The Great Highway: a story of the world's struggles

Front matter

THE GREAT HIGHWAY. THE GREAT HIGHWAY : A STORY OF THE WORLD'S STRUGGLES. By S. W. FULLOM, ATTTHOK OF " THE MARVELS OE SCIENCE," &C. &C. IBiiJi SUnstrirtnnui nn Itol, By JOHN LEECH. " There arc more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in our philosophy." Shakspeare. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS. 1854. !.. i,,-. ; hum , [) n W. CLOWES ANI> -..\>. SUkHFUCBH BTtUtCI TO AUSTEN H. LAYARD, ESQ., M.P., D.C.L., THIS STOEY IS INSCRIBED, IN ADMIRATION OF HIS CHARACTER AND GENIUS, AND AS A SLIGHT MARK OF ESTEEM: BY THE AUTHOR. ILLUSTRATIONS. Vol. I. Guilty or not Guilty Frontispiece. Vol. II. The Return Frontispiece. Vol. III. An Unexpected Meeting Frontispiece. P E E F A C E. The success of my work on the Sciences, which, after reaching a seventh edition, still retains its place in public favour, and for which His Majesty the King of Hanover conferred upon me the Gold Medal of Honour as a mark of his gracious approbation, has emboldened me, in pre paring a new book for publication, to take up a subject which, but for this result, I should have hesitated to approach, inas much as the details I have been constrained to introduce might be considered rather

Preface

. VI as the morbid colouring suggested by disappointment than a faithful reflex of facts. But at the present moment, when lite rature, as a profession, is depressed to the last degree, while an impression is abroad that nothing is easier than success, it may not be amiss to unveil some of the pitfalls that beset a Hterary career, not a few of which are unknown even to the generality of authors themselves At the same time, there can be no hope that such a narrative will excite any kindly interest for men of letters in the breast of the nation ; as an Englishman's sympathy for literature, when it is affected at all, notoriously amounts to no more than is expressed in the outcry for cheap books, by which an author is required to produce a new work at the price of an old reprint, or to com pete with the shilling piracies of foreign

PREFACE.

. VII publications, which have so resistlessly in vaded our shores. In a country where literature is held in such small repute — where the author is contemned by the Government, too often victimized by the publisher, and looked upon as a lawful prey by the public — it is not to be expected that there should be any defined scheme of national education ; and in fact, while the despotic Executive of Eussia maintains free' schools for the poor in the wilds of Siberia, the great mass of the humbler classes in England are suffered to remain, as far as regards mental acquirements, in a state of nature, giving rise to an amount of crime and wickedness, which is daily becoming more formidable and more awful. Such is the result which Talfourd has just denounced with his last breath from the seat of judgment, as he

PREFACE.

. was cited, a terrible witness against us, before the Judgment-seat of Eternity. The ablest pens have failed to arouse the Government to a right perception of these things ; but, if they are continually brought forward, it may, in time, be led to concede measures from a feeling of shame, which it has denied at the call of religion, humanity, and justice. S. W. F. 20, Chukot Terrace, Primrose Hill, April, 1854. CHAPTEE I. A RUNNING STREAM. It was spring-time ; but neither the day nor the scene — a bleak moor in North Wales — showed the least trace of that pleasant season, as it exists in imagination and tradition. One of those sharp, blus tering days which March borrows from April, and which the month of showers is rarely loth to lend, threw its sombre and dreary impress, like a guilty scowl, over the whole face of nature.

The heavens VOL. I B were wrapped in cloud, though every now and then, the strong wind, with an irresistible gust, bared the sky to its fury. Then came a lull, till the blast gathered new force, and, sweeping down the uplands, rolled on like a peal of thunder. The landscape was not without points of interest, though the general effect, when not enlivened by sunshine, was harsh and ungenial. A chain of heights, almost claiming to be mountains, fell in rugged steeps to the moor, which stretched far away on every side. The hills were bleak and sterile, but, here and there, a thin coat of verdure, or a straggling wood, running down to the edge of the moor, relieved their monotony, and gave their wildness a touch of grandeur. Gorges and ravines broke the hardness of the outline, and presented, at intervals, those peculiar obstructions which are best discerned by a military eye, and are only available in strategy.

These fastnesses, indeed, had once afforded the ancient Britons an asylum from the arms of Eome ; and here long afterwards their hardy descendants, in times scarcely less barbarous, maintained their nationality and independence against all the power of England's kings. In the distance, a handsome mansion, perched on the spur of a hill, and sur rounded by a well-wooded park, com manded the whole prospect, and formed a conspicuous object for miles round. Though a modern erection, it occupied the site of an ancient manor-house, called Glynn's Keep, which had for ages been the patrimony of the same race . and the new residence, while it presented little resemblance to the old, retained the familiar designation. In feudal ages, the Keep had been one of the strongholds of the country ; and the olden Glynns had b2 manned it well, and won an honourable place in local traditions.

Though now unavailable for military purposes, it was still, as the residence of an opulent landed proprietor, a place of importance ; and a long, straggling village, with the unpronounceable appellation of Cwm- Glynnellan, crept, as in ancient days, round the skirt of the park, an appanage and dependency of its lord. Some five miles from the village, on the bank of a swift and deep stream, much increased in width by unusually heavy rains, rose a small marquee, pro tected in the rear by a clump of trees, which served as an effectual barrier to the wind. A flaunting pennant streamed from the top of the tent, and, in strange discord with this display, each of its sides was emblazoned, in large letters, with these words : "THE TABERNACLE OF THE LORD." About forty or fifty persons, of both sexes, were congregated in various small clusters, near the tent, and a couple of carts and a donkey-chaise stood by, while the liberated beasts of burden browsed over the moor.

The gathering was chiefly composed of the labouring class, though it included two or three small farmers, so numerous in this part of Wales, and who were the proprietors of the vehicles just mentioned. All had a strange and peculiar look, which, taken in connexion with the inscription on the tent, furnished a clue to the object of their meeting, and left no doubt on the mind that they were a convocation of fanatics. Such indeed they were ! It is a strange anomaly that the nineteenth century, with its advanced and advancing civilization, should have given birth, in the midst of a community of Christians, to a religious imposture rivalling in success that of Mahomet, and not unlike in its main characteristics. The sect of Mormons, or Latter-day Saints, is at once the miracle and the scandal of our age.

Founded by an obscure and illiterate individual, whose mental and personal endowments were equally mean, possessing no claim to respect, and being without even the recom mendation of originality, it has achieved an ascendancy which can only be ac counted for by the world-wide prevalence of ignorance and superstition, or, what is hardly a less painful consideration, by man's inherent tendency to error. Like the impostor of the East, Joe Smith, the American seer, made his earliest converts in his own family. To them he first announced the existence of the Book of Mormon, revealed to him, as he said, by a direct interposition of the Eedeemer, and solemnly characterised as a supplement to the Gospel. So far, the deception was evi dently suggested by the bible of Ludovick Muggleton, and the book itself has been recognised as a clumsy Indian romance, the manuscript of which, after it had been thrown aside as worthless, was surrepti tiously obtained by Smith from the widow of a bookseller.

Special revelations, not wanting in quaintness and force, have from time to time been added to the new Koran, just as successive communications were made to Mahomet ; and, indeed, the Mormon prophet has followed his Eastern prototype so closely, that a revelation has always been at hand, as a divine commis sion, to abet whatever purpose he sought to accomplish. Thus he was enabled to regulate the ordinances and discipline of his church, constituting himself, as high priest and prophet, its supreme head. both in temporal and spiritual affairs, and creating an hierarchy of twelve apostles, and a perfect host of elders, to whom the government of the various congregations is confided. The groups assembled on Glynnellan moor were awaiting the appearance of one of the Apostles, now ensconced in the tent, and who had lately come over from America to confirm their faith, and take measures for converting the whole king dom.

He was to begin his work by bap tizing a neophyte, at this moment under examination in the tabernacle, preparatory to her admission into the church ; and who was herself looked upon as no mean prize. The apostle had entered a fruitful field, long left to fallow in rank luxuriance. Ignorance the most profound, superstition only to be matched in the dark ages, and an absolute unconsciousness of moral restraint, characterised the entire mass of the peasantry ; and as a plague rises in the haunts of poverty, but spreads to richer abodes, so the infection was gradually attacking their superiors. In this remote spot no good Samaritan ever came, Bible in hand, to pour the oil and wine of religious truth into souls perish ing by the wayside. The people were left in the wilderness, and there was no Moses at their head.

What wonder that, in their desperation, they danced and sung round the calf of Mormonism ! The heresy, at first springing up like a weed, had struck its roots down into the soil like an oak. True, its more repulsive features were not yet unmasked ; and the " spiritual wife " doctrine, in which it wholly uncovers the cloven foot, was, at this time, broached very cautiously even in America. The English flock, there fore, had some excuse for their credulity. There is a craving in the human mind for religion ; and if left without it, men will b turn Nature herself into a fetish. To the benighted peasantry of the West, the new creed, preached by pastors as homely as themselves, appeared, in their spiritual destitution, to be a message from Heaven ; and, though its earliest adherents were the lowest poor, it quickly soared higher, and brought down several proselytes from the grades above.

" Gat a rare cold day for Miss to go in stream," observed a sturdy, athletic la bourer to a stolid farmer who stood next to him. " Her be uncummon weakly, too." " If's for the good of her soul, us munt fret about body," answered the farmer, sullenly. " Sartin, that's about it," remarked an asthmatic old dame, shivering before the keen east wind, and whose well-worn scarlet cloak wrapped closely round her, and peaked nose and chin, almost meeting at their extremities, had a very witch like appearance. "Brother Clinton he know how many beans make a packle : he know who make it roight for the saints — eh, brother ! don't 'ee ?" Farmer Clinton, who was remarkable for his taciturnity, took no notice of this address. " If water's chill, we'se know what make it wairm," observed a gaunt black smith.

" Moreover, I'n sooner unny time stairve o' cold than burn in everlastin' fire." " Love to hear an he talk this like," returned old Thirza Wemyss. " It do ane's hairt good when it blow so." " Howsomedever, be reether shairp to go in stream," persisted the first speaker. " Not an's in baptism," said the old woman. " Bless 'ee, brother, I'se ha a dip my sel, anan the elder tell I. I feel's gat a fire in my banes, and the water ud put un out. I guess what it be — it's all come o' the evil ane, I know." Here another old woman, who had approached unobserved, uttered a groan. " Ah ! bless us, sister Jail, how 'ee make I stairt, 'ee do," cried Thirza. Jail Bird — for such was the old woman's strange name — drew down her face, but said nothing. " Ugh !" pursued her weird sister : " how he do wrought in me.

I could strip stark, and jump in stream for sport." " You' se make no such wark here, my woman," cried the blacksmith : " so an you feel the leaven in 'ee, go your ways aff. You need be rampin' again, as 'ee wor last Sabbath, eh ? Go aff wi ye, ar you'se get yoursel clap out o' church." Thirza hailed this threat with a laugh, ringing out like a shriek. " You's old Tom Withers !" she exclaimed. " I'se have 'ee aff, too, brother Tom, nan I go, and you'n nail a horse shoe an my body, to keep he away." At this point, an old man, who under stood what was passing, without being able himself to speak English, burst forth with the fine Welsh anthem : — " Yr V yn diolch i ti, yr Holl-alluog Dduw, am yr efengyl sanctaidd. Pan yr ocddem ni, muen Carchar twyll du, rhoes t'i Ni oleuni nefol. Halleluia I" As the singer ceased, another groan broke from old Jail, who edged close up to Thirza Wemyss.

" Anan ! sister Jail's hold forth in the tongue, I know," screamed Thirza, " and that do make he wroughten like mad." " I'se have the 'postle cast un out an 'ee, if airnt quiet," exclaimed the blacksmith. " He's wash un out pretty sprack, and better wash un out than burn un out. Amen !" As he uttered these words, Jail, whose features had been working convulsively for some minutes, suddenly poured forth a torrent of gibberish, strongly resembling Welsh, but which, in fact, was a mere jumble of gutturals, as unintelligible to herself as her auditors. The " outspeak ing," as it is termed by the sect, affected Thirza Wemyss differently from what she had anticipated; and she instantly be came dumb, while an expression of terror fell on the whole assemblage. Jail had just come to a pause, when the folds of the tabernacle were thrown aside, giving egress to Elder Trevor, a tall, lank, bald-headed man, with gloomy, pro truding eye-brows, and a hare lip, who was followed by a figure that might have passed for Orson, so completely did it realise humanity in a state of nature.

This strange being, who immediately became the centre of all eyes, wore no clothing but a girdle of goatskin, fastened by a cord round his loins ; and, by his dress and functions, claimed to represent John the Baptist. Coarse brown hair fell in matted locks over his shoulders; his eyes were almost buried under their shaggy brows ; and a moustache and beard covered his lips and chin. His ill-shapen limbs, partly overgrown with hair, heightened the repulsiveness of his aspect, and gave him more the appearance of a satyr than a saint. But, to the vulgar eye, his very hideousness was a mantle of sanctity ; and he wras instantly recognised as Noah Snow, the missionary from America, and one of the twelve apostles. The apostle was only a step in advance of the convert, a young girl, enveloped in a woollen cloak, the hood of which was drawn over her head, partly shrouding her face, though affording a glimpse of features which, if now pale and abstracted, were both pretty and interesting.

She was accompanied by two women, one on either side, by whom, according to the tenor of the Mormon formulary, she was supposed to be presented to the church. An old man, bearing a long white rod, in imitation of the rod of Aaron, and ranking in the community of saints as a deacon of the Aaronitic order, closed the procession. At the brink of the stream, the party paused, and the bystanders, on a signal from the deacon, gathered round, when Elder Trevor mounted a low stool, and, amidst profound silence, wrestled with himself in prayer, denouncing the stub bornness and wickedness of the world, and extolling the holiness of the saints, whom he commended to the especial protection of the Deity, concluding with the recital of a hymn, well known to the assemblage, and which, being rehearsed by the Elder, verse by verse, was chaunted to the tune of " The Sea " by the whole congregation.

When the hymn was finished, the apostle, impatient to take the lead, followed the Elder with an harangue, referring slightly to the occasion which had brought them together, and then expa tiating on the general prospects of the faith. These, not without reason, he declared to be full of promise, and con fidently anticipated the approach of a Millenium, when the Latter-Day Saints would have the whole world at their feet. Though wild and vehement, his language manifested both tact and ability, and was eminently calculated to impress an ignorant and credulous audience. The subject-matter, too, entirely coincided with their tastes and wishes, making no reference to the duty owing to God and man — to the obligations of morality, or the sacred precepts of religion ; nor, on the other hand, seeking to soothe the sorrows and trials of life by the assurance of a glorious futurity.

All its boast — all its hopes, were of the present ; and the preacher enlisted the sympathies of his hearers through their temporal and earthly interests. Finally, he spoke of the Mormon settlement in America — of its rapid progress and constantly increasing resources, describing, in terms exagge rated, but none the less striking, the fields and vineyards, woods and planta tions, farms and pastures, of a land flowing with milk and honey, which he represented to be the immediate result of the Lord's blessing on his Saints. And, more than all, he dwelt on the glories of its chief city, the new Jerusalem, which had sprung up, as by enchantment, in those once pathless solitudes ; and of its world-renowned temple, wThither all man kind must one day go up to worship. For more than an hour did the fanatic hold forth, becoming more and more excited, till, at last, he raised his voice to a distressing pitch, while his eyes gleamed with a lurid Hght, strongly suggestive of insanity.

Every word, however, of the mad oration told sensibly on those whom it addressed, and when he got down exhausted, there was not a soul present but thought he had been listening to the voice of an Elias. After an instant's pause, the apostle walked deliberately into the midst of the stream, and awaited the convert, who, now denuded of her cloak, and wearing only a long bathing-dress, followed him into the river. He seized her arm as, with timid, hesitating steps, she ap proached, and drew her towards him, till the water was above her waist. Then he immersed her head, and was drawing back towards the bank, when bis foot stumbled, and they fell together beneath the surface. For a moment they splashed about in the water, which became a per fect whirl around them — like another Bethesda, but, at length, the apostle succeeded in regaining his feet, leaving the convert invisible.

" Miss be sunk, I do think," observed Jack Davis, the labourer, to Farmer Cbnton. " I'se jest peel aff my smack, and help the 'postle out wi' her." " Do, lad," rephed the farmer, aroused from his apathy, and himself stepping to the brink of the stream. "Stand back!" cried the fanatic, observing their purpose. " What would you do? Can't you observe, with your eyes open, what a miracle is here ? The young woman's possessed, and the ser pent's coming out of her. I see him now with his Hghtning-blazing orbs, raging like fire. How he would have tripped me up, only for the grace within. Well ! I could now find in my heart to give him forty stripes save one, Scripture measure ! But he's casting loose ! he's coining out !" " But hadn't us best lift her head up a bit?" asked the uneasy father. " No, I say," returned the American : "if you meddle, you'll undo all.

Let him alone, and he'll soon have enough. Yea, this is truly a miracle !" "A miracle!" echoed the deluded crowd, their eyes rivetted on the troubled water. "Don't you see the poor creature's (frowning ?" cried a voice from the oppo site bank. And, without waiting to observe the effect of his words, the speaker plunged into the stream, and raised the girl in his arms. Apparently unconscious, she still clung, with convulsive tenacity, to her deliverer, who, taking no heed of the apostle, bore her unmolested to the bank. Few, in deed, could now blind themselves to her critical condition, and several women ten dered their assistance, while her father, with some appearance of excitement, followed them into the tent. CHAPTEE II. THE FARMER'S DAUGHTER. Ernest Glynn, who had so oppor tunely effected the young girl's rescue, was the grand-nephew of the landed pro prietor of the district — Old Squire Glynn, a bachelor, infirm in health and temper, and extremely violent in his antipathies.

Many years before, his only brother, after running through his fortune, had died suddenly, leaving two orphan children, who had no protector but himself. One of these, the father of Ernest, had, to the Squire's great chagrin, married clandesfinely the daughter of a farmer, and, on the fact coming to light, had been peremptorily discarded. Poverty and disappointment, developing the germs of incipient disease, had hurried the poor fellow into a decline, and he was snatched from life while yet on the threshold of manhood. His broken-hearted widow did not long survive, and their son, the only fruit of the ill-assorted match, being too young to provide for himself, had fallen to the care of the Squire, who, however, brought him up more as a dependent than a relation. Even this measure of grace had been much opposed by the son of the other brother, who was some ten years the boy's senior, and, from the breach in the family, had, since the death of his own father, considered himself the Squire's heir — a circumstance which caused him to regard the new-comer with extreme jealousy and apprehension.

But the boy, whose engaging appearance had excited these feelings, did not gain much in his uncle's favour, the unforgiven offence of his father being visited upon him, and, as he grew up, no attention was paid to his education, beyond sending him to a grammar-school at Liverpool, where he remained till his fifteenth year, when, returning home, he was left to employ his time as he pleased. Having seen the neophyte carried into the tent, Ernest Glynn had but just time to observe that some of the congregation bent on him looks not particularly friendly, when he was ac costed by a man mounted on a strong, handsome pony, who had just ridden up, and whom he recognised as his uncle's bailiff. The horseman, who pushed unceremo niously into the midst of the throng, was vol. I. c short and thick-set, with a broad, full face, to which heavy and massive features gave a remarkably sinister character.

A well-worn white hat, showing more than one blemish, was stuck on the back of his head, exposing an ample crop of red locks in front : his bull-like neck was encircled by a bandanna handkerchief, and a vel veteen shooting-jacket, ofthe gamekeeper cut, with corduroy breeches and gaiters, encasing legs somewhat bowed, completed his costume. " What, Master Ernest, have they been baptizing you, too ?" he said, observing his dripping clothes. " Why, how long have you been a saint ?" " As you're quite in the other interest, you can feel no curiosity to know," replied Ernest, in a tone that repelled further inquiry. " Hoity-toity, we're very grand ; we are !" muttered Frost, who, more curious than he cared should be seen, sought an explanation from the bystanders. Ernest, indeed, was in no mood for raillery, even if he had been on more friendly terms with his assailant.

The spectacle before him had awakened the most serious feelings, both of pity and shame, for not a few of those present, the avowed adherents of a gross delusion, were his uncle's tenantry. Apart from the exhibition he had witnessed, there was something awful in the aspect of the assemblage — the face of each individual reflecting, in different characters, the same dense look of obtuseness and ignorance, in some associated with terror, in others with the deep lines of a stern fanaticism — which depressed and appalled him. A confusion of tongues arose, as the farmer's daughter was carried off; and the apostle, enraged that his functions had been interfered with, was about to administer a severe c rebuke to Ernest, when he was intercepted by old Thirza Wemyss, who thrust her self between them.

" He's gane out o' she, and gat in I," cried the beldame. " I feel un all ower like fire. Hilloa, old Captain ! I'se Cain, as slew his brother Abel, and the blood's on my han' yet. You can't do aught wi' I, old Captain. I'se mock at you, and old Jail Bird, too !" — And she gave a scream which brought all the congregation round them. " This is a marvellous thing," cried the apostle, addressing the assemblage. " I never knew the power of darkness so strong as this, that he could go from one body to another at his will. It's a warning to us, my brethren, against falling in to transgression, or the same thing may come upon ourselves. Behold how the leaven works in this woman, who is one of our own fold. But I must show him THE GREAT HIGHWAY. he aint master yet ! — No !" — And he added to the old crone—" So you're Cain, are you ?"

" Cain yoursel," cried Thirza. " I'se Kilo." " You, Kilo! — you'n old Thirz Wemyss, you fool," exclaimed the blacksmith, stepping up. " She were makin' jest the same fash last Sabbath, and all the neigh bours up to hear an her, and " But here the apostle, bent on displaying his gift of exorcism, pushed the smith back, and he fell discomfited to the rear. " So you're Kilo now?" he then said to the woman : " Cain one minute and Kilo the next. But you know me, don't you ?" " You's old Captain — you's Noah Snow, from 'merikey, where the blacks be," shrieked Thirza. " But I'se laugh you to scorn, old Noah. You's can't drive aff a head o' seventy, like I. Ugh ! ugh ! who's care for old Noah?" " I'll make you care, Kilo or Cain, or whoever you be," returned the apostle — " yea, if you were a chief of seventy thou sand, instead of seventy.

But you're not Kilo, nor Cain, you're Lucifer. Now I charge you to say if this is your real name." " WeU, it be," rephed Thirza. " I'se Lucifer. But you won't cast I loose. You'se doubtin' yoursel — you cairnt, you cairnt !" — And she tossed up her arms, and jumped about, laughing like a maniac. " This is more and more marvellous," cried the apostle, " and shows these spirits know what is passing in our minds ; for just as this fallen one spoke, I was verily doubting. But I will buckle on my ar mour for the fight, and will wrestle, even to the cutting off of this woman from the church, if such be forced upon me ; for so it is advised by our beloved brother Hyde, who is a name of terror to the evil ones." THE GREAT HIGHWAY. He was silent for a moment, when he, in his turn, threw up his arms, and in a long, rambling harangue — for it could not be called a prayer — invoked Heaven to strengthen and sustain him, while he made manifest the glory of the new cove nant.

Meanwhile, Thirza continued to jump round him, in a sort of circle, laugh ing, screaming, and singing, or caUing him and the bystanders the most oppro brious names, foUowed by frightful impre cations, tiU, at length, it was not difficult to beUeve that the power of evil did reaUy possess her. At this juncture, the apostle finished his prayer, to which the congregation responded by a sonorous " Amen !" " Now, Cain, KUo, or Lucifer, I'm ready to give you battle," said the apostle to Thirza. " Now you shaU come out of this woman, or you shaU show you have a better right to her than the church. Now " " Hadn't us best hold her down, brother, for the evil one is powerful strong in her," said Elder Trevor. " Ah, ay, hold her — bind her with cords," cried the apostle. But no one seemed willing to undertake the task, and Thirza was jumping about wilder than ever, when JaU Bird, who alone looked quite unconcerned, pinioned her arms, which not only brought her to a stand, but seemed to stun and paralyze her.