Main Street is rapidly becoming crowded. The western block, opposite the hotel, contains about twenty houses of irregular shape and size. The buildings are intended to supply the principal wants of a far-Western settlement, as bakery, butchery, and blacksmithery, hardware and crockery, paint and whip warehouse, a “fashionable tailor”—and “fashionable” in one point, that his works are more expensive than Poole’s[19]—shoe-stores, tannery and curriery; the Pantechnicon, on a more pretentious style than its neighbors, kept by Mr. Gilbert Clements, Irishman and orator; dry-goods, groceries, liquors, and furniture shops, Walker’s agency, and a kind of restaurant for ice-cream, a luxury which costs 25 cents a glass; saddlers, dealers in “food, flour, and provisions,” hats, shoes, clothing, sash laths, shingles, timber, copper, tin, crockery-ware, carpenters’ tools, and mouse-traps.... The Tabernacle is 126 feet long from N. to S., and 64 wide from E. to W.; its interior, ceilinged with an elliptical arch—the width being its span—can accommodate 2000-3000 souls. It urgently requires enlarging. Over the entrances at the gable ends, which open to the N. and S., is a wood-work representing the sun, with his usual coiffure of yellow beams, like a Somali’s wig, or the symbol of the Persian empire. The roof is of shingles: it shelters under its projecting eaves a whole colony of swallows, and there are four chimneys—a number insufficient for warmth at one season, or for ventilation at the other. The speaker or preacher stands on the west side of the building, which is reserved for the three highest dignities, viz., the First Presidency, the “Twelve” (Apostles), and the President of the State of Zion: distinguished strangers are also admitted. Of late, as in the old Quaker meeting-houses at Philadelphia, the brethren in the Tabernacle have been separated from the “sistern,” who sit on the side opposite the preacher’s left; and, according to Gentiles, it is proposed to separate the Christians from the Faithful, that the “goats” may no longer mingle with the sheep.
Immediately north of the Tabernacle is the Bowery—in early spring a canopy of green leafy branches, which are left to wither with the year, supported on wooden posts.
In the extreme northwest angle of the block is the Endowment, here pronounced On-dewment House, separated from the Tabernacle by a high wooden paling. The building, of which I made a pen and ink sketch from the west, is of adobe, with a pent roof and four windows, one blocked up: the central and higher portion is flanked by two wings, smaller erections of the same shape. The Endowment House is the place of great medicine, and all appertaining to it is carefully concealed from Gentile eyes and ears: the result is that human sacrifices are said to be performed within its walls. Mrs. Smith and Mr. Hyde have described the mysterious rites performed within these humble walls, but, for reasons given before, there is reason to doubt the truth of their descriptions; such orgies as they describe could not coexist with the respectability which is the law of the land. M. Remy has detailed the programme with all the exactitude of an eye-witness, which he was not. The public declare that the ceremonies consist of some show, which in the Middle Ages would be called a comedy or mystery—possibly Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained—and connect it with the working of a mason’s lodge. The respectable Judge Phelps, because supposed to take the place of the Father of Sin when tempting Adam and Eve, is popularly known as “the Devil.” The two small wings are said to contain fonts for the two sexes, where baptism by total immersion is performed. According to Gentiles, the ceremony occupies eleven or twelve hours. The neophyte, after bathing, is anointed with oil, and dressed in clean white cotton garments, cap and shirt, of which the latter is rarely removed—Dr. Richards saved his life at the Carthage massacre by wearing it—and a small square masonic apron, with worked or painted fig-leaves: he receives a new name and a distinguishing grip, and is bound to secrecy by dreadful oaths. Moreover, it is said that, as in all such societies, there are several successive degrees, all of which are not laid open to initiation till the Temple shall be finished. But—as every mason knows—the “red-hot poker” and other ideas concerning masonic institutions have prevailed when juster disclosures have been rejected. Similarly in the Mormonic mystery, it is highly probable that, in consequence of the conscientious reserve of the people upon a subject which it would be indelicate to broach, the veriest fancies have taken the deepest root.
After dining with the governor, we sat under the stoop enjoying, as we might in India, the cool of the evening. Several visitors dropped in, among them Mr. and Mrs. Stenhouse. He—Elder T. B. H. Stenhouse—is a Scotchman by birth, and has passed through the usual stages of neophyte (larva), missionary (pupa), and elder or fully-developed Saint (imago). Madame was from Jersey, spoke excellent French, talked English without nasalization or cantalenation, and showed a highly cultivated mind. She had traveled with her husband on a propagandist tour to Switzerland and Italy, where, as president of the missions for three years, he was a “diligent and faithful laborer in the great work of the last dispensation.”
He became a Saint in 1846, at the age of 21; lived the usual life of poverty and privation, founded the Southampton Conference, converted a lawyer among other great achievements, and propagated the Faith successfully in Scotland as in England. The conversation turned—somehow in Great Salt Lake City it generally does—upon polygamy, or rather plurality, which here is the polite word, and for the first time I heard that phase of the family tie sensibly, nay, learnedly advocated on religious grounds by fair lips. Mr. Stenhouse kindly offered to accompany me on the morrow, as the first hand-cart train was expected to enter, and to point out what might be interesting. I saw Elder and High-Priest Stenhouse almost every day during my stay at Great Salt Lake City, and found in his society both pleasure and profit. We of course avoided those mysterious points, into which, as an outsider, I had no right to enter; the elder was communicative enough upon all others, and freely gave me leave to use his information. The reader, however, will kindly bear in mind that, being a strict Mormon, Mr. Stenhouse could enlighten me only upon one side of the subject; his statements were therefore carefully referred to the “other part”; moreover, as he could never see any but the perfections of his system, the blame of having pointed out what I deem its imperfections is not to be charged upon him. His power of faith struck me much. I had once asked him what became of the Mormon Tables of the Law, the Golden Plates which, according to the Gentiles, were removed by an angel after they had done their work. He replied that he knew not; that his belief was independent of all such accidents; that Mormonism is and must be true to the exclusion of all other systems. I saw before me an instance how the brain or mind of man can, by mere force of habit and application, imbue itself with any idea.
Long after dark I walked home alone. There were no lamps in any but Main Street, yet the city is as safe as at St. James’s Square, London. There are perhaps not more than twenty-five or thirty constables or policemen in the whole place, under their captain, a Scotchman, Mr. Sharp, “by name as well as nature so”; and the guard on public works is merely nominal. Its excellent order must be referred to the perfect system of private police, resulting from the constitution of Mormon society, which in this point resembles the caste system of Hindooism. There is no secret from the head of the Church and State; everything, from the highest to the lowest detail of private and public life, must be brought to the ear and submitted to the judgment of the father-confessor-in-chief. Gentiles often declare that the Prophet is acquainted with their every word half an hour after it is spoken; and from certain indices, into which I hardly need enter, my opinion is that, allowing something for exaggeration, they are not very far wrong. In London and Paris the foreigner is subjected, though perhaps he may not know it, to the same surveillance, and till lately his letters were liable to be opened at the Post Office. We cannot, then, wonder that at Great Salt Lake City, a stranger, before proving himself at least to be harmless, should begin by being an object of suspicion.
Mr. Stenhouse circulated freely among the crowd, and introduced me to many whose names I do not remember; in almost every case the introduction was followed by some invitation. He now exchanged a word with this “brother,” then a few sentences with that “sister,” carefully suppressing the Mr. and Madam of the Eastern States. The fraternal address gives a patriarchal and somewhat Oriental flavor to Mormon converse; like other things, however, it is apt to run into extremes. If a boy in the streets be asked, “What’s your name?” he will reply—if he condescends to do so—“I’m brother such-and-such’s son.” In order to distinguish children of different mothers, it is usual to prefix the maternal to the paternal parent’s name, suppressing the given or Christian name of monogamic lands. Thus, for instance, my sons by Miss Brown, Miss Jones, and Miss Robinson, would call themselves Brother Brown Burton, Brother Jones Burton, and so on. The Saints—even the highest dignitaries—waive the Reverend; and the ridiculous Esquire, that “title much in use among vulgar people,” which in Old and New England applies to everybody, gentle or simple, has not yet extended to Great Salt Lake City. The Mormon pontiff and the eminences around him are simply Brother or Mister—they have the substance, and they disdain the shadow of power. En revanche, among the crowd there are as many colonels and majors—about ten being the proportion to one captain—as in the days when Mrs. Trollope set the Mississippi on fire. Sister is applied to women of all ages, thus avoiding the difficulty of addressing a dowager, as in the Eastern States, Madam, in contradistinction to Mrs., her daughter-in-law, or, what is worse, of calling her after the English way, old Mrs. A., or, Scotticè, Mrs. A. senior.
The dress of the fair sex has, I observed, already become peculiar. The article called in Cornwall a “gowk,” in other parts of England a “cottage bonnet,” and in the United States a “sun-bonnet,” is here universally used, with the difference, however that the Mormons provide it with a long thick veil behind, which acts like a cape or shawl. A loose jacket and a petticoat, mostly of calico or of some inexpensive stuff, compose the tout visible. The wealthier affect silks, especially black. The merchants are careful to keep on hand a large stock of fancy goods, and millinery.
About noon, after a preliminary visit to Mr. Gilbert—and a visit in these lands always entails a certain amount of “smiling”—I met Governor Cumming in Main Street, and we proceeded together to our visit to the Prophet. After a slight scrutiny we passed the guard—which is dressed in plain clothes, and to the eye unarmed—and walking down the veranda, entered the Prophet’s private office. Several people who were sitting there rose at Mr. Cumming’s entrance. At a few words of introduction, Mr. Brigham Young advanced, shook hands with complete simplicity of manner, asked me to be seated on a sofa at one side of the room, and presented me to those present.