In Which Passepartout Undergoes, at a Speed of
Twenty Miles an Hour, a Course of Mormon History
During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran
south-easterly for about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance
in a northeasterly direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.
Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to
take the air. The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was
not snowing. The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an
enormous ring of gold, and Passepartout was amusing himself by
calculating its value in pounds sterling, when he was diverted
from this interesting study by a strange-looking person who made
his appearance on the platform.
This person, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,
with black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black
waistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat and dogskin gloves. He
might have been taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of
the train to the other, and affixed to the door of each car a
notice written in manuscript.
Passepartout approached and read one of these notices. It stated
that Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of
his presence on train No.48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism
in car No.117, from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited
all who were desirous of being instructed concerning the
mysteries of the religion of the "Latter Day Saints" to attend.
"I'll go," said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing of
Mormonism except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.
The news quickly spread through the train, which contained about
one hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the
notice, seated themselves in car No.117. Passepartout took one of
the front seats. Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.
At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an
irritated voice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I
tell you that Joe Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a
martyr, and that the persecutions of the United States Government
against the prophets will also make a martyr of Brigham Young.
Who dares to say the contrary?"
No one ventured to contradict the missionary, whose excited tone
contrasted curiously with his naturally calm expression. No doubt
his anger arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were
actually subjected. The government had just succeeded, with some
difficulty, in reducing these independent fanatics to its rule.
It had made itself master of Utah, and subjected that territory
to the laws of the Union, after imprisoning Brigham Young on a
charge of rebellion and polygamy. The disciples of the prophet
had since redoubled their efforts, and resisted, by words at
least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch, as is seen, was
trying to make proselytes on the railway trains.
Then, emphasizing his words with his loud voice and frequent
gestures, he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical
times. He told how in Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of
Joseph published the annals of the new religion, and bequeathed
them to his Mormon son; how, many centuries later, a translation
of this precious book, which was written in Egyptian, was made by
Joseph Smith, Jr., a Vermont farmer, who revealed himself as a
mystical prophet in 1825; and how, in short, the celestial
messenger appeared to him in an illuminated forest, and gave him
the annals of the Lord.
Several of the audience, not being much interested in the
missionary's narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch,
continuing his lecture, related how Smith, Jr., with his father,
two brothers, and a few disciples, founded the church of the
"Latter Day Saints," which, adopted not only in America, but in
England, Norway and Sweden and Germany, counts many artisans, as
well as men engaged in the liberal professions, among its
members; how a colony was established in Ohio, a temple erected
there at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a town built
at Kirkland; how Smith became an enterprising banker, and
received from a simple mummy showman a papyrus scroll written by
Abraham and several famous Egyptians.
The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience
grew gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers.
But this did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with
the story of Joseph Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his
ruined creditors gave him a coat of tar and feathers; his
reappearance some years afterwards, more honorable and honored
than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the chief of a flourishing
colony of three thousand disciples, and his pursuit thence by
outraged Gentiles, and retirement in the Far West.
Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout,
who was listening with all ears. Thus he learned that, after long
persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and in 1839 founded a
community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five
thousand souls, of which he became mayor, chief justice and
general-in-chief; that he announced himself, in 1843, as a
candidate for the Presidency of the United States; and that
finally, being drawn into ambush at Carthage, he was thrown into
prison, and assassinated by a band of men disguised in masks.
Passepartout was now the only person left in the car. The Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after
the assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham
Young, his successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt
Lake, where, in the midst of that fertile region, directly on the
route of the emigrants who crossed Utah on their way to
California, the new colony, thanks to the polygamy practised by
the Mormons, had flourished beyond expectations.
"And this," added Elder William Hitch, "is why the jealousy of
Congress has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of
the Union invaded the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our
chief, been imprisoned, in contempt of all justice? Shall we
yield to force? Never! Driven from Vermont, driven from
Illinois, driven from Ohio, driven from Missouri, driven from
Utah, we shall yet find some independent territory on which to
plant our tents. And you, my brother," continued the Elder,
fixing his angry eyes upon his single hearer, "will you not plant
yours there, too, under the shadow of our flag?"
"No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring
from the car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.
During the lecture the train had been making good progress, and
towards half-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the
Great Salt Lake. Here the passengers could observe the vast
extent of this interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea,
and into which flows an American Jordan. It is a picturesque
lake, framed in lofty crags in large strata, encrusted with white
salt--a superb sheet of water, which was formerly of larger
space than now, its shores having encroached with the lapse of
time, and thus at once reduced its breadth and increased its
depth.
The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is
situated three miles, eight hundred feet above the sea. Quite
different from Lake Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve
hundred feet below the sea, it contains considerable salt, and
one quarter of the weight of its water is solid matter, its
specific weight being 1,170, and, after being distilled, 1,000.
Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it, and those which
descend through the Jordan, the Weber, and other streams soon
perish.
The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons
are mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated
animals, fields of wheat, corn and other cereals, luxuriant
prairies, hedges of wild rose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort,
would have been seen six months later. Now the ground was covered
with a thin powdering of snow.
The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six
hours. Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt
Lake City, connected with Ogden by a branch road. They spent two
hours in this strikingly American town, built on the pattern of
other cities of the Union, like a checker-board, "with the
sombre sadness of right-angles," as Victor Hugo expresses it. The
founder of the City of the Saints could not escape from the taste
for symmetry which distinguishes the Anglo-Saxons. In this
strange country, where the people are certainly not up to the
level of their institutions, everything is done "squarely"--cities,
houses and follies.
The travelers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock, about
the streets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and
the spurs of the Wahsatch Range. They saw few or no churches, but
the prophet's mansion, the courthouse, and the arsenal,
blue-brick houses with verandas and porches, surrounded by
gardens bordered with acacias, palms and locusts. A clay and
pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded the town. In the principal
street were the market and several hotels adorned with pavilions.
The place did not seem thickly populated. The streets were almost
deserted, except in the vicinity of the temple, which they only
reached after having traversed several quarters surrounded by
palisades. There were many women, which was easily accounted for
by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons; but it must not be
supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists. They are free to
marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting that it is
mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry, as,
according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted
to the possession of its highest joys. These poor creatures
seemed to be neither well off nor happy. Some--the more
well-to-do, no doubt--wore short, open black silk dresses, under
a hood or modest shawl; others were clothed in Indian fashion.
Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these
women, charged, in groups; with conferring happiness on a single
Mormon. His common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It
seemed to him a terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at
once across the vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it
were, in a body to the Mormon paradise, with the prospect of
seeing them in the company of the glorious Smith, who doubtless
was the chief ornament of that delightful place, to all eternity.
He felt decidedly repelled from such a vocation, and he
imagined--perhaps he was mistaken--that the fair ones of Salt Lake
City cast rather alarming glances on his person. Happily, his stay
there was but brief. At four the party found themselves again at
the station, took their places in the train, and the whistle
sounded for starting. Just at the moment however, that the
locomotive wheels began to move, cries of "Stop! Stop!" were
heard.
Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman who
uttered the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was
breathless with running. Happily for him, the station had
neither gates nor barriers. He rushed along the track, jumped on
the rear platform of the train, and fell, exhausted, into one of
the seats.
Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur
gymnast, approached him with lively interest, and learned that he
had taken flight after an unpleasant domestic scene.
When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured
to ask him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner
in which he had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty
at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward--"one,
and that is enough!"