Month: September 2010

I love the following passage. Jean Rio Griffiths Baker, newly widowed, was caught up in the promise of the Mormon Church, and so she left her home in England to travel to America and the new Mormon settlement in Salt Lake City. Her journey began in Liverpool, where bad weather on the Irish Sea kept her party below decks for the first few weeks. Once out on the open ocean and under calmer conditions, she reflected on the two extremes and found them both equally awe-inspiring.

[February] 14 [1851]

I can hardly describe the beauty of this night, the Moon nearly at full with a deep blue Sky, studded with stars the reflection of which makes the sea appear like an immense sheet of diamonds, and here are we walking the deck at 9 o’clock in the evening without bonnet or shawl; what a contrast to this day three weeks, when we were shivering between decks, and not able to keep our feet, without holding fast to something or other, and if we managed to get on the upper deck, the first salute was a great lump of water in the face; Well I have seen the mighty deep in its anger with our ship nearly on her beam-ends, and I have seen it, (as now) under a cloudless sky, and scarcely a ripple on its surface, and I know not which to admire most.

Baker, Jean Rio Griffiths, 1810-1883, Diary of Jean Rio Baker, February, 1851, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 3: 1851. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

I have often wondered what motivated women, like Jean, who left their homes for the great unknowable. I also wonder how they found things at the end of the journey. Was it all as they’d envisioned? Surely there were many who were ultimately disappointed in their strange new homeland. Did they make peace with their disillusionment, or did they regret the decision to set out on that great adventure? In Jean’s case, it would appear that she was not wholly happy with the way her life ended up. After nearly twenty years, she added the following passage to her diary.

[Addendum to Diary of Jean Rio Griffiths Baker]

September 29th, 1869 — I have been 18 years this day, an inhabitant of Utah Territory, and I may say 18 years of hard toil, and almost continual disappointment. My 20 acre farm tuned out to be a mere salaratus patch, killing the seed which was sown, instead of producing a crop; and I am now in Ogden City, living in a small log house, and working at my trade, as a dressmaker . . . I came here in obedience to what I believed to be a revelation of the most High God; trusting in the assurance of the Missionaries, whom I believe to have been the spirit of truth, I left my home, sacrificed my property, broke up every dear association, and what was, and is yet, dearer than all, left my beloved native land, and for what? A Bubble that has burst in my grasp. . . In 1864 I married Mr. Edward Pearce, I had been a widow 15 years, my children all married, and I felt I had the right to decide for myself, in a matter that only concerned myself. I hoped that my old age would be cheered by his companionsip that I should no longer be alone. But it was not to be; he only lived six months. . .

Baker, Jean Rio Griffiths, 1810-1883, Diary of Jean Rio Baker, September 29, 1869, quoted in By Windjammer and Prairie Schooner, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 3: 1851. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

So far in my readings, there have been two stories of of the tragic deaths of children, both under the wheels of a wagon.

I was reminded of watching Frontier House. At the beginning of the series, the families received a crash course in things like cooking over an open fire and handling livestock. They were given an extra warning to be careful with the children around the wagons. And, in fact, professionals were brought in to drive the wagons to their destination, because it’s such a dangerous task. At one point, one of the wagons got away from the driver and one of the children nearly was hurt.

I wonder how common those sorts of accidents were, on the westward trails. As Lucia notes, one minute your child is whole and healthy, and the next, he’s gone. And she couldn’t even take time to stop and mourn him. All she could do was bury him and carry on her way.

Milwaukee, [Oregon] September 16, ’51

Dear Mother:

We have been living in Oregon about 2 weeks, all of us except little John, and him we left 12 miles this side of Green River. He was killed instantly by falling from a wagon and the wheels running over his head. After leaving the desert and Green River, we came to a good place of feed and laid by a day for the purpose of recruiting our teams. On the morning of the 20th of June we started on. John rode on the wagon driven by Edwin Fellows. We had not proceeded more than 2 miles before word came for us to turn back. We did so but found him dead. The oxen had taken fright from a horse that had been tied behind the wagon preceding this, owned by a young man that Mr. Williams had told a few minutes to turn out of the road. Two other teams ran also. John was sitting in back of the wagon but as soon as the cattle commenced to run he went to the front and caught hold of the driver who held him as long as he could but he was frightened and did not possess presence of mind enough to give him a little send, which would have saved him. Poor little fellow, we could do nothing for him. He was beyond our reach and Oh, how suddenly, one half hour before we had left him in health as lively as a lark, and then to find him breathless so soon was awful. I cannot describe to you our feelings. We buried him there by the road side, by the right side of the road, about onehalf mile before we crossed the Fononelle, a little stream. We had his grave covered with stones to protect if from wild beasts and a board with his name and age and if any of our friends come through I wish they would find his grave and if it needs, repair it.

Williams, Lucia Loraine Bigelow, 1816-1874, Letter from Lucia Loraine Williams, September 16, 1851, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 3: 1851. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

Near Lander, Wyoming
Photo credit: Clint Gardner

This passage jumped out at me not because it’s intrinsically interesting, but because I have been making the very same assumption as the author. Many of the diaries describe the difficulties of crossing the western mountains: double teaming, chaining wagon wheels, and hoisting and lowering the wagons with ropes. And when I read the phrase “mountain pass,” the picture in my mind is always of a narrow slit in towering rocks, not a 15 mile wide expanse of rolling mountaintop prairie.

Sunday June 21 [1851]

Travelled 17½ miles camp on Pacific Spring which is the first camp after you get through south pass. There we saw the far famed south pass, but did not see it until we had passed it for I was all the time looking for some narrow place that would almost take your breath away to get through but was disappointed. It is a body of table land rooling but not mountainous and is 15 miles wide being the pleasantest place I have yet seen. The altitude here is 7 thousand & 30 ft. We have been on a gradual accend since we left Larimi and now we shall decend the same to the pacific at Pacific Spring the water begins to run to the pacific verry cold to day Water standing the night of the 20 froze a quarter of inch thick on a pail in sight of snow all the time from 5 to 8 ft deep side the road in some places north side mountain.

Hadley, Amelia, 1825-1866, Diary of Amelia Hadley, June, 1851, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 3: 1851. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

Anti-Mormon sentiments were common among the general US population in the mid-nineteenth century, so it’s not surprising that the covered wagon women would share them. It’s often difficult to tell, though, whether or not those prejudices were based on fact or on sensationalist tales that were popular at the time.

While reading the following passage, I was reminded of an episode of History Detectives I recently watched. It involved the authentication of an anonymously published book called Female Life Among the Mormons. The book purports to have been written by a Mormon wife in 1856—just a few years after Lucena Parsons’ diary entry. And while the book was at best highly fictionalized and at worst a complete fabrication, there’s no reason to believe that Lucena Parsons’ account—while inevitably colored by prejudice—isn’t generally truthful on the basic facts.

After all, I don’t think there’s much to debate about polygyny among the early Mormons. It happened then, as it happens now among fundamentalist Mormon sects. And if American women in the 1850s had little power comparative to men, it surely can’t have been any better for them in a patriarchal stronghold like the Mormon church.

Lucena Parsons had a few things to say about that, after her party wintered over at the Mormon settlement in Salt Lake City.

January, 1851

I know many men who have mothers & their daughters for these so called spiritual wives let the number be what it may. Oald Brigham Young for one. Archibald Gardner for another & Capt Brown for another & many more I could mention but it is too mean to write. These demons marry some girls at 10 years of age. For instance a man will take a mother & her daughters & marry them all at one time & perhaps he has persuaded her to leave a husband with whome she has always lived happy, or be damned. She believes it for perhaps he is one of the heads of the church & in this way many respectable families have been ruined. This I know to be true.

What will become of these men the Lord only knows. I have had the opportunity of knowing many of the women that are called spiritual wives & among them all I never saw one that seemed the least bit happy, but on the other hand they are a poor heart broken & deluded lot & are made slaves to the will of these hellish beings who call themselves men. All the preaching & teaching that is heard in this valley is obedience to rulers, & womens rights are trampled under foot. They have not as much liberty as common slaves in the south.

Brigham Young has some 70 women it is said [1]. Heber C Kimball has 50 [2], Doctor Richards 13, Parley Pratt 30 or 40 [3], John Taylor 8 [4], Capt Brown 8 [5], & in fact all the men who have but one are looking out for more. If when they have got them they would use them well it would be better but far from it. They fight & quarrel & the women leave one man & go to another. When a woman wishes to leave she goes to Brigham & gets a divorce & marries another & this is the way things are going all the time.

Lucena Pfuffer, 1821-1905, Diary of Lucena Parsons, January, 1851, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 2: 1850. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp.. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

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Her numbers are a little off. According to Wikipedia,

1. Brigham Young had 55 wives.

2. Heber C. Kimball had 43 wives.

3. Parley Pratt had 12 wives.

4. John Taylor had at least seven wives.

5. Capt. James Brown had 13 wives.

As I’m reading through the pioneer women’s journals, I’m finding myself wishing I could follow along behind them, to see with my own eyes the things they’re describing. Whether it’s natural landforms, like Chimney Rock, or unnamed mountain springs and wildflowers, I’m drawn to them. Which is strange, because I’ve never wanted to travel out west.

This is an especially lovely passage.

[June] 30 [1851]

A coquettish little stream darts along among the green grass dividing & uniting & then parting again Its clear cold sparkling water as it comes rushing from the mountains over the rocky bed is grateful to the taste

Clarke, Harriet Talcott Buckingham, 1832-1890, Diary of Harriet Talcott Buckingham Clarke, June, 1851, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 3: 1851. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995.