SOCIAL LIFE IN SALT LAKE CITY:—BALL-ROOMS, “WALL-FLOWERS,” AND DIVORCE.
We had not been long in Salt Lake City before the ball-season commenced.
These balls afford splendid opportunities to the men for flirting with
the girls. No matter how old and homely a man is, he thinks that he has
as much right to flirt and dance with the girls as the youngest boy; for
they all look upon themselves and each other as boys and single men, even
if they have a dozen wives. There is no limit to their “privileges.”
They are always in the market. Brigham, in his public discourses, has
said that the brethren “are all young men under a hundred years of age.”
With such an extended privilege, it is here in Utah that hoary Winter
and smiling May can be seen galloping forth in the dance together—a
thoughtful subject for the artist’s pencil.
It is of no consequence how much a man may flirt in the presence of his
wife or wives. They must not presume to say one word to him about it; for
the husband is free to do whatever he likes. He is one of the lords of
creation. He is master of his wives, of his children. Then, how can one
of his own dare to call in question anything he may think fit to do? She
_may_, it is true, do so; but she must take the consequences of that rash
act.
Oh! how I loathe even the very remembrance of those hateful ball-rooms,
where I have seen so many unhappy wives, and have heard so many tales of
sorrow. For, while the wives would be sitting as “wall-flowers” along
the sides of the halls, after having danced the first dance with their
husbands, as a matter of form, I have heard them many times telling each
other about what they had seen their husbands doing during the evening;
and how they had been compelled to pay attention to some simpering girl
that their husbands chanced to fancy; and how they had had to do it for
peace sake, and appear to be satisfied.
I do not mean to say that I did not like these social amusements myself,
for I did; and could, under other circumstances, have enjoyed them
very much. But I had been told so many things of the unpleasantness
of a ball-room in Salt Lake City—at least, to married women—that my
apprehensions were aroused. But all that was ever told me never half came
up to the truth; nor can I possibly myself give the reader any correct
idea of the heartaches and sorrows which these scenes bring to the wives
of Mormons.
It is quite a common thing for married men to go with young girls to
these balls. The majority of the men, however, prefer to take their first
wives with them at the same time; but it is not infrequent to hear a lady
say in the ball-room, “My husband has brought his girl here to-night;
but I have not spoken one word to her, nor will I do so.” Yet, if any
one were to ask these same ladies if they believed that Polygamy was
right, they would say, “Certainly I do; but I do not like _her_”—and this
simply because their husbands had paid _her_ attentions. This seems like
inconsistency; but it serves to show what conflicting feelings Mormon
women have to contend with.
The men should hear what their wives say about them in the ball-rooms,
and the hatred they feel for them. I have seen some women sitting quietly
eyeing their husbands, as they danced or flirted with their younger
loves, till their cup of indignation was full. Then they would make for
the dressing-rooms, where their anger would burst upon the ears of a
group of eager listeners, who were seemingly pleased to learn that some
one else was suffering as well as themselves. A half-repressed threat, “I
will be even with him” has escaped the lips of those who, before that,
had passed for being happily situated.
Where new matrimonial alliances are continually taking place, the arrival
of a gentleman, with his wife, wives, or a maiden, in the ball-room,
is never remarked; and, not infrequently, different wives arrive at
different hours during the evenings, as it suits their convenience; and
thus it would be difficult to say who came with their “lord.” Besides,
no observation is made if a lady thus enters the ball-room alone, though
it is expected that her husband is aware of her coming. This coming
alone, however, is not a common habit; but, as it is admissible, it does
occasionally happen that a husband is dancing or enjoying himself in the
ball-room with his last _fiancée_, when a vigilant pair of eyes searches
over the room and lights upon the happy “lord.” When eyes like these
encounter the eyes they seek, a change is seen, and the youthful airiness
of the gentleman vanishes, and sober looks follow the gaiety of the
earlier hour.
I met President Heber C. Kimball at one of these balls, soon after my
arrival. He said that he would introduce me to _his wife_. Every one
liked Heber for his outspoken, honest bluntness. He took me up the hall
and introduced me to five wives in succession! “Now,” said he, “I think
I’ll quit; for I fancy you are not over strong in the faith.”
I asked, “Are these all you have got?”
“O dear, no,” he said: “I have _a few more at home_, and _about fifty
more_ scattered over the earth somewhere. I have never seen them since
they were sealed to me in Nauvoo, and I hope I never shall again.”
I thought this was terrible; but it was only the beginning of worse
things.
After this winter, I had very little peace; for the women were constantly
talking to me about my husband getting another wife. He held out,
however, for five years; but at last he “felt that it was his duty to do
so,” and I was silly enough to allow that “he was not living up to his
religion” unless he took an extra wife.
I shall never forget those ball-room scenes. Even to this day, when
I chance to listen to tunes which I used to hear played in those
times, they grate terribly upon my ear, and bring back so many sad
recollections, that I want to get away from the sound of them as quickly
as possible, for they are more than I can endure. Bygone recollections
are often recalled by trifles such as this.
A few months ago I attended a ball in Salt Lake City. It was the first I
had been to since I withdrew from the Church; and of course it was got up
by the “Liberal Party.” I felt free and happy, for there was nothing to
annoy or disturb me. Suddenly the band struck up a tune which I had heard
while attending the Mormon balls. It sounded like the death-knell of all
my pleasant feelings, and aroused memories of the past which were so
intensely painful that I could not rally from the depression that I felt
for the rest of the evening. I had heard that tune before, and many like
it, and had even danced to it, while my heart was breaking.
Let me ask my lady readers—those, I mean, who have never been in Utah.
Ladies, how do you think you would feel if _you_ were kept waiting long
after the hour of midnight, far away into the morning, until your
husbands had got through with their dancing and flirting, while your own
hearts were breaking? I think I hear you say, “I would not stand it.” You
do not know, I assure you, _what_ you would do under the circumstances.
How can you possibly judge what the feelings of a Mormon woman are, who
has been taught to believe that “her desire shall be unto her husband,
_and he shall rule over her_.”
In very early days Brigham built a theatre, and a very fair amount of
histrionic talent was developed among the Saints. The Social Hall, in
which were held balls, public entertainments, and other amusements, was
used for histrionic performances before the theatre was built. Brigham
owned the theatre. Money was to be made out of it; and the chance of
making money Brother Brigham never permitted to slip through his fingers.
Brigham’s eyes were sharp enough to see that a theatre would be to him a
source of profit, but he did not look far enough. That theatre—under the
immediate direction of the Prophet, with his own daughters acting in it,
with the plays which were performed under his own censorship—has been one
of the many causes which have perceptibly, although perhaps indirectly,
shaken the hold which Mormonism had upon many a woman’s mind.
A man would probably witness the performance of a play and return from
the theatre with no other thought than the remembrance of an hour’s
amusement. But not so a woman. To her the play suggested something
more, and her daughters would share her thoughts. Daily and hourly, it
might be, the effects of Polygamy would be brought under their notice
as a matter affecting themselves personally. They might be firm in the
faith, but the observant instincts of their sex could never be wholly
crushed. They would notice the neglect which wives endured even from good
husbands; they would see a man leaving the wife of his youth, the mother
of his children, and, careless of the cruel wrong he did her, leave her
in lonely sorrow while he was spending his time in love-making with
some young girl who might have been his daughter. They would see a wife
crushing out from her heart the holiest impulses which God had implanted
there, striving to destroy all affection for him whose dearest treasure
that affection should have been, because, indeed, Polygamy could not
exist with love. They would see and know, and themselves personally feel,
the degradation and misery of the “_Celestial_ Order of Marriage;” and
that to them would be the practical picture of life.
But in the theatre—short-sighted Brigham, to allow it to be so!—another
picture would be presented for their consideration; a picture it might
be, ideal in its details and surroundings, but true to the letter in
the lesson which it conveyed and the thoughts which it suggested. The
disgusting, the brutalizing cruelties of Polygamy, were never represented
on the stage. Thoughts so coarse, so sensual, could never inspire the
true poet’s pen. No; the tale of love, as the poet tells it, is all that
is refined, and chaste, and delicate, and pure; the commingling of two
souls, the unison of two loving hearts, the hopes, the aspirations, the
tender joyful sorrows of two fond natures—of _two alone_! Such is the
picture presented as the ideal of the beautiful and of the good. Then,
too, the delicate attentions of the devoted lover, his happiness even in
the shadow of a smile from _her_, the lofty pedestal upon which to his
imagination _she_ stands, a queen and peerless; or the confiding love of
the heroine of the story; blushingly confessing to herself that there is
_one_ heart on earth which is all her own, and in which none but herself
can ever rule or reign.
The Mormon women are not devoid of common sense, nor are they destitute
of those quick perceptions which, under all circumstances, distinguish
their sex. They see on the stage representations of the happiness
attendant upon love and marriage, such as God ordained, and such as finds
a response in every heart; and they compare such pleasant pictures with
what they know and have witnessed of Polygamy, and they draw painful
inferences therefrom. Their faith may be proof against apostasy, but the
impression left upon their minds produces its effect notwithstanding.
The spring came on, and our prospects began to brighten. My husband not
only found remunerative employment for his pen in Salt Lake City, but
was also engaged as special correspondent to the _New York Herald_ and
several of the California papers.
One morning, a countryman, roughly dressed and looking the picture of
care, called at our house and asked to see Mr. Stenhouse. I gazed at him
for a moment, for I thought there was something familiar in the sound of
his voice. He looked at me, and I at once recognized him; it was Monsieur
Balif himself, in whose house we had lived in Switzerland. But, oh, how
changed he was! Once a refined, handsome, gentlemanly man; now a mere
wreck of his former self, careworn, rough-looking, poorly clad. He and
his family had been in Utah six years, and had suffered all the ills that
poverty can induce: the change which was wrought in him was so great,
that for some moments I was so overcome by my feelings that I could not
utter a word. In the few short years which had elapsed since I saw him in
his own bright and happy home, he had become quite an old man. I hardly
dared to ask about his wife, for I feared what his answer might be; but
after a little while he told me that she had sent her love, and would
like to see me whenever I could find an opportunity to call upon her.
They lived some miles from the city, but I told him that I would not fail
to visit them whenever it was possible for me to do so.
I talked a long while with Monsieur Balif, and was much interested in
what he told me. He made no complaints; he had still firm faith in
Mormonism, and said that if the brethren had not dealt fairly by him they
would be answerable to God for what they had done. “Besides,” he added,
“I do not blame them so much, for they are Americans, and would not be
happy if they did not get the advantage in some way.”
I was anxious to ask him if he had been induced to take another wife,
as he had been in Utah during the “Reformation,” and I did not see
how it was possible for him to have escaped; but while I was thinking
how I might put the question delicately, he saved me the trouble by
himself telling me that he had married the young servant-girl, whom his
wife had taken from Switzerland with her. This information was quite
a shock to me, for I well knew the proud spirit of his wife, and I
could realize what anguish this second marriage must have caused her;
I did not, however, like to question him on the subject. So I turned
the conversation into another channel, and when he went away I sent
kind messages to Madame Balif, saying that I would seize the very first
opportunity of hearing from her own lips the story of all they had gone
through.
Here, again, I found the trail of that monster—Polygamy. This time in the
home of my dearest friend. From the moment when she and I had mingled our
tears together in Switzerland, over that abomination, life had been to me
one long, weary, sickening battle with my own heart; one futile attempt
to fully convince myself that Polygamy was right and that I was wrong. I
certainly did believe, or thought that I believed, the doctrine was true.
But at times nature prevailed in the struggle, and womanly indignation
and anger rose in arms against faith. These feelings were, however, at
once and unhesitatingly subdued; faith returned triumphant, and I was
again convinced that the Revelation _must_ have been the will of the
Lord, and that my duty was to submit, but not to question. In moments
of comparative self-control I had even tried, as a Missionary’s wife,
to justify it to others, but only to witness an outburst of sorrow and
anger, and to feel still more the weakness of my position. That had been
my own experience; but how had the time passed with my dear old friend?
She must, no doubt, have been as greatly disappointed as I was when she
came to Zion and saw things as they really were, and not as they had been
represented to us.
My own eyes had certainly been opened not a little since my arrival.
Instead of finding the people enjoying the comforts and blessings of
life, which we had been taught were strewn around them in profuse
abundance, we found among all but the leading families the greatest
poverty and privation. The majority of the people were living in little
log or adobe houses, of one or at the utmost two rooms, of most primitive
construction, and without the slightest convenience of any description.
Their food was bread and molasses, and it might be an occasional morsel
of meat; but many of them scarcely ever indulged in the latter, or in any
article of grocery, for months at a time. Their floors and walls were
bare, and their clothing poor and scanty; and yet, destitute as they were
of all the comforts and conveniences of life, they were conscientiously
endeavouring like good Saints to practise Polygamy, because, as they
believed, the Lord had commanded it.
In respect to education they were in even a worse position. Books,
pictures, and periodicals of any kind, there were none, with the
exception of that dreary organ of the church, the _Deseret News_—the
soporific influence of which some wicked Apostate has likened to a
dose of Winslow’s soothing syrup. Brigham Young, himself an illiterate
man, and the leading Elders, frowned upon every attempt to raise the
intellectual _status_ of the people; and so little encouragement was
given, that no one could afford to keep school. The consequence was,
that the boys and girls grew up with little more education than their
own sense of necessity taught them to acquire for themselves; and it was
not until very recently that any suitable efforts were made to supply
trained teachers and to open schools in which a thorough education could
be afforded.
I have already mentioned the sermons of the Tabernacle, and observed
how little calculated they were to elevate the character or cultivate
the minds of the people. I have before me as I write a choice morsel
extracted from one of the sermons of Heber C. Kimball, which I think I
must give for the reader’s benefit.
Fancy an “Apostle!” thus addressing a large and mixed congregation of
men, women, and children:—
“Here are some edicated men jest under my nose. They come here and they
think they know more than I do, and then they git the big head, and it
swells and swells until it gits like the old woman’s squash—you go to
touch it and it goes ker-smash; and when you look for the man, why he
ain’t thar. They’re jest like so many pots in a furnace—yer know I’ve
been a potter in my time—almighty thin and almighty big; and when they’re
sot up the heat makes ’em smoke a little, and then they collapse and
tumble in, and they aint no whar.”
This was Heber’s style in general. Next to making modest people blush,
nothing pleased him better than to annoy or ridicule any one who had
the smallest pretensions to education; and yet naturally Heber was
a kind-hearted man. Brigham’s style is very little better, and the
substance of his discourses quite as bad. I will give a very favourable
specimen, taken from a sermon on Polygamy, delivered some years ago,
touched up and corrected, and published in the official organ, the
_Deseret News_:—
“Men will say, ‘My wife, though a most excellent woman, has not seen a
happy day since I took my second wife.’ ‘No, not a happy day for a year,’
says one; and another has not seen a happy day for five years.
“I am going to set every woman at liberty, and say to them, Now go
your way—my women with the rest; go your way. And my wives have got to
do one of two things; either round up their shoulders to endure the
afflictions of this world and live their religion, or they must leave;
for I will not have them about me. I will go into heaven alone rather
than have scratching and fighting around me. I will set all at liberty.
‘What, first wife too!’ Yes, I will liberate you all. I know there is
no cessation to the everlasting whinings of many of the women in this
territory; I am satisfied that this is the case; and if the women will
turn from the commandments of God, and continue to despise the order of
heaven, I will pray that the curse of the Almighty may be close to their
heels, and that it may be following them all the day long. And those that
enter into it (the celestial order) and are faithful, I will promise
them that they shall be queens in heaven and rulers to all eternity.
“Now if any of you will deny the plurality of wives, and continue to do
so, I promise that you will be damned.”
This was sweet language for a Prophet and a Saint to utter, and yet it is
not half so coarse or improper as some whole sermons that I have listened
to from the lips of Brother Brigham and the other leaders of the Church.
The Apostle Orson Pratt is the only one who has dared, in the presence of
Brigham, to say that education was a proper thing, and that there were
many books which would be of good service to the Saints, if they obtained
and studied them. On one occasion, Brigham arose in ire, and said,—
“The professor has told you that there are many books in the world, and
I tell you that there are many people there. He says there is something
in all these books; I say each of those persons has got a name. It would
do you just as much good to learn those somebodies’ names as it would to
read those books. Five minutes’ revelation would teach me more truth than
all this pack of nonsense that I should have packed away in my unlucky
brains from books.”
But the Prophet has changed with the times, and there are now in Utah
very good schools, both Mormon and Gentile, but none of them are
_free_-schools. Bishop Taylor once said in a public lecture that they
were “destructive to the best interests of the community;” and the
bishop’s “lord” in the Lion-House is exactly of the same opinion, for he
has repeatedly declared that “there _shall be no_ ‘free-schools’ within
his Saintly ‘Kingdom’ on earth.” Nevertheless, Brother Brigham and his
“_Infallible_ Priesthood” are at last beginning to discover that although
the night of ignorance and superstition may hate the clear daylight of
truth and knowledge, when the great Ruler of all commands the light to
come forth it is not in the power of man, with all his boasting, to
forbid the sun to shine upon the dark places of the earth.
Balls, parties, and the theatre provided amusement for the people in Salt
Lake City itself; but in the Settlements there was little else in the
shape of recreation than idle gossip or the harangues of the Tabernacle.
At the time when we went to Utah, Mormon society was slowly recovering
from that terrible marrying mania which had set in during the
“Reformation,” and a season of divorce was the result.
The authorities at that time, as I have already observed, had urged every
person, without distinction, into Polygamy. Men and women had been forced
to marry one another without any respect to affection or fitness, and the
result was that hundreds of marriages were entered into which made those
who contracted them miserable for life, but the consequences of which
they could not avoid. At the same time not a few were divorced almost
immediately after they were married, and these things were a matter of
daily occurrence. Brigham Young, with his eye perpetually on the dollar,
finding that his marrying scheme, like many other of his “divine” plans,
was a failure, saw at once that quite a nice little sum might be realized
by charging a fee for divorces. Nothing was charged for marrying; but if
the people insisted on having divorces, why, the best, and certainly the
most profitable thing, was to make them pay for them. When we first went
to Utah, the Prophet was doing quite a flourishing business in that line.
Any one could get a divorce for ten dollars; and Brigham publicly in the
Tabernacle jested about it, and said that the money thus obtained came
in very conveniently as pin-money for his wives, though I doubt if they
ever received a dollar of it. He added, that so far as “eternity” was
concerned, these divorces were not worth the paper they were written on;
the people had married for eternity, and in eternity they would have to
live together, whether they liked it or not. He says the same to-day; but
still he sells his divorces, and gathers in the ten dollars.
As I have written so much of the troubles of the sisters, perhaps it will
be as well to give the reader an idea of the trials and difficulties
which the brethren had to contend with when they first attempted the
introduction of Polygamy. To do this, I shall give the correspondence
of Miss Martha Brotherton, formerly of Manchester, England, relating to
a very interesting courtship between herself and Brigham Young. I would
have the reader remark that this correspondence distinctly proves that
Polygamy was taught by the heads of the church _before_ the Prophet
received the professed revelation.
This account was published just a year, lacking one day, before the
revelation on Polygamy was given to Joseph Smith. It was published in
Boston, in book form, in 1842. The revelation was given at Nauvoo, on the
12th of July 1843.
The following is the letter referred to:[2]—
“ST. LOUIS, Missouri, July 13, A.D. 1842.
“DEAR SIR,—I left Warsaw a short time since for this city, and
having been called upon by you, through the _Sangamo Journal_,
to come out and disclose to the world the facts of the case
in relation to certain propositions made to me, at Nauvoo, by
some of the Mormon leaders, I now proceed to respond to the
call, and discharge what I consider to be a duty devolving
upon me as an innocent, but insulted and abused female. I
had been at Nauvoo nearly three weeks, during which time my
father’s family received frequent visits from Elders Brigham
Young and Heber C. Kimball, two of the Mormon Apostles; when,
early one morning, they both came to my brother-in-law’s (John
McIlwrick’s) house, at which place I was then on a visit, and
particularly requested me to go and spend a few days with them.
I told them I could not at that time, as my brother-in-law was
not at home; however, they urged me to go the next day and
spend one day with them. The day being fine, I accordingly
went. When I arrived at the foot of the hill, Young and Kimball
were standing conversing together. They both came to me, and
after several flattering compliments, Kimball wished me to
go to his house first. I said it was immaterial to me, and
went accordingly. We had not, however, gone many steps when
Young suddenly stopped, and said he would go to that brother’s
(pointing to a little log hut a few yards distant), and tell
him that you (speaking to Kimball) and Brother Glover, or
Grover (I do not remember which) will value his land. When he
had gone, Kimball turned to me and said, ‘Martha, I want you
to say to my wife, when you go to my house, that you want to
buy some things at Joseph’s store (Joseph Smith’s), and I will
say I am going with you to show you the way. You know you want
to see the Prophet, and you will then have an opportunity.’ I
made no reply. Young again made his appearance, and the subject
was dropped. We soon reached Kimball’s house, when Young took
his leave, saying, ‘I shall see you again, Martha.’ I remained
at Kimball’s nearly an hour; when Kimball, seeing I would not
tell the lies he wished me to, told them to his wife himself.
He then went and whispered in her ear, and asked if that would
please her. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘or I can go along with you and
Martha.’ ‘No,’ said he, ‘I have some business to do, and I
will call for you afterwards to go with me to the debate,’
meaning the debate between yourself and Joseph. To this she
consented. So Kimball and I went to the store together. As
we were going along, he said, ‘Sister Martha, are you willing
to do all that the Prophet requires you to do?’ I said, I
believed I was—thinking, of course, he would require nothing
wrong. ‘Then,’ said he, ‘are you ready to take counsel?’ I
answered in the affirmative, thinking of the great and glorious
blessings that had been pronounced upon my head if I adhered
to the counsel of those placed over me in the Lord. ‘Well,’
said he ‘there are many things revealed in these last days
that the world would laugh and scoff at; but unto us is given
to know the mysteries of the kingdom.’ He further observed,
‘Martha, you must learn to hold your tongue, and it will be
well with you. You will see Joseph, and very likely will have
some conversation with him, and he will tell you what you shall
do.’ When we reached the building, he led me up some stairs
to a small room, the door of which was locked, and on it the
following inscription, ‘Positively no admittance.’ He observed,
‘Ah! Brother Joseph must be sick, for, strange to say, he is
not here. Come down into the tithing-office, Martha.’ He then
left me in the tithing-office and went out, I know not where.
In this office were two men writing, one of whom, William
Clayton, I had seen in England; the other I did not know. Young
came in and seated himself before me, and asked where Kimball
was. I said he had gone out. He said it was all right. Soon
after, Joseph came in and spoke to one of the clerks, and then
went upstairs, followed by Young. Immediately after, Kimball
came in. ‘Now Martha,’ said he, ‘the Prophet has come; come
upstairs.’ I went, and we found Young and the Prophet alone.
I was introduced to the Prophet by Young. Joseph offered me
his seat, and, to my astonishment, the moment I was seated,
Joseph and Kimball walked out of the room, and left me with
Young, who arose, locked the door, closed the window, and drew
the curtain. He then came and sat before me and said, ‘This
is our private room, Martha.’ ‘Indeed, sir,’ said I; ‘I must
be highly honoured to be permitted to enter it.’ He smiled,
and then proceeded, ‘Sister Martha, I want to ask you a few
questions; will you answer them?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said I. ‘And
will you promise me not to mention them to any one?’ ‘If it
is your desire, sir,’ said I, ‘I will not.’ ‘And you will not
think any the worse of me for it; will you, Martha?’ said he.
‘No, sir,’ I replied. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘what are your feelings
toward me?’ I replied, ‘My feelings are just the same toward
you that they ever were, sir.’ ‘But, to come to the point
more closely,’ said he, ‘have not you an affection for me,
that, were it lawful and right, you would accept of me for
your husband and companion?’ My feelings at this moment were
indescribable. God only knows them. What, thought I, are these
men, that I thought almost perfection itself, deceivers, and
is all my fancied happiness but a dream? ’Twas even so; but
my next thought was, which is the best way for me to act at
this time? If I say _No_, they may do as they think proper;
and to say _Yes_, I never would. So I considered it best to
ask for time to think and pray about it. I therefore said,
‘If it was lawful and right, perhaps I might; but you know,
sir, it is not.’ ‘Well, but,’ said he, ‘Brother Joseph has
had a revelation from God that it is lawful and right for a
man to have two wives; for, as it was in the days of Abraham,
so it shall be in these last days, and whoever is the first
that is willing to take up the cross will receive the greatest
blessings; and, if you will accept of me, I will take you
straight to the celestial kingdom; and, if you will have me
in this world, I will have you in that which is to come, and
Brother Joseph will marry us here, to-day, and you can go home
this evening, and your parents will not know anything about
it.’ ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I should not like to do anything of the
kind without the permission of my parents.’ ‘Well, but,’ said
he, ‘you are of age, are you not?’ ‘No, sir,’ said I; ‘I shall
not be until the 24th of May.’ ‘Well,’ said he, ‘that does not
make any difference. You will be of age before they know, and
you need not fear. If you will take my counsel, it will be well
with you, for I know it to be right before God; and if there is
any sin in it, I will answer for it. But Brother Joseph wishes
to have some talk with you on the subject; he will explain
things; will you hear him?’ ‘I do not mind,’ said I. ‘Well, but
I want you to say something,’ said he. ‘I want to think about
it,’ said I. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘I will have a kiss, anyhow,’ and
then rose, and said he would bring Joseph. He then unlocked the
door, and took the key, and locked me up alone. He was absent
about ten minutes, and then returned with Joseph. ‘Well,’ said
Young, ‘Sister Martha would be willing if she knew it was
lawful and right before God.’ ‘Well, Martha,’ said Joseph, ‘it
is lawful and right before God—I _know_ it is. Look here, sis;
don’t you believe in me.’ I did not answer. ‘Well, Martha,’
said Joseph, ‘just go ahead, and do as Brigham wants you to; he
is the best man in the world, except me.’ ‘Oh!’ said Brigham,
‘then you are as good.’ ‘Yes,’ said Joseph. ‘Well,’ said
Young, ‘we believe Joseph to be a Prophet. I have known him
near eight years, and have always found him the same.’ ‘Yes,’
said Joseph, ‘and I know that this is lawful and right before
God, and if there is any sin in it, I will answer for it before
God; and I have the keys of the kingdom, and whatever I bind
on earth is bound in heaven, and whatever I loose on earth is
loosed in heaven; and if you will accept of Brigham, you shall
be blessed—God shall bless you, and my blessing shall rest upon
you; and, if you will be led by him, you will do well; for I
know that Brigham will do well by you, and if he don’t do his
duty to you, come to me, and I will make him; and if you do not
like it in a month or two, come to me and I will make you free
again; and if he turns you off, I will take you on.’ ‘Sir,’
said I, rather warmly, ‘it will be too late to think in a month
or two after. I want time to think first.’ ‘Well, but,’ said
he, ‘the old proverb is, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,”
and it will be the greatest blessing that was ever bestowed
upon you.’ ‘Yes,’ said Young, ‘and you will never have reason
to repent it—that is, if I do not turn from righteousness, and
that, I trust, I never shall; for I believe God, who has kept
me so long, will continue to keep me faithful. Did you ever see
me act in any way wrong in England, Martha?’ ‘No, sir,’ said
I. ‘No,’ said he; ‘neither can any one else lay anything to my
charge.’ ‘Well, then,’ said Joseph, ‘what are you afraid of,
sis? Come, let me do the business for you.’ ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘do
let me have a little time to think about it, and I will promise
not to mention it to any one.’ ‘Well, but look here,’ said he;
‘you know a fellow will never be damned for doing the best he
knows how.’ ‘Well, then,’ said I, ‘the best way I know of is,
to go home and think and pray about it.’ ‘Well,’ said Young, ‘I
shall leave it with Brother Joseph, whether it would be best
for you to have time or not.’ ‘Well,’ said Joseph, ‘I see no
harm in her having time to think, if she will not fall into
temptation.’ ‘Oh sir!’ said I, ‘there is no fear of my falling
into temptation.’ ‘Well, but,’ said Brigham, ‘you must promise
me you will never mention it to any one.’ ‘I do promise it,’
said I. ‘Well,’ said Joseph, ‘you must promise me the same.’ I
promised him the same. ‘Upon your honour,’ said he, ‘you will
not tell.’ ‘No, sir; I will lose my life first,’ said I. ‘Well,
that will do,’ said he; ‘that is the principle we go upon. I
think I can trust you, Martha,’ said he. ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I
think you ought.’ Joseph said, ‘She looks as if she could keep
a secret.’ I then rose to go, when Joseph commenced to beg
of me again. He said it was the best opportunity they might
have for months, for the room was often engaged. I, however,
had determined what to do. ‘Well,’ said Young, ‘I will see you
to-morrow. I am going to preach at the school-house opposite
your house. I have never preached there yet; you will be there,
I suppose.’ ‘Yes,’ said I. The next day being Sunday, I sat
down, instead of going to meeting, and wrote the conversation,
and gave it to my sister, who was not a little surprised;
but she said it would be best to go to the meeting in the
afternoon. We went, and Young administered the sacrament. After
it was over, I was passing out, and Young stopped me, saying,
‘Wait, Martha; I am coming.’ I said, ‘I cannot; my sister is
waiting for me.’ He then threw his coat over his shoulders, and
followed me out, and whispered, ‘Have you made up your mind,
Martha?’ ‘Not exactly, sir,’ said I; and we parted. I shall
proceed to a justice of the peace, and make oath to the truth
of these statements, and you are at liberty to make what use of
them you may think best.
“Yours respectfully,
“MARTHA A. BROTHERTON.
“Sworn to and described before me, this 13th day of July, A.D.
1842.
“DU BOUFFAY FREMON,
“Justice of the Peace for St. Louis County.”