Smith, Samuel Harrison
1808 - 1844 (36 years)Biographical Sketch of Samuel Harrison Smith
[page 1] Salt Lake City, June 24, 1914. By his [Samuel H. Smith's] daughter, Mrs. B. S. [Mary Bailey Smith] Norman.
My father [Samuel Harrison Smith], at the time of his brothers' arrest and imprisonment in Carthage Jail, determined to go to them at once, well knowing that their lives were in danger. He set out for Carthage, taking with him a 14 year old boy who was working for him. They traveled by team and wagon, and when they neared Carthage, were met by a guard of the mob who, apprehending his coming, had been placed there to intercept him. They allowed the boy to proceed with the team, but he was turned back. He gave the boy instructions to go direct to the Hamilton House in Carthage and there await further orders. He then returned home as quickly as possible, purchased a horse noted for its speed, and determined to reach his brothers in time to be of assistance to them, although the hope seemed a forlorn one. He went unarmed, and as he again neared Carthage, he met several people coming from there in great haste, among them a man and a woman in a buggy of whom he asked what had happened and received answer that "the two Smiths had been killed by the mob."
The terrible shock was too much for him and for an instant he reeled in his saddle and they expected him to fall. Then, as the necessity of immediate action flashed across his mind, he steadied himself saying, "God help me! I must go to them," and he again pressed forward. The mob, expecting his return and intent upon murder, were secreted in a thicket and two men on horseback with rifles gave chase. As they emerged from the thicket, the man in the buggy gave a warning shout. My father, turning his head quickly, took in the situation at a glance and put his horse to its utmost speed, still keeping his course straight toward Carthage. His splendid horsemanship kept him somewhat out of the range of the bullets sent after him; the one passed through the top of his hat. The chase was a long and exciting one, but he finally out distanced them and rode into Carthage and made his way to the jail, being the first to arrive there after the tragedy. The mob, in the meantime, had dispersed.
Mr. Hamilton of the Hamilton Hotel met my father [Samuel Harrison Smith] and gave him all the assistance that lay in his power in caring for the bodies of his murdered brothers. The [page 2] next day, in company with Willard Richards and others, my father accompanied the bodies to Nauvoo and to the Nauvoo Mansion where they lay in state in the large dining hall while thousands of the mourning multitude passed through to get a last look at their beloved prophet and his devoted brother.
I have given reminiscences of those trying times, but what I am now writing is confined to incidents concerning my father.
My father [Samuel Harrison Smith], after the funeral of his brothers, moved to Nauvoo and took up his residence in a two story frame house opposite the Mansion House. Soon there was a strange quiet pervading the house. My sister, my brother, and myself were banished to the room above with the injunction to keep quiet; our father was very sick. We no longer had our romps as often in times past we would make the circuit of the room in a wild chase to see which could clamber first to his knee to get the first kiss, often all on his knee at once, then clamber down again and renew the chase; then when my little brother, Samuel, who was the youngest, would become tired, we would have to give way to him, and my father would take him on his knee and sing him to sleep. To our great wonderment, all this had become a thing of the past.
Finally, for a day or two, we only went down to our meals. The tread in the sick room became more soft, the whispers more low, then a silence save for sobs our kind and noble father had passed to the great beyond to meet his martyred brothers and all the dear ones gone before him, and we three were left orphans, for our mother had died a victim of the Missouri persecutions. Our father had married again, and by this last marriage had one surviving child, then a beautiful little tot of a girl just beginning to walk. My stepmother (a mild, quiet little body) at the time of my father's death, was again soon to become a mother, and with three stepchildren, one child of her own, and another soon to claim her care, she was indeed in a helpless condition.
I shall now give an account of what happened to my sister, Susan, my brother, Samuel, and myself after our father's death. My stepmother, a short time afterwards, went to see her parents who lived some distance from where we did. She gave us privilege to play on the river bank, but admonished us to not venture into the water. She told us she would be back as quickly as possible, then taking her little one [page 3] (our half sister, Levira), she left us. As near as I can remember, it was well into the afternoon when she went. We were happy in the thought of long play hours. We soon made our way to the river and amused ourselves playing in the sand and with the pretty carnelians which at that time were very abundant at that point on the shores of the Mississippi. We played until the sinking sun warned us that we had better return home. When we reached the house, we found the doors locked. We sat down on the doorsteps to await her coming. Our stepmother had been taken dangerously ill. We sat on the steps and went to sleep.
My grandmother sent for me and cared for me for a few days, but her ills soon prevented her from caring for me. In the meantime, my Aunt Mary Fielding Smith, my Uncle Hyrum's widow (Joseph F. Smith's mother), had been caring for my brother and sister. She now took charge of me also; however, every night we would meet and sit on the step of the house that had once been our home until our Aunt Mary would send for us and have us taken to her home. But there came a time that, for some reason, we expected our stepmother home that night, and when the man of all works came for us, we objected to going and cried bitterly. A boy had come with him to assist in carrying us. He sent the boy back to state the condition of affairs. The boy soon returned with a message to "not grieve us by trying to bring us against our will, but to wait until we were asleep and then bring us." Left to ourselves, we cuddled together and were soon fast asleep. The next I remember I was awakened to eat my supper. This act of kindness, so delicate, so tender, so beautiful, has during a long life so often been present to my mind, and I am unable to express in words the gratitude I have always felt.
Aunt Mary Fielding Smith was the second wife of my father's brother, Hyrum Smith, and the mother of President Joseph F. Smith. I will give a pen picture of her as I remember her. She had a fine personality, was at that time tall and rather slender, fair in complexion, and a perfect type of the English gentlewoman.
To complete my story Aunt Mary took care of us until we were otherwise provided for. My father, Samuel H. Smith, was a man of most sterling qualities. He never shunned an obligation nor failed in any task it was his duty to perform, manual as well as mental labor. His great strength far exceeding that of ordinary [page 4] men enabled him to do an unusual amount of work, and he often came to the aid of his father's family in time of need. Nor did he fail in his efforts in behalf of his brothers in their greatest and last extremity. His failure to rescue them at Carthage was due to no fault of his own, but to uncontrollable circumstances.
Mary B. S. Norman.
My father [Samuel Harrison Smith], at the time of his brothers' arrest and imprisonment in Carthage Jail, determined to go to them at once, well knowing that their lives were in danger. He set out for Carthage, taking with him a 14 year old boy who was working for him. They traveled by team and wagon, and when they neared Carthage, were met by a guard of the mob who, apprehending his coming, had been placed there to intercept him. They allowed the boy to proceed with the team, but he was turned back. He gave the boy instructions to go direct to the Hamilton House in Carthage and there await further orders. He then returned home as quickly as possible, purchased a horse noted for its speed, and determined to reach his brothers in time to be of assistance to them, although the hope seemed a forlorn one. He went unarmed, and as he again neared Carthage, he met several people coming from there in great haste, among them a man and a woman in a buggy of whom he asked what had happened and received answer that "the two Smiths had been killed by the mob."
The terrible shock was too much for him and for an instant he reeled in his saddle and they expected him to fall. Then, as the necessity of immediate action flashed across his mind, he steadied himself saying, "God help me! I must go to them," and he again pressed forward. The mob, expecting his return and intent upon murder, were secreted in a thicket and two men on horseback with rifles gave chase. As they emerged from the thicket, the man in the buggy gave a warning shout. My father, turning his head quickly, took in the situation at a glance and put his horse to its utmost speed, still keeping his course straight toward Carthage. His splendid horsemanship kept him somewhat out of the range of the bullets sent after him; the one passed through the top of his hat. The chase was a long and exciting one, but he finally out distanced them and rode into Carthage and made his way to the jail, being the first to arrive there after the tragedy. The mob, in the meantime, had dispersed.
Mr. Hamilton of the Hamilton Hotel met my father [Samuel Harrison Smith] and gave him all the assistance that lay in his power in caring for the bodies of his murdered brothers. The [page 2] next day, in company with Willard Richards and others, my father accompanied the bodies to Nauvoo and to the Nauvoo Mansion where they lay in state in the large dining hall while thousands of the mourning multitude passed through to get a last look at their beloved prophet and his devoted brother.
I have given reminiscences of those trying times, but what I am now writing is confined to incidents concerning my father.
My father [Samuel Harrison Smith], after the funeral of his brothers, moved to Nauvoo and took up his residence in a two story frame house opposite the Mansion House. Soon there was a strange quiet pervading the house. My sister, my brother, and myself were banished to the room above with the injunction to keep quiet; our father was very sick. We no longer had our romps as often in times past we would make the circuit of the room in a wild chase to see which could clamber first to his knee to get the first kiss, often all on his knee at once, then clamber down again and renew the chase; then when my little brother, Samuel, who was the youngest, would become tired, we would have to give way to him, and my father would take him on his knee and sing him to sleep. To our great wonderment, all this had become a thing of the past.
Finally, for a day or two, we only went down to our meals. The tread in the sick room became more soft, the whispers more low, then a silence save for sobs our kind and noble father had passed to the great beyond to meet his martyred brothers and all the dear ones gone before him, and we three were left orphans, for our mother had died a victim of the Missouri persecutions. Our father had married again, and by this last marriage had one surviving child, then a beautiful little tot of a girl just beginning to walk. My stepmother (a mild, quiet little body) at the time of my father's death, was again soon to become a mother, and with three stepchildren, one child of her own, and another soon to claim her care, she was indeed in a helpless condition.
I shall now give an account of what happened to my sister, Susan, my brother, Samuel, and myself after our father's death. My stepmother, a short time afterwards, went to see her parents who lived some distance from where we did. She gave us privilege to play on the river bank, but admonished us to not venture into the water. She told us she would be back as quickly as possible, then taking her little one [page 3] (our half sister, Levira), she left us. As near as I can remember, it was well into the afternoon when she went. We were happy in the thought of long play hours. We soon made our way to the river and amused ourselves playing in the sand and with the pretty carnelians which at that time were very abundant at that point on the shores of the Mississippi. We played until the sinking sun warned us that we had better return home. When we reached the house, we found the doors locked. We sat down on the doorsteps to await her coming. Our stepmother had been taken dangerously ill. We sat on the steps and went to sleep.
My grandmother sent for me and cared for me for a few days, but her ills soon prevented her from caring for me. In the meantime, my Aunt Mary Fielding Smith, my Uncle Hyrum's widow (Joseph F. Smith's mother), had been caring for my brother and sister. She now took charge of me also; however, every night we would meet and sit on the step of the house that had once been our home until our Aunt Mary would send for us and have us taken to her home. But there came a time that, for some reason, we expected our stepmother home that night, and when the man of all works came for us, we objected to going and cried bitterly. A boy had come with him to assist in carrying us. He sent the boy back to state the condition of affairs. The boy soon returned with a message to "not grieve us by trying to bring us against our will, but to wait until we were asleep and then bring us." Left to ourselves, we cuddled together and were soon fast asleep. The next I remember I was awakened to eat my supper. This act of kindness, so delicate, so tender, so beautiful, has during a long life so often been present to my mind, and I am unable to express in words the gratitude I have always felt.
Aunt Mary Fielding Smith was the second wife of my father's brother, Hyrum Smith, and the mother of President Joseph F. Smith. I will give a pen picture of her as I remember her. She had a fine personality, was at that time tall and rather slender, fair in complexion, and a perfect type of the English gentlewoman.
To complete my story Aunt Mary took care of us until we were otherwise provided for. My father, Samuel H. Smith, was a man of most sterling qualities. He never shunned an obligation nor failed in any task it was his duty to perform, manual as well as mental labor. His great strength far exceeding that of ordinary [page 4] men enabled him to do an unusual amount of work, and he often came to the aid of his father's family in time of need. Nor did he fail in his efforts in behalf of his brothers in their greatest and last extremity. His failure to rescue them at Carthage was due to no fault of his own, but to uncontrollable circumstances.
Mary B. S. Norman.
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