ARTEMUS WARD'S PANORAMA.
LIFE AMONG THE MORMONS.
AMERICA never produced a more original humor-ist than Charles F. Browne, bet-ter known as Ar-temus Ward. It is over twenty-two years since he died in England, where he had made fame by his contributions to Punch, and his comic illustrated lecture, Among the Mormons, de-livered in London. The pictures in his panorama were the merest daubs—intentionally, no doubt, for he "guyed" them continually. Eli Perkins in writing of them says: "Sometimes he would seem to forget his audience, and stand for several seconds gazing intently at his panorama. Then he would start up and remark apologetically, 'I am very fond of looking at my pict-ures; I almost worship them.' "
During the delivery of his lecture Artemus was solemn as the grave, and he looked surprised, even hurt, when the audience laughed. He didn't seem to understand why they considered his remarks funny.
"You are entirely welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my little picture shop," Artemus would begin in an explanatory way, evidently intend-ed to be conciliating; "I couldn't give you a very clear idea of the Mormons—and Utah—and the Plains—and the Rocky Mountains—without opening a picture shop—and therefore I open one.
"If you should be dissatisfied with anything here to-night, I will admit you all free—in New Zealand—if you will come to me there for passes. Any respectable cannibal will tell you where I live.
"I really don't care for money. I only travel around to see the world, and exhibit my clothes. These clothes I have on have been a great success in America. I am not an artist. I don't paint myself—though if I were a middle-aged single lady, perhaps I should. I could draw on wood at a very tender age. When a mere boy I once drew a small cart-load of turnips over a wooden bridge. The people of the village noticed me. I drew their attention. They said I had a future before me. Up to that time I thought it was behind me.
"I havn't distinguished myself as an artist, though I have an uncle who takes photographs—and a servant who—takes anything he can lay his hands on. I like art, especially dramatic art, although I failed as an actor. This was in my schooldays. The play was the Ruins of Pompeii. I played the Ruins. It was not a very successful per-formance, but it was better than the Burning Mountain. He was not good. He was a bad Vesuvius.
"This hasn't anything to do with my Entertain-ment, I know, but one of the principal features of my Entertainment is that it contains so many features that don't have anything to do with it.
"My orchestra is small but good. I give my pianist ten pounds a night—and his washing. I like music—I can't sing. As a singist I am not a success. I am sad-dest when I sing. So are those who hear me.
"The other night some silver-voiced young men came under my window and sang: Come where my love lies dreaming. I didn't go. I didn't think it would be right."
The first picture in the panorama was the steamer Ariel, on which he started from New York for Califor-nia in the fall of 1863. San Francisco is afforded only Horsford's Acid Phosphate, For Indigestion, Dyspepsia, and diseases incident thereto one view, that of the principal thoroughfare, and a brief description of a Chinese theatre. Then follow Virginia City, and the Plains between Virginia City and Salt Lake. Of the latter picture Ward said: "This picture is a great work of art. It is an oil painting—done in petroleum. It is done by the Old Masters. It was the last thing they did before dying. They did this and then they expired. The most celebrated artists of London are so delighted with this picture that they come to the Hall every day to gaze at it. I wish you were nearer to it so you could see it better. I wish I could take it to your residences and let you see it by daylight. Some of the most celebrated artists in Lon-don come here every morning before daylight with lanterns to look at it. They say they never saw any-thing like it before—and they hope they never shall again. When I first showed this picture in New York the audience were so enthusiastic in their admiration of this picture that they called for the artist—and when he appeared they threw brickbats at him."
Then follows a Bird's-eye View of Great Salt Lake City, and a serious description of the Mormons and their belief. Of the Salt Lake Hotel, a view of which is given, he says: "It is a temperance hotel. I prefer temperance hotels, although they sell worse liquor than any other kind of hotels that I know."
A picture of the Mormon Theatre is given, in which Artemus lectured, by special permission of Brigham Young. "You must know," said the lecturer, "that very little money is taken at the door of this theatre the Mormons paying in grain and all sorts of truck. Among my receipts were corn, flour, pork, cheese, chickens— on foot and in the shell. One family went in on a live pig, and a man attempted to pass a 'yaller dog' at the box office. A portion of the dress circle is
BRIGHAM YOUNG AT HOME.
From Artemus Ward's Panorama.
set apart for the wives of Brigham Young, and his children fill the entire gallery."
Brigham Young's Harem. Said Ward: "Brigham Young has two hundred wives. Just think of that! Oblige me by thinking of that. That is, he has eighty actual wives, and he is spiritually married to one hun-dred and twenty more." So we may say he has two hundred wives. He loves not wisely, but too—two hundred well. He is dreadfully married. He is the most married man I ever saw in my life. " I saw his mother-in-law while I was there. I can't exactly tell how many there is of her, but it's a good deal. It strikes me that one mother-in-law is about enough to have in a family—unless you are very fond of excitement."
"Some of these old Mormons have terrific families. One day I rashly gave a leading Mormon a family pass to my lecture. It was before I knew that he was much married—and they filled the hall to overflowing. It was a great success—but I didn't get any money.
"I regret to say that efforts were made to make a Mormon of me while I was in Utah. It was leap year, and seventeen young widows, wives of a deceased Mormon, offered me their hands and hearts. I called on them one day, and taking their soft white hands in mine—which made thirty-four hands in all—they were bathed in tears. I said: 'What is the reason of this thusness?' They hove a sigh—seventeen sighs, of dif-ferent size—and said: 'Oh, soon thou wilt be gonested away!' I told them that when I got ready to leave a place I wentested. They said: 'Doth not like us?' I said: 'I doth! I doth!' Then they said 'Wilt not marry us? I said: No, it cannot was. Then they cried: 'Oh, cruel, cruel man! This is too much—oh, too much!' I told them it was on account of the much-ness that I declined."
Views of the Mormon Temple and of Great Salt Lake follow. The latter was a moonlight scene, and it was in showing this picture that Artemus introduced his moon joke. The moon would be seen to rise with a hitch, dancing up and down in a most inartistic manner. Artemus, after viewing it with pretended perturbation, would say to the audience, "I sincerely hope you will excuse my absence—I am a man short—my regular moonist is away—and I have to work the moon my-self." Then he would go behind and "work the moon" more satisfactorily. When he reappeared he would seem to be very much out of breath through his exer-tions. This moon business always convulsed the house with laughter.
Then followed views of The Great Desert, the Rocky Mountains, Prairie on Fire, etc., winding up with Brigham Young at Home. Artemus Ward con-cluded: "The last picture I have to show you repre-sents Mr. Brigham Young in the bosom of his family. His family is large—and the olive branches around his table are very much tangled. When at home, as you see him here, he ought to be very happy, with sixty wives to minister to his comfort—and twice sixty children to soothe his distracted mind. Ah, my friends, what is home without a family?
"What will become of Mor-monism? We all know and ad-mit it to be a hideous wrong—a great immoral stain upon the scutcheon of the United States. My belief is that its existence is dependent upon the life of Brig-ham Young. His administrative ability holds the system together, his power of will maintains it as the faith of a community. When he dies, Mormonism will die too. The men who are around him have neither his talent or his energy. By means of his strength it is held together. When he falls, Mormonism will also fall to pieces.
That lion in the picture, you perceive has a tail. It is a long one already. Like mine, it is to be continued in our next."
The curtain fell for the last time on Artemus Ward's Pano-rama of the Mormons, at Egyp-tian Hall, London, January 23, 1867, and he died a few weeks after, at Southampton, England, at the age of thirty-three. His remains were brought to America and interred at his native town Waterford, Maine.
Two men, in the dining-room of a hotel, were watching a hungry fellow who sat near them. "Waiter," said the hungry fellow, "bring me some fried perch." After he had eaten the perch he ordered a broiled bass, and, after devouring it, said: "Now just bring me along any other fish that you happen to have handy."
"That fellow is extremely fond of fish," said one of the men. "Not so much that he is fond of them as the fact that he hasn't had any for a long time." "He could get them, I am sure. The markets are full of them." "Yes, but you see he has been beyond the reach of the markets; he has just returned from a fishing expe-dition."—Arkansaw Traveler.
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