10 Happy Days and Lonely Hours: Clayton's Mission to England

“I believe the happiest days any Elder ever spent in this world, are these, when he is dispensing the truths of Heaven to his fellow man,—sons and daughters of our Father in Heaven, at least, this has been my experience.”¹ These deeply felt sentiments, penned by William Clayton five years before his death, express the typical feelings of devoted, missionary-minded Latter-day Saint disciples in every generation. The story of his 1852–53 mission to England demonstrates this devotion, but it also illustrates how such happy, longed-for opportunities could themselves become severe tests of discipleship.

The missionary impulse was second nature with William Clayton from the moment he joined the Church. His mission to Manchester, his appointment to the British mission presidency, and his plan to remain as a missionary in England when his family emigrated all suggest how important it was to him to be active in spreading the gospel. On January 20, 1843, his heart leaped with delight at the possibility of accompanying Joseph and Hyrum Smith and the Quorum of the Twelve on a grand mission to Europe and Jerusalem, but that mission never came to fruition. He appreciated being in America—the land of Zion—but he had a constant longing to return to his native land and complete his interrupted missionary calling. In 1852 that opportunity finally came.

On August 28 and 29, 1852, a special conference was held in Salt Lake City. The occasion was the calling of nearly a hundred missionaries to go to the nations of the earth. They were to make an early start, before the onset of bad weather. The largest portion of the group was on its way to England, and William Clayton was among that number. “This is a privilege which I have desired for years,” he confided in his journal, “inasmuch as when I left England in the year 1840, I had then a mission appointed me to Birmingham, which I have never fulfilled and I have often felt a deep desire to bear my testimony once more in my native country.”²

The encouragement and instructions given at the August conference well reflected the missionary spirit of the times. George A. Smith, for example, simply assumed that the missionaries were willing to be away from home for several years. Nevertheless, he said, it really would not be for very long: “probably from 3 to 7 years will be as long as any man will be absent from his family.”³ The present generation may look with bemusement at the idea that three to seven years away from home is not very long, and Elder Smith may have said it partly tongue-in-cheek, but the statement was an important reflection of the reality that faced all missionaries of that day. Clayton had little or no idea when he would return.

The missionary-disciple was committed to the importance of following explicitly the instructions of the living prophet. No matter what the program, even if one disagreed with it, true discipleship meant obedience to priesthood authority. In Clayton’s case, it was not simply obedience for the sake of obedience—it was enthusiastic obedience for the sake of building the Kingdom. On this occasion some two thousand followers of the prophet, among them William Clayton, literally trembled with enthusiasm as they heard Heber C. Kimball preach a long and dramatic sermon on doing the will of God, which by interpretation meant doing the will of Brigham Young. “You all believe that, don’t you,” he demanded, “without an exception? Well, if this is your faith . . . I want you to manifest it by raising your right hands and saying aye.” The response was a forest of hands waving in the air accompanied by two thousand voices shouting, “aye,” and Kimball saying with satisfaction, “There it is, and it cannot be any other way.”

The practical result of such enthusiasm is seen in the fact that the thirty-eight-year-old Clayton, husband of four living wives and father of fifteen children as well as two children then on the way, had no question about whether he should go. He could well sing with the Saints of today the traditional hymn “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord,” and mean it literally.

It was impossible, of course, for the missionaries to forget their families, but the spirit of their call demanded that they should try. At least they should not worry about their families, for the Lord would take care of them. “I say to those who are elected to go on missions,” declared Kimball, “go, and if you never return, and commit what you have into the hands of God—your wives, your children, your brethren and your property.” Brigham Young went even further: “When you leave, understand it, you have neither wife nor children; you have handed them all over to the Lord Jesus Christ. Let the brethren go and say, I will keep my eyes straight before me on the object of my mission, and when I have done, it is all right, I am willing to go home, if the Lord wishes me to do so.”

Clayton left his family in what he considered “poor circumstances,” and even after getting away from home he wrote Brigham Young requesting, if possible, that some $800 due him for services as auditor be given to the family. Some of Clayton’s children even had to borrow shoes to attend church before he left, but his hope was that this money would clothe them until he came home.⁴

Despite such important temporal concerns, William Clayton made every effort to follow counsel and forget his family—or so his diary and correspondence would suggest—and he expected the same effort on the part of his companions. As the missionaries traveled eastward from the Great Basin, Clayton happily observed that they were all full of the Spirit and that there was neither murmuring about home nor wondering about their families. “In fact,” he wrote in his journal, “wives and children are rarely mentioned, only in prayer night and morning, and even then they are sometimes forgot.”⁵ He said the same thing in a letter to Brigham Young: “It is rare to hear families mentioned except in our prayers night and morning, and then they are frequently forgotten, knowing that they are in the hands of God, and while we are faithfully engaged in his work, we believe that both he, and his servants will not forget to bless them.”⁶

The advice given to those at home was equally demanding. George A. Smith (illus. 10-1) was challenging the wives as much as he was their missionary husbands when he said, “If any of the elders refuse to go, they may expect that their wives will not live with them; for there is not a Mormon sister who would live with a man a day who would refuse to go on a mission. There is no other way for a man to save his family.” The wives were to support their husbands in accepting a call from the Lord, and that was it. Brigham Young stated it just as colorfully. “Don’t cling to them one particle,” he advised wives and children, “but let them go as cheerfully as you would give a weary traveller a cup of cold water. If you live, it is all right, and if you fall asleep before they return, it is all right; don’t send your hearts after them one step, nor suffer your spirits to cling to them one moment; then you wives in very deed will be blessed and be help mates to your husbands.” A woman who clung to her husband or kept him in her embrace would be dead weight, for the husband would be conscious of it and let it hinder him in his work. “The man cannot be useful in his labors while she is all the time weeping and mourning, every day of her life.”

Illus. 10-1. George A. Smith was a long-time member of the Twelve and counselor to Brigham Young. Courtesy Church Archives

But the personal impact of a mission call for Mormon disciples went far beyond simply forgetting the cares of home and family. It was, and still is, often a time of rededication and repentance—a time to analyze one’s life, make changes, and somehow use the great experience ahead to compensate for past weaknesses and mistakes. To prepare for a mission was also to resolve that nothing would interfere with making it a truly spiritual odyssey, literally the happiest time of one’s life. At least that is the way it was with William Clayton.

For some reason unexplained in the records, William Clayton had fallen out of favor with Brigham Young some months before his mission.⁷ In addition, Clayton’s correspondence suggests that he had made some personal, though unspecified, mistakes that he wanted deeply to overcome. The mission, then, became a most appropriate occasion for retrospection and resolution. He was well prepared to hear Brigham Young say at the August conference:

If the elders cannot go with clean hands, and pure hearts, they had better stay here and wash a little longer, don’t go thinking when you arrive at the Missouri river, at the Mississippi, at the Ohio, or at the Atlantic, that then you will purify yourselves; but start from here with clean hands and pure hearts; and be pure from the crown of the head to the soles of your feet. Then live so every hour; go in the manner, and in that manner labor, and return again as clean as a piece of white paper.

Clayton, no doubt typical of Mormon disciples in all generations, approached his mission with exuberance and with a determination never again to succumb to whatever weaknesses he had. “I have not felt so well for years,” he wrote a friend, “and my daily prayer is that I may magnify my calling on this mission, and return home (when sent for, for I don’t intend to return until I am called back, if it be seven years) with honor and the approbation of my brethren.”⁸ Later he wrote the prophet, “I feel more happy and contented than I have felt for years. . . . I consider that this mission, is to me, the greatest blessing you ever put upon me. I am William Clayton again, and intend to remain so. As I told you in your office, I left my follies in the City, and by the help of God I don’t intend to ever take them up again.”⁹ And when, on November 1, the large group of missionaries broke up to find their own ways to England, Clayton reflected in his diary on their general faithfulness and desire to return home with clean hands and pure hearts. Then he wrote, “This feeling strongly possessed my heart, and having a constant fear of my own failings, I felt to pray that God will preserve me, that I may do a good work in his Kingdom.”¹⁰

But the missionary spirit included more than the desire for self-improvement: it also meant love and concern for others, the desire to “do good” among mankind. As they traveled eastward from Salt Lake City the missionaries were instructed that they must not be critical of the people of the world when they preached to them. Rather, they were to show love and compassion toward them.¹¹ Clayton’s own feelings were expressed to Brigham Young: “If I may judge my feelings and daily experiences I shall be blest on this mission, for I never felt more satisfied, more confidence, or a greater anxiety to do good than I have felt since I left home.” Then, in a poignant summary of the whole effect of his retrospection, repentance, and rededication, he remarked, “I feel free from every earthly care, and I feel constantly satisfied that, come life or death it is all right if I may only be enabled to do good as long as I live. . . . I am striving daily, and intend to strive not only to get good to myself, but to do good to others.”¹²

The 1852 missionary call had a special significance not only for Clayton but also for the Church: this was the first time missionaries had ever been called upon to preach the doctrine of plural marriage in public. As Clayton recorded in his journal, his appointment to England was “to preach the gospel, and sustain the Revelation on Celestial Marriage, given to our beloved Prophet July 12th 1843.”¹³ The practice had been kept secret from the world and never preached in public until August 29, 1852, the second day of the conference. At that time, Orson Pratt of the Quorum of the Twelve was selected to give the first public sermon on the subject (illus. 10-2).¹⁴ From that point on it was the obligation of the missionaries to preach the new doctrine boldly and openly, along with the other principles of the gospel.¹⁵

Illus. 10-2. On August 29, 1852, Orson Pratt gave the first public sermon on plural marriage. Courtesy Church Archives

On Monday, September 13, the missionaries began to gather for their journey, and two days later the group met at Kanyon Creek. Clayton left his family affairs in the charge of his brother Thomas and another relative, Matthew Clayton, who both pledged themselves to do the best they could in his absence. That same day, Clayton met Brigham Young, who was just leaving his home in a carriage. The prophet asked him what he wanted to do when he got to England, to which he replied, “If I had my own way, I would go and visit all the branches of the church and bear my testimony to them.” The prophet’s reply was simply, “Well, go and do it and you shall be blessed in it.”¹⁶ About six weeks later, Brigham Young wrote to Samuel W. Richards, president of the British Mission, about William Clayton. Clayton did not know of the letter until the following February, but when he read it he thrilled at the prophet’s acceptance of him and his desires:

Brother William Clayton as you will observe by the minutes of Conference is appointed on a mission to England; he is now with the rest of the missionaries on his way, and will probably arrive early in the winter. Bro. William has always been closely tied up to business; and previous to his coming from England travelled but very little outside of his native country. It is therefore my wish, as it is his desire that he be permitted to visit the Conferences in England and the adjacent countries. In this capacity of a travelling Elder, he may prove a very useful auxiliary and be the means of accomplishing a great work, which his eminent qualifications and abilities so well enable him to perform, and realize the just expectations of his friends so reasonably inspired by the superior advantages which he has enjoyed to obtain intelligence, and the well known capacity and strength of mind which he unquestionably possesses.¹⁷

On September 16, the missionary group was on its way, and the camp was organized. Clayton walked much of the way across the plains, which was particularly uncomfortable for him because on September 21 his shoes began to break open. As the official camp journalist he was kept especially busy, for he also had to take his turn at gathering wood and doing other camp chores.¹⁸

It would be unlike Clayton not to write a song for the occasion. He even gave, or sent, a copy to the editor of the Deseret News, who published it on November 27. Capturing much of the idealism of the August missionary conference, it was probably intended to remind the elders of just that. It went, in part:

Come brethren let us sing a song of praise unto the Lord,
Who hath chosen us and sent us forth to preach his holy word,
’Mong distant nations far away, where sin and sorrows reign—
Where dire commotion fills the land with wretchedness and pain.

Chorus
Then brethren let us not forget to work, and watch, and pray;
Our God will never us forsake, but guard us night and day.

We go to teach eternal truth, to saints and sinners too,
To tell the world the glorious things the saints have got in view;

. . . .

We leave behind us, those we hold most sacred, fond and dear;
We KNOW they’re in the hands of God, and what have we to fear;
The joys of home we now forego our mission to fulfill,
And go to do what God requires—we have no other will.

Since they were on the Lord’s errand, the missionaries were assured that they would be divinely protected and cared for. At the August conference they were told by Orson Pratt to leave any cash they had at home for their families. “The Lord will always provide some way to get along and the faithful servant of God has nothing to fear, only his own weakness and his own imperfections and follies.”¹⁹ As a result, the missionaries naturally looked for signs that they were being divinely protected. On September 18, for example, Clayton recorded a miraculous incident. While ascending a hill, Chauncey Webb’s wagon accidentally broke away from his team. The horses ran off at a fast gallop, carrying their full harnessing and gear with them, and were in danger of being injured. Then through “some unseen cause” the whippletrees became detached, and the horses were saved from injury. Considering it impossible for the whippletrees to loose themselves, the missionaries rejoiced in what seemed to them evidence that “the angel of the Lord” was guarding them. “If the brethren will continue to cherish the same feelings they have hitherto done,” Clayton wrote home a few days later, “we need have no fears, for God is with us.” On September 25, summarizing the blessings of the week, Clayton reflected on various mishaps that turned out well, commented on how they had been blessed, and ended with the words he was already famous for, “All is well.”²⁰

Orson Pratt was the highest ranking Church leader in the group that traveled eastward. He was on his way to Washington, D.C., where he would take charge of all the eastern branches of the Church in America, and where he would publish an important periodical, The Seer. It was Elder Pratt who had formulated the basic approach to preaching plural marriage that many missionaries would follow, and in the pages of The Seer he dealt effectively with the subject.

As the missionaries traveled eastward, Orson Pratt had with him an article on plural marriage that he was preparing for publication, and on occasion he read it to the elders after they had camped for the evening. “It is truly an able work,” William Clayton reported after one such reading, “and invaluable to the Elders.”²¹ On Sunday, September 19, Elder Pratt read the original revelation on polygamy to the missionaries, clarifying for them various passages and doctrines, “all of which,” felt Clayton, “will be highly beneficial to the Elders during the present mission.”²²

The missionaries also spent considerable time discussing other doctrines and ideas. On many a night they sat around the campfire listening to the expoundings of Orson Pratt and debating various religious concepts. On September 28, Orson Spencer, who had been appointed chaplain of the group, proposed that since the evenings were long and the brethren seemed disposed to sit up late, they should spend their time in “devotional exercises,” including singing, preaching, and discussion. Everyone approved, and the first topic of discussion that night was the resurrection. The most interesting speculation arose over what they called the “baby resurrection.” This meant, as Clayton described the strange idea, “that instead of bodies being raised out of the ground &c we shall again be born of a woman, as we were when we came into the world.” There was a clear division of opinion, and Clayton himself was astonished at the doctrine. The discussion continued for the next two days and nights, sometimes growing very warm.

Clayton was no speculator on doctrine, and he was not impressed with the propriety of discussing such mysteries. Views differed widely, he said, “and there was very little light manifested by any one.” When it came his turn to speak he simply gave it as his opinion that the “keys of the resurrection” were not yet given and that it was useless to pry into things not yet revealed. He told the missionaries that they were not sent out to preach the Resurrection and that they could spend their time more profitably discussing subjects they understood and would soon have to defend before the world. For a while his view seemed to win out, for a majority voted to discontinue the subject, but then five elders, including Orson Spencer and Orson Pratt, took it up again. Elder Pratt declared that there was as much or more revealed on the Resurrection as any other subject and that he wanted to hear the views of the elders. They continued the discussion along the road all the next day but, as Clayton saw it, “with little satisfaction to anyone.”

It was difficult for Clayton to countenance these doctrinal debates when they began to warm up, for in his mind it was tremendously important that the elders all have good feelings toward each other and express a spirit of unity. “I never saw the same number of men travel together with as much union and good feeling, as has been manifested in this camp thus far,” he had written a few days earlier. Even doctrinal discussions had been edifying up to that point, for, he said, “There is a general disposition manifested to store their minds with useful knowledge; and after the duties of the day are over, the time is generally spent in reading, writing, or in edifying conversation, and the spirit of peace prevails in camp.”²³ The sudden division and sometimes ruffled feelings unnerved the disciple who had been so overwhelmed with love and goodwill. It was with some satisfaction, therefore that he recorded, on September 30, a soothing statement by Orson Pratt. After delivering his own discourse on the Resurrection, he advised the elders never to advance an idea before the world that could not be substantiated by revelation. He then discussed the problem of difference in opinion and said something that, for Clayton at least, was undoubtedly the epitome of wisdom and saintly brotherhood: “It is but reasonable to suppose that every brother entertains his opinions honestly; and if we know anyone to be in error and cannot convince him of his error by sound argument and revelation, [we are] not to ridicule him for his opinion, but treat him with respect.” This sermon, Clayton observed, was not only interesting and profitable, but was also delivered meekly and kindly.²⁴

The doctrinal discussions continued. On October 2, Orson Pratt read a treatise, which Clayton liked very much, on celestial marriage (that is, plural marriage) and on the premortal existence of man. The next day, Sunday, Orson Spencer and Orson Pratt had a public debate concerning the kind of being Adam was when he first came to earth. Spencer held that Adam had been placed on the earth as a resurrected being, while Pratt forcefully maintained that his body was molded from the dust of this earth. It was the general understanding of the group that Spencer was only supporting Brigham Young’s position.²⁵ Clayton agreed with Spencer, and in reporting the debate to Brigham Young referred to the doctrine of an earthly creation as little more than “the popular opinion of the world.”

At the same time, Clayton again faced a practical problem of discipleship that would occur more than once in the years to come: What does one do when he disagrees with a superior in the Church? Clayton obviously had great respect for Elder Pratt, but in this case, he told Brigham Young, “brother Pratt and myself have rather locked horns.” Clayton decided, however, that a loyal follower should not publicly argue with his priesthood-appointed leader. “There can be no difficulty between us,” he wrote, “as he is my superior and I shall not argue against him; but if it were an equal I should be apt to speak any feelings in full.” Even more important to the spirit of missionary work, Clayton saw some positive good come from these discussions, distressing as they were to him. They had convinced the brethren that “it will be wise to let all such subjects alone when we get amongst the benighted nations, and confine ourselves to plain principles which can easily be established from the revelations already given.”²⁶

The doctrinal debates continued, but in a better spirit of brotherhood.²⁷ Clayton observed that there were no more harsh words or jarring controversies, and such disagreements as there were all took place with good feelings. Evidently Orson Pratt’s advice had taken effect,²⁸ though the doctrines discussed had just as great a potential for conflict. On one occasion they debated whether or not a person who had been resurrected in the two lower degrees of “glory” could advance to the celestial.²⁹ On another occasion, Orson Pratt preached that the Saints do not worship the person of God but, rather, the “attributes” or “properties” that constitute the Godhead.³⁰

But the doctrine most loaded with potential for conflict was Orson Pratt’s discussion of the nature of God. With reference to the concept of eternal progression, Pratt preached that the gods do not “eternally progress in knowledge and wisdom.” Rather, at some point they arrive at a “fulness,” when they have learned all there is to learn, and therefore progress no more in knowledge. Clayton and the other missionaries were aware of the seeming difference of opinion between Pratt and President Young on this as well as other items, but he also recorded Elder Pratt’s effort to minimize it. Actually, said the Apostle, there was no real difference between them, only an “apparent difference” arising from the fact that they had not taken time to “connect” their ideas. “When Prest. Young speaks by the power of the spirit,” he said, “there is frequently such a flood of revelation that he has not time to explain every particular, and unless we have the spirit of God resting upon us, it is easy to get wrong ideas.” Eight years later, Elder Pratt publicly recognized that he and Brigham Young did, indeed, differ, and that his personal ideas were not to be considered Church doctrine.³¹

Such were the theological discussions among the missionaries of 1852. Their interest in probing mysterious, seemingly unfathomable areas was a natural impulse among a people who felt that modern prophets had been raised up partly for the purpose of revealing new information on the eternities. At the same time, Clayton’s concern that their speculative doctrines not be argued before the world is significantly similar to the clear instructions given to modern missionaries: preach the simple truths of the gospel and let the mysteries alone.

On November 2, the missionaries reached the Missouri River, whereupon Clayton and his traveling companion sold their wagon for $35. After traveling further by lumber wagon and by stage, Clayton arrived in St. Louis on November 21.

Orson Pratt was already there, proclaiming the doctrine of plural marriage and reading the revelation in public. Understandably it received mixed responses, and in this case a number of Church members “sent in their resignation” because of it. It was here that Clayton suffered his first abuse relating to the doctrine. He stayed at the home of his sister. His sixth wife, Augusta Braddock, also had a sister in St. Louis who called to see him but was so “mad and fiery” that they could not even carry on a conversation. Augusta’s husband later came and was so angry at Clayton that he threatened to kill him on the spot. Ordered out of the house, the husband nevertheless continued to stand across the street “foaming and threatening dreadfully.”³²

Clayton remained in St. Louis for several days then took boat passage to Cincinnati and from there to Youngstown. On December 9, he arrived at Philadelphia, having taken Pennsylvania’s famous railroad that maneuvered the cars over the mountains by using stationary engines to haul them up a series of inclines. From there he went to New York, where he finally took passage for England on December 17.

On January 4, 1853, Clayton stepped ashore at Liverpool, where he was welcomed by President Samuel W. Richards and some other missionaries (illus. 10-3). After dinner he quickly repaired to a public bathhouse where he took “a glorious scrubbing for about an hour.” He then visited the mission president again before going to his lodgings for a welcome night’s rest in a warm bed.

Clayton was soon assigned as pastor of the Sheffield and Lincolnshire conferences, and as he traveled to his place of duty he met old friends and visited scenes of his childhood, which gave him “many solemn thoughts” of days gone by.³³ On January 8, he went to Manchester, where he expected to deliver letters to several Saints and to renew some old acquaintances. Tragically, it was here, where he had once presided so well as branch president, that the trouble began that ultimately shattered his hopes of a long and joyous mission in his homeland.

When the missionaries arrived in England, the introduction of the new doctrine of plural marriage became one of their most important and sensitive tasks. The first group landed in Liverpool on December 20, 1852, some two weeks before Clayton. With that first contingent was Daniel Spencer and his brother Orson. Daniel may well have been trying to prepare the minds of the British Saints for the new doctrine when, on Christmas Day, he preached a sermon to the priesthood on the subject of obedience to authority. “If you are found obedient to counsel,” he told them, “nothing will stumble you, neither ‘Spiritual Wifeism,’ nor anything else. You will swallow all good things down.”³⁴

Illus. 10-3. Samuel W. Richards (back row) was president of the British Mission during Clayton’s 1852–53 mission. Courtesy Church Archives

The Millennial Star had said nothing to promote plural marriage, and, except for the missionaries and a few leaders, the British Saints in general apparently knew nothing of it. Beginning in January 1853, however, the Star soon gave them ample explanations and the missionaries began to preach the doctrine regularly. The first issue of the Star in 1853 commented on the hundred missionaries who had just left their homes “for the purpose of travelling to strange and distant nations to preach doctrines obnoxious to and universally despised by the world.”³⁵ It also contained the 1843 revelation to Joseph Smith. The second issue carried an editorial comment on the revelation, emphasizing not just plural marriage but also the eternal nature of marriage, and declared it to be

one of the most important Revelations that have come through the Prophet Joseph unto man in this last dispensation. None seem to penetrate so deep, or be so well calculated to shake to its very centre the social structure which has been reared, and vainly nurtured by this professedly wise and Christian generation. . . . None more portray the eternity of God’s purposes—and we may say, none have carried so weighty an influence, or had the power to stamp their divinity upon the mind, by absorbing every feeling of the soul to the extent the one has which appeared in our last.³⁶

By the end of January the editors of the Star had also prepared a special supplement, which sold inexpensively, containing the minutes of the special conference of August 28 and 29, 1852. Further it enthusiastically promoted Orson Pratt’s new periodical, The Seer, which contained in its early issues expanded and powerful explanations of polygamy.³⁷ The supplement also promoted an important pamphlet by Orson Spencer, whose missionary assignment was in Prussia, entitled “Patriarchal Order, or Plurality of Wives!”³⁸ Finally the Star published serially, in February and March, a lengthy statement entitled “Polygamy” by Elder John Jaques and commented editorially on the series:

The simplicity and perspicuity in which the doctrine is set forth, as not only being Scriptural, but one of the prominent characteristics of the Latter-day work, will, no doubt, render it most agreeably interesting to our numerous readers, who have Truth the object of their search. . . . When the institutions of God are revealed to men they are made obligatory upon them; and if used by men for other purposes than those for which they are ordained of Him, they bring cursings, wrath, and indignation. The wise will therefore take heed how they have to do with the sacred things of God.³⁹

The efforts of the Star to promote the new doctrine were faithfully supplemented by the missionaries, who soon began to preach it regularly among the Saints. On January 23, William Clayton made note of one missionary lecturing in Sheffield on the newly published revelation and described him as “a fine man and a good speaker. His heart is in the work, and he enjoys the spirit to a good degree.” The next day, Clayton also instructed members of the priesthood with regard to the revelation, and his companion, William Glover, discussed the same subject.⁴⁰

It was to be expected that as in America the new doctrine would offend some of the Saints in England. On January 25, for example, Clayton preached plural marriage in Attercliffe and found a few of the Saints “very attentive.” But at least one man was so vigorously opposed to the doctrine that he asked to be cut off from the Church.⁴¹ Evidently many Saints had already heard the rumors and irresponsible reports that later spread all over Europe and hindered missionary work even into the twentieth century. The Saints in Manchester had heard that in Utah a man’s wife could be taken from him without consent and given to another and that young unmarried women were given to men as wives contrary to their feelings. On the evening of February 2, 1853, Clayton spent an hour and a half trying to disabuse some Manchester Mormons of such ridiculous ideas. When he finished, he reported, “They appeared to feel much better, and fully satisfied in regard to the plurality.”⁴² On February 23, he spent the full afternoon preaching to a group of women in the Church who had heard the “wicked reports” that had been circulating. They had been told that when immigrant families arrived in Salt Lake Valley, husbands and wives were separated and daughters were taken from their parents to be given to whomever the authorities thought proper, regardless of their feelings. “I took great pleasure,” Clayton said, “in correcting the reports, and taught them the true principle, which seemed to cheer them much.” That night he held a meeting in the home of one of the Saints where he preached on plural marriage and other principles until nearly midnight.

Clayton was one of the most avid preachers of the doctrine of plural marriage, but ironically and inadvertently his enthusiasm contributed to the distressing events that brought his mission to a quick and disappointing end. Some details of the story are obscure, and only two sources provide much help in piecing it together. One is Clayton’s own missionary journal, but here an unfortunate deletion clouds the situation. The entry of January 8, 1853, tells of his finding lodging in Manchester. “I found a place to stay,” he wrote, “which I afterwards learned to my sorrow was the house of an apostate Mormon; and through him I have passed through the most unpleasant, and bitterest period of my life.” But the next five pages of the journal are blank, and it appears as if a few additional pages following the blank ones have been removed. By the time of the next entry, January 23, the incidents that originated the trouble were past.

The other source is a letter written by Clayton, on February 5, to his good friend in Utah, Thomas Bullock (illus. 10-4).⁴³ It tells the story of Clayton’s mission from the time of his arrival in England until that date, and since the parts covered by the diary are reported almost precisely the same way in the letter, there is no doubt that the letter accurately reflects what should have been in the rest of the diary. The letter reveals a sad and frustrated William Clayton who had just seen a notice in the Millennial Star announcing that he had been released from his duties as pastor of the Sheffield conference. Realizing that the notice would shock his family and associates, he confided the whole story to his friend. He did not want the story told if it were not necessary, but for the sake of truth, he said, “I feel constrained to relate the facts of the case, so that as a friend you may be enabled to correct any false impressions that may arise from the notice referred to. If there is no public rumor in regards to it, then keep this to yourself.” After relating the circumstances, Clayton sadly observed that he had explained it satisfactorily to the mission leaders but too late to keep the notice from appearing in the Star. Then, almost as if he were pleading for future historians to rescue his reputation from the gulf, he added, “But there stands the notice, and will stand in print as long as the church stands I suppose, without one palliating fact being given to show the reasons, or the full state of the case.”

Illus. 10-4. Clayton described his missionary labors in England in this letter to his friend Thomas Bullock. Courtesy Church Archives

Clayton and his missionary companion, William Glover, were on their way to Sheffield when they stopped in Manchester on January 8. They had difficulty finding everyone to whom Clayton was to deliver messages, and Glover became tired. They separated, therefore, with Glover going to dinner with the local presiding elder and Clayton continuing his search for people. They were to meet at the railway station at 4:30 to continue their trip to Sheffield. On this midwinter day, Clayton was wearing a heavy cloak that, as he exerted himself hurrying from place to place, caused him to become “wet through the sweating.” Hot, tired, and wet, he rushed to the station but missed the train by seconds and was forced to stay in Manchester. “From this circumstance,” he wrote Bullock, “I may date my ill luck, and cause of my present unfortunate position.”

There was nothing to do but find a place to stay for the night, and the first place Clayton found that took in lodgers was the home of an apostate Mormon. That night Clayton came down with a severe cold, was seized with pain in his limbs, and became so hoarse he could barely speak. For a week he lay in bed coughing up phlegm, and he could consume no solid food for ten days. During all this time he was treated well by his hosts, but on Sunday, January 17, they somehow heard of the doctrine of plural marriage. Then the storm broke, or, as Clayton put it, “The scale turned sure enough, and of all the cursing and blaspheming he used, I have not often heard the equal.” The former Church member was outraged, and Clayton’s efforts to reason with him met nothing but a brick wall of anger.

The distraught missionary finally persuaded his irate host, who had severely threatened him, to let him stay one more night. The next morning, scarcely able to walk, he made his way to the railroad station. It did him no good, in his weakened condition, to stand for several hours in the cold waiting for the train to Sheffield.

It was out of this event that the first serious charge was brought against Clayton. “This scoundrel,” as he characterized his Manchester host, construed Clayton’s scriptural arguments in favor of plural marriage to make it appear that he had admitted to having more than one wife. Evidently some missionaries, Clayton included, were not publicly acknowledging their personal involvement in the practice until the doctrine could be fully taught and generally accepted. At any rate, the angry apostate began to spread distortions throughout Manchester, even going so far as to accuse the hapless missionary of immorality.⁴⁴ It is understandable that the Saints in Manchester, some of whom were there thirteen years earlier when Clayton was their branch president, should be shocked at the sudden accusations. Perhaps the shock effect itself led some of them to believe the worst, and someone wrote the mission president, Samuel Richards, repeating the charges.

But for Clayton, misfortunes seemed to come in bunches. In this case they only began with the rumor-mongering related to his plural marriages. They continued with another incident that, though understandable enough from his perspective, he might have avoided with slightly more discretion. He finally boarded the train for Sheffield but, upon his arrival, felt so “weak and poorly” from all he had gone through that he could barely stand. He was on his way to the home of a Brother Albiston but decided he must have a glass of gin “to stimulate me for the task.” “Unfortunate Act,” wrote Clayton. “The weakness of my body, and being so long without food, caused it to take hold of me, so that I knew it must be noticed.” When he reached the home of Brother Albiston several other Saints were there, and by that time the alcohol had so affected his weakened body that he appeared to be in a state of drunkenness. “The effects of the gin almost made me crazy,” he recalled, and his illness again became so severe that he had to stay in bed another few days at the Albiston home. Even after he was able to move about, his weakness and hoarseness lingered for weeks.

As in Manchester, there were those among the Saints in Sheffield who felt it their obligation to report to the mission president and almost immediately one of the brethren left for Liverpool. At this point, as in the life of all disciples, indiscretions from the distant past seemed also to catch up with Clayton. As he told his friend: “As brother Samuel knew that I have indulged too much in times past, I suppose he naturally concluded that the report must be true. Hence the notice in the Star, before I ever knew a syllable of what was going on.”

We have no authentic information about what went on in Samuel Richards’s mind when he heard the two reports on William Clayton. It is clear, however, that he felt that Clayton should not function in a leadership position, at least until the charges were cleared up, for he placed the following notice in the Millennial Star dated February 5 (though actually distributed several days earlier): “Elder William Clayton, by late appointment Pastor of the Sheffield and Lincolnshire Conferences, is suspended from acting in any official capacity in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Clayton, meanwhile, was not about to sit idly by while such charges were circulating. On Wednesday, January 26, he received a letter from President Richards that contained “intimations” of the accusations against him. Within fifteen minutes he was on his way to Liverpool, and the next day he had an interview with Richards and his counselor, Daniel Spencer. Spencer had left Salt Lake City with Clayton only four months earlier, which doubtless made the need now to sit in judgment a special sadness for them both.

It seems apparent that by the time Clayton arrived in Liverpool, Richards had already decided to place the fateful notice in the Church periodical, though he did not inform Clayton of it at the time. The fact that the paper was being distributed by February 1 suggests that the copy work, typesetting, and printing were all at least in process, if not finished, when Clayton met with him on January 27. In any case, Clayton came away from that interview feeling that both mission leaders believed the false reports.⁴⁵

As Clayton left the mission office, Richards asked him to call again at 5 o’clock that evening. We can only imagine the thoughts that went through his mind as he wandered around alone, not able even to do missionary work. He spent the day simply strolling along the docks at Liverpool, looking at the shipping and, no doubt, sadly reflecting on how such happy days could suddenly become so tragic. At five he met again with Richards, who apparently had not changed his views and felt it wise for Clayton to be released from duty. By this time he at least may have begun to see Clayton’s side of the story, but, as Clayton wrote to Bullock, “it was too late. The malice was in print, and could not be recalled.” Richards advised Clayton not to act in any “public capacity” or even preach for a week or two and took his ministerial license as a guarantee that he would not. Clayton promised to conform. Richards gave the distraught elder some money to help pay expenses and then, Clayton wrote in his diary, “I bid him goodby with a heavy heart, seeing plainly that the devil is determined to destroy me if possible.”

Alone, disgraced, and seemingly rejected by those who could control his future, Clayton brooded. But it was impossible for him to stay in his room alone, so he spent the evening wandering through a zoo to pass away the time. The next day he returned to Sheffield. If ever a person felt alone in a crowd, it was William Clayton as that night he went to a circus “to pass away a lonely hour.” He would have many such lonely hours before his mission was complete.

At the same time, Clayton was not without sympathy among the Saints. When he returned to Sheffield he met with Church officers, explained the circumstances, and in a humble spirit asked forgiveness if he had hurt the feelings of anyone. Unanimously the priesthood leaders voted to forgive him. They also wrote the mission president, recounting the facts as they saw them and asking that Clayton be restored to his leadership position. How warm with gratitude he must have felt when he wrote in his diary, “The brethren appear to feel very well towards me.” He assured Bullock that “the Elders and officers here have rejoiced in my council, and have gratefully acknowledged the benefits they have received under my instructions.” Such a feeling of acceptance could not completely pay for the torment he had experienced, but at least it helped.

Clayton could not perform any official pastoral duties, but he spent the next several days catching up on his journal, writing letters, sightseeing, and, when he felt it was appropriate, teaching the Saints. Even plural marriage was among the subjects he taught. Such opportunities were great therapy for him during these trying days, as one can sense in his entry of Sunday, February 6. “In the evening a number of the brethren called, and I felt well while instructing them on the principles of eternal life.” But he could not be satisfied until he was back to his labors full time. “In a few weeks things will take a change and I shall be busy in the field of labor,” he wrote Bullock, “but time seems to go slow when I am not preaching every day.”

In due time the longed-for restoration came, and in the intervening days Clayton found himself gaining renewed hope for the success of his mission. On February 7, he received a “consoling letter” from Samuel Richards, which included not only comforting words from the mission president but also a copy of the comments Brigham Young had made about Clayton in a letter to Richards written on October 29, 1852. The confidence of the prophet was just what Clayton needed at that point. It “inspired me with fresh energy to be faithful and do the will of God,” he said, “that the anticipations of my brethren in regard to me may be fully realized, and that I may be the means of doing a good work during my stay in this country. And may the Lord enable me to do it, for I have no other object and desire but to do this thing.” Finally on February 12, he received word from Richards that he had been restored to office. On February 17, he received a copy of the Millennial Star (dated February 26) that announced his restoration, and his companion, William Glover, returned from a trip to Liverpool bringing personal assurances that Richards and Spencer both had confidence in him.⁴⁶

Delighted and renewed by his exoneration, Clayton resumed his conference leadership vigorously. He led out in planning a series of lectures in Sheffield and in raising the money to support it. He raised money to send elders on foreign missions, and he was able to obtain a reconciliation with some of the elders who had opposed him. He confided in his diary that “we feel now that every obstacle is removed, and the Lord has wrought every thing round to our hearts desire.” Then, reflecting the exuberance that was finally his again, he wrote: “We could not have been more blest in regard to these matters, even if we had had the privilege of asking the Lord for them, face to face; and to his name be all the praise and glory forever and ever.”

The last entry in Clayton’s missionary journal is that of March 2, and by this time he seemed confident all would go well from then on. What happened between then and April is a mystery, but sometime during the month Samuel Richards suggested that he return home.⁴⁷ The answer may be that despite the support Clayton received in Sheffield, there were still those who were critical of him, and President Richards simply felt it wise to avoid possible conflict and division. There is nothing in the record to suggest any more specific incidents, but it is not difficult to imagine that the controversy swirling about him did not subside merely because the mission president restored him. In any case, on April 6, the ship Camillus cleared the port of Liverpool with the last company of Saints to emigrate that season. William Clayton was among them and undoubtedly spent many more lonely hours amid the crowd of Saints. Though he was still officially listed as a “minister” by occupation,⁴⁸ the “happiest days any Elder ever spent in this world” were, for him, at an end.

What did all this mean to the faith and discipleship of William Clayton? Nothing in the available records sheds further light on the mission, but his letter to Bullock portrays an attitude that deserves comment. In the midst of his frustration, Clayton became deeply introspective and made new and determined commitments. A lesser disciple may have let the criticism and discipline dismay him to the point of giving up—returning home and even, perhaps, deciding that Church activity simply was not worth the trouble. Indeed, it is not unheard of among the Mormons for former missionaries to lose their faith over lesser things. But disciples of Clayton’s stripe took a different tack.

Clayton revealed the nature of his faith to Bullock. Far from predicting that the experience would affect him negatively for life, he was already looking on the bright side and had decided that in the long run it would have a good effect. He was determined that the whole experience “will be an effectual preventative against my touching intoxicating drinks. It has weaned me from that folly, and I now feel to deprecate the practice as much as any man can do, and deeply mourn over my past follies in times that are gone.” But he went even further, and in a passage that beautifully illustrates a special kind of self-denying discipleship, he told Bullock that even though this was a hard lesson, “I acknowledge that I deserve it for my conduct in past times and therefore I will acknowledge the hand of God in it for good and try to bear it with meekness.” The experience gave him a greater determination than ever before to “do right” and, more important, a “deeper interest in the prosperity of the work.” No better expression of this kind of discipleship could be penned than the following:

If it is necessary that I should endure this severe penalty for the good of the work, so let it be, for I feel not only willing to bear this but to lay my life down for the cause, if necessary. Before this evil occurred I had commenced to visit the branches in this Conference, and the saints seemed anxious to hear. I had just begun to feel in my elemen. . . . but the Devil or some other agency has stopped me for a week or two. I often think of an expression brother Hunter made use of just before I left home. His remark was this: “the Devil hates you, he will kill you if he can, be careful.” And I think he spoke the truth. However, the whole only makes me more determined to do right, live humble, and do all the good I can.

The true disciple feels not only the need to do good, but also the burden of setting a good example. Clayton felt this deeply: “I intend to take a course that will place it beyond the reach of either saint or sinner to find fault with me, and have the last semblance of truth on their side. Brother Samuel said like this. ‘Brother William; the saints and the world expect more of you than of any other man,’ and indeed it seems true.” Other priesthood members, he observed, had committed sins in England “compared with which my fault is triflin. . . . but when an American Elder comes here, he has got to walk perfect as an angel or have his nose rubbed. Well I will try to be perfect, the Lord being my helper, and will try to set them an example which the best need not be ashamed to follow.”