Mormon Literature Sampler:
The Martyrdom: June 27, 1844
John Taylor
I do not remember the names of all who were with us that night and
the next morning in jail, for several went and came; among those that
we considered stationary were Stephen Markham, John S. Fullmer,
Captain Dan Jones, Dr. Willard Richards, and myself. Dr. Bernhisel
says that he was there from Wednesday in the afternoon until eleven
o'clock next day. We were, however, visited by numerous friends, among
whom were Uncle John Smith, Hiram Kimball, Cyrus H. Wheelock, besides
lawyers, as counsel. There was also a great variety of conversation,
which was rather desultory than otherwise, and referred to
circumstances that had transpired, our former and present grievances,
the spirit of the troops around us, and the disposition of the
governor; the devising for legal and other plans for deliverance, the
nature of testimony required; the gathering of proper witnesses, and a
variety of other topics, including our religious hopes, etc.
During one of these conversations Dr. Richards remarked: "Brother
Joseph, if it is necessary that you die in this matter, and if they
will take me in your stead, I will suffer for you." At another time,
when conversing about deliverance, I said, "Brother Joseph, if you
will permit it, and say the word, I will have you out of this prison
in five hours, if the jail has to come down to do it." My idea was to
go to Nauvoo, and collect a force sufficient, as I considered the
whole affair a legal farce, and a flagrant outrage upon our liberty
and rights. Brother Joseph refused.
Elder Cyrus H. Wheelock came in to see us, and when he was about
leaving, drew a small pistol, a six-shooter, from his pocket,
remarking at the same time, "Would any of you like to have this?"
Brother Joseph immediately replied, "Yes, give it to me," whereupon he
took the pistol, and put it in his pantaloons pocket. The pistol was a
six-shooting revolver, of Allen's patent; it belonged to me, and was
one that I furnished to Brother Wheelock when he talked of going with
me to the east, previous to our coming to Carthage. I have it now in
my possession. Brother Wheelock went out on some errand, and was not
suffered to return. The report of the governor having gone to Nauvoo
without taking the prisoners along with him caused very unpleasant
feelings, as we were apprised that we were left to the tender mercies
of the Carthage Greys, a company strictly mobocratic, and whom we knew
to be our most deadly enemies; and their captain, Esquire (Robert F.)
Smith, was a most unprincipled villain. Besides this, all the mob
forces, comprising the governor's troops, were dismissed, with the
exception of one or two companies, which the governor took with him to
Nauvoo. The great part of the mob was liberated, the remainder was our
guard.
We looked upon it not only as a breach of faith on the part of the
governor, but also as an indication of a desire to insult us, if
nothing more, by leaving us in the proximity of such men. The
prevention of Wheelock's return was among the first of their hostile
movements.
Colonel Markham went out, and he was also prevented from returning.
He was very angry at this, but the mob paid no attention to him. They
drove him out of town at the point of the bayonet, and threatened to
shoot him if he returned. He went, I am informed, to Nauvoo for the
purpose of raising a company of men for our protection. Brother
Fullmer went to Nauvoo after witnesses. It is my opinion that Brother
Wheelock did also....We all of us felt unusually dull and languid,
with a remarkable depression of spirits. In consonance with those
feelings, I sang a song, that had lately been introduced into Nauvoo,
entitled, "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief," etc.
The song is pathetic, and the tune quite plaintive, and was very
much in accordance with our feelings at the time, for our spirits were
all depressed, dull, and gloomy, and surcharged with indefinite
ominous forebodings. After a lapse of some time, Brother Hyrum
requested me again to sing that song. I replied, "Brother Hyrum, I do
not feel like singing;" when he remarked, "Oh, never mind; commence
singing, and you will get the spirit of it." At his request I did so.
Soon afterwards I was sitting at one of the front windows of the jail,
when I saw a number of men, with painted faces, coming around the
corner of the jail, and aiming towards the stairs. The other brethren
had seen the same, for, as I went to the door, I found Brother Hyrum
Smith and Dr. Richards already leaning against it. They both pressed
against the door with their shoulders to prevent its being opened, as
the lock and latch were comparatively useless. While in this position,
the mob, who had come upstairs and tried to open the door, probably
thought it was locked and fired a ball through the keyhole. At this
Dr. Richards and Brother Hyrum leaped back from the door, with their
faces towards it. Almost instantly another ball passed through the
panel of the door, and struck Brother Hyrum on the left side of the
nose, entering his face and head. At the same instant, another ball
from outside entered his back, passing through his body and striking
his watch. The ball came from the back, through the jail window,
opposite the door, and must, from its range, have been fired from the
Carthage Greys, who were placed there ostensibly for our protection,
as the balls from the firearms, shot close by the jail, would have
entered the ceiling, we being in the second story, and there never was
a time after that when Hyrum could have received the latter wound.
Immediately, when the ball struck him, he fell flat on his back,
crying as he fell, "I am a dead man!" He never moved afterwards.
I shall never forget the deep feeling of sympathy and regard
manifested in the countenance of Brother Joseph as he drew nigh to
Hyrum, and, leaning over him, exclaimed, "Oh! my poor, dear brother
Hyrum!" He, however, instantly arose, and with a firm, quick step, and
a determined expression of countenance, approached the door, and
pulling the six-shooter left by Brother Wheelock from his pocket,
opened the door slightly, and snapped the pistol six successive times.
Only three of the barrels, however, were discharged. I afterwards
understood that two or three were wounded by these discharges, two of
whom, I am informed, died. I had in my hands a large, strong hickory
stick, brought there by Brother Markham and left by him, which I had
seized as soon as I saw the mob approach; and while Brother Joseph was
firing the pistol, I stood close behind him. As soon as he had
discharged it he stepped back, and I immediately took his place next
to the door, while he occupied the one I had done while he was
shooting. Brother Richards, at this time, had a knotty walking-stick
in his hands belonging to me, and stood next to Brother Joseph a
little farther from the door, in an oblique direction, apparently to
avoid the rake of the fire from the door. The firing of Brother Joseph
made our assailants pause for a moment. Very soon after, however, they
pushed the door some distance open, and protruded and discharged their
guns into the room, when I parried them off with my stick, giving
another direction to the balls.
It certainly was a terrible scene. Streams of fire as thick as my
arm passed by me as these men fired, and, unarmed as we were, it
looked like certain death. I remember feeling as though my time had
come, but I do not know when, in any critical position, I was more
calm, unruffled, energetic, and acted with more promptness and
decision. It certainly was far from pleasant to be so near the muzzles
of those firearms as they belched forth their liquid flames and deadly
balls. While I was engaged in parrying the guns, Brother Joseph said,
"That's right, Brother Taylor, parry them off as well as you can."
These were the last words I ever heard him speak on earth.
Every moment the crowd at the door became more dense, as they were
unquestionably pressed on by those in the rear ascending the stairs,
until the whole entrance at the door was literally crowded with
muskets and rifles, which, with the swearing, shouting, and demoniacal
expressions of those outside the door and on the stairs, and the
firing of the guns, mingled with their horrid oaths and execrations,
made it look like pandemonium let loose, and was, indeed, a fit
representation of the horrid deed in which they were engaged.
After parrying the guns for some time, which now protruded farther
and farther into the room, and seeing no hope of escape or protection
there, as we were now unarmed, it occurred to me that we might have
some friends outside, and that there might be some chance of escape in
that direction, but here there seemed to be none. As I expected them
every moment to rush into the room nothing but extreme cowardice
having thus far kept them out as the tumult and pressure increased,
without any other hope, I made a spring for the window which was right
in front of the jail door, where the mob was standing, and also
exposed to the fire of the Carthage Greys, who were stationed some ten
or twelve rods off. The weather was hot; we all of us had our coats
off, and the window was raised to admit air. As I reached the window,
and was on the point of leaping out, I was struck by a ball from the
door about midway of my thigh, which struck the bone and flattened out
almost to the size of a quarter of a dollar, and then passed on
through the fleshy part to within about half an inch of the outside. I
think some prominent nerve must have been severed or injured, for as
soon as the ball struck me, I fell like a bird when shot, or an ox
when struck by a butcher, and lost entirely and instantaneously all
power of action or locomotion. I fell upon the window sill, and cried
out, "I am shot!" Not possessing any power to move, I felt myself
falling outside of the window, but immediately I fell inside, from
some, at that time, unknown cause. When I struck the floor, my
animation seemed restored, as I have seen it sometimes in squirrels
and birds after being shot. As soon as I felt the power of motion I
crawled under the bed, which was in the corner of the room, not far
from the window where I received my wound. While on my way and under
the bed, I was wounded in three other places; one ball entered a
little below the left knee, and never was extracted; another entered
the forepart of my left arm, a little above the wrist, and, passing
down by the joint, lodged in the fleshy part of my hand, about midway,
a little above the upper joint of my little finger. Another struck me
on the fleshy part of my left hip and tore away the flesh as large as
my hand, dashing the mangled fragments of flesh and blood against the
wall.
My wounds were painful, and the sensation produced was as though a
ball had passed through and down the whole length of my leg. l very
well remember my reflections at the time. I had a very painful idea of
becoming lame and decrepit, and being an object of pity, and I felt as
though I would rather die than be placed in such circumstances.
It would seem that immediately after my attempt to leap out of the
window, Joseph also did the same thing, of which circumstance I have
no knowledge only from information. The first thing that I noticed was
a cry that he had leaped out of the window. A cessation of firing
followed, the mob rushed downstairs, and Dr. Richards went to the
window. Immediately afterward I saw the doctor going towards the jail
door, and as there was an iron door at the head of the stairs
adjoining our door which led into the cells for criminals, it struck
me that the doctor was going in there, and I said to him, "Stop,
Doctor, and take me along." He proceeded to the door and opened it,
and then returned and dragged me along to a small cell prepared for
criminals.
Brother Richards was very much troubled, and exclaimed, "Oh!
Brother Taylor, is it possible that they have killed both Brother
Hyrum and Joseph? It cannot surely be, and yet I saw them shoot them;"
and elevating his hands two or three times, he exclaimed, "Oh Lord, my
God, spare Thy servants!" He then said, "Brother Taylor, this is a
terrible event;" and he dragged me farther into the cell, saying, "I
am sorry I can not do better for you;" and, taking an old, filthy
mattress, he covered me with it, and said, "That may hide you, and you
may yet live to tell the tale, but I expect they will kill me in a few
moments!" While lying in this position, I suffered the most
excruciating pain.
Soon afterwards Dr. Richards came to me, informed me that the mob
had precipitately fled, and at the same time confirmed the worst fears
that Joseph was assuredly dead. I felt a dull, lonely, sickening
sensation at the news. When I reflected that our noble chieftain, the
Prophet of the living God, had fallen, and that I had seen his brother
in the cold embrace of death, it seemed as though there was a void or
vacuum in the great field of human existence to me, and a dark gloomy
chasm in the kingdom, and that we were left alone. Oh, how lonely was
that feeling! How cold, barren, and desolate! In the midst of
difficulties he was always the first in motion; in critical positions
his counsel was always sought. As our prophet he approached our God,
and obtained for us his will; but now our prophet, our counselor, our
general, our leader, was gone, and amid the fiery ordeal that we then
bad to pass through, we were left alone without his aid, and as our
future guide for things spiritual or temporal, and for all things
pertaining to this world, or the next, he had spoken for the last time
on earth.
These reflections and a thousand others flashed upon my mind. I
thought, why must God's nobility, the salt of the earth, the most
exalted of the human family, and the most perfect types of all
excellence, fall victims to the cruel, fiendish hate of incarnate
devils?
The poignancy of my grief, I presume, however, was somewhat allayed
by the extreme suffering that I endured from my wounds.
Soon afterwards I was taken to the head of the stairs and laid
there, where I had a full view of our beloved and now murdered
brother, Hyrum. There he lay as I had left him; he had not moved a
limb; he lay placid and calm, a monument of greatness even in death;
but his noble spirit had left its tenement, and was gone to dwell in
regions more congenial to his exalted nature. Poor Hyrum! He was a
great and good man, and my soul was cemented to his. If ever there was
an exemplary, honest, and virtuous man, an embodiment of all that is
noble in the human form, Hyrum Smith was its representative.
While I lay there, a number of persons came around, among whom was
a physician. The doctor, on seeing a ball lodged in my left hand, took
a penknife from his pocket and made an incision in it for the purpose
of extracting the ball therefrom, and having obtained a pair of
carpenter's compasses, made use of them to draw or pry out the ball,
alternately using the penknife and compasses. After sawing for some
time with a dull penknife, and prying and pulling with the compasses,
he ultimately succeeded in extracting the ball, which weighed about
half an ounce. Some time afterwards he remarked to a friend of mine
that I had "nerves like the devil" to stand what I did in its
extraction. I really thought I had need of nerves to stand such
surgical butchery, and that, whatever my nerves may be, his practice
was devilish.
This company wished to remove me to Mr. Hamilton's hotel, the place
where we had stayed previous to our incarceration in jail. I told
them, however, that I did not wish to go. I did not consider it safe.
They protested that it was, and that I was safe with them; that it was
a perfect outrage for men to be used as we had been; that they were my
friends; that I could be better taken care of there than here.
I replied, "l don't know you. Whom am I among? I am surrounded by
assassins and murderers; witness your deeds. Don't talk to me of
kindness or comfort; look at your murdered victims. Look at me! I want
none of your counsel nor comfort. There may be some safety here; I can
be assured of none anywhere, etc."
They G---- d---- their souls to hell, made the most solemn
asseverations, and swore by God and the devil, and everything else
that they could think of, that they would stand by me to death and
protect me. In half an hour every one of them fled from the town.
Soon after a coroner's jury were assembled in the room over the
body of Hyrum. Among the jurors was Captain Smith of the "Carthage
Greys" who had assisted in the murder, and the same justice before
whom we had been tried. I learned of Francis Higbee as being in the
neighborhood. On hearing his name mentioned, I immediately arose and
said, "Captain Smith, you are a justice of the peace; I have heard his
name mentioned; I want to swear my life against him." I was informed
that word was immediately sent to him to leave the place, which he
did.
Brother Richards was busy during this time attending to the
coroner's inquest, and to the removal of the bodies, and making
arrangements for their removal from Carthage to Nauvoo.
When he had a little leisure, he again came to me, and at his
suggestion I was removed to Hamilton's tavern. I felt that he was the
only friend, the only person, that I could rely upon in that town. It
was with difficulty that sufficient persons could be found to carry me
to the tavern, for immediately after the murder a great fear fell upon
all the people, and men, women, and children fled with great
precipitation, leaving nothing nor anybody in the town but two or
three women and children and one or two sick persons.
*John Taylor (1808-87) was third president of The Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints. Born in Milnthorpe, Westmoreland,
England, Taylor emigrated to the United States in 1828 or 1829. A
fervent Methodist, Taylor heard of Mormonism from Parley P. Pratt. He
and a number of his friends were baptized in 1836. Ordained an apostle
in 1838, he fulfilled a mission in England (1838-41), then returned to
edit the Times and Seasons and the Nauvoo Neighbor. A
staunch defender of Joseph Smith, Taylor was with the Smiths at the
time of their deaths in Carthage Jail. It was Taylor who sang, on the
request of Hyrum Smith, "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief" moments before
the mob arrived. After fulfilling missions to England, France,
Germany, and other European countries, Taylor became active in the
territorial legislature. He presided over the Church in the eastern
states, where he published The Mormon, a newspaper advocating
the Mormon cause against a hostile government. After the death of
Brigham Young, this poet and hymnist became the third president of the
Church, presiding from 1880 until his death in 1887, at which time he
was a fugitive from government officials who desired to bring him to
trial for violation of the Edmunds-Tucker Act.
This account can be found in HC, 7:99-108.
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