“Love never fails to master what he finds,
But works a different way in different minds;
The fool enlightens and the wise he blinds.”
—Dryden.
After a few months in the Mormon Capital, under the most favorable
circumstances for observation of their peculiar institutions, it must be
admitted that Hagar was thinking much more of how and whither she might
escape than of permanently linking her fate with theirs.
In the Spencer family she had been a favorite from the first. So far
from being a burden she endeavored to repay them for shelter and food by
assisting with the housework, and by plying the needle continually for
some member of the household. But before she had been with them two
months the scarlet fever broke out among the children, and she was
induced by her friends to move temporarily to Bishop Langley’s house.
The Bishop had been several times to call at the Spencer’s for the
express purpose of seeing her, and had generously offered her a home on
the condition that she would open an elementary school for the young
children in his ward, especially some ten or twelve of his own, and
teach one or two of his girls music; as he had been urging for some time
Hagar now decided to accept his offer.
Bishop Langley’s house was at that time one of the best and most
spacious in Salt Lake City. It was a plain quadrangular structure two
stories high, with wings of one story added on three sides, and all
built of sun-dried brick, or adobes. Three of his wives and their
children dwelt in this mansion. It was comfortably furnished, time and
place considered, and at least four rooms, the parlor and three bed-
rooms, had carpets on the floors. In the parlor, which was used in
common by all, besides a variety of imported easy chairs and the
inevitable ‘lounge,’ stood a fine square piano that was brought from the
East by the very train with which Hagar crossed the plains. This was a
mark of distinction which was not then enjoyed by half a dozen families
in Utah, and the Bishop’s sons and daughters, thirteen in this house,
ranging in age from two months to eighteen years, made that piano a
constant topic of boastful conversation among their envious playfellows.
The rooms were large and numerous and were divided into three distinct
suites, the parlor and entrance hall being the only neutral ground. In
each suite was a sitting-room, dining-room, kitchen and several bed-
rooms.
Hagar had become accustomed to the etiquette of polygamy during her
sojourn at the Spencers, where two wives lived under the same roof and
took their meals at the same table. She had there heard of the
perfection of Brother Langley’s domestic arrangements. During her stay
she had also discerned that the real Mrs. Spencer was a woman of
considerable culture and talent, while the other was much her inferior,
and looked upon drudgery as her lot. The elder wife had acquainted Hagar
with the fact that “Sister Amanda,” as she called the other, had been
given by her to her husband as Sarah had given Hagar, her handmaid, to
Abraham, and the young girl, hearing so much of these Biblical
comparisons became more and more ashamed of her own name and prayed
devoutly that these people might never find it out.
As soon as she made known her determination to accept the Bishop’s
hospitality on the terms he had named, he came for her in his handsome
sleigh with bells jingling merrily, and moved her to his home which
stood in the most pleasant part of the town. The house was surrounded by
a grove of sweet locusts the bare branches of which were swarming with
little brown snow birds that left the ground with whirring and chirping,
and seemed to be gossiping about the Bishop and his companion as the
sleigh dashed up the icy road to the front door.
The Bishop gallantly helped his visitor to alight and led her to the
drawing room. Nobody met them at the door; nobody was visible.
“I must present you to my wives, Sister Miles,” he said, nervously.
“Brother Brigham says I’m one of the best specimens of a patriarch of
old, in the church. I’ve got three wives and thirteen children in this
house, and yet you could hear a pin drop. But you’ll soon see how it is.
Ah! Sister Miles, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Sister Eliza,”
he said, as a pale and haggard looking woman, attired in a threadbare
alpaca dress, came into the room gazing awkwardly about, and stretching
out her neck in a strange manner as she extended her clammy hand to the
visitor.
“How do ye do,” said Sister Eliza in a high pitched drawling voice,
while eyeing Hagar from head to foot.
“So they’ve got scarlet fever at Sister Spencer’s, eh? Well I allus said
as they wa’n’t very healthy lookin’, an’ I don’t think they be.”
Hagar was trying to say something in reply when the Bishop interrupted
good naturedly:
“I was going to tell you that Sister Eliza, though an excellent woman,
is a leetle bit deef—caused by the privations she went through coming
out of Nauvoo in ’46. But she’s an own cousin of the Prophet Joseph, and
a true latter-day saint. As the best spare room we’ve got is in her part
of the house, you will make your home with her, and I’m sure you’ll like
her when you’re better acquainted.” Then laying his hand affectionately
on his wife’s shoulder, and putting his lips close to the ear she turned
towards him, “Sister Miles,” he said, “will be in presently; just tell
Sister Hulda to step here a moment.”
But the Prophet’s cousin only looked puzzled and said “Hey?” and he was
obliged to lead her out and call “Hulda” himself.
Hagar began to wonder how she was going to like her new home; and
however much she feared that it must possess unpleasant features, she
rightly guessed that it possessed a novelty from which she might derive
some benefit, since she had thrown off dread and timidity and adopted
interest in their stead.
After a brief pause during which she inspected the scanty contents of
the parlor, the Bishop came back followed by a stout woman with very fat
red hands and ruddy features, whom he introduced as “Sister Hulda.” She
appeared to be about thirty, and had a very square head thinly covered
with short, sandy hair. An unsaintly observer would have been more
likely to have taken her for the family washerwoman, than for a belle of
the Harem. She was, in fact, an ordinary sample of the Scandinavian
peasants who join the Mormons, a plain, coarse, but good natured and
tractable being, not only useful but indispensable in the settlement of
a new country. Her redeeming point was that she lacked the boldness
which Hagar had remarked in others resembling her; her face was red with
blushes, and she was palpably embarrassed.
Sister Hulda merely said “good day” in a faint voice, and seemed glad to
return to her kitchen work, in which Hagar’s arrival had interrupted
her.
For a moment after her exit, the Bishop himself seemed rather confused.
He had given notice to “Sister Amelia,” of his arrival, but she had not
yet appeared, and he foresaw trouble in that quarter. After making a few
commonplace remarks to fill in the time, he said:—
“Well, Sister Amelia is certainly detained. I must see what keeps her,
if you will kindly excuse me a moment.”
Hagar was interested in her experience, and surveyed the room
complacently during her host’s absence.
The Bishop found Sister Amelia in her bed-room in a hostile frame of
mind.
“No, Edwin, I won’t. I sha’n’t come down,” she said emphatically, in the
midst of her tears. “It is very cruel of you to bring that strange widow
here—she’s been the talk ever since she came to the Valley. And then for
you, after telling me, as you did the other day, that she ‘reminded you
of an old sweet-heart,’ to fetch her into the house and ask me to
receive her! I say it’s very cruel:—and I sha’n’t do it, no, never.”
It was quite evident that Sister Amelia was not as meek as the partners
of the Bishop’s joys to whom Hagar had been introduced. Her mode of
objecting was rather persuasive than declaratory, but none the less
effective on that account; indeed, the Bishop thought it more so, as he
could readily overcome pronounced obstreperousness, but was balked by
Sister Amelia’s tearful tactics.
In spite of all his arts he could not induce her to come down to welcome
his guest. So long as he merely urged her in a kindly voice and by
friendly arguments she kept repeating that she knew very well what it
would come to, and that she could not have believed her dear Edwin would
be so cruel to her. Though the Bishop had three other wives at the farm,
a few miles from the city, nothing that he said concerning his
disinterested motives could convince Sister Amelia that he had not
formed a nice little scheme for adding the “strange widow” as No. 7 to
his already moderately numerous family. At last he became angry, with
the usual result that Sister Amelia fell into a speechless sulk, and
became as immovable as if she had grown to the spot where she sat. As he
was taking his leave after mumbling something about her having a temper
like a mule, she said between her sobs:
“Don’t you remember that you promised never to take another wife if I
would have you? We are not two years married, and yet——”
“Never mind,” said the Bishop, angrily, “your bad conduct and jealousy
have long since absolved me from that promise, and I am now free to do
as I please. You needn’t expect me to get over your stubborn
disobedience for some time!” She called to him as he went out, but he
shut the door with emphasis, and descended to the parlor where Hagar was
beginning to feel impatient.
“I guess you’ll have to excuse Sister Amelia to-day, but of course
you’ll meet later on. She has been rather spoilt by the rest of us,
especially by Hulda; but she’s a nice girl and has a first-rate
education—plays the piano too—not so well as you do, but right well,
considering. You’ll like her, I think, and as she’s a strong dislike to
house-work, I want to have her help you in the school.”
He moved about restlessly as he spoke, but finally took a chair facing
Hagar, leaned back with his hands clasped over his head, and continued:—
“Well, Sister Miles, what do you think of the great Latter-day work by
this time?”
Many of the Saints had asked her the same question, and this was not the
first time the Bishop had broached the subject; she was not, therefore,
wholly unprepared to reply.
“I am much impressed with all I have seen; but, you know, I have only
been here about two months. It is certainly wonderful to see what the
Saints have done in a perfectly wild country in fifteen years, it proves
that God has blessed them,” she said earnestly.
“You are quite right, quite right, but how do you like the institution
of celestial or plural marriage? Of course, as you have not yet received
the gift of the holy ghost, you will not understand its awful
mysteries—but, I mean simply regarding it with worldly eyes, as yet only
partly opened by the first reception of the gospel?”
“I fear,” said Hagar, after a momentary hesitation, “that I am not yet
prepared to answer as to that.”
“But, for yourself; you can tell whether your faith is sufficiently
strong to warrant you, to enable you, to enter the celestial estate.”
“You forget, Bishop Langley,” she said, sadly, with her eyes cast down,
“that being so lately bereaved, I could not think of—of marriage.”
“Oh! forgive me,” he replied, lowering his voice, and speaking
apologetically. “I was over-zealous; the fact is we see very few women
here like you, Sister Miles, and as for myself, I know how to appreciate
a fine woman. You might not think it, but it’s quite true, that my
family, the Langleys of Ohio, is one of the highest-toned families in
the West. Of course they’re down on me for joining the Saints, but as I
expect to repay their spite by aiding in their final salvation in the
world to come, I don’t much mind what they think of me now. I’m only
forty-three, pretty well off, and I expect to be at the head of the
church some day (this, in confidence, of course.) I don’t suppose I’m
quite perfect, but you can ask my wives, and see for yourself what kind
of a man I am. When you learn how this house is managed, I want to take
you out to my farm; it’s a sight worth seeing in summer: all my little
tow-heads helping with the crops, and picking mulberry leaves for the
silkworms. I sent twenty bushels of cocoons East last year.”
The Bishop continued in this strain for some time, making his companion
fully conversant with all the details he wished her to know at that
period, about himself and his worldly affairs. She was then resigned to
the care of Sister Eliza, in whose house she was to reside.
Hagar evinced considerable tact in her singular position; she made a
success of the school, and not only became a great favorite among the
forty odd children who were placed under her care, but also won the
friendship of Amelia, who was far from being a disagreeable companion.
While the first Mrs. Langley was endeavoring to coach her for the
celestial bliss of polygamy, with all the eloquence and credulity of a
“cousin of the prophet,” Amelia was giving her a version of the matter
much more in keeping with her own preconceived opinions. She was really
becoming quite contented in the consciousness that she was making her
own way successfully, when an incident occurred which startled her from
her sense of security.
The school house was a small adobe building of one room that had been
Hulda’s residence in early days, before the present mansion was built.
It was in a lot adjoining the mansion, but was almost concealed
(entirely so in summer) by the orchard that lay between.
Spencer had called a few times at the Bishop’s house to see “Sister
Miles” but had been coldly received, and at last was told flatly by the
Bishop, who on each occasion had met him in the hall, that he was not a
welcome visitor. He at first thought of asking Hagar as to that; but on
reflection decided to ask her simply if he might call now and then to
have a word with her at the school-house, as he believed the Langleys,
especially the Bishop, did not like him. She granted him permission and
he called once or twice during the afternoon recess, which lasted from
three to half past, and enjoyed a friendly chat with her while the
children were at play. One of Bishop Langley’s boys told him of these
visits; he was very angry and at once concluded that Hagar, while having
put him off on the plea of bereavement was giving a more favorable
hearing to the young Elder. A crisis in Hagar’s Mormon experience, was
drawing near.
“Ed. Langley,” as the bishop had been familiarly called by the
“prophet,” and the Elders with whom he had associated in early days, was
not a man to be trifled with. He had already gained a reputation as a
dangerous rival in his pursuit of Amelia, that was sufficient to prevent
those acquainted with him from entering the lists against him when
female charms were the prize. The Spencers and others considered that
they might as well change Sister Miles’ name to Langley from the moment
she entered the Bishop’s house, for it never occurred to them that any
woman in the world would be such a fool as to refuse a man so rich and
handsome, and one who stood so well with Brigham Young.
The immediate neighbors, and even the school children already addressed
Hagar, by accident, of course, as “Sister Langley,” and yet it had never
seriously occurred to her that the Bishop would be an applicant for her
hand.
On the evening of the day that the Bishop learned of Spencer’s visits,
he determined to speak plainly to Sister Miles concerning his
intentions. But Amelia was watching him as she had done ever since Hagar
had been a resident with “Sister Eliza.” She had thus far prevented any
tete-a-tete in that part of the house which would give her “dear Edwin”
an opportunity of making love to one who would probably supplant her in
the rank of favorite. Hulda and her children had been aiding her in her
artful plans. Her custom was to give Hagar a pressing invitation to come
to supper with her, and at about nine o’clock to go with her to the door
of her own apartment after she said “good night” to the Bishop. Langley
noted the cunning thus displayed by his latest and youngest wife, but
his desire to possess the ‘pretty widow’ became stronger every day. He
finally found it difficult to delay his declaration. Amelia was a good
looking young woman, possessing personal attractions far above the
average of the Mormon women; at their balls and other festivities she
had always been an acknowledged belle for whose hand Brigham Young
himself was at one time a candidate. But the Bishop being an earnest
Saint, was no doubt anxious to show his zeal for ‘building up the
Kingdom,’ and was at this time manifesting such symptoms of restlessness
and precipitation, as are usually supposed to characterize a lover in
pursuit of an object not yet possessed. Amelia was evidently eclipsed,
and to the Bishop’s mind was sinking deeper and deeper into the shade,
while the young widow was not only dazzling his fancy, but tearing at
his heart’s strings. He must see her that night in spite of Amelia’s
caprices and all other considerations, and before she came home from
calling at the Spencer’s, after school, he had everything arranged to
facilitate a lengthy interview.
Amelia was very fond of the theatre; much more fond, indeed, than had
hitherto been agreeable to her spouse. The local company, which was
composed of leading young elders and good Mormon maids and matrons of
more or less talent, were giving that night a second performance of
Macbeth at the church Theatre, with the Tabernacle choir as the witches,
a subsequent apostle as Hecate, and a pet of the President’s as the
aspiring thane. Thither the Bishop proposed to conduct Amelia, much to
her satisfaction. Meanwhile “Sister Eliza” was duly instructed to inform
her lodger that the Bishop wished to speak with her, and to detain her
in her sitting-room until he arrived.
The ruse fully met his expectations: Amelia was duly ensconced in a
cushioned seat in the parquette beside one of Hulda’s boys; the Bishop
was conveniently reminded by one of the brethren of an important
“priesthood meeting,” and reluctantly tore himself away from his
darling’s side, and returned home as fast as a good horse hitched to a
light sleigh could take him.
Though he had taken off the bells and driven quietly into the barnyard,
which was some distance from the house, his return was promptly known to
Hulda. Her chief news-bearer was at the theatre, but her son “Billy,” a
roguish little blonde of ten years, was used to aiding his elder brother
in all sorts of domestic conspiracies, and was delighted with the
opportunity to act alone. He was in his stocking feet romping with the
other small children in Hulda’s sitting room preparatory to going to
bed, but was prompt to station himself at the head of the stairs at his
mother’s bidding, whence he could reconnoitre the entrance hall below,
and the door to “Sister Eliza’s” apartment which opened off the hall to
the right of the front door. The play of the children went on without
interruption, and the Bishop, as he paused on the threshold, never felt
more tolerant of their boisterousness. He was well aware that Hulda was
no less opposed than Amelia, to his having any more wives, and was very
anxious to keep them both in ignorance of his present affair until he
had arranged the details.
He stepped inside and closed the door softly; threw off his over-coat
which was covered with snow, brushed the icy flakes from his beard, and
completed his preparations by taking off his heavy boots, and putting on
a pair of warm red carpet slippers that were kept on a chair behind the
door. Then, supposing the coast to be clear, he stepped lightly to the
door of Sister Eliza’s sitting room, and entered without delay.
Billy went back and told his mother, who was fully conscious that the
Bishop’s unwonted devotion was bestowed on the “pretty widow,” for he
had not been known to seek a tete-a-tete with Eliza for several years.
When the other children were out of hearing she said to Billy:
“Your father’s going to marry the school-ma’am, Billy, so you can just
play any trick on him you like—only be careful you’re not caught.” Then
she continued to herself—“I’ll tell Amelia of this: there’s just no use
of talkin’—Edwin never knows when to stop!”