WAYS AND WORKS OF THE SAINTS:—THE PROPHET’S MILLINERY BILL.
When I arrived in Utah I found that nearly all the Elders with whom I
had formerly been acquainted had more than one wife there. Many of these
brethren called to see me, and kindly insisted that I should visit their
families; but this I felt was almost an impossibility.
My whole nature rebelled at the thought of visiting where there were
several wives; for, in defiance of all the teaching that I had listened
to, and the tyranny to which we had submitted, human nature would assert
itself, and my womanly instincts revolted against the system. I could not
endure the thought of visiting those families in company with my husband.
I thought that perhaps sometimes I might venture _alone_; but, oh, not
with him,—no, not with him. It was bad enough and humiliating enough
for me to witness by myself the degradation of my sex; but to do so in
the presence of my husband was more than I could calmly contemplate. I
knew that I should not be able to control myself, and might probably say
some very unpleasant things, which I should afterwards regret; for I so
thoroughly loathed even the idea of polygamy at that time that I was
filled with a desire to let every one know and understand just what my
feelings were on that subject.
I had left New York against my will, although I had not openly rebelled.
I had never reproached my husband about it, for I felt that his lot was
irrevocably cast with the Mormons: I knew that when I married him, and it
was of no use now for me to repine. I must go on to the end—there was no
help for me. The journey across the Plains, and all the discoveries which
I had made, had not tended to soothe my rebellious heart, and I am not
quite sure that I did not sow by the way a little discontent among the
sisters. The idea, however, that such was the case did not, I must admit,
fill me with much repentance. To my husband I had said very little,
but I think he would bear me witness that what I did say was said
effectively. Now when I was brought face to face with practical polygamy
and could observe it in its most repulsive phases, I hated it more than
ever.
One day not long after our arrival, as we were taking a walk together,
I saw across the road a man gesticulating after an eccentric fashion
and beckoning to us. Mr. Stenhouse said, “That is Brother Heber C.
Kimball;” and I looked again with interest to see what that celebrated
Apostle was like. I had both heard and read a great deal about Brother
Heber, and what I had learned was not at all of a character to impress
me favourably—he had been so severe in his denunciation of every woman
who dared to oppose polygamy. On the present occasion his conduct was,
I thought, anything but gentlemanly; and when we crossed the road to
him,—which on account of his position in the Church—next to Brigham
himself—we, of course, were compelled to do,—my face must have betrayed
my feelings I am sure, for almost his first words after shaking hands
were, “Have you got the blues?”
My answer was ready in a moment. “I have had nothing else ever since I
came here.”
“Well,” he replied, “it is time that you should get rid of them, and I am
going to talk to you some day soon, for I rather like your looks.”
I did not like _his_ looks much, however, nor was I at all pleased with
his manner. I do not say that I was altogether without blame in feeling
thus, for I was prejudiced. Of course I was prejudiced. From the first
moment when I heard that polygamy was a doctrine of the Church, I was
predisposed to be dissatisfied with everything: I was henceforth not
myself, for the terrible apprehension of my own fate in the “Celestial
Order” had changed my whole nature, and that change of itself was a
great source of grief to me. I keenly realized that I was no longer the
light-hearted, pleasant companion to my husband that I had been, and many
a time and oft I wished for his sake that I could die, for I felt that I
never could be happy in Mormonism again.
How many times have I knelt by my husband’s couch when he was unconscious
of it, and have wept bitter tears of sorrow, earnestly praying to the
Lord to subdue my rebellious heart, and, if it were necessary, rather
than I should be a continual annoyance to my husband, whom I loved with
all my soul, that every particle of love in my heart should be withered,
so that I might perchance, if without love, be able at least to do my
duty. I fully realized that in polygamy there could be no real love; and
while my affections were still placed upon my husband, it was torture to
live in a community where I was compelled to listen to the “counsels”
which were given to him, day after day, regardless of my presence, to
take another wife. I was too proud to notice any ordinary allusion that
was made to the subject before me; but when the conversation was turned
in that direction by those who professed to be sincere friends and to
entertain a kindly interest in my welfare, I was compelled to listen and
reply.
In my unhappy condition, I thought that perhaps I might derive some
consolation from the sermons in the Tabernacle—something that might
shed a softer light upon my rugged pathway. But instead of obtaining
consolation, I heard that which aroused every feeling of my soul to
rebellion, and kindled again within me the indignation which I had been
so long struggling to conquer. I heard that woman was an inferior being,
designed by the Lord for the special glory and exaltation of man, that
she was a creature that should feel herself honoured if he would only
make her the mother of his children—a creature who if very obedient and
faithful through all the trials and tribulations in life, might some day
be rewarded by becoming one of her husband’s queens, but should even then
shine only by virtue of the reflected light derived from the glory of her
spouse and lord. He was to be her “saviour,” for he was all in all to
her; and it was through him alone and at his will that she could obtain
salvation. We were informed that man was the crowning glory of creation,
for whom all things—woman included—were brought into being; and that the
chief object of woman’s existence was to help man to his great destiny.
Not a sentence—indeed, not a word—did we ever hear as to the possibility
of womanly perfection and exaltation in her own right; and not only so,
but, as if this were not enough to crush all ambition out of our souls,
we were instructed in some new views of marriage. The great object of
marriage, we were told, was the increase of children. Those diviner
objects—the companionship of soul, the devotion of a refined and pure
affection, the indissoluble union of two existences—were never presented
to the yearning hearts of those poor women who listened to the miserable
harangues of the Tabernacle: such aspirations had nothing to do with the
hard, cruel facts of their life in polygamy.
And this I found was how the women of Utah were spiritually sustained.
Seldom, indeed, was taught anything better, but frequently much that was
worse. If Nature, asserting its right to a full return of love, should
manifest itself, and inspire some of these poor wives to rebel against
the lives which they were compelled to lead in polygamy, then it would
be said, in the language of the Tabernacle, that the women were “filled
with the devil,” and that unless they repented speedily, they would
“apostatize and go to hell;”—an assurance which was scarcely necessary,
for many of those poor souls were enduring as much as if they were there
already. Or if some woman was found objecting to polygamy on account of
its crushing and degrading effects upon women generally, then, as I just
said, she was told in the coarse language of Brigham Young himself, that
“such women had no business to complain; it was quite enough honour for
them to be permitted to bear children to God’s holy Priesthood.”
I found, therefore; that the sermons in the Tabernacle were not
calculated to help me much spiritually. I had neither friend nor
counsellor on earth to whom I could turn for help—my God alone remained
to me. But, ah, how different were my ideas of God then, from those which
I entertained before and since. Once I could look upon the beauties of
nature and the varied experiences of human life, and while my soul was
lifted up with devotion and gratitude, I could see the loving hand of my
Heavenly Father in everything around me. Now there was neither light nor
beauty before my eyes—all was dark and dreary; there was nothing to draw
away my heart from such sad thoughts as these. It was painfully clear to
my understanding, then as now, that in Mormonism woman was to lose her
personal identity. All that Christianity had done to elevate her was to
be ruthlessly set aside and trampled under foot, and she was instantly
to return to the position which she occupied in the darkest ages of the
world’s existence.
I had at that time the daily and hourly cares of a family devolving
upon me, and had not therefore much leisure to spend in visiting my
friends even if I had desired to do so. Notwithstanding that, however,
I had abundant opportunities of observation; and thus my experience of
Mormonism and polygamy in Utah is much the same as that of any Mormon
woman of ordinary sense; I only tell what others could relate if they had
the inclination to do so. It was not possible for me to live in Salt Lake
City without being brought face to face with polygamy in some shape or
other every day of my life. Had it been otherwise, and if remaining at
home would have kept it from my view, I probably never should have had
the courage to enter a house where it was practised. To those who know
nothing of that degrading system this may seem rather an exaggeration
of feeling; and yet, even at that early day, I had seen so much of the
folly and weakness of the Mormon brethren, both in London and New York,
before we went to Utah, and had witnessed so many evil results of their
teachings, that it was with the greatest difficulty that I could control
my feelings sufficiently to call upon any family where there was more
than one wife. And yet what I knew then was nothing in comparison to what
I afterwards witnessed—yes, that I myself endured.
During the winter, although I visited very little, I attended a good many
parties at the Social Hall; but I did so more from a wish to be agreeable
to my husband than from any pleasure that they afforded me, for life had
long since been losing almost all its charms for me. How many times have
I gazed wistfully at those lofty mountains which surrounded the city, and
felt that they were indeed my prison walls. How bitterly have I realized
that I should never be able to go beyond them. But in a new country, with
a family to provide for, a mother has not much time to waste in pining,
even if it be for liberty itself, and I would willingly draw the veil
over that portion of my life.
As my husband had been on mission for so many years and had spent all
his time in the service of the Church, with the exception of a few brief
months before we left New York—when he was engaged on the staff of
the New York _Herald_—I naturally enough thought that when we reached
Zion his occupation would be gone. There would be no need of preaching
to the Saints: on the contrary they would be able to teach us; and we
should have to find out what we could do in this new country to support
ourselves and our children. In this I was not mistaken.
Now among the “absolutely necessary” things which I had brought with
me from New York, were about three hundred dollars’ worth of millinery
goods, which I had secreted among our other properties, thinking that
they would very probably come in useful to the fair daughters of
Zion—notwithstanding that the Elders had told me of fiery sermons,
delivered by the Prophet himself, condemning all feminine display, and
that the sisters would scorn to wear Gentile fashions. I knew my own sex
too well to believe that all this was strictly true, and I felt certain
that I should find, even among the Saints, some weak sisters who would
appreciate my thoughtfulness in bringing such articles for their use. I
had also noticed that the American Elders themselves would frequently
inquire where they could buy the best gloves and the prettiest ribbons
and laces, and that looked a little suspicious.
Quite a number of such articles, therefore, found their way into my list
of “absolute necessaries,” and I know that my husband was secretly quite
at a loss to know what had become of a certain sum of money which he was
aware I had obtained from the sale of some of our things in New York. But
my foresight in this instance was very useful to us when we arrived in
Zion.
One day when Mr. Stenhouse was absent seeking employment, I thought I
would make a display of my treasures and surprise him on his return.
Accordingly, with the assistance of our faithful domestic, whom I had
brought with me across the Plains, and who had also lived with me in
Switzerland, we contrived to place two or three planks in such a way as
to make a rough table on which to display the goods. I had been secretly
at work for about two weeks, trimming the bonnets and hats, and making a
number of head-dresses, such as were worn in New York when we left; and,
although we had been three months on the Plains, and quite a month in
Utah, yet those bonnets and head-dresses were of the very latest style to
the ladies of Salt Lake City.
My Swiss girl was quite a carpenter, and when my temporary table was
arranged, I placed a pretty-looking cloth over it to hide its defects,
and then began to arrange the various articles. I found that I had a
much finer assortment than I had imagined, for I had bought them at
different times, and had packed them away hurriedly, lest Mr. Stenhouse
or some of the other Elders—for there were generally one or two in the
house—should object to my taking them. When my table was filled, and I
found that I had still more to display, I was very much pleased, for I
saw in my hats and bonnets, flour, meat, and potatoes for my children,
and I felt hopeful, for one of the sisters had assured me that I should
be certain to sell them. The next thing to do was to advertise my stock.
After some reflection, I remembered another of the sisters, who was quite
a good talker, and who felt very kindly towards me. I had known her in
England—she had been in Utah about three years, and her husband had by
that time been blessed with two other wives. She used to say that she
had no patience with a set of grumbling women, who did not know what was
good for them. I do not think that the blessedness enjoyed by her husband
was shared by the two wives, for more forlorn-looking women I never saw.
My husband, however, told me that this was none of my business, and I
believed him, of course, after the fashion of all good wives.
But to return. This good sister, besides being an excellent talker, had
really nothing else to do except visiting her neighbours, for the other
wives now took entire charge of all the household duties. So I made her a
present of a new bonnet, as I knew that then in two days my goods would
be quite sufficiently advertised; and in this I was not mistaken.
Almost the first visitors who called to see me were a lady and her
daughter. I talked freely to her and answered her inquiries, and she
told me that she herself had had some experience in the business. “In
Salt Lake City,” she said, “I think you will not be able to sell those
goods; they are too fashionable for the people here, and there is no
encouragement given to any one in this business. I am afraid you will be
disappointed.”
I believed every word she said, and felt all my airy, hopeful castles
begin to crumble away. Before she left, however, she very kindly offered
to purchase all my goods at a low figure and thus relieve me of the
anxiety and trouble of selling them. But I had had a little experience in
the world,—although probably I appeared to her somewhat innocent,—and I
thought that if she could sell them, there was a chance at least that I
also might be able to do so. At any rate, I resolved to try, and I told
her so, when she left me with many kind wishes for my success. But what
she had said during her visit had chilled my enthusiasm, and I pictured
all my pretty newly-made articles becoming soiled and faded, with no one
to buy them; while the little ones, barefooted—like so many children in
Utah then—were running about crying for bread which I could not buy them.
I felt sad, and, if I must confess it, I sat down and had a good cry.
Just at that moment I heard a knock at the door, and hastily drying my
eyes, I opened it, and there stood my talkative friend.
“Stop crying!” she exclaimed. “What is the matter, my dear? Oh _do_ stop
crying. I don’t like crying women: we see so many of them among the
Saints of God that it is really a shame and a disgrace. Tell me what is
the matter? Has your husband got another wife? or are you afraid he
won’t be able to get one? Come, tell me!”
All this was uttered in a breath, and without the possibility of my
putting in a word by way of reply or remonstrance. At last I told her
that I had just had a visit from one of the sisters and her daughter,
whom I described.
“I know,” she said; “I met her as I was coming here. Do you know who she
is?”
“No,” I replied, “I do not think she told me her name; she simply came to
look at the goods.”
“And did she tell you that they would sell well, and that they are the
best investment that you could have made?”
“Quite the contrary,” I said, “she discouraged me so much that I could
not help shedding tears.”
“Well now,” she answered, “that was Mrs. C——, one of our milliners here;
and you suppose she was going to encourage you to set up an opposition
shop, do you? If you do, why, you’ve got something yet to learn.” Indeed
I felt that I had got a great deal to learn.
“Now I have come to tell you quite a different story,” she said. “This
very afternoon you will have at least a dozen ladies here; and ladies,
too, who have got the money to pay for what they have, and who won’t pay
you in salt chips and whetstones.”
“Do they ever pay in such things?” I inquired.
“Why certainly they do. That is the kind of pay that the good Saints
generally expect their poor brethren and sisters to be satisfied with,
and to feed their hungry children upon. But I say that this is wrong.
Not that I want to set myself up as a judge in Zion, or that I should
criticize the actions of the brethren, God forbid! But when I see the
rich brethren grinding the faces of the poor in that way, why, I say that
it is wrong. But you must not take any such pay as that. You may not
always get money, but you can at least get flour, potatoes, and molasses.
Now, I tell you that you are going to sell every article that you have
got, and I shall take pleasure in recommending you and talking about it.
Why, I’ve been to about two score people already; but, there! I see your
husband coming, and I must go!” My husband, indeed, _was_ there. He was
not very fond of my talkative friend, and passed her by with a polite
salutation only; but when he saw what I had been doing, the light dawned
upon his mind, he no longer wondered what had become of the dollars in
New York, and, astonished at my success, he congratulated me upon the
good use to which I had put them.
After this interview I felt quite encouraged, and I very soon found that
my friend’s predictions were correct. I had no difficulty in selling,
and I created quite a little business, although we lived a considerable
distance from Main Street. And what with my efforts, and some employment
which my husband obtained, we contrived to get through our first winter
in Salt Lake City.
But I anticipate.
One day my husband informed me that there was a house about to be vacated
shortly, and that Brigham Young had told him we had better take it. It
was pleasantly situated near the Tabernacle, and, as houses then were, it
was quite a desirable residence. We had it thoroughly cleaned, and then
moved in. When I arrived in the evening I found that Mr. Stenhouse, with
the assistance of our faithful Swiss girl, had arranged everything as the
goods arrived from the other house; and the place looked so clean, and
there was such a bright fire burning that I felt that we now had really
something like a home, and my heart was filled with gratitude.
Soon after our establishment in our new home, Brigham sent for me and
asked me to make a handsome bonnet for his then favourite wife Emmeline.
He left it entirely to my taste; I was to make just what I pleased, so
that it suited her and gave satisfaction.
I made my bonnet; and when I presented it, Brigham Young was so pleased
that he immediately gave me an order to make one for each of his wives.
I was very much pleased at this, for we needed furniture and many other
necessaries very badly, and I thought that this would enable me to get
them. I expected, of course, that my account would be paid in money, for
I did not suppose that the Prophet of the Lord would offer me chips or
whetstones: he could afford to pay cash, and, of course, would do so.
He had furnished me with some material out of his own store—for Brigham
Young had a dry-goods and grocery store of his own at that time—and I was
to furnish the remainder. It was very little indeed that he supplied,
and therefore my account was likely to amount to a considerable sum, for
almost every wife had at least one bonnet which she wished made over with
new trimmings, besides the new one.
I worked constantly for three weeks, with the assistance of two girls,
to each of whom I paid six dollars a week besides board. This was a
difficult thing for me to do at that time in Utah, for money was seldom
seen there then; but I was rejoicing in the prospect of the comfortable
new furniture which I should have when it was all done. Furniture at
that time was very expensive; there was nothing better than white pine
articles, stained or painted. The commonest kind of wooden rocking-chair
cost fifteen dollars, and common painted wooden chairs were six dollars a
piece, with everything else in proportion. This being our first winter,
we had not been able to get much, and I thought I would devote the
proceeds of the work I was doing for Brigham to fitting up the house a
little; and, with what I earned from my other customers, I contrived to
pay my help, so as to have all the rest clear.
All was completed, and great satisfaction expressed at the result of my
labours. So I asked my husband to present my account and, if possible,
get it settled; it amounted to about 275 dollars, although I had dealt
very liberally with the Prophet, and had charged for the goods but little
more than they cost me. When he returned, I hastened to meet him, for I
had partly selected the furniture and I wanted to go and purchase it. But
I was like poor Perrette, the milkmaid, who counted her chickens a little
too soon; for Mr. Stenhouse told me that Brother Brigham had given orders
that the amount should be credited to us _for tithing_! What a shock this
was to me; for that sum, small as it may appear, was my whole fortune at
the time, and it was gone at one sweep! “Can it be possible,” I said,
“that he can be so mean as that? Where can his conscience be? or has he
any; to deprive me of my hard earnings in this way? He shall not do it—I
will _make_ him pay me.”
My indignation was so great that I did not reflect how imprudent I was to
talk thus of the Prophet of the Lord; but my husband said, “What can you
_do_? You cannot help yourself. You can _do_ nothing but submit. Let us
try to forget it; or, if not, it will perhaps be a lesson to us.” But I
did not forget it and never could, although I tried very hard; and when
many months had passed, and I no longer suffered from the effects of my
loss, I still remembered it, and I always _shall_ remember the way in
which Brigham paid for his wives’ bonnets.
[Illustration: ORSON HYDE, Late President of the Twelve Apostles.
_Born January, 1805._]
[Illustration: GEORGE Q. CANNON, Utah Delegate to Congress.
_Born in Liverpool, England, 1827._]