A bird's-eye view of Great Salt Lake City—the strange city in the Desert about which so much has been heard—the city of the people who call themselves Saints.
I know there is much interest taken in these remarkable people—ladies and gentlemen—and I have thought it better to make the purely descriptive part of my Entertainment entirely serious.—I will not—then—for the next ten minutes—confine myself to my subject.
Some seventeen years ago a small band of Mormons—headed by Brigham Young—commenced in the present thrifty metropolis of Utah. The population of the territory of Utah is over 100,000—chiefly Mormons—and they are increasing at the rate of from five to ten thousand annually. The converts to Mormonism now are almost exclusively confined to English and Germans—Wales and Cornwall have contributed largely to the population of Utah during the last few years. The population of Great Salt Lake City is 20,000.—The streets are eight rods wide—and are neither flagged nor paved. A stream of pure mountain spring water courses through each street—and is conducted into the Gardens of the Mormons. The houses are mostly of adobe—or sun-dried brick—and present a neat and comfortable appearance.—They are usually a story and a half high. Now and then you see a fine modern house in Salt Lake City—but no house that is dirty, shabby, and dilapidated—because there are no absolutely poor people in Utah. Every Mormon has a nice garden—and every Mormon has a tidy dooryard.—Neatness is a great characteristic of the Mormons.
The Mormons profess to believe that they are the chosen people of God—they call themselves Latter-day Saints—and they call us people of the outer world Gentiles. They say that Mr. Brigham Young is a prophet—the legitimate successor of Joseph Smith—who founded the Mormon religion. They also say they are authorized—by special revelation from Heaven—to marry as many wives as they can comfortably support.
This wife-system they call plurality—the world calls it polygamy. That at its best it is an accursed thing—I need not of course inform you—but you will bear in mind that I am here as a rather cheerful reporter of what I saw in Utah—and I fancy it isn't at all necessary for me to grow virtuously indignant over something we all know is hideously wrong.
You will be surprised to hear—I was amazed to see—that among the Mormon women there are some few persons of education—of positive cultivation. As a class the Mormons are not educated people—but they are by no means the community of ignoramuses so many writers have told us they were.
The valley in which they live is splendidly favored. They raise immense crops. They have mills of all kinds. They have coal—lead—and silver mines. All they eat—all they drink—all they wear they can produce themselves—and still have a great abundance to sell to the gold regions of Idaho on the one hand—and the silver regions of Nevada on the other.
The President of this remarkable community—the head of the Mormon Church—is Brigham Young.—He is called President Young—and Brother Brigham. He is about 54 years old—altho' he doesn't look to be over 45. He has sandy hair and whiskers—is of medium height—and is a little inclined to corpulency. He was born in the State of Vermont. His power is more absolute than that of any living sovereign—yet he uses it with such consummate discretion that his people are almost madly devoted to him—and that they would cheerfully die for him if they thought the sacrifice were demanded—I cannot doubt.
He is a man of enormous wealth.—One-tenth of everything sold in the territory of Utah goes to the Church—and Mr. Brigham Young is the Church. It is supposed that he speculates with these funds—at all events—he is one of the wealthiest men now living—worth several millions—without doubt.—He is a bold—bad man—but that he is also a man of extraordinary administrative ability no one can doubt who has watched his astounding career for the past ten years. It is only fair for me to add that he treated me with marked kindness during my sojourn in Utah.