Part 12

The Prophet’s private office, where he was in the habit of transacting the greater part of his business, correcting his sermons, and conducting his correspondence, was a plain, neat room, with a large writing-table and money-safe. I remarked a pistol and rifle hung within easy reach on the right-hand wall. There was a look of order which suited the character of the man, and his style of doing business was to issue distinct directions to his employés, after which he disliked referring to the subject. He had the reputation of being a wealthy man, though he began life as a poor one; and, so far as I could see, he had made his money, not by enriching himself by the tithes and plunder of his followers, but in business and by hard work.

After the first few words of greeting, I interpreted the Prophet’s look to mean that he would like to know my object in coming to the City of the Saints. I told him that, having read and heard much about Utah as it was said to be, I was anxious to see Utah as it was. He then touched upon agricultural and other subjects; but we carefully avoided anything to do with religion or his domestic peculiarities, on which, I was warned, he disliked to be questioned. After talking for about half an hour, the conversation began to flag, so we rose up, shook hands all round, as was the custom there, and took our leave.

The first impression left upon my mind, and subsequently confirmed, was that the Prophet was no common man, and that he had none of the weakness and vanity which characterise the common uncommon man. I also remarked the veneration shown to him by his followers, whose affection for him was equalled only by the confidence with which they entrusted to him their dearest interests in this world and in the next. After my visit many congratulated me, as would the followers of Tien Wong, or Heavenly King, upon having at last seen the most remarkable man in the world.

The Prophet’s block was surrounded by a high wall and strengthened with semi-circular buttresses; it consisted of many houses. The Lion House was occupied by Mrs. Young and her family in the eastern part of the square. On the west of it lay the private office, in which we were received, and further west again was the public office, where the church and other business was transacted. Beyond this was the Bee House, so named from the sculptured bee-hive in front of it. The Bee House was a large building with long walls facing east and west. It was tenanted by the Prophet’s “plurality wives” and their families, who each had a bedroom, sitting-room, and closet, simply and similarly furnished. There was a Moslem air of retirement about the Bee House; the face of woman was rarely seen at the window, and her voice was never heard without. Anti-Mormons declared the Bee House to be like the State prison of Auburn, a self-supporting establishment, for not even the wives of the Prophet were allowed to live in idleness.

As I have said before, I was unwilling to add to those who had annoyed the Prophet by domestic allusions, and have, therefore, no direct knowledge of the extent to which he carried his polygamy; some Gentiles allowed him seventeen, others thirty-six, wives out of a household of seventy members, others an indefinite number of wives scattered through the different settlements. Of these, doubtless, many were but wives by name――such, for instance, as the wives of the late Prophet; and others were married more for the purpose of building up for themselves spiritual kingdoms than for the normal purpose of matrimony. I judged the Prophet’s progeny to be numerous from the following circumstance. On one occasion, when standing with him on the belvedere, my eye fell upon a new erection; it could be compared externally to nothing but an English gentleman’s hunting-stables, and I asked him what it was intended for. “A private school for my children,” he replied, “directed by Brother Kelsey.”

The following Sunday I attended a Mormon service. I passed the morning in the painful but appropriate exercise of reading the books of Mormon and of Moroni the prophet. Some people had told me that it was the best imitation of the Old Testament existing; to me it seemed to emulate the sprightliness of Leviticus. Surely there never was a book so dull and heavy; it was as monotonous as a sage prairie. In Mormonism it holds the same place as the Bible in the more ignorant Roman Catholic countries, where religious reading is chiefly restricted to the Breviary, tales of miracles, of saints, and so forth. It was strictly proper, and did not contain a word about materialism and polygamy.

The early part of the morning passed. At 9.45 a.m. we entered “the Bowery”; it was advisable to go early to get seats within hearing. This place was a kind of “hangar,” about one hundred feet long by the same breadth, with a roofing of bushes and boughs supported by rough posts, and open for ventilation on the sides; it contained about three thousand souls. The congregation was accommodated upon long rows of benches, opposite the dais, or tribune, which looked like a long lane of boarding open to the north, where it faced the audience, and entered by steps from the east. Between the people and the platform was the orchestra――a violin, a bass, two women, and four men performers――who sang the sweet songs of Zion tolerably well.

We took our seats on the benches, where we could see the congregation flocking in, a proceeding which was not over for half an hour. The people were all in their Sunday best, and many a pretty face peeped out from the sun-bonnet, though the “mushroom” and the “pork-pie” had found their way over the plains, and trim figures were clad in neat dresses, sometimes with a little faded finery. The men were decently attired; but the weather being hot, many of them had left their coats at home, and had come in their shirt sleeves. The custom, however, looked natural, and there was no want of cleanliness, such as sometimes lurks behind the bulwark of buttons. The elders and dignitaries on the platform affected coats of black broadcloth. All wore their hats till the address began, then all uncovered. The number of old people astonished me; half a dozen were sitting on the same bench: these broken-down men and decrepit crones had come to lay their bones in the Holy City.

At 10 a.m. the meeting opened with a spiritual song, and then a civilised-looking man, being called upon by the presiding Elder for the day, offered up prayer. The matter was good, but somewhat commonplace. The conclusion was an “Amen,” in which all hands joined. It reminded me of the historical practice of “humming” in the seventeenth century.

Next arose Bishop Abraham O. Smoot, second Mayor of Zion, who began with “Brethring,” and proceeded in a Methody tone of voice to praise the saints and pitch into the apostates. He made an undue use of the regular Wesleyan organ――the nose; but he appeared to speak excellent sense in execrable English. As he was in the midst of an allusion to the President, Brigham Young entered, and all turned their faces, even the old lady who was sleeping through the discourse.

The Prophet was dressed as usual in grey homespun and home-woven; he wore, like most of the elders, a tall, steeple-crowned straw hat, with a broad black ribbon, and he had the gentility of black kid gloves. He entered the tribune covered, and sat down. A man in a fit was carried out pumpwards. Bishop Smoot concluded with informing us that we should live for God. Another hymn was sung. Then a great silence, which told us that something was about to happen: _that_ old man held his cough; _that_ old lady awoke with a start; _that_ child ceased to squall. President Brigham Young removed his hat, advanced to the end of the tribune, expectorated into the spittoon, restored the balance of fluid by a glass of water from a decanter on a stand, and, leaning slightly forwards with both hands propped on the green baize of the tribune, addressed his followers.

The discourse began slowly, word crept titubantly after word, and the opening phrases were scarcely audible; but as the orator warmed, his voice rose high and sonorous, and a fluency so remarkable succeeded hesitation that the latter seemed to have been a work of art. The gestures were easy and rounded, except one of raising and shaking the forefinger, which struck me as threatening and bullying. The address was long. Mormonism was a great fact. Religion had made him, Brigham Young, the happiest of men. He was ready to dance like a Shaker. At this the Prophet, who was a good mimic and had much of humour, raised his right arm, and gave, to the amusement of the congregation, a droll imitation of the Shakers. A great deal of what followed contained topical allusions. The Saints had a glorious destiny before them, and their morality was remarkable as the beauty of the Promised Land. The soft breeze blowing over the Bowery, and the glorious sunshine outside, made the allusion highly appropriate. After a somewhat lengthy string of sentences concerning the great tribulation coming on earth――it had been coming for the last eighteen hundred years――he concluded with good wishes to visitors and Gentiles generally, with a solemn blessing upon the President of the United States, the territorial Governor, and all that be in authority over us, and with an “Amen” which was loudly re-echoed by all around, he restored his hat and resumed his seat.

Then arose Mr. Heber C. Kimball, the second President. He was the model of a Methodist, a tall, powerful man, with dark, piercing eyes and clean-shaven, blue face. He affected the Boanerges style, from a certain dislike to the Nonconformist rant and whine, and his manner of speech savoured rather of familiarity than of reverence. Several of his remarks were loudly laughed at by the congregation. His style of oratory was certainly startling; he reminded me of Luther’s description of Tetzel’s sermon, in which he used to shout the words “Bring! bring! bring!” with such a horrible bellowing that one would have said it was a mad bull rushing on the people and goring them with its horns.

After this worthy’s address, a list of names for whom letters were lying unclaimed was called from the platform. A missionary adjourned the meeting till two o’clock, delivered the prayer of dismissal, during which all stood up, and ended with the Benediction and “Amen.” The Sacrament was not administered on this occasion. It was often given, and reduced to the very elements of a ceremony; even water was used instead of wine, because the latter is of Gentile manufacture. Two elders walked up and down the rows, one carrying a pitcher, the other a plate of broken bread, and each Saint partook of both.

That same evening when dining out, I had a lesson in Mormon modesty. The mistress of the house, a Gentile but not an anti-Mormon, was requested by a saintly visitor, who was also a widow, to instruct me that on no account I must propose to see her home. “Mormon ladies,” said my kind informant, “are very strict”; “Unnecessarily so on this occasion,” I could not help adding. Something similar occurred on another occasion: a very old lady, wishing to return home, surreptitiously left the room and sidled out of the garden gate, and my companion, an officer from Camp Floyd, at once recognised the object of the retreat――_viz._ to avoid our possible escort. I afterwards learned at dinner and elsewhere amongst the Mormons to abjure the Gentile practice of giving precedence to the fair sex. The lesson, however, was not new; I had been taught the same, in times past, amongst certain German missionaries, who assumed precedence over their wives upon a principle borrowed from St. Paul.

There was a certain monotony of life in Great Salt Lake City, a sameness from day to day, which does not render the subject favourable for a lively description; moreover, the Moslem gloom, the result of austere morals and manner, of the semi-seclusion of the sexes, and, in my case, the reserve arising towards a stranger who appeared in the train of Federal officials, hung over society. We rose early, and breakfasted at any hour between 6 and 9 a.m. Then ensued “business,” which seemed to consist principally of correcting one’s teeth and a walk about the town, with an occasional liquor up. Dinner was at 1 p.m., announced not by the normal gong of Eastern States, but by a most discordant hand-bell. Jostling into the long room of the ordinary, we took our seats, and, seizing our forks, proceeded at once to action. Nothing but water was drunk at dinner, except when a gentleman preferred to wash down roast pork with a tumbler of milk. Wine in this part of the world was dear and bad, and even if the Saints made their own, it could scarcely be cheap, on account of the price of labour. The feeding ended with a glass of liquor, not at the bar, because there was none, but in the privacy of one’s own chamber, which takes from drinking half its charms. Most of the well-to-do men found time for a siesta in the afternoon. There was supper at 6 p.m., and the evening was quietly spent with a friend.

To describe Great Salt Lake City in those days without some account of polygamy would be like seeing _Hamlet_ with the part of the Prince of Denmark omitted. It is, I suppose, therefore necessary to supply a popular view of the peculiar institution which at once was the bane and the blessing of Mormonism――plurality. I approach the subject with a feeling of despair, so conflicting are opinions concerning it, and so difficult is it to naturalise in Europe the customs of Asia, Africa, and America, and reconcile the habits of the nineteenth century A.D. with those of 1900 B.C. A return to the patriarchal ages must necessarily have its disadvantages.

I found that the marriage ceremony was performed in the Temple, or, if that was impossible, in Mr. Brigham Young’s office, properly speaking, by the Prophet, who, however, could depute any follower to act for him. When mutual consent was given, the parties were pronounced man and wife in the name of Jesus Christ; prayers followed, and there was a patriarchal feast of joy in the evening.

The first wife, as amongst polygamists generally, was _the_ wife, and assumed the husband’s name and title. Her plurality partners were called sisters, such as Sister Anne, or Sister Maria, and were the “aunts” of her children. The first wife was married for time, the others were sealed for eternity. Girls rarely remained single past sixteen (in England the average marrying age is thirty), and they would have been the pity of the community if they had been doomed to a waste of youth so unnatural.

Divorce was rarely obtained by the man, who was ashamed to own that he could not keep his house in order. Some, such as the President, would grant it only in the case of adultery; and here I may say the two mortal sins in Mormonism are (1) adultery, and (2) shedding innocent blood. Wives, however, were allowed to claim it for cruelty, desertion, or neglect. Mormon women married to Gentiles were cut off from the society of the Saints, and without uncharitableness men suspected a sound previous reason. The widows of the Prophet were married to his successor, as David took unto himself the wives of Saul; being generally aged, they occupied the position of matron rather than wife, and the same was the case where a man espoused a mother and her daughter.

There were rules and regulations of Mormonism. All sensuality in the married state was strictly forbidden beyond that necessary to procure progeny――the practice, in fact, of Adam and Abraham.

It is not necessary to go into the arguments which are adduced by the Mormons in favour of polygamy, nor to recount the arguments on the other side. I content myself here with stating facts as I saw them. It will be asked, What view did the softer sex take of this state of affairs? A few, mostly from the Old Country, lamented that Mr. Joseph Smith ever asked of the Creator that question which was answered in the affirmative. A very few, like the Curia Electa, Emma, the first wife of Mr. Joseph Smith――who said of her, by-the-bye, that she could not be contented in Heaven without rule――apostatised, and became Mrs. Brideman. But most of the women were even more in favour of polygamy than the men. For this attachment of the women of the Saints to the doctrine of plurality I found two reasons. The Mormon prophets expended all their arts upon this end, well knowing that without the hearty co-operation of mothers and wives, sisters and daughters, their institution could not exist long. They bribed them with promises of Paradise, they subjugated them with threats of annihilation. With them, once a Mormon always a Mormon. The apostate Mormon was looked upon by other people as a scamp and a knave, and as regards a woman, she was looked upon as worse than a prostitute. The Mormon household has been described by its enemies as a hell of hatred, envy, and malice; the same has been said of the Moslem harem; both, I believe, suffer from the assertions of prejudice or ignorance.

Another curious effect may be noticed. When a man had four or five wives, with reasonable families by each, he was fixed for life; his interests, if not his affections, bound him irrevocably to his New Faith. But the bachelor, as well as the monogamic youth, was prone to backsliding and apostacy. This, when I was at Great Salt Lake City, was apparently so common that many of the new Saints formed a mere floating population. But without expressing any further opinions (those I have given so far are merely the opinions of others), I may say that the result of my investigations was to prove that Great Salt Lake City had been wonderfully successful in its colonisation. Physically speaking, there was no comparison between the Saints and the class from which they were mostly taken, and, in point of view of mere morality, the Mormon community was perhaps purer than any other of equal numbers.

About the middle of September the time for my departure drew nigh. I prepared for difficulties by having my hair “shingled off,” till my head somewhat resembled a pointer’s dorsum, and deeply regretted having left all my wigs behind me. We laid in a good store of provisions, not forgetting an allowance of whiskey and schnapps.

My last evening was spent in the genial company of a few friends. I thanked Governor Cumming for his generous hospitality, and made my acknowledgments to the courtesy of his amiable wife. My adieux were on an extensive scale, and the next day, September 19th, in the morning, I left Great Salt Lake City, _en route_ for the South.

The day was fine and wondrous clear, affording a splendid back view of the Happy Valley before it was finally shut out from sight, and the Utah Lake looked a very gem of beauty, a diamond in its setting of steelly blue mountains. It was with a feeling of real regret that I bade adieu to the City of the Saints.

_A MISSION TO DAHOMÉ_

1863

_A MISSION TO DAHOMÉ_

1863

It is a long stride from Salt Lake City to Dahomé, from the Mormons to the Amazons, but I take my visit to the King of Dahomé as next in date. Before, however, beginning my journey to Dahomé let me touch briefly on that much-vexed and little-understood subject――the negro.

Central Intertropical Africa, lying between north latitude 10° and south latitude 20°, at that time contained eight considerable negro circles, which may be called kingdoms. Of these there were three on the west coast north of the Equator, namely:

1st. Ashanti, the land which exports the “Minas” negroes. This despotism has been well known to us since the beginning of the present century. The capital is Kumasi, nearly 133 direct miles from the coast. This empire may be said to rest on two pillars, blood and gold. Human sacrifice was excessive, and the “customs” mean the slaughter of fellow-creatures.

2nd. Benin, a kingdom well known to old travellers, and the place where Belzoni of the Pyramids died. I visited it in August, 1862, and my reception was the crucifixion of a negro. On the night after my arrival a second slave was slain and placed before my doorway. My lodgings commanded a view of the principal square, which was strewn with human bones, _green_ and _white_.

3rd. Dahomé. From the plain and unvarnished account of this tyranny, which I am about to relate, may be estimated the amount of hopeless misery which awaited the African in Africa. And as it is unsatisfactory to point out a disease without suggesting a remedy, I will propose my panacea at the end of this essay.

We now cross the Equator and find ourselves among the great South African family. Their common origin is proved by their speech. Briefly to characterise their language, the place of our genders are taken by personal and impersonal forms, and all changes of words are made at the beginning, not, as with us, at the end. The Kaffir (Caffre race in South-east Africa) is evidently a mixed breed, and it has nearly annihilated the Bushmen and the Hottentots――the original lords of the land. There is a curious resemblance between the Coptic, or Old Egyptian, and the Hottentot tongues, which suggests that in the prehistoric ages one language extended from the Nile Valley to the Cape of Good Hope. The true negroes, distinguished by their long, ape-like head and projecting jaws, bowed shins and elongated heels and forearms, are all the tribes of Intertropical Africa whose blood is unmixed. This is my definition; but of this point opinions differ.

And here we may stand to view the gleam of light which the future casts across the Dark Continent. Slowly but surely the wave of Moslem conquest rolls down towards the line. Every Moslem is a propagandist, and their traders, unlike ours, carry conversion with them. This fact European missionaries deny, because they do not like it: they would rather preach to heathens than to Moslems, whom Locke describes as unorthodox Christians. They even deny the superiority of El Islam, which forbids the pagan abominations of child-murder, human sacrifice, witch-burning, ordeal-poisons, and horrors innumerable. But we, who look forward to the advent of a higher law, of a nobler humanity, hail with infinite pleasure every sign of progress.

Philanthropists, whose heads are sometimes softer than their hearts, have summed up their opinion of slavery as the “sum of all villainies.” I look upon it as an evil, to the slaveholder even more than to the slave, but a necessary evil, or, rather, a condition of things essentially connected, like polygamy, with the progress of human society, especially in the tropics. The savage hunting tribes slave for themselves; they are at the bottom of the ladder. Advancing to agricultural and settled life, man must have assistants, hands, slaves. As population increases, commerce develops itself and free labour fills the markets; the slave and the serf are emancipated: they have done their task; they disappear from the community, never more to return. Hence every nation, Hindu and Hebrew, English and French, have had slaves; all rose to their present state of civilisation by the “sum of all villainies.” And here, when owning slavery to be an evil, I must guard against being misunderstood. It is an evil to the white man: it is often an incalculable boon to the black. In the case of the negro it is life, it is comfort, it is civilisation; in the case of the white it has done evil by retarding progress, by demoralising society, and by giving rise to a mixed race.