IT was with strange feelings of doubt and unrest that I read that painful story; but I folded up Mary Burton’s letter and stored it carefully away in my desk, and then I began to think.
Certainly I was still a Mormon—at least I was nothing else—but I was not now so firmly grounded in my faith as once I was, and these terrible stories completely unsettled my mind. Then, too, I was well aware that, before long, my husband and myself would be called upon to cross the Plains to Zion, and I felt that if our experience were anything like that of Mary Burton, I and my children would never reach Salt Lake. The prospect4 was not very cheering.
One morning we were surprised to receive a visit from the Apostle George Q. Cannon5, who had come to take the place of Mr. Stenhouse as President of the Mission in the Eastern States, and we were now to prepare to travel with the next company of emigrants6.
To me this was most unpleasant intelligence. Polygamy—the knowledge that before long I should be brought personally within its degrading influence—had now for years been the curse of my life, and I had welcomed every reprieve7 from immediate8 contact with it in Utah. But the time had come at last when I was to realize my worst apprehensions9, and I think at that time, had I been permitted to choose, I would have preferred to die rather than journey to Zion. Besides this, ever since my husband had been engaged with the secular10 papers, we had been getting along very comfortably. We had now a pleasant home and many comforts and little luxuries which we had not enjoyed since we left Switzerland, and I was beginning to hope that we should be allowed to remain in New York for a few years at least. We had also by this time six children—the youngest only a few days old—and I leave it to any mother to determine whether I had not good cause for vexation when I[146] was told that we were expected to leave New York within two weeks, with the emigrants who were then en route from England. My husband also was to take charge of the company, and therefore everything would depend upon me—all the preparations for our long and perilous11 journey, the disposal of our furniture, and, in fact, the thousand and one little necessary duties which must attend the packing up and departure of a family.
In the course of a few days the emigrants arrived, and then my husband was compelled to devote all his time to them. When I told the Elders that it was almost impossible for me, in the delicate state of health in which I was, and with a babe only two weeks old, to undertake such a journey, they told me that I had no faith in the power of God, and that if I would arise and begin my preparations, the Lord would give me strength according to my day. Thinking that probably my husband believed as they did, I made the effort, but it cost me much. In the Mormon Church the feelings or sufferings of women are seldom considered. If an order is given to any man to take a journey or perform any given task, his wife or wives are not to be thought of. They are his property just as much as his horses, mules12, or oxen; and if one wife should die, it is of little consequence if he has others, and if he has not he can easily get them; and if he is not young or fascinating enough to win his way with the young ladies, he has only to keep on good terms with Brigham Young, or even with his bishop13, and every difficulty will be smoothed away, and they will be “counselled” to marry him.
It is never expected, nor would it be tolerated in any Mormon woman, that she should exercise her own judgment14 in opposition15 to her husband, no matter how much she might feel that he was in the wrong: I have frequently seen intelligent women subjected to the grossest tyranny on the part of ignorant and fanatical husbands who were influenced by the absurd teachings of the Tabernacle. One of the greatest Mormon writers, Orson Pratt, has said,—
“The wife should never follow her own judgment in preference to that of her husband; for if her husband desires to do right, but errs16 in judgment, the Lord will bless her in endeavouring to carry out his counsels; for God has placed him at the head, and though he may err3 in judgment, yet God will not justify17 the wife in disregarding his instructions and counsels; far greater is the sin of rebellion, than the errors which arise from the want of judgment; therefore she would be condemned18 for[147] suffering her will to rise against his. Be obedient, and God will cause all things to work for good.”
The trouble and annoyance19 occasioned by leaving a comfortable position in New York to travel to such an unknown region as Utah was then, was not a trifle; but we hastened our preparations, sacrificing all that we possessed20 in the most reckless manner, and in due time set out.
When we reached Florence—the starting-point on the Frontiers—we were detained on account of some mismanagement on the part of the Church Agents, and remained for three weeks in camp. Ours was what was called “an independent company;” by which I mean that we were able to defray our own expenses without borrowing from the Church: the poorer emigrants were assisted from a fund provided for that purpose—the Perpetual Emigration Fund.
Our company was in an infinitely21 better position than that of those emigrants of whose sad fate my friend Mary Burton had told me; for our journey was made at the proper season, and, as far as was possible under the circumstances, convenience and comfort had been attended to. The incidents which befell us were few, and although, of course, every one of us felt weary and worn out, we were not called upon to pass through the miseries22 and sufferings endured by the hand-cart emigrants. Looking back to our primitive23 mode of travelling, it appears to me almost as if I must be making some mistake about my own age, and that it must have been several centuries, instead of a few years ago, since we crossed the Plains. The ox-team and waggon24, the walk on foot in the day and the camp-life at night, have been pleasantly exchanged for the swift travel of a few days in a Pullman palace-car.
What living contradictions we were as we crossed the Plains—singing in a circle, night and morning, the songs of Zion and listening to prayers and thanksgivings for having been permitted to gather out of Babylon; and then during the day as we trudged25 along in twos and threes expressing to each other all our misgivings26, and doubts, and fears, and the bitterness our thoughts against Polygamy; while each wife, confiding27 in her husband’s honour and faithfulness, solaced28 herself with the hope that all might yet be well. How little sometimes do the songs of gladness reflect the real sentiments of the heart. How often have I heard many a poor heart-broken woman singing the chorus,—
“I never knew what joy was
Till I became a Mormon.”
[148]
I never could sing that song, for my experience had been exactly the reverse.
It was the month of September—the beginning of our beautiful Indian summer—when we emerged from the ca?on, and caught sight of Salt Lake City. Everything looked green and lovely, and in spite of all my sad forebodings while crossing the Plains, I involuntarily exclaimed, “Ah, what a glorious spot!” It looked like a beautiful garden—another Eden—in the midst of a desert valley. We had a glimpse of the Great Salt Lake far away in the distance, stretching out like a placid29 sheet of molten silver, while everywhere around were the lonely-looking snow-clapped mountains, encircling us like mighty30 prison-walls.
It would be impossible for me to describe my feelings at that time. Even while I was enchanted31 with the glorious prospect before me, there arose again in my mind that haunting spectre of my existence—Polygamy. I believed that this little earthly paradise would probably be to me, and my daughters after me, a prison-house, and with a mother’s instinct I shuddered32 as I thought of what they might be destined33 to suffer there. Lovely as the scene was, there was a fatal shadow overhanging it all. Then, too, there was no escape: if the sad forebodings of my heart were realized, it would be utterly34 impossible for us ever to get away. The idea of a railway being constructed across those desert plains and rocky mountains never for a moment entered my mind, and even had I thought it possible, I should have supposed that it would take a lifetime to complete. No, there was no help for me, even if it came to the worst. I felt that my doom35 was sealed; and there were many women in our company who thought just the same as I did, and who were troubled at heart with fears as sad as mine.
My first impressions of Salt Lake City when we began life there were anything but pleasant—we had to “rough it.” For nearly two weeks we were obliged to remain in our waggons36, as it was quite impossible to obtain house-room. At that time each family built their own little hut, and there were no vacant houses to let.
VIEW OF MAIN STREET, SALT LAKE CITY.
(From a Photograph.)
To face p. 148.
The weather was now growing very cold and wintry, and it was absolutely necessary that we should have some better shelter than the waggons afforded. One day my husband told me, when he came home, that he had been offered a house which belonged to the Church. It was in a very dilapidated condition, he said, but that if I would go and look at it with[149] him, we could then decide about taking it. No time was to be lost, for companies of emigrants were coming in almost daily, and if we neglected this chance we might not find another.
When we arrived at the house I was much discouraged at seeing the condition it was in: the window-panes were all cracked or broken out, the floors and walls looked as if they had never known soap or paint, and the upper rooms had no ceilings; in fact it was not fit for any civilized37 Christian38 to live in. In point of size there was nothing to complain of, but of comfort or convenience there was none—the wind whistled through every door and every cracked window; and altogether it presented anything but a cheering prospect for winter.
My husband told me that Daniel H. Wells, who was superintendent39 of Church property and also one of the First Presidency40 of the Church, had promised him that if we took the house it should be repaired and made fit for living in before winter fully2 set in; and under the circumstances we thought we could do no better than accept his offer.
Thus we began housekeeping in Utah, and we unpacked41 our trunks and tried to give the place as home-like an appearance as we possibly could. I had known what it was to be in a strange country and destitute42; and, therefore, benefiting by experience, when I left New York, regardless of the teachings of the Elders and of my own husband’s directions to the contrary, I had secretly stowed away many little necessaries towards housekeeping. Indeed had I not done so, we should have been as badly off when we reached Zion as when we arrived in New York. Besides which, I have no doubt that our waggons would have been filled with the trunks of those very brethren who counselled us not to take more than was absolutely necessary. The brethren who gave this counsel were, I noticed, constantly purchasing while they advised every one else to sell, and I thought it wiser to follow their example than their precepts43.
Among my treasures was some carpet, and when that was laid down and the stove put up we began to feel almost at home. The wind, however, soon drove away all thoughts of comfort, for it came whistling in through a thousand undetected crevices44, and the tallow candles which we were obliged to burn presented a woeful spectacle. Even the most wealthy, then, had no other light but candles, and every family had to make their own: I have often seen people burning a little[150] melted grease with a bit of cotton-rag stuck in the middle for a wick—how pleasant the smell, and how brilliant the light thus produced can be imagined. Everything was upon the same scale—and to keep house in any fashion was really a formidable undertaking45, especially to those who had been accustomed to the conveniences of large towns. I believe that many women consented to their husbands taking other wives for the sake of getting some assistance in their home duties.
We spent nearly all the first evening in our new house in trying to discover some means of keeping out the storm, but to little purpose. Nearly a fortnight passed before any one came to see about repairing the house, but as it belonged to the Church my husband seemed to think it must be all right. The Mormon men are always very lenient46 towards “the Church”—very much more so than the Mormon women, for the latter have somehow got mixed up in their minds the idea that Brigham Young and “the Church” are synonymous terms. I remember one day a good young sister—a daughter of one of the twelve Apostles—saying to me, “I have just seen the Church,” and when I asked her what she meant, she said, “I have just met Brigham Young and Hyram Clawson, and are they not the Church?” It was evident to me that others besides myself sometimes gave way to wicked thoughts. Nevertheless I was still of opinion that “the Church” had plenty of money and ought to have repaired the house.
One day a man whom I had never seen before, called upon me and asked what repairs I should like done. I was not feeling very well, and had been annoyed at the delay, and I answered rather ungraciously that I should like anything done, if it were only done at once, for I thought we had waited long enough. He answered me very politely, and said that he would see to it immediately. When Mr. Stenhouse returned home in the evening, he said, “So you have had a visit from President Wells.” “No,” I said, “there has been no one here but a carpenter—an ugly man with a cast in his eye, and I told him that I wanted the house fixed47 right away.”
“Why, that was President Wells,” he said, very much shocked, and I think I felt as bad as he did when I realized that I had treated one of the “First Presidency” so unceremoniously.
This Daniel H. Wells, besides being an Apostle, a Counsellor of Brigham Young, and one of the three “Presidents” who share with Brigham the first position in the Church, and are associated with him in all his official acts, was Lieutenant-General[151] of the Nauvoo Legion, and at the present time and for some years past Mayor of Salt Lake City. It was a shocking indiscretion, to say the least, to speak slightingly of such a high and mighty personage.
The repairs, however, were seen to, and the house rendered a little more habitable. We had now to begin the struggle of life afresh, and could not afford to be too particular about trifles;—to obtain shelter was something—for the rest we must still continue to hope and trust.
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1
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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emigrants
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| n.（从本国移往他国的）移民( emigrant的名词复数 ) | |
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reprieve
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| n.暂缓执行（死刑）；v.缓期执行；给…带来缓解 | |
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8
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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9
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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secular
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| n.牧师，凡人；adj.世俗的，现世的，不朽的 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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16
errs
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的第三人称单数 ) | |
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17
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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18
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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19
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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20
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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27
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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solaced
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| v.安慰，慰藉( solace的过去分词 ) | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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31
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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32
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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33
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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39
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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40
presidency
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| n.总统(校长，总经理)的职位(任期) | |
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41
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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42
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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43
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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44
crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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45
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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46
lenient
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| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
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47
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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