The Mormons foster education and educational institutions. "The glory of God is intelligence," they tell us, and intelligence for women as well as for men. Women, in the Mormon estimate, occupies a very high position, both in Church and state. You are surprised? You thought her subjected to all sorts of humiliating treatment, and that polygamy held her hopelessly in subjection? Ah! why not let polygamy rest as the dead issue that it really is? Why be always dragging it out and dangling its supposed horrors in the face of every advancement! Its practice was limited to but three per cent of those who believed in it as a principle; but even though an "Angel in Heaven" should declare the truth in the matter prejudice would stop its ears and refuse to hear. Why fill our minds with the blood-curdling tales of yellow back literature, when all the riches of the master minds of bygone centuries are at our disposal? Why not show to those whom we considered deluded a manner of living that will win them to us? Let us hear no more of the divorce courts and the brothel, before we cast the first stone at our brothers. Divorce is practically unknown among the Mormons, and when we assail Salt Lake City for morals we must remember that half her population is "Gentile," and that for the last twelve years the head of her city government has been drawn from that source.
In forming an impartial estimate of a people, we choose for our consideration neither the class that is designated as the upper stratum, nor those whose worldly possessions place them it the bottom, but go rather to the great middle class, those who hold a position between the two extremes. The Mormons profess to have no upper and no lower classes. They aim to meet on common ground, whatever their worldly inheritance may be. Their young men are called upon to give two or three years, and oftentimes more, of their life to the spreading of the gospel as they believe and teach it; and rich and poor, they go cheerfully, away from home and friends, amid unfriendly strangers, without other recompense than the consciousness of a duty performed. These are the much talked about and much dreaded missionaries, against whose "pernicious" influences we are warned. Considering the fact that these same Elders are in many cases beardless youths, is it not strange that contact with them is so feared, and discussions looked upon as so dangerous? Surely Christianity in all the nineteen hundred years that have elapsed since its establishment, has given us sufficient knowledge with which to defend ourselves. Why then all this flurry? Are we to be forced to believe ourselves on the weaker side? But, you say they are such "smooth fellows." True, but is the smoothness to be all on one side? Let us mass our forces and meet them on even ground, and who knows whose may be the victory?
We have all been told of the shield, over the appearance of which, in ancient times, two warriors quarreled, only to discover at the last that it presented an entirely different side to each. Is there not a possibility that, after all has been said and done, we may find there are also two sides to the Mormon question? History, we say, points with unerring finger to bloody deeds and insubordination. In one long procession they pass before us, "Mountain Meadow Massacre," "Danite Raids," "Bloody Atonement," political intrigues and gross depravity. They have been called a blot upon our Western civilization, and today the map of Utah is presented with a huge octopus disfiguring its fair proportions, and whose tentacles reach out into adjoining states. We have surely told you how unreliable are the stories told us of early pioneer days beyond the Mississippi, and how fabulous are legends which come to us of its early settlers. We have not considered how large a part the prejudice, which always follows a religious belief that deviates even in the least from what is known as orthodox, has played in the lurid tales with which our too eager ears have been regaled. We have fallen into the same error for which we censure the ancient knights; we have neglected to look upon the other side of the shield. What sad tales of persecution and long suffering we find here. Tragedies as sad as any in Reformation days. From Kirtland to Nauvoo, and across the trackless prairie they were driven, their weary way marked by the graves of those whose physical strength was not sufficient, until they reached at last what, to them, was a promised land, the valley of the great Salt Lake. Desolate and unpromising as it was, they have made it blossom as the rose. To quote a recent descriptive work, "By industry as remarkable as it was well directed, the desert was converted into an oasis, and the bare earth, with its poverty of sands and sage brush, was made to cover its nakedness with the green vestures of an almost unexampled fecundity."
How much truth there is in all that is urged against them, and how mistaken we may be as to their motives and the underlying principles which dominate their rough and rugged exterior, those of us who are enough interested must determine for ourselves. Strange, is it not, that we hear so little mention of the horrors of Haun's Mill, and so few detailed accounts of the mid-winter expulsion from Nauvoo? General Thomas L. Kane, of Philadelphia, visited their deserted city soon after their enemies had driven them away, and in a lecture delivered on the subject before the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, used these words:
"Dreadful, indeed, was the suffering of these forsaken beings; bowed and cramped by cold and sunburn, alternating as each weary day and night dragged on, they were almost all of them, the crippled victims of disease. They were there because they had no homes, nor hospitals, nor poorhouse, nor friends to offer them any. They could not satisfy the feeble cravings of their sick; they had not bread to quiet the fractious hunger-cries of their children. Mothers and babes, daughters and grandparents, all of them alike were bivouacked in tatters, wanting even covering to comfort those whom the sick shivers of fever were searching to the marrow. These were Mormons, famishing in Lee County, Iowa, in the fourth week of the month of September, in the year of our Lord, 1846. The city—it was Nauvoo, Illinois. The Mormons were the owners of that city and the smiling country around. And those who had stopped their plows, who had silenced their hammers, their axes, their shuttles, and their workshop wheels; those who had put out their fires and eaten their food, spoiled their orchards and trampled under foot their thousands of acres of unharvested bread—these were the keepers of their dwellings, the carousers in their Temples, whose drunken riot insulted the ears of their dying."
They had the added agony of camping on the snow covered ground without shelter, in plain sight of their confiscated possessions and desolated hearthstones. Another writer thus describes the awful scene:
"Out into the trackless American wilds, into an Indian country, the 'Mormons' wended their way, weary and destitute, for more than fifteen hundred miles, their pathway being marked by the graves of their dead. The history of their privations and suffering is harrowing in the extreme. The lives of not less than a thousand of their number were sacrificed in the relentless persecutions connected with the exodus from Illinois."
Need we be surprised that a feeble protest was raised against the too zealous enforcement of laws framed to this very end, or that a sense of injustice should be the result of such vigorous treatment?
We hear nothing nowadays of the battalion furnished by the Mormon refugees, for the defense of the flag in California and Mexico, at a time, too, when every able-bodied man was needed for defense against hostile Indians, hunger and all the other dangers attendant upon pioneer travel. In answer to this demand, Brigham Young said:
"You shall have your battalion, Captain Allen; and if there are not young men enough, we will take the old men, and if they are not enough, we will take the women."