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    The Uncommercial Traveller

    Page 33
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    yes'day, from Liverpool.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. You are not going with these emigrants?

      MORMON AGENT. No, sir. I remain.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. But you have been in the Mormon Territory?

      MORMON AGENT. Yes; I left Utah about three years ago.

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      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      UNCOMMERCIAL. It is surprising to me that these people are all so

      cheery, and make so little of the immense distance before them.

      MORMON AGENT. Well, you see; many of 'em have friends out at Utah,

      and many of 'em look forward to meeting friends on the way.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. On the way?

      MORMON AGENT. This way 'tis. This ship lands 'em in New York

      City. Then they go on by rail right away beyond St. Louis, to that

      part of the Banks of the Missouri where they strike the Plains.

      There, waggons from the settlement meet 'em to bear 'em company on

      their journey 'cross-twelve hundred miles about. Industrious

      people who come out to the settlement soon get waggons of their

      own, and so the friends of some of these will come down in their

      own waggons to meet 'em. They look forward to that, greatly.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. On their long journey across the Desert, do you arm

      them?

      MORMON AGENT. Mostly you would find they have arms of some kind or

      another already with them. Such as had not arms we should arm

      across the Plains, for the general protection and defence.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. Will these waggons bring down any produce to the

      Missouri?

      MORMON AGENT. Well, since the war broke out, we've taken to

      growing cotton, and they'll likely bring down cotton to be

      exchanged for machinery. We want machinery. Also we have taken to

      growing indigo, which is a fine commodity for profit. It has been

      found that the climate on the further side of the Great Salt Lake

      suits well for raising indigo.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. I am told that these people now on board are

      principally from the South of England?

      MORMON AGENT. And from Wales. That's true.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. Do you get many Scotch?

      MORMON AGENT. Not many.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. Highlanders, for instance?

      MORMON AGENT. No, not Highlanders. They ain't interested enough

      in universal brotherhood and peace and good will.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. The old fighting blood is strong in them?

      MORMON AGENT. Well, yes. And besides; they've no faith.

      UNCOMMERCIAL (who has been burning to get at the Prophet Joe Smith,

      and seems to discover an opening). Faith in - !

      MORMON AGENT (far too many for Uncommercial). Well. - In anything!

      Similarly on this same head, the Uncommercial underwent

      discomfiture from a Wiltshire labourer: a simple, fresh-coloured

      farm-labourer, of eight-and-thirty, who at one time stood beside

      him looking on at new arrivals, and with whom he held this

      dialogue:

      UNCOMMERCIAL. Would you mind my asking you what part of the

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      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      country you come from?

      WILTSHIRE. Not a bit. Theer! (exultingly) I've worked all my life

      o' Salisbury Plain, right under the shadder o' Stonehenge. You

      mightn't think it, but I haive.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. And a pleasant country too.

      WILTSHIRE. Ah! 'Tis a pleasant country.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. Have you any family on board?

      WILTSHIRE. Two children, boy and gal. I am a widderer, I am, and

      I'm going out alonger my boy and gal. That's my gal, and she's a

      fine gal o' sixteen (pointing out the girl who is writing by the

      boat). I'll go and fetch my boy. I'd like to show you my boy.

      (Here Wiltshire disappears, and presently comes back with a big,

      shy boy of twelve, in a superabundance of boots, who is not at all

      glad to be presented.) He is a fine boy too, and a boy fur to

      work! (Boy having undutifully bolted, Wiltshire drops him.)

      UNCOMMERCIAL. It must cost you a great deal of money to go so far,

      three strong.

      WILTSHIRE. A power of money. Theer! Eight shillen a week, eight

      shillen a week, eight shillen a week, put by out of the week's

      wages for ever so long.

      UNCOMMERCIAL. I wonder how you did it.

      WILTSHIRE (recognising in this a kindred spirit). See theer now!

      I wonder how I done it! But what with a bit o' subscription heer,

      and what with a bit o' help theer, it were done at last, though I

      don't hardly know how. Then it were unfort'net for us, you see, as

      we got kep' in Bristol so long - nigh a fortnight, it were - on

      accounts of a mistake wi' Brother Halliday. Swaller'd up money, it

      did, when we might have come straight on.

      UNCOMMERCIAL (delicately approaching Joe Smith). You are of the

      Mormon religion, of course?

      WILTSHIRE (confidently). O yes, I'm a Mormon. (Then

      reflectively.) I'm a Mormon. (Then, looking round the ship,

      feigns to descry a particular friend in an empty spot, and evades

      the Uncommercial for evermore.)

      After a noontide pause for dinner, during which my Emigrants were

      nearly all between-decks, and the Amazon looked deserted, a general

      muster took place. The muster was for the ceremony of passing the

      Government Inspector and the Doctor. Those authorities held their

      temporary state amidships, by a cask or two; and, knowing that the

      whole Eight hundred emigrants must come face to face with them, I

      took my station behind the two. They knew nothing whatever of me,

      I believe, and my testimony to the unpretending gentleness and good

      nature with which they discharged their duty, may be of the greater

      worth. There was not the slightest flavour of the Circumlocution

      Office about their proceedings.

      The emigrants were now all on deck. They were densely crowded aft,

      and swarmed upon the poop-deck like bees. Two or three Mormon

      agents stood ready to hand them on to the Inspector, and to hand

      them forward when they had passed. By what successful means, a

      special aptitude for organisation had been infused into these

      people, I am, of course, unable to report. But I know that, even

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      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      now, there was no disorder, hurry, or difficulty.

      All being ready, the first group are handed on. That member of the

      party who is entrusted with the passenger-ticket for the whole, has

      been warned by one of the agents to have it ready, and here it is

      in his hand. In every instance through the whole eight hundred,

      without an exception, this paper is always ready.

      INSPECTOR (reading the ticket). Jessie Jobson, Sophronia Jobson,

      Jessie Jobson again, Matilda Jobson, William Jobson, Jane Jobson,

      Matilda Jobson again, Brigham Jobson, Leonardo Jobson, and Orson

      Jobson. Are you all here? (glancing at the party, over his

      spectacles).

      JESSIE JOBSON NUMBER TWO. All here, sir.

      This group is composed of an old grandfather and grandmother, their

      married son and his wife, and THEIR family of children. Orson

      Jobson is a little child asleep in his mother's arms. The Doctor,

      with a kind word or so, lifts up the corner of the mother's shawl,


      looks at the child's face, and touches the little clenched hand.

      If we were all as well as Orson Jobson, doctoring would be a poor

      profession.

      INSPECTOR. Quite right, Jessie Jobson. Take your ticket, Jessie,

      and pass on.

      And away they go. Mormon agent, skilful and quiet, hands them on.

      Mormon agent, skilful and quiet, hands next party up.

      INSPECTOR (reading ticket again). Susannah Cleverly and William

      Cleverly. Brother and sister, eh?

      SISTER (young woman of business, hustling slow brother). Yes, sir.

      INSPECTOR. Very good, Susannah Cleverly. Take your ticket,

      Susannah, and take care of it.

      And away they go.

      INSPECTOR (taking ticket again). Sampson Dibble and Dorothy Dibble

      (surveying a very old couple over his spectacles, with some

      surprise). Your husband quite blind, Mrs. Dibble?

      MRS. DIBBLE. Yes, sir, he be stone-blind.

      MR. DIBBLE (addressing the mast). Yes, sir, I be stone-blind.

      INSPECTOR. That's a bad job. Take your ticket, Mrs. Dibble, and

      don't lose it, and pass on.

      Doctor taps Mr. Dibble on the eyebrow with his forefinger, and away

      they go.

      INSPECTOR (taking ticket again). Anastatia Weedle.

      ANASTATIA (a pretty girl, in a bright Garibaldi, this morning

      elected by universal suffrage the Beauty of the Ship). That is me,

      sir.

      INSPECTOR. Going alone, Anastatia?

      ANASTATIA (shaking her curls). I am with Mrs. Jobson, sir, but

      I've got separated for the moment.

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      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      INSPECTOR. Oh! You are with the Jobsons? Quite right. That'll

      do, Miss Weedle. Don't lose your ticket.

      Away she goes, and joins the Jobsons who are waiting for her, and

      stoops and kisses Brigham Jobson - who appears to be considered too

      young for the purpose, by several Mormons rising twenty, who are

      looking on. Before her extensive skirts have departed from the

      casks, a decent widow stands there with four children, and so the

      roll goes.

      The faces of some of the Welsh people, among whom there were many

      old persons, were certainly the least intelligent. Some of these

      emigrants would have bungled sorely, but for the directing hand

      that was always ready. The intelligence here was unquestionably of

      a low order, and the heads were of a poor type. Generally the case

      was the reverse. There were many worn faces bearing traces of

      patient poverty and hard work, and there was great steadiness of

      purpose and much undemonstrative self-respect among this class. A

      few young men were going singly. Several girls were going, two or

      three together. These latter I found it very difficult to refer

      back, in my mind, to their relinquished homes and pursuits.

      Perhaps they were more like country milliners, and pupil teachers

      rather tawdrily dressed, than any other classes of young women. I

      noticed, among many little ornaments worn, more than one

      photograph-brooch of the Princess of Wales, and also of the late

      Prince Consort. Some single women of from thirty to forty, whom

      one might suppose to be embroiderers, or straw-bonnet-makers, were

      obviously going out in quest of husbands, as finer ladies go to

      India. That they had any distinct notions of a plurality of

      husbands or wives, I do not believe. To suppose the family groups

      of whom the majority of emigrants were composed, polygamically

      possessed, would be to suppose an absurdity, manifest to any one

      who saw the fathers and mothers.

      I should say (I had no means of ascertaining the fact) that most

      familiar kinds of handicraft trades were represented here. Farmlabourers,

      shepherds, and the like, had their full share of

      representation, but I doubt if they preponderated. It was

      interesting to see how the leading spirit in the family circle

      never failed to show itself, even in the simple process of

      answering to the names as they were called, and checking off the

      owners of the names. Sometimes it was the father, much oftener the

      mother, sometimes a quick little girl second or third in order of

      seniority. It seemed to occur for the first time to some heavy

      fathers, what large families they had; and their eyes rolled about,

      during the calling of the list, as if they half misdoubted some

      other family to have been smuggled into their own. Among all the

      fine handsome children, I observed but two with marks upon their

      necks that were probably scrofulous. Out of the whole number of

      emigrants, but one old woman was temporarily set aside by the

      doctor, on suspicion of fever; but even she afterwards obtained a

      clean bill of health.

      When all had 'passed,' and the afternoon began to wear on, a black

      box became visible on deck, which box was in charge of certain

      personages also in black, of whom only one had the conventional air

      of an itinerant preacher. This box contained a supply of hymnbooks,

      neatly printed and got up, published at Liverpool, and also

      in London at the 'Latter-Day Saints' Book Depot, 30, Florencestreet.'

      Some copies were handsomely bound; the plainer were the

      more in request, and many were bought. The title ran: 'Sacred

      Hymns and Spiritual Songs for the Church of Jesus Church of Latter-

      Day Saints.' The Preface, dated Manchester, 1840, ran thus:- 'The

      Page 144

      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      Saints in this country have been very desirous for a Hymn Book

      adapted to their faith and worship, that they might sing the truth

      with an understanding heart, and express their praise, joy, and

      gratitude in songs adapted to the New and Everlasting Covenant. In

      accordance with their wishes, we have selected the following

      volume, which we hope will prove acceptable until a greater variety

      can be added. With sentiments of high consideration and esteem, we

      subscribe ourselves your brethren in the New and Everlasting

      Covenant, BRIGHAM YOUNG, PARLEY P. PRATT, JOHN TAYLOR.' From this

      book - by no means explanatory to myself of the New and Everlasting

      Covenant, and not at all making my heart an understanding one on

      the subject of that mystery - a hymn was sung, which did not

      attract any great amount of attention, and was supported by a

      rather select circle. But the choir in the boat was very popular

      and pleasant; and there was to have been a Band, only the Cornet

      was late in coming on board. In the course of the afternoon, a

      mother appeared from shore, in search of her daughter, 'who had run

      away with the Mormons.' She received every assistance from the

      Inspector, but her daughter was not found to be on board. The

      saints did not seem to me, particularly interested in finding her.

      Towards five o'clock, the galley became full of tea-kettles, and an

      agreeable fragrance of tea pervaded the ship. There was no

      scrambling or jostling for the hot water, no ill humour, no

      quarrelling. As the Amazon was to sail with the next tide, and as

      it would not be high water before two o'clock in the morning, I

      left her with h
    er tea in full action, and her idle Steam Tug lying

      by, deputing steam and smoke for the time being to the Tea-kettles.

      I afterwards learned that a Despatch was sent home by the captain

      before he struck out into the wide Atlantic, highly extolling the

      behaviour of these Emigrants, and the perfect order and propriety

      of all their social arrangements. What is in store for the poor

      people on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, what happy delusions

      they are labouring under now, on what miserable blindness their

      eyes may be opened then, I do not pretend to say. But I went on

      board their ship to bear testimony against them if they deserved

      it, as I fully believed they would; to my great astonishment they

      did not deserve it; and my predispositions and tendencies must not

      affect me as an honest witness. I went over the Amazon's side,

      feeling it impossible to deny that, so far, some remarkable

      influence had produced a remarkable result, which better known

      influences have often missed. *

      * After this Uncommercial Journey was printed, I happened to

      mention the experience it describes to Lord Houghton. That

      gentleman then showed me an article of his writing, in THE

      EDINBURGH REVIEW for January, 1862, which is highly remarkable for

      its philosophical and literary research concerning these Latter-Day

      Saints. I find in it the following sentences:- 'The Select

      Committee of the House of Commons on emigrant ships for 1854

      summoned the Mormon agent and passenger-broker before it, and came

      to the conclusion that no ships under the provisions of the

      "Passengers Act" could be depended upon for comfort and security in

      the same degree as those under his administration. The Mormon ship

      is a Family under strong and accepted discipline, with every

      provision for comfort, decorum and internal peace.'

      CHAPTER XXIII - THE CITY OF THE ABSENT

      Page 145

      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      When I think I deserve particularly well of myself, and have earned

      the right to enjoy a little treat, I stroll from Covent-garden into

      the City of London, after business-hours there, on a Saturday, or -

      better yet - on a Sunday, and roam about its deserted nooks and

      corners. It is necessary to the full enjoyment of these journeys

      that they should be made in summer-time, for then the retired spots

      that I love to haunt, are at their idlest and dullest. A gentle

      fall of rain is not objectionable, and a warm mist sets off my

     


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