MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE CITY OF THE SAINTS.
When I arrived in Salt Lake City, a great many improvements had been
effected; and expecting, as I did that this would be our future home for
many years, perhaps for life, I was interested in everything that I saw.
The first Sunday I went to the Tabernacle I was greatly amused at the
way in which some of the sisters were dressed. Quite a number wore
sun-bonnets, but the majority wore curious and diverse specimens of
the milliner’s art—relics of former days. Some wore a little tuft of
gauze and feathers on the top of the head, while others had helmets of
extraordinary size. There were little bonnets, half-grown bonnets, and
“grandmother bonnets” with steeple crowns and fronts so large that it was
difficult to get a peep at the faces which they concealed. As for the
dresses, they were as diversified as the bonnets. Some of them presented
a rather curious spectacle. I noticed two young women who sat near me:
they were dressed alike in green calico sun-bonnets, green calico skirts,
and pink calico sacks. On inquiring who they were, I was told that they
were the wives of one man, and had both been married to him on the same
day, so that neither could claim precedence of the other. Outside of
Utah such a thing would seem impossible; but so many of the young girls
at that time came out to Zion without father or mother or any one else
to guide them; and left to their own inexperience and afraid to disobey
“counsel,” it is no wonder that they soon yielded to the universal custom.
The two young women whom I have mentioned did not appear to me to be
overburdened with intelligence; they looked like girls who could be made
to believe anything; but after that I met with two well-educated women
who, like these foolish girls, thoughtlessly tried the experiment of two
or more marrying the same man on the same day, agreeing with their “lord”
that that would be the best way to preserve peace in their household.
But they were terribly mistaken; and even before the marriage-day was
over, the poor bewildered husband had to fly to Brother Brigham for
counsel.
The Tabernacle services seemed to me as strange as the women. There
was no regular order in conducting the proceedings, but the prominent
brethren made prayers or “sermons” as they were called upon to do so.
The “sermons” would be more properly called speeches; they are nothing
but a rambling, disconnected glorification of the Saints, interspersed
with fearful denunciations of the Gentiles, and not unfrequently a good
sprinkling of words and expressions such as are never used in decent
society. More unedifying discourses could hardly be imagined. As for the
spirituality and devotional feeling which characterized our meetings in
England, they were only conspicuous by their absence, and many devout
Saints have told me that when they first went there, before the erection
of the great organ, the free-and-easy manners of the speakers and the
brass band which was stationed in front of the platform, made them feel
as if they had come to witness a puppet-show rather than to attend a
religious meeting.
There was one lady at the Tabernacle service whom I regarded with
considerable interest. This was no other than Eliza R. Snow, one of the
Prophet’s wives. I was told that she was the first woman married in
Polygamy after Joseph Smith received the Revelation, and I believed it
was so. People who lived in Nauvoo, respectable people, and not one or
two either, have assured me that for four years before Joseph is said to
have received the Revelation, he was practising Polygamy, or something
worse, and that the Revelation was given to justify what was already
done. However this might be, it is generally understood that Miss Eliza
Snow was the first plural wife of the Prophet. Her principal occupation
at the present time is converting rebellious wives to obedience to their
husbands, and convincing young girls that it is their duty to enter into
Polygamy. Unhappy husbands derive great consolation from her counsels.
In matters of religion she is a perfect fanatic, and in connexion with
the Female Relief Society she reigns supreme; but otherwise there are
many excellent traits in her character, and I could tell of many acts of
loving-kindness and self-denial which she has performed, and which will
surely have their reward. As the chief poet of the Mormon Church, and as
the Representative of Eve in the mysteries of the Endowment House, she
enjoys a reputation such as would be impossible to any other woman among
the Saints.
Another of the late Joseph’s wives is a Mrs. Doctor Jacobs, who was
actually married to the Prophet while she was still living with her
original husband, Jacobs. Under the same circumstances she married
Brigham Young, after Joseph’s death. For some time her husband knew
nothing of the whole affair, but Brigham very soon gave him to understand
that his company was not wanted. The sister of Mrs. Jacobs—a Mrs.
Buel—was another of Joseph’s wives, and she married the Apostle Heber C.
Kimball, but does not appear to have made a very good bargain.
Besides these there is another lady, a Mrs. Shearer—or, as she is
familiarly called—“Aunty Shearer.” She is in every respect a unique
specimen of womanhood, tall and angular, with cold yet eager grey eyes; a
woman of great volubility, and altogether grim-looking and strong-minded.
She was an early disciple, and is said to have sacrificed everything
for Mormonism. She lived in Joseph Smith’s family, and, of course, saw
and heard a great deal about Polygamy, and at first it was a great
stumbling-block to her. She was, however, instructed by the immaculate
Joseph, and so far managed to overcome her feelings as to be married to
him for eternity. Like the others, she is called “Mrs.,” and I suppose
there is a _Mr._ Shearer somewhere, but upon that point she is very
reticent. Her little lonely hut is fitted with innumerable curiosities
and little knick-knacks, which some people are for ever hoarding away in
the belief that they will come into use some day. She is a woman that
one could not easily forget. She wears a muslin cap with a very wide
border flapping in the wind under a comical-looking hood, and is easily
recognized by her old yellow marten-fur cape and enormous muff: her
dress, which is of her own spinning and weaving, is but just wide enough,
and its length could never inconvenience her. Add to these personal
ornaments a stout pair of brogues, and you will see before you “Aunty
Shearer,” one of the Prophet’s spiritual wives.
I may as well explain what is meant by “spiritual” wives and “proxy”
wives.
Marriages contracted by the Gentiles, or by Mormons in accordance with
Gentile institutions, are not considered binding by the Saints. That was
partly the cause of my indignation and the indignation of many another
wife and mother. We were told that we had never been married at all,
and that our husbands and our children were not lawfully ours: surely
that was enough to excite the indignation of any wife, whatever her
faith might be. For a marriage to be valid it must be solemnized in the
Endowment House in Salt Lake City, or the persons contracting it can
never expect to be husband and wife in eternity. Should the husband die
before he reaches Zion, and if the wife loves him sufficiently well
to wish to be his in eternity—when she arrives in Salt Lake City, if
she receives an offer of marriage from one of the brethren, and does
not object to him as a second husband in this world, she will make an
agreement with him that she will be his wife, _for time_, but that in
eternity she and all her children shall be handed over to the first
husband. A woman thus married is called a “proxy” wife.
Now “spiritual” wives are of two classes. The one consists of old ladies
who have plenty of money or property which of course needs looking after;
and generous Elders marry them, and accordingly “look after” the said
property, and the owner of it becomes the Elder’s _spiritual_ wife. She
will only be his _real_ wife in eternity when she is rejuvenated.
The other kind of “spiritual” wife is one who is married already, but who
does not think that her husband can “exalt” her to so high a position in
the celestial world as she deserves—perhaps some kind brother who takes
a great interest in her welfare has told her so—she then is _secretly_
“_sealed_” to one of the brethren who is better able to exalt her—perhaps
to this same brother; and in the resurrection she will pass from him who
was her husband on earth to him who is to be her husband in heaven—_if
she has not done so before_.
This is what is meant by “proxy” and “spiritual” wives. I think it will
be evident even to the dullest comprehension that under such a system,
“the world, the flesh, and the devil” are far more likely to play a
prominent part than anything heavenly or spiritual.
All this is so repugnant to the instincts and feelings of a true woman,
that I feel quite ashamed to write about it. And yet the working out
of this system has produced results which would be perfectly grotesque
were it not that they outrage every ordinary sense of propriety. Let
me give an example. One of the wives of Brigham Young—Mrs. Augustus
Cobb Young—a highly educated and intelligent Boston lady with whom I am
intimately acquainted, requested of her Prophet husband a favour of a
most extraordinary description. She had forsaken her lawful husband and
family and a happy and luxurious home to join the Saints, under the
impression that Brigham Young would make her his queen in heaven. She was
a handsome woman—a woman of many gifts and graces—and Brigham thoroughly
appreciated her; but she made a slight miscalculation in respect to the
Prophet. He cares little enough for his first wife, poor lady, and few
people who know him doubt for a moment that he would un-queen her and
cut her adrift for time and eternity too, if his avaricious soul saw the
slightest prospect of gain by doing so; he did not care for her, but he
never would allow himself to be dictated to by any woman. So when the
lady of whom I speak asked him to place her at the head of his household,
he refused: she begged hard, but he would not relent. Then finding
that she could not be Brigham’s “queen,” and having been taught by the
highest Mormon authorities that our Saviour had, and has, many wives, she
requested to be “sealed to Him!” Brigham Young told her (for what reason
I do not know) that it really was out of his power to do that, but that
he would do “the next best thing” for her—he would “seal” her to Joseph
Smith. She was sealed to Joseph Smith, and though Brigham still supports
her, and she is called by his name on earth, in the resurrection she will
leave him and go over to the original Prophet.
The reader will be certainly shocked at this terrible burlesque of sacred
things, but I felt it my duty to state the truth and place facts in their
right light. It is not generally known that the Mormons are taught that
the marriage at Cana of Galilee was Christ’s own nuptial feast, that Mary
and Martha were his plural wives, and that those women who in various
parts of the New Testament are spoken of as ministering to him stood to
him in the same relation.
Malicious first wives, especially if they are rather elderly themselves,
frequently call the proxy wives “fixins;” and the tone in which some
of them utter the word is in the last degree contemptuous. These poor
“fixins” are seldom treated as real wives by the husband himself. He may
think sufficiently well of the “proxy” wife to make her his for time
and to raise up children to his friend, as the Elders say, but he never
forgets that in eternity she will be handed over to the man for whom he
has stood proxy, and he expects that she also will bear that in mind,
and do all she can for her own support, and never complain of his want
of attention to her. Some men, after having married a young proxy wife,
have become so enamoured that they grew jealous of the dead husband, and
have tried to get the wife to break faith with him, and be married to
them for eternity as well as time. This was certainly rather mean. Very
few Gentile husbands would fret themselves about possibilities in the
world to come, if in this world they had the certainty of enjoying the
undivided affections of their wives.
Mormon husbands are so influenced by their religion that they neither
act nor think like other men. I am thinking of one wretched family that
I knew soon after I went to Utah. There was a man and his wife and four
children, all living together in a miserable, poverty-stricken hut. I had
heard that the man was paying attentions to a young girl with a view of
making her his second wife, and I frequently watched the first wife as
she went in and out, doing her “chores,” and wondered how she felt about
it. The poverty of the man, of course, was of no consequence; living
in the primitive style in which necessity then compelled the Saints to
live, one, or even half-a-dozen extra wives made very little difference,
and Brigham and the leading Elders have always represented it as a
meritorious act, for the young especially, to “build up the kingdom,”
without regard to consequences, or the misery of bringing up a family in
a destitute condition. I never can see children without loving them, and
in this case it was not long before I contrived to make acquaintance with
the little ones. One day, while I was talking to them, the mother came
out. She seemed pleased to see me, for she had heard of me that I was not
too strong in the faith, and she told me that her husband had said, in
speaking of such women as myself, who did not like the celestial order
of marriage, that their husbands ought to force them right into it, and
that would show what they were made of: if they were true-hearted women,
seeking their husband’s glory and “exaltation” in the world to come,
they would bear it well enough; and if not, the sooner it killed them
the better; for if they were dead their husbands could save them in the
resurrection, but if they lived they would only be an incumbrance.
This, I found, was the general opinion among the Mormon men. Even in
England the American Elders had taught us that the man was the head and
“saviour” of the woman, and that the woman was only responsible to her
husband. It was necessary, we were told, that the woman should keep in
favour with her lord, otherwise he might withdraw his protection and
refuse to take her into the celestial kingdom; in which case when she got
to heaven she would only be an angel! To be an angel is not considered
by the Saints to be by any means the highest state of glory. Those who
do not obey the “Celestial Order of Marriage” will, like the angels,
neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be located, the men in
one place, and the women in another, and will serve as slaves, lackeys,
and boot-blacks to the Saints. Brigham Young once publicly said of a
certain President of the United States, that he would clean the boots
of the Mormon leaders in heaven. He did not say this as a figure of
speech, but meant it literally. Those who have obeyed the Gospel of the
new dispensation, but who have failed to enter into Polygamy, will be as
upper servants; but the rebellious—the “vile apostates” and the “wicked
Gentiles”—will join the angels and do all the drudgery for the men of
many wives. Thus I learned in Zion that my youthful notions about the
glory of the cherubim were quite a mistake, and that it was not such a
fine thing to be an angel after all.
But I have run away from my story, and had almost forgotten my poor
acquaintance. She was a woman who was likely to preserve a painful place
in the memory of any one who once saw her. Her face was pale as death,
and her jet-black eyes glistened with an unearthly lustre; it was easy to
perceive that she was very unhappy, although she tried hard to exhibit a
cheerful disposition, and when our conversation turned to that subject
which to women here is all-absorbing, the nervous twitching of her pale
face showed how deeply painful such thoughts were to her. She told me
that her husband was soon to be married to a young girl about fourteen
years of age. “Do you see,” she said, “that he is building for her?” And
sure enough he was, at odd hours, adding another hut to the miserable
hovel in which they already lived; and thither, when it was finished, he
intended to take his bride. As I looked at the poor wife, I felt little
doubt that ere that time came, her troubles on earth would have ended,
and her little ones would be motherless.
The Mormon women, as well as the Mormon men, are noted for attending to
their own business—they do not care to tell their sorrows and trials
to strangers or to people who are not of their own faith. In this
way visitors to Salt Lake who have gone there with the intention of
“writing-up” the Saints in the newspapers or in a book, have generally
been misled. My own experience as a Mormon woman leads me to form
anything but a flattering opinion of the Mormon stories told by Gentile
pens. The following instance will show that the sisters are not quite so
free in giving their experience as some writers would suggest.
One day, while passing through the city, I saw a young woman running
across the road with a little child in her arms. The child was crying
piteously, for the water was running from its clothing, and I saw in
a moment that it had fallen into the stream which ran in front of
the house. I followed, to see if I could be of any assistance, but
fortunately found that the little creature was not seriously hurt, but
would soon recover from the fright and cold. I helped the mother to
change its clothing, and while she was lulling her baby to sleep we
entered into conversation. At first she appeared to be very shy of me,
and avoided speaking of anything in the slightest degree personal; but
growing more interested, she said at last,—
“Are you a Mormon?”
“Certainly,” I answered; “but why do you ask me?”
“Because,” she said, “we have had one or two Gentile women among us, and
they go round among our people and question the women, and get them to
tell their troubles, which God knows are heavy enough; and then they go
and write about it, and Brigham Young finds it out, and their husbands
are called to account for allowing their wives to speak to the Gentiles.
You are sure you are a Mormon?” she added, “and you are not deceiving me?”
“I’m sorry you should think such a thing,” I said; “but if you suppose I
would deceive you, I will not trouble you with my company.” And I rose up
to leave.
“Do not go yet,” she said, “and pray forgive me, if I have wounded your
feelings; it is simply the fear I have of getting into trouble. Brigham
Young and the Elders have frequently told us to have nothing to do with
the Gentiles, for they are enemies to the kingdom of God, and are seeking
our overthrow—and I suppose it is true.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Over two years,” she replied, “and it seems almost twenty—time has
passed so slowly. I left father and mother, sisters and brother, for the
Gospel’s sake, and I do not regret it, because it is right; but it was a
very great sacrifice to make. Yet I believe that God blesses us for the
sacrifices we make, and I shall get my reward.”
“You have it already,” I said, “in that pretty child on your knee; and
your husband, I hope, is a good man and kind to you.”
“Yes,” she answered, “my child is a very great source of happiness to
me, and I love my husband very much, but—” (hesitatingly) “are _you_ in
Polygamy?”
“No, not yet; but I do not know how soon my husband may take it into his
head to get another wife.”
“Are you first wife?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “and I suppose you are also?”
“No, I am third wife,” she said, “I wish I were first wife.”
“But why,” I suggested, “do you wish that? If Polygamy is the true order
of marriage, I do not see that it makes much difference whether one is
the first or the twentieth wife?”
“Oh dear, yes,” she replied, “it _does_ make a great deal of difference;
for the first wife will be queen over all the others, and reign with her
husband. If I had known that before I was married, I should have made my
husband promise to place me first. Men can do that if they like.”
“But do you think you would be doing right in trying to gain the position
of first wife in that way?”
“Why not?” she said; “didn’t Jacob obtain his brother’s birthright by
deception—and was he ever punished for it? Do you think that Brother
Brigham, notwithstanding that he is the inspired servant of God, could
have obtained his position, and all his money, by simple honest dealing?
If you think so, I don’t; and it is just as proper and right for us women
to secure a position for ourselves by such means as it is for Brigham
Young—the end justifies the means.”
“If that is so,” I said, “it is a wonder to me that any woman should
consent to become second, third, or fourth wife—seeing they cannot be
queens.”
“I can see that you have not yet had your ‘Endowments,’” she said, “or
you would understand more about these things; but as you are a good
Mormon, I can speak freely to you. You see it is not always those who are
first wives in this world who will be first in the celestial kingdom. It
all depends upon the amount of sacrifice the wife is capable of making
for her husband, her faithfulness to him, and the number of children
she has borne him. If she pleases him in every particular, and is good,
patient, and above all things obedient to all his wishes and commands,
then she is almost certain to be made queen, unless the first wife is
just as good, and then I don’t know how they would fix that. And so you
see it is safer to be first wife at once.”
“Well, but,” I asked, “knowing all this, I am surprised that you
consented to be third wife!”
“But I did not know it then,” she continued. “My husband told me that
_all_ the wives were queens—all equal—and he says so still when I talk
to him about it. But he can’t deceive me. I have spoken to some of the
old Nauvoo women who know all about it, and they tell me that all the
Polygamic wives will be subject to the first wife; but the first wife,
having suffered most, will be the one who has gone through the fire and
been purified, and found worthy.”
“But do you think that your husband would wish to deceive you about such
an important matter?” I said.
“Wait till you have lived a little longer here,” she replied, “and you
will be able to answer that question yourself, or else your experience
will be very different from that of the rest of the people here.”
Just then the husband made his appearance, and put an end to the
conversation. He was a tall, dark-looking man, with grey hair, old enough
to be her father. He appeared to be well educated and to have seen
better days, though everything about their home indicated poverty—the
room in which we were sitting had no carpet on the floor, there was a
plain white-pine table in the middle, a small sheet-iron stove, four
wooden chairs, a small looking-glass, and some cheap pictures. This was
the sitting-room for the whole family—three wives, eleven children, one
husband. He asked me if I had seen the rest of the family.
I replied negatively, and he said he would see if any of them were
about. Presently he returned accompanied by an elderly woman whom he
introduced as Mrs. Simpson. Then came another, not quite as good-looking
as the first, but a great deal younger, and he introduced her as “My
wife Ellen. And this one,” he said, turning to the one with whom I had
been conversing, “is my wife Sarah. Don’t you think I have got three
fine-looking women?” Then, after a pause, he added, “And they are just
as good as they are good-looking—good, obedient wives. I have no trouble
with them; my wishes are law in this house. Here you have a family in
which the Spirit of God reigns. We are not rich in worldly goods, as you
see, but we are laying up treasure in heaven. We all live in this little
home of four rooms. My wife Ellen here, has given up her room for a
parlour for us all to meet together in, and she sleeps in a waggon-box;
it is not the most comfortable, but she never grumbles. Then, here is
our Sarah; we are obliged to humour her a little, and give her a room
all to herself. She is young and inexperienced, and doesn’t like to put
up with the inconveniences that the Saints have to bear with; while old
mother here has got to have half-a-dozen children in her room, but she
never complains.”
“Why did you not wait,” I said, “until you had a larger house?”
“Then where would my kingdom be?” he answered, “Young men may wait, but
old men must improve their time.”
There came in now a troop of children of all ages. They had been playing
in the lot, were miserably clad, barefooted, and some looked gaunt
and hungry:—manners to match. “These,” he said, with all a father’s
fondness—“these constitute my kingdom, and I am proud of them.”
I felt thankful that I was not destined to be queen over such a kingdom,
wished them good-bye, and with a sad heart went home to my own darling
little ones, not knowing what might be _their_ fate.
[Illustration: Brigham Young]