. Frémont with another woman, leastways what little there was of him to share! What a peculiar custom! she pouted.

Mary Elizabeth said, Yes, it does get complicated... Sister Snow here is ‘sealed’ to Joseph Smith for time and all eternity – that is, for this life and the next. I am sealed to him only for eternity, that is, I am not his yet, but I will be his in the afterlife. For the present, I am married to Adam Lightner.

Jessie looked completely baffled.

Indeed, we are a peculiar people, Eliza said, smiling at her. You don’t know the half of it yet. Suffice it to say, the New and Everlasting Covenant of Marriage has been the greatest blessing of my life.

She turned and looked Jessie squarely in the eyes.

"Jessie, listen carefully to me. I know not why the Lord has brought you here, but I know it is for some wise purpose. I sense that you are drawn to this people, but you don’t know why. If you decide to put in your shovel with the Latter-day Saints, you can’t do it halfway. You must go the whole way, or none at all. There is no middle ground. Do you understand?"

Yes, ah, ah think so... Jessie stammered. This is not an easy decision fo’ me to make. But ah feel ah must make it soon, one way or t’other.

PORT ROYAL, Friday, February 7

The Union assault on Port Royal began at first dawn. General Winfield Scott had a combined force of about four thousand soldiers and Marines at his