Posted by:
anybody
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Date: February 06, 2018 12:20PM
I've put this up before but will do so again:
This is the infamous "Greek Psalter Incident" as described in "Three Days At Nauvoo" (1842) by the Rev. Henry Caswall.
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36486/36486-h/36486-h.htmThe following morning (Tuesday, April 19th), a Mormon arrived with his boat and ferried me over to Nauvoo. A Mormon doctor accompanied me. He had obtained, I was told, a regular diploma from a medical school as a physician; but since the Mormons generally prefer miraculous aid to medicine, it is probable that his practice is somewhat limited. He argued with me as we were on the passage, and evinced a tolerable share of intelligence and acuteness. The success of Mormonism in England was a subject of great rejoicing to him. I observed, that I had reason to believe that the conquests of Mormonism in Britain had been principally among the illiterate and uneducated. This, he partially admitted; but he maintained that God had always chosen the poor, for they were rich in faith. I replied, that the class of persons to whom he referred, abounded in wrong faith no less than in right faith; and that among the lower class of persons in England, the wildest delusions, of the most contradictory character, had, from time to time, been readily propagated. I further remarked, that the same class of people who believed in Joanna Southcote, might easily be persuaded to credit the divine mission of Joseph Smith. I begged him to inform me whether the Mormons believed in the Trinity. "Yes," he replied; "we believe that the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Ghost is God; that makes three at least who are God, and no doubt there are a great many more." He went on to state, that the Mormons believe that departed saints become a portion of the Deity, and may be properly denominated "Gods."
On landing at Nauvoo, I proceeded with the Doctor along the street which I mentioned before as bordering on the strand. As I advanced with my book in my hand, numerous Mormons came forth from their dwellings, begging to be allowed to see its mysterious pages; and by the time I reached the prophet's house, they amounted to a perfect crowd. I met Joseph Smith at a short distance from his dwelling, and was regularly introduced to him. I had the honour of an interview with him who is a prophet, a seer, a merchant, a "revelator," a president, an elder, an editor, and the general of the "Nauvoo legion." He is a coarse, plebeian person in aspect, and his countenance exhibits a curious mixture of the knave and the clown. His hands are large and fat, and on one of his fingers he wears a massive gold ring, upon which I saw an inscription. His dress was of coarse country manufacture, and his white hat was enveloped by a piece of black crape as a sign of mourning for his deceased brother, Don Carlos Smith, the late editor of the "Times and Seasons." His age is about thirty-five. I had not an opportunity of observing his eyes, as he appears deficient in that open, straightforward look which characterizes an honest man. He led the way to his house, accompanied by a host of elders, bishops, preachers, and common Mormons. On entering the house, chairs were provided for the prophet and myself, while the curious and gaping crowd remained standing. I handed the book to the prophet, and begged him to explain its contents. He asked me if I had any idea of its meaning. I replied, that I believed it to be a Greek Psalter; but that I should like to hear his opinion. "No," he said; "it ain't Greek at all; except, perhaps, a few words. What ain't Greek, is Egyptian; and what ain't Egyptian, is Greek. This book is very valuable. It is a dictionary of Egyptian Hieroglyphics." Pointing to the capital letters at the commencement of each verse, he said: "Them figures is Egyptian hieroglyphics; and them which follows, is the interpretation of the hieroglyphics, written in the reformed Egyptian. Them characters is like the letters that was engraved on the golden plates." Upon this, the Mormons around began to congratulate me on the information I was receiving. "There," they said; "we told you so—we told you that our prophet would give you satisfaction. None but our prophet can explain these mysteries." The prophet now turned to me, and said, "this book ain't of no use to you, you don't understand it." "Oh yes," I replied; "it is of some use; for if I were in want of money, I could sell it, and obtain, perhaps, enough to live on for a whole year." "But what will you take for it?" said the prophet and his elders. "My price," I replied, "is higher than you would be willing to give." "What price is that?" they eagerly demanded. I replied, "I will not tell you what price I would take; but if you were to offer me this moment nine hundred dollars in gold for it, you should not have it." They then repeated their request that I should lend it to them until the prophet should have time to translate it, and promised me the most ample security; but I declined all their proposals. I placed the book in several envelopes, and as I deliberately tied knot after knot, the countenances of many among them gradually sunk into an expression of great despondency. Having exhibited the book to the prophet, I requested him in return to shew me his papyrus; and to give me his own explanation, which I had hitherto received only at second hand. He proceeded with me to his office, accompanied by the multitude. He produced the glass frames which I had seen on the previous day; but he did not appear very forward to explain the figures. I pointed to a particular hieroglyphic, and requested him to expound its meaning. No answer being returned, I looked up, and behold! the prophet had disappeared. The Mormons told me that he had just stepped out, and would probably soon return. I waited some time, but in vain: and at length descended to the street in front of the store. Here I heard the noise of wheels, and presently I saw the prophet in his waggon, flourishing his whip and driving away as fast as two fine horses could draw him. As he disappeared from view, enveloped in a cloud of dust, I felt that I had turned over another page in the great book of human nature.