Copyright 1913, by FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY

CHAPTER 26

BLOOD ATONEMENT

THE year 1856 was a bad period for the material interests of the Mormon kingdom. It was yet more disastrous in a moral sense; for 1856-57 saw the culmination of a rising tide of fanaticism that long had been creeping on the land; a tide that at its flood submerged not only reason but common sense and common humanity. The stains of that flood are on the walls of Zion, even unto this day.

All theocracies, all governments managed by ecclesiastical authority, have two unfailing characteristics. They seek to make the legal code co-extensive with the moral code; that is to say, they draw no distinction between deeds which the fashion of their time and place regards as sins, and other deeds which the world for ages has agreed to regard as crimes. Next, however tolerant they may be of the opinions of neighbours and visitors, they consider heresy among their own people the most dangerous of offences. This, indeed, is inevitable.

Rebellion is something which no government can countenance; and when a government is directly ordained and established by God, heresy and rebellion become interchangeable terms. Jedediah Grant was not an educated man nor a thoughtful one; but his unblushing, unhesitating fanaticism gripped this truth at once. and in a discourse in the Tabernacle he declared:

"I wish we were in a situation favorable to our doing that which is justifiable before God, without any contaminating influence of Gentile amalgamation, laws, and traditions, that the people of God might lay the ax to the root of the tree, and every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit might be hewn down . . . Putting to death the transgressor would exhibit the law of God, no matter by whom it was done."

The start of the movement in the Mormon kingdom known as the "reformation" was innocent enough. It began as an effort on the part of Brigham and his aids to check license and tighten the bands of discipline. As the cheapest, easiest, most direct, and likewise most humane method at hand, Brigham began his hectoring sermons, lashing the brethren with the rough edge of his tongue, jawing Zion into order. He had a natural tendency to that sort of eloquence, and it grew by exercise. Had he been among his equals, had he even been subject to the restraints of neighboring Gentiles, he would have bridled his too effusive tongue, and tamed it to civilized discourse. Living in a little world of his own, a world in which he was not only czar and pope, but well-nigh creator as well, Brigham soon lost all measure of the speech proper to one whose words were law unto his people.

Left to himself, Brigham's wrath had a way of evaporating in words. His "bark was far worse than his bite." He would rage at his congregation as though they were all defaulters and horse-thieves; and then, having stormed himself into a good humour, sit down and begin courteous discourse with those he had been berating. He had forgiven them for the tongue-lashing he had just bestowed, and he thought it the height of uncharitableness for the recipients of the castigation to be resentful.

Unfortunately, there were those at hand who were ready to practise what Brigham was willing only to preach. Foremost of these was Jedediah M. Grant, whose portrait has been sketched in an earlier chapter. Grant would have been a marked man in any community, and in a society where faith and zeal were passports to promotion he was sure to rise to power. Willard Richards, counsellor of Brigham and member of the first presidency, died March 11, 1854, and Jedediah Grant shortly afterwards was appointed to the vacant place.

Grant's sermon from which quotation was made was preached the day after Willard Richards' death -- before Jedediah's formal promotion, but doubtless not before he knew that promotion was coming. In the same sermon, speaking, as in the former quotation, of those who break their covenants, he said:

"Then what ought this meek people who keep the commandments of God to do unto them (the covenant breakers) ? 'Why,' says one, 'they ought to pray to the Lord to kill them.' I want to know if you would wish the Lord to come down and do all your dirty work? When a man prays for a thing, he ought to be willing to perform it himself."

In other words, the person who prays for the death of a sinner ought to be willing to cut that sinner's throat. Jedediah Grant had the fatal gift of consistency which marks the born inquisitor.

This was March 12, 1854. A year before, Brigham had crushed an incipient apostasy by a storming sermon, in which he threatened to "unsheath his bowie knife, and conquer or die!" This, however, was a frank declaration of war, rather than the announcement of a new law of persecution; and it was some time before Jedediah Grant's ravings of blood had company. October 6, 1855, Brigham made a tentative venture on this path.

"Live on here, then, you poor miserable curses, until the time of retribution, when your heads will have to be severed from your bodies. Just let the Lord Almighty say: Lay judgment to the line and righteousness to the plummet, and the time of thieves is short in this community."

Five months later, March 2, 1856, Brigham went a step farther, and declared

"The time is coming when justice will be laid to the line and righteousness to the plummet; when we shall take the old broadsword and ask, Are you for God? And if you are not heartily on the Lord's side, you will be hewn down."

It will be noticed here that Brigham forecasts the Lord's intentions, intimating that the order to "lay judgment to the line and righteousness to the plummet" is not issued yet, but soon will be.

Weaving in and out of these hair-raising threats we get a glimpse of a doctrine soon to be published to the world as "blood atonement." This doctrine was based on the words of Paul-Hebrews IX, 22 "Without the shedding of blood there is no remission." Stripped of ecclesiastical verbiage, the doctrine of blood atonement was that some sins could be expiated only by spilling the blood of the sinner; and that in such cases, it was the duty of all true believers to cut a man's throat for the saving of his soul. Whisperings of this theory reached the ears of Lieutenant Gunnison as early as 1852, but it was not publicly proclaimed as church gospel until September 21, 1856, when Jedediah Grant and Brigham Young did their best, or worst, to make the ghastly obsession clear to all. Grant spoke first:

"I say there are men and women here that I would advise to go to the president (Young) immediately, and ask him to appoint a committee to attend to their case; and let a place be selected, and let that committee shed their blood . . . I would ask how many covenantbreakers there are in this city and in this kingdom? I believe there are a great many, and if there are covenantbreakers, we need a place designated where we can shed their blood . . . We have been trying long enough with this people, and I go in for letting the sword of the Almighty be unsheathed, not only in word, but in deed."

With less of savage enjoyment in his words, Brigham on the same day from the same platform went on to explain:

"There are sins that can be atoned for by an offering upon an altar as in ancient days; and there are sins that the blood of a lamb, of a calf, or of turtledoves cannot remit, but they must be atoned for by the blood of man!"

With this enunciation of the spiritual uses of throatcutting, the "reformation" may be considered fairly begun.

It was a season of community madness, like that which afflicted Salem in the witch excitement of 1692, or that which raged against the "anointers" of Milan in 1631, or the numberless mental epidemics which marked the course of the Middle Ages. Hardship and isolation had combined to give the minds of the people a gloomy and merciless cast, and the savage preaching of their chief and his aids aroused them well-nigh to frenzy. Innocent amusements, always before sanctioned and encouraged by the church, were now discountenanced or suppressed. Self-accusation became almost as common as the accusation of one's neighbours. Whoever escaped infection by the prevailing mania was marked as a son of Belial, and an enemy to the kingdom. Elders went to and fro, exhorting the people to repent, confess their sins, and "renew their covenants" by baptism. That no sins might be overlooked, a printed catechism was furnished these amateur inquisitors; a catechism so indecent that it was suppressed when the kingdom recovered its senses. Through the whole insane time, Jedediah Grant stormed to and fro, and the burden of his raving was blood, blood, blood. He preached, quizzed, exhorted, baptized almost day and night; and literally gave his life to the unworthy cause. When Jedediah Grant died December 1, 1856, the recording angel must have heaved a sigh of relief.

When it comes to citing specific cases of the practices of blood atonement, one must admit that the evidence is faulty. It could not be otherwise. The Mormons, who preserved records of most things, had too much good sense, once the period of communal lunacy was past, to keep detailed evidences of their madness. One case given in the doubtful confessions of John D. Lee, is that of Rasmus Anderson, who was charged with adultery. According to the account, Anderson made no remonstrance when notified that his blood was to be made a sacrifice for the cleansing of his soul, but asked only half a day for prayer and preparation. His executioners dug his grave, then called for him at midnight, found him dressed in clean clothes for the occasion. They conducted him to the grave and, after further prayer, cut his throat.

Another story, cited by Stenhouse, is that of the wife of an elder. During her husband's absence, she broke her marriage-covenants, and was so remorseful that she confessed her fault on his return. That return coincided with the height of the "reformation," and it was decided that the woman die, in order to regain her place among the gods and goddesses, and the forfeited motherhood of the children she had borne her husband. In this case, the husband performed the sacrifice, and cut his wife's throat as she sat on his knee.

These stories are cited for what they are worth. It is impossible to verify them, and the present writers believe the account of the elder's wife to be particularly doubtful. But in a sermon delivered in the Tabernacle February 8, 1857, a sermon devoted to expounding this very doctrine of blood atonement, Brigham said:

"I could refer you to plenty of instances where men have been righteously slain in order to atone for their sins . . . I have known a great many men who have left this church for whom there is no chance whatever for exaltation, but if their blood had been spilled it would have been better for them."

Making all possible allowance for Brigham's pulpit exaggeration, it seems certain that this modern gospel of human sacrifice had borne some fruit.

Whatever question may exist about individual cases of blood atonement, there is none about many plain murders resulting from the fierce intolerance fanned by the "reformation." Perhaps the best attested case -- until we come to the crowning horror of Mountain Meadows -- is the one known as the Parrish murders.

In the spring of 1857, William R. Parrish, an old man, and a Mormon of high and long standing, was reported to have grown cold in the faith, and to be planning to emigrate to California. For a man of Parrish's standing to carry his discontent and his inside knowledge to the Gentiles was clearly dangerous to the kingdom. His horses were stolen, thus delaying his escape; and then the bishop of the ward and some humbler church retainers planned to murder the reputed backslider. Pretending to sympathize with his desire to get away, the deputed assassins decoyed Parrish from the village, and killed him with a knife. Two of his sons were lured after their father. One was shot dead, the other escaped -- and was arrested for the double murder! Brigham has been charged with directly ordering this crime. The evidence to support this charge is not of the best, but it is certain that he made no effort to punish the murderers, not even when one of them turned state's evidence, and made formal confession before a federal judge. It is some satisfaction to know that one of the precious cut-throats shot his partner by mistake.

The Parrish case illustrates a condition much overworked in romance and polemics, but which, nevertheless, was at one time a large and vital fact in the life of the Mormon kingdom. The apostate was not allowed to leave the community. In some cases he escaped, in a few cases the authorities may have permitted his escape; but the general rule was as stated. The reason is obvious: Brigham did not want men with inside knowledge telling evil tales of his empire in the eager ears of Gentiles. Prior to 1853, his efforts at dissuading such emigration were confined to scolding sermons, and these usually were successful. But as time passed on, and the arbitrary power wielded by himself and his followers grew into a vested right, threats succeeded scoldings; and the "reformation" brought executions in place of threats.

In "Ninety-Three," Victor Hugo speaks of a type of civil war which begins by defying the lightning, and ends by robbing a diligence. The phrase applies to the reactionaries of the Mormon kingdom as well as to the reactionaries of the Vendee. There is something grand, even though repulsive, in the Mormon effort to turn back the clock of the age, and plant a theocratic despotism in the bosom of the world's most radical democracy. But the intolerance, and the contempt of human life and human rights engendered by this effort soon found expression in deeds whose brutality is lightened by no gleam of mistaken enthusiasm.

Such was the crime known as the San Pete outrage. Bishop Warren Snow wished to add a girl of Manti to his collection of wives; but she was engaged to a man who refused to yield her to his ecclesiastical superior. After remonstrances and threats had failed to shake the young man's resolution, he was seized, tied to a bench, and mutilated by Bishop Snow and his followers. The unfortunate man regained his health but lost his mind; Bishop Snow married the girl. Brigham stormed furiously when he heard the news, but, as always in such cases, he inflicted no punishment. The San Pete case became a standing reference in the mouths of coarse ecclesiastical authorities on the rare occasions when they encountered any opposition to their will. It was a threat, not uncommon, "to make eunuchs of men who had the spirit of apostasy."

It is useless to give extended accounts of other outrages in the kingdom, where the motive was greed, instead of sexual desire. The murder of the Aiken party -- six Gentiles who passed through Utah on their way to California -- seems to have belonged to this class, inasmuch as no other fault could be found with them, and their outfit was reputed to be worth $25,000. Minor cases of bullyings and floggings are hardly worth citing at all. But before closing this unpleasant chapter, it is necessary to consider the defence which Mormon writers make for these crimes, and the legend prevailing in the Gentile world as to the means by which church murders were perpetrated.

The Mormon defence is that there were no more murders in Utah than in other frontier communities. This is true. We will go farther; there probably were fewer murders in the Mormon kingdom than in any other frontier settlement of equal numbers in the history of the United States. But such murders as were committed in the Mormon kingdom grew directly out of the wild sermons and intolerant teachings of Brigham Young, and of his aids and followers. There is the fact which makes the history of Utah a thin apart. In no other frontier settlement were throats cut for the glory of God and the benefit of a church. In no other frontier settlement were then taught that human sacrifice was necessary for the salvation of sinners. In no other frontier settlement did religious teachers and civil authorities join in proclaiming that human blood smoking on the ground was an acceptable offering to the Most High. There was not a moment when Brigham did not have as much power and as good machinery for enforcing law in his empire as is possessed by the authorities of England or Prussia today in their own realm. Murders were committed in the Mormon kingdom, not to defy Brigham's authority, but to maintain it. In many cases, perhaps in most cases, Brigham knew nothing of the deed until it was done. In many cases, perhaps in most cases, he regretted the over-violent acts of his followers. But those acts grew directly out of his own teachings and ambitions, and Brigham recognized this fact when he failed to punish or even to condemn those criminals who had served him too well. One sermon denouncing murder and upholding the sanctity of human life, as Brigham often denounced apostasy and upheld the sanctity of the priesthood, would have gone far to check the outrages of the " reformation." No such sermon was delivered.

The Gentile legend is that all these crimes were committed by a weird organization known as the "Danites," a society whose members were at once murderers, missionaries, and mounted police; latter-day knights riding abroad "upon a mission, to cut throats and spread religion, pure and undefiled."

The legend is a legend and no more. It has a basis of fact. There was an organization called "Danites" during a part of the sojourn in Missouri and at Nauvoo. It seems to have been formed as a sort of bodyguard to Prophet Joseph Smith, and to have degenerated into an association of strictly undesirable citizens. The name was carried to Utah, but there is no reliable evidence that the organization itself lasted until that day. Like the famous "Black Hand," it was a name, a symbol, and nothing more. A single reading of the sketch of church organization given in a previous chapter will show that Brigham had no need of "Danites" specially sworn to carry out his will. The whole church was bound to do that, bound by the most perfect discipline and the most terrific oaths. No matter what he wanted, a new hymn, a new wife, or a new murder, Brigham had only to signify his will to the proper person. A separate organization, like the legendary "Danites," would have been both superfluous and dangerous.