Now it chanced that at that time Brigham Young was trying an experiment. The “Prophet of the Lord” sometimes finds it necessary—notwithstanding the “revelations” which he is supposed to receive—to try experiments like other men before he can feel sure that his plans are likely to succeed. The only difference between him and other men is, that he—knowing himself that his plans are his own inventions, or the inventions of the leaders—gives out that they come direct from God, thereby deceiving the ignorant, innocent, and confiding people; and when his plans fail, as they often do, he never confesses that he is wrong or mistaken, but lays all the blame on some other person, or, failing that, on “the Lord” or the devil. Other men, as a rule, say nothing about “the Lord” or devil, but when their experiments fail they frankly confess that they themselves were not inspired, but were liable to err. That is all the difference.
In the present instance Brigham Young tried an experiment upon a rather large scale.
Up to the year 1856 the Mormon emigrants made the journey from the Frontiers across the Plains by ox-teams, as I have already described, and every season some of the wealthier Mormons formed themselves into an independent company, paid their own expenses, and travelled with more comfort. The expense to the poorer emigrants was very small, for they performed the greater part of the journey on foot—the ox-teams being used for transporting provisions and baggage—one hundred pounds of the latter being allowed to each emigrant.
This “plan” was, so far, a success, and the settlements of the Saints increased thereby, slowly but surely, in population and wealth. There were, however, at that time, thousands of Saints in Europe anxious to emigrate, but who were too poor to provide the small sum requisite for that purpose. During the winter of 1855 this difficulty was discussed in Conference by Brigham and the leading men in Salt Lake, and some one suggested what was afterwards known as the “Hand-Cart Scheme.” The idea of this “scheme” was to transfer the people from Liverpool to the Frontiers in the cheapest possible way, and for them then to cross the Plains with light-made hand-carts, just strong enough to carry the fewest possible necessary articles, but sufficiently light for the men, women, and even young girls, to draw them.
This “plan” would not perhaps have been a bad one if it had been properly carried out, and if Brigham Young had seen, as he might have done, that suitable preparations were made beforehand. But the Hand-Cart Emigration Scheme began with a lie and ended in ruin.
The confiding Saints were told that “God” had specially inspired His servant Brigham for this purpose, and the scheme was a revelation direct from on high.—No proper measures were taken to provide for the emigrants—all was done upon faith—faith on the part of the people in their—as they supposed—inspired leaders; deception on the part of those leaders towards the people, whose only fault was that they trusted them too well.
The Millennial Star proclaimed the “plan” to the Saints in Europe, and so great was the response to this special summons that in that year—1856—it was roughly estimated that no fewer than five or six thousand Mormon emigrants travelled from Liverpool to Salt Lake City. It was the first company of these emigrants that Brother Benton alluded to when he told Mr. Stenhouse that “they” were expected that night or the next; but in those days emigrant vessels were frequently delayed by adverse winds and other circumstances, and no one could calculate upon the exact time of their arrival in port.
The following morning, my husband, when he returned from the Mormon office, brought with him a letter bearing the English postmark, and addressed to me in the neat unmistakable handwriting of Mary Burton. I had been waiting and watching for a letter from her ever since our arrival; I was anxious to hear from her, and I hastily tore it open, so impatient was I to know how she was getting on. What I read interested me deeply, though it did not surprise me. I had seen Mary many times after the interview which I have already related, and our conversations and discussions were to us of all-absorbing interest; but as they were mostly personal I have not cared to record them in this narrative. To tell the truth, her love affairs with Elder Shrewsbury occupied more and more the most prominent place in all our discussions. His enthusiasm was perfectly infectious. As long as Mary absolutely refused to see him, her love for him and her faith in Mormonism were anything but overpowering. But Elder Shrewsbury was one of those peculiar persons who have a sort of magnetic charm about them; who, without our knowing it, or even, in some instances, contrary to our will and reason, enlist all our sympathies and leave behind them an impression that we vainly try to efface. He only wanted opportunity, and his success was sure.
Opportunity he had had for pressing his suit with Mary and making an impression upon her heart, ever since the day when they met at my door, and had taken that walk together, as Mary said, for the purpose of discussing important matters.
Now the letter which I received opened to me another chapter in Mary’s life, which without the gift of prophecy I might have easily predicted. Elder Shrewsbury’s patience and perseverance met with their due reward, and Mary at length promised to become his wife; but fascinated though she was, and herself almost as deeply in love as he was, she nevertheless made one condition which showed that she had not entirely lost that prudence and determination which she had shown in the early days of their courtship.