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Wife No. 19

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Wife No. 19
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Author(s): Ann Eliza Young
Date Published: 2010/08
Page Count: 472
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-271-0
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-272-7

A campaigner for women's rights

This is a remarkable and controversial book by any standards. The verdict is still out on whether its author Ann Eliza Young (formerly Webb) presented her case with complete impartiality, but certainly its contents are sufficiently detailed to reveal shocking and extraordinary details of her experiences during her time as a pluralist wife of Brigham Young of the Latter-Day Saints. A child of Mormon parents, Ann entered into her marriage with Young when he was 67 years old and she was 24, a divorcee and the mother of two children. Her writings on her experiences of the Mormon lifestyle in Utah make gripping reading and her book is filled with accounts of privation, cruelty and violence. She filed for divorce from Brigham Young in 1873 and went on to become an outspoken advocate for the rights of women in 19th century America and an ardent and campaigning opponent of polygamous marriage. This book is her account of her life as one of Young's wives and on its original publication propelled Ann into the public arena and became a best seller of its day. It still makes compelling reading. Available in softcover and hardcover for collectors.

The morning of the 17th of September dawned. The hearts of all the doomed party were sick with deferred hope. Suddenly a cry of relief broke from the corral. A wagon, filled with white men, bearing a white flag, was seen coming down the Meadows. Succour was at hand. Their terrible tortures were over. Strong men wept like children at the thought that their beloved ones, for whom they had agonized through all those dreary days and nights of siege, were safe at last.<br>
The deliverers were none other than John D. Lee and the officers of the Mormon militia. Immediately upon their appearance the “Indians” ceased firing, and, in their fancied security, the besieged emigrants rushed outside the corral to meet their rescuers. How their hearts warmed towards Brigham Young and the Mormon people. All the wrongs they had suffered at their hands dwindled into insignificance before this last crowning act of humanity. Into the sympathizing ears of their saviours they poured the terrible story of their sufferings. Lee is said to have wept while listening to the recital, and, at the end, assured them of his deep sympathy, and promised all the relief in his power.<br>
How much he would be able to do for them he was unable to say until he had consulted with the Indians, and he went back, and pretended to hold a consultation. The people were sure he could save them, since he was Indian agent, and must necessarily have much influence over them, and their joy was unspeakable. He soon returned with the welcome news that they were free, but on condition that they would lay aside their arms. There was no thought of treachery in their hearts, and, without a moment’s hesitation, they complied with the strange conditions. They laid aside their trusty rifles, that had stood them in such good stead during all the days of the siege; they gave up revolvers and bowie-knives, faithful companions on their dreary journey, and came forth from their intrenchments unarmed, and as defenceless as the children themselves.<br>
As they issued from the corral a guard of soldiers was drawn up to escort them to a place of safety. The men were separated from the women and children, and were placed in front, while the latter were in the rear. It seems almost strange that no suspicion of their deliverers entered their minds at this. But why should even curiosity be aroused? The white flag was waving over their heads, and they were under the protection of United States militia. Where that flag waved, they were safe and free.<br>
Notwithstanding their exhaustion, and their weakness from hunger, they marched joyously along, exulting in their regained freedom, when suddenly the troops halted, and the fatal order to fire was given by Lee, and repeated down the line by all the under officers. In an instant it flashed across the helpless victims how cruelly they had been betrayed, and, with shrieks of the wildest agony, they fell bleeding to the earth. Young and old shared the same fate. Gray-haired men and beardless boys were alike cut down. The Indians, who were ambushed nearby, joined the Mormons in the work of slaughter, until not one of all the men was left.<br>
And what of the helpless women and children? All the womanhood within revolts at the thought of their horrible fate, and my woman’s soul cries out in agony at the recital of the sufferings of these helpless ones. Some of them were killed by their husbands, fathers, or brothers,—happy souls, who thus escaped the most cruel torture. Death was nothing, compared to the fiendish brutalities which they suffered before they were allowed to die. Some of the women were too ill to walk. They were taken outside the corral, driven up to the scene of the massacre, stripped of their clothing, shot, and their mutilated bodies thrown down in a pile, with the rest.<br>
To the honour of many of the men be it said,—the younger ones, especially,—they refused to join in this horrible work, and some of them made efforts to protect these helpless women from their fiend-like tormentors. I used often, while living in Payson, to see a man named Jim Pearce, whose face was deeply scarred by a bullet wound, made by his own father, while the brave young fellow was trying to assist a poor girl, who had appealed to him for succour. Another girl threw herself on her knees before Lee’s son, and clinging to him, begged for mercy. His heart was touched, and he promised to spare her, but his father shot her while she knelt. Lee also shot another girl, who had drawn a dagger to defend herself from him.<br>
Even the children were not spared. They shared the horrible fate of their parents. In vain they begged for mercy. The bloodthirsty brutes to whom they knelt had no feeling of pity or compassion. They laughed at their entreaties, and mocked their terrified cries. Their little throats were cut, and their bodies thrown carelessly in a heap. Only seventeen of those supposed to be too young to remember any of the occurrences of this fearful day were saved; and of these seventeen, two were disposed of after reaching Salt Lake City, for making some remarks concerning the massacre, which showed an intelligence beyond their years. It is said—on how good authority I do not know—that Daniel H. Wells, mayor of Salt Lake City, one of the First Presidency, Second Counsellor to Brigham, Lieutenant-General of the Nauvoo Legion, killed one of these babes with his own official hand. As I said before, I cannot vouch for the authenticity of this rumour, but those who know the man best are the most ready to believe it. He is certainly capable of an act like this.<br>
The whole affair lasted but about half an hour, when the assassins rode away, carrying all the clothing and baggage of the emigrants, leaving the bodies to the wolves and ravens. But they were past hurt now, and wolves’ fangs or ravens’ beaks were powerless to harm, although they might lacerate the already mutilated bodies until they should be past all recognition. A person who visited the field of slaughter eight days after the massacre gave the following account of it. He said men, women, and children were strewn over the ground, or were thrown into piles. Some were shot, others stabbed, and others had their throats cut. They were entirely stripped of clothing, and their bodies were mutilated by the wolves. There were one hundred and twenty-seven bodies in all. These, with the three men who were killed while undertaking to bring assistance, another who was shot outside the corral, but whose body could never be found, and the two children who were murdered at Salt Lake City, made one hundred and thirty-three victims of this fearful and unparalleled assassination.
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