The Martyrdom

The Martyrdom By Brigham S. Young If you had known Glasgow near the middle of the last century, you would have known a city of some intemperance and some intolerance, but of an integrity wholly Scotch. The Glasgow Green was a grand place for the lads and lassies; they gathered there summer evenings in hundreds; their good-natured chaff was shrewd and entertaining, though their repartee was sometimes sharp and even insulting and not infrequently led to personal encounters between the lads, with the lassies ofttimes joining in, but "broadly speakin' " the mingling of these hundreds was kind- ly and amusing. A balmy air with a tang of the sea coming up the Cylde, lent a fine invigoration, and with your lassie's hand tucked under your arm, or, as some of them were placed, about each other's necks, life was riotously happy and little thought was given to the change and care which freighted the coming years. The Green was bounteously sup- plied with amusements, Punch and Judy shows were frequent; negro minstrels, with banjo, harmonica and tambourine accompaniment, sang lilt- ing Southern melodies with a broad Scotch accent, as a sweet-faced tot passed the hat for such hard-squeezed contributions as the swains could af- ford or the accompanying lass deemed "suffeecient." Political discussion raged and Liber- al or Conservative speakers were mercilessly heckled by a sarcastic op- position; in other groups could be heard open Socialism, and it was even darkly hinted that if one knew just where to look, there could be found long-haired, snaky foreigners, hissing dangerous doctrines of the Revolution, murder and the torch. Religion, too, raised her voice; stab- bing the night air, came the high- pitched tones of some female en- thusiast, or, as was more likely, it would be the sonorous drone of some brawny Scot contending for a finely drawn theological point which distin- guished his cult from another nearly akin to it. The young people of the crowds sauntered laughingly and leisurely from group to group, usually linger- ing longest where the hybrid minstrels sighed out "Mah Old Kentucky Home" or raucously assailed the ear with "Hear dem Bells." Among the throngs one Sabbath evening, were a young man and woman who hurried breathlessly from group to group, stopping only long enough to get the drift of the talk, and not finding what they sought, the lad im- patiently exclaiming "an that's no them," would hurry away; but after a search which extended over the better part of an hour, and in an unfre- quented corner of the Green, they came upon a little knot of lowly speaking and intently listening people, who were evidently desirous of escaping the attention of those who sought only amusement. Listening but a moment, the boy announced to his companion "Aye they're the lads I was tellin' you of," and giving his companion's hand a reassuring squeeze continued, "Now, Jeannie lass, you'll hear something." As did the others of the group, so they stood in rapt silence until the service was concluded by prayer, when the deep and reverent tones of a heavily bearded convert thanked the Divine One "that He had restored the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ." The serv- ice concluded, they still lingered, draw- ing closely about "the elders," asking eager questions, while some among the group related incidents of miraculous

494 IMPROVEMENT ERA April. 1929 healings, or boys bore "testimony" to the wondrous gifts of the spirit, and one, a slip of a girl, asked that she be given a place to stay, until she could arrange her affairs, as she had been told on leaving home that evening, "If you go to the 'Mormons', you will find the door locked when you return." Lifelong friendships and even the sacred ties of family were rent asun- der if one so much as dared believe the scripture, and almost it seemed there was a shifting back to those days of stern suppression, when severe penalties were inflicted on those who dared express belief in the Protestant scripture. "Did ye mind what he said, Jeannie, a young man in America had seen God? And why not, lass? The ancients saw him. The scripture reads that Abraham not only saw him but walked and talked with him as well, aye, even as one man walks and talks wi another." "But Johnnie, does na the scripture say, too, he hauds the Hivins in his haunds? He could na do that if he were but a man, and the meenister says, God is everywhere, and that's no pos- sible if he were but like a man." And so they walked and argued, the boy with a growing conviction that these boys, whom he had now twice heard preaching on the Green, taught something as different as it was strange and which gripped him un- accountably, robbing him of interest in everything about him, save this girl whom he loved and with whom he strove tenderly and persistently, that she might see these mighty truths which were rooting themselves deep in his soul. Months went by but never a meet- ing was held in the city that did not find the lad a keen and intent listener to these boys who proclaimed "the everlasting Gospel," and as he drank in their every word, expressions of ap- proval and acceptance were drawn from him in protracted sighs, or as sometimes a convulsive sob attesting his deep conviction, while beside him sat poor Jeannie, struggling vainly to grasp truths far beyond her power to comprehend. Faithfully and tearfully she plodded the path of patient endeavor, but only succeeded in more hopelessly entang- ling herself in abstruse spiritual in- tricacies, and what glimmerings of un- derstanding came to her, were so at variance with all her former teachings that she perforce must reject them. One Sabbath, when they had been at service the entire day, for all rec- reation, friends, everything had been thrust aside for this newly found and soul-absorbing faith which dominated their waking moments and even crept into their dreams, the boy announced his determination to apply for bap- tism. "An will ye leave me an gang away? Dinna do that, laddie." "Na na, Jeannie lass, when I gang ye'll gang wi me," tenderly and posi- tively he assured her. The formalities imposed by the elders' questions as to their under- standing fundamentals, family objec- tions, etc., being complied with, the boy answering all inquiries and the girl assenting with feverish alacrity, they were inducted into the Church through the door of baptism. Then began a long period of priva- tion and saving, for the momentous journey to Zion — Zion, the Mecca of the converts, — Zion, that towered above the horizon of their drab lives like a city of rose and pearl — Zion where was peace and prosperity and love and where every man sought the good of his neighbor, and the Saints lived in the glow of continuous revela- tion. They reveled in dreams, dreams which made work, persecution, the inhuman treatment of family and friends mere incidents, which they brushed aside as brambles obstructing a hillside path. The spirit of the boy seized upon Jeannie, and while she did not understand, yet she shared his glowing enthusiasm.

April, 1929 THE MARTYRDOM 495 Young, hopeful, fervent, they toiled and saved, and then one ecstatic day their little hoard of savings had grown to be "enough" to take them to Zion. They danced and sang and hugged and kissed each other in transports of joy. Zion, Heaven, was just over the sea! The squalid tenement where they lived, reeking with odors of the gutter and close human contact, slipped away, and in its stead appeared shining, shining palaces, resting amid gardens which breathed the fragrance of the fabled Indies, so wondrous are the effects of youth and religious en- thusiasm. Jeannie must go to the country for a brief visit, to an aunt who had taken her when a little tot from the arms of a tired mother who lay at rest in the churchyard of the village where Jeannie was born. While at home she went again to church, and sat where she had sat as child and maiden, and heard again the well remembered tones of the "meen- ister" drone through the sermon, such an one as she could understand, she sang again the old and dearly loved hymns, and read again the prayers from the revered prayer book and felt at peace with all the world. These she could understand, here were no elusive points of doctrine which unsettled conviction and scat- tered to the winds the faith she had clung to and lived in the dear past, and which she was now about to put away forever. Cradled here in this haven, was all her heart's desire, if only hei boy were with her, and he could see and hear and feel as she did. The day of parting, which they had sought to hide and cover amid the round of gaieties, burst upon them, leaving them in dumb terror at its full meaning, for Jeannie knew, as did they all, that never again on earth should they behold each others' faces, and death as surely came between them as if it had been the grave, to tear them from each other while they let lived. That week in the village remained with her as a "bright exhalation" through all the weary and uncompre- hending years which followed, and only her love for the boy stayed her hand, but for him she would toss aside Zion with all he had pictured it, but she could not renounce him; re- calling the scripture she realized its tragic import, "For where thou goest I will go, thy people shall be my peo- ple, and thy God my God." And so for him and her love for him, accepting a faith not understood, she went un- flinchingly to her martyrdom. America was reached, and after a weary drag of lengthening weeks, toil- ing over sun-baked plains in blistering heat, climbing bleak hills which led to jagged and frowning mountains, crossing icy torrents that carried the chill of death in their raging flow, they came to the "valley" and beheld ZION. Was this that city painted by the "elders" in such glowing terms as made it seem a paradise on earth? Was this the city of their dreams? They sank upon the ground in broken de- spair and sobbed out their disappoint- ment in each other's arms. The Zion they beheld was but the ugly seed which one day shall bring the fruit and flower of their dreams. They settled among friends in a little village nestling at the foot of mountains — those fearsome mountains which, when they first beheld them, loomed so darkly in their path, as blocking their way to all earthly hap- piness, but which they learned to love, and which in their changed aspect stood as mighty bulwarks to ward away the menace of the world. Life was simple and uneventful in this retired mountain valley and they prospered exceedingly in the new land, for they were thrifty folk and knew the economy which is wrung from want. Many children came to teach them the real lessons of life, the meaning of the injunction "increase and multi- ply." To multiply they must expand; expansion meant education; schools

496 IMPROVEMENT ERA April, 1929 were distant and expensive; but pa- tient and intelligent toil brought re- sults. Their boys grew to be fine, stalwart fellows, and the girls, thrifty and charming. Aunt Jean, as she was called, was known and loved by the whole settle- ment and in truth for miles around, but she was a home body and took no part in public, her home was her little world, for long ago her understanding husband had left off persuading her to go among the congregations of the Saints; her quiet appeal that she be permitted to remain at home was re- spected, but her husband knew and cherished her more tenderly for the knowing. Always she was urgent that her children be prompt and constant in every duty exacted by her husband's Church, and hers as far as she could comprehend it. Her boys went on missions, and one of them preached in the little vil- lage where she had lived; her aunt had long since passed on and lay beside the mother Jean had never known, but there were those who still remembered "little Jean," and many was the friendly hand that went out to her boy because they had known and loved his mother. It was the "Twenty-fourth," and all the settlement had gathered at the "Meeting House" to do honor to the Pioneers. The morning was devoted to the program and some of Aunt Jean's family took part, for they were talented above the average, but even her children's public appearance did not draw her from her seclusion. At noon the public luncheon was spread beneath the great trees the early settlers had planted about the build- ing under the wise counsel of the "authorities," and the bursting baskets were relieved of their fragrant and de- licious contents. The settlement was noted for its many children and they were there in scurrying, noisy numbers, clutching in grimy hands what they had lost capacity to contain, or waiting in tear- ful impatience about a giant barrel where sweating servitors ladled out lemonade. It was a hungry, homely, healthy gathering, happy in its holiday, with no suggestion of rancor or rowdyism. The afternoon was given over to sports, foot-racing, wrestling, baseball and horse pulling contests, but the full finale, the culminating feature of the day, was the big dance at night, and as the evening fell, preparations for home busied the tired parents and satiated children. The lowing cattle coming from their pastures along the creek, lent the music of their distant bells, and the purpling shadows creeping toward the summits of those mighty mountains foretold the sweet coolness of a serene and starry night. The young people, hand in hand, went singing along the tree-fringed roads bidding each other be early at the dance. One group, among them some of Aunt Jean's children, trooped into the rambling old home set among shade and orchard trees to see her and re- count the triumphs of the day, but she was not at her accustomed place beside the shaded window and they sought her, calling through the rooms. They found her dressed in her Scotch silk, lying asleep where she had lain wearily down; across her shrunken breast her folded hands clasped the little prayer book thumbed and tear-stained. She had gone with the day, borne upward with the shadows which brought the night; her gentle spirit had climbed those heights where she could see all things earthly, and understand what had so mystified her here. She lay, a wondrous creature, the votary of a love which had led her blindly through the years, where she walked always uncomprehending, in solitude, clad in the sombre habili- ments of a religious martyrdom.