University of Virginia Library

12. XII.
BRIGHAM YOUNG.

Brigham Young sends word I may see him to-morrow.
So I go to bed singing the popular Mormon
hymn:

At two o'clock the next afternoon Mr. Hiram B.
Clawson, Brigham Young's son-in-law and chief business
manager, calls for me with the Prophet's private
sleigh, and we start for that distinguished person's
block.

I am shown into the Prophet's chief office. He
comes forward, greets me cordially, and introduces
me to several influential Mormons who are present.

Brigham Young is 62 years old, of medium
height, and with sandy hair and whiskers. An

active, iron man, with a clear sharp eye. A man of
consummate shrewdness—of great executive ability.
He was born in the State of Vermont, and so by
the way was Heber C. Kimball, who will wear the
Mormon Belt when Brigham leaves the ring.

Brigham Young is a man of great natural ability.
If you ask me, How pious is he? I treat it as a conundrum,
and give it up. Personally he treated me
with marked kindness throughout my sojourn in
Utah.

His power in Utah is quite as absolute as that of
any living sovereign, yet he uses it with such consummate
shrewdness that his people are passionately
devoted to him.

He was an Elder at the first formal Mormon
“stake” in this country, at Kirtland, Ohio, and went
to Nauvoo with Joseph Smith. That distinguished
Mormon handed his mantle and the Prophet business
over to Brigham when he died at Nauvoo.

Smith did a more flourishing business in the Prophet
line than B. Y. does. Smith used to have his
little Revelation almost every day—sometimes two
before dinner. B. Y. only takes one once in awhile.

The gateway of his block is surmounted by a
brass American eagle, and they say (“they say”
here means anti-Mormons) that he receives his spiritual
dispatches through this piece of patriotic poultry.
They also say that he receives revelations from a
stuffed white calf that is trimmed with red ribbons
and kept in an iron box. I don't suppose these things
are true. Rumor says that when the Lion House
was ready to be shingled, Brigham received a message
from the Lord stating that the carpenters must
all take hold and shingle it and not charge a red
cent for their services. Such carpenters as refused
to shingle would go to hell, and no postponement on
account of the weather. They say that Brigham,
whenever a train of emigrants arrives in Salt Lake
City, orders all the women to march up and down
before his block, while he stands on the portico of
the Lion House and gobbles up the prettiest ones.

He is an immensely wealthy man. His wealth is
variously estimated at from ten to twenty millions
of dollars. He owns saw mills, grist mills, woollen
factories, brass and iron foundries, farms, brick-yards,
&c., and superintends them all in person. A man

in Utah individually owns what he grows and makes
with the exception of a one tenth part: that must
go to the Church; and Brigham Young, as the
first President, is the Church's treasurer. Gentiles
of course say that he abuses this blind confidence of
his people, and speculates with their money, and absorbs
the interest if he doesn't the principal. The
Mormons deny this, and say that whatever of their
money he does use is for the good of the Church;
that he defrays the expenses of emigrants from far
over the seas; that he is foremost in all local enterprises
tending to develop the resources of the territory,
and that, in short, he is incapable of wrong in
any shape.

Nobody seems to know how many wives Brigham
Young has. Some set the number as high as eighty,
in which case his children must be too numerous to
mention. Each wife has a room to herself. These
rooms are large and airy, and I suppose they are
supplied with all the modern improvements. But
never having been invited to visit them I can't speak
very definitely about this. When I left the Prophet
he shook me cordially by the hand, and invited me

to call again. This was flattering, because if he dislikes
a man at the first interview he never sees him
again. He made no allusion to the “letter” I had
written about his community. Outside guards were
pacing up and down before the gateway, but they
smiled upon me sweetly. The veranda was crowded
with Gentile miners, who seemed to be surprised
that I didn't return in a wooden overcoat, with my
throat neatly laid open from ear to ear.

I go to the Theatre to-night. The play is Othello.
This is a really fine play, and was a favorite of
G. Washington, the father of his country. On this
stage, as upon all other stages, the good old conventionalities
are strictly adhered to. The actors cross
each other at oblique angles from L. U. E. to R. I.
E., on the slightest provocation. Othello howls,
Iago scowls, and the boys all laugh when Roderigo
dies. I stay to see charming Mrs. Irwin (Desdemona)
die, which she does very sweetly.

I was an actor once, myself. I supported Edwin
Forrest at a theatre in Philadelphia. I played a pantomimic

part. I removed the chairs between scenes,
and I did it so neatly that Mr. F. said I would make
a cabinet-maker if I “applied” myself.

The parquette of the theatre is occupied exclusively
by the Mormons and their wives, and children.
They wouldn't let a Gentile in there any more than
they would a serpent. In the side seats are those
of President Young's wives who go to the play, and
a large and varied assortment of children. It is an
odd sight to see a jovial old Mormon file down the
parquette aisle with ten or twenty robust wives at
his heels. Yet this spectacle may be witnessed
every night the theatre is opened. The dress circle
is chiefly occupied by the officers from Camp Douglas
and the Gentile Merchants. The upper circles
are filled by the private soldiers and Mormon boys.
I feel bound to say that a Mormon audience is quite
as appreciative as any other kind of an audience.
They prefer comedy to tragedy. Sentimental plays,
for obvious reasons, are unpopular with them. It
will be remembered that when C. Melnotte, in the
Lady of Lyons, comes home from the wars, he folds

Pauline to his heaving heart and makes several remarks
of an impassioned and slobbering character.
One night when the Lady of Lyons was produced
here, an aged Mormon arose and went out with his
twenty-four wives, angrily stating that he wouldn't
sit and see a play where a man made such a cussed
fuss over one woman. The prices of the theatre
are: Parquette, 75 cents; dress circle, $1; 1st upper
circle, 50; 2nd and 3rd upper circles, 25. In an
audience of two thousand persons (and there are almost
always that number present) probably a thousand
will pay in cash, and the other thousand in grain
and a variety of articles; all which will command
money, however.

Brigham Young usually sits in the middle of the
parquette, in a rocking-chair, and with his hat on.
He does not escort his wives to the theatre. They
go alone. When the play drags he either falls into a
tranquil sleep or walks out. He wears in winter
time a green wrapper, and his hat is the style introduced
into this country by Louis Kossuth, Esq., the
liberator of Hungaria. (I invested a dollar in the
liberty of Hungaria nearly fifteen years ago.)