Then came in personages representing Peter, James, and John, the Apostles; and they commanded ministers, devil, and all to depart. They then appeared to organize a new Church, in which the true principles of the Gospel were to be taught; our Temple robes were also all changed from the right shoulder to the left, indicating that we were now in the true Church, and that we were to be absolutely and in every way dependent upon the priesthood. Another grip was then given to us, and thus we received the third degree of the Order of Melchisedec Priesthood. In that room was a division made of bleached muslin; in the division a door and in the door a hole, with a lap of muslin over it, through which to pass the hand. Whoever was on the other side could see us, but we could not see them. The men first approached this door. A person representing the Apostle Peter appeared at the opening and demanded who was there. He was told that some one desired to enter. Hands came through the opening in the muslin curtain, and mysterious fingers cut a mark on the left breast of the men’s shirts—one mark also over the abdomen, and one over the right knee—which marks the women religiously imitated upon their own garments when they got home. The applicant was then told to put his hand through the opening, and give the last grip belonging to the “Third Degree,” and mention his new name. He was then permitted to enter. This was called “going behind the veil.” When the men were all admitted, the women were suffered to approach, and were passed through by their own husbands. When a woman has no husband she is passed through by one of the brethren, and to those who are not going to be married or sealed for eternity here the ceremonies end.
Now, as I before stated, according to Mormon ideas we had never before been legally married. It was therefore, necessary that we should now pass through that ceremony. We accordingly were conducted to a desk, where our names were entered, and we were then passed into another room. In that room was a long, low altar, covered with red velvet, and an armchair placed at one end of it, in which sat Brigham Young. My husband knelt at one side of the altar and I at the other, with our hands clasped above it in the last grip which had been given to us. Then the ordinary formula of marriage was gone through with, and we were informed that we were sealed for time and for eternity.
Thus we passed through the mysteries of the Endowment House, and at three o’clock in the afternoon we found ourselves at liberty to return home. The various ceremonies had occupied eight hours.
When we reached home, my husband said, “Well, what do you think of the Endowments?” But I did not dare to answer him truthfully at that time. Had I done so, I should have told him that I was ashamed and disgusted. Never in all my life did I suffer such humiliation as I did that day; for the whole time I was under the impression that those who officiated looked upon us as a set of silly dupes, and I felt annoyed to think that I dared not tell them so. So I told my husband that I would rather not speak about it, and we never have spoken of it to this day. What were his own feelings about the matter, I do not know, for Mormon wives are taught never to pry into their husband’s feelings or meddle with their actions. But notwithstanding all my feelings in reference to the Endowments, so foolish was I that when I afterwards heard the brethren and sisters talking about the happiness which they had experienced while going through, and saying how privileged we ought to feel at being in Zion among the Saints of God, secure in His Kingdom where we could bring up our children in the fear of the Lord, I began again to think that the fault was all in myself, and that it was I who was wrong and not the Endowments. I wondered how, with such a rebellious heart, I should ever get salvation, and I mourned to think that I had not accepted everything with the simplicity of a child.
Some time after our initiation I met the Apostle Heber C. Kimball, and he asked me how I felt upon the occasion. I frankly told him all, but added that I regretted feeling so. He said, “I shall see if you cannot go through again; it is not just the thing, and I shall try and make the opportunity.” Nothing more, however, was said about it. But that which troubled me most was the fact that while the oaths were being administered, I dropped my hand and inwardly vowed that I would never subscribe to such things, and at the same time my heart was filled with bitter opposition. This, although I did it involuntarily—my better nature rising within me, and overcoming my superstition—I thought at the time was sinful. I now, however, rejoice that such was the case; for not having actually vowed to keep secret those abominable oaths, I can say, without any cavil or equivocation, that I have broken no promise and betrayed no trust by the revelations which I have just made.
CHAPTER XXII.
SECRETS OF SAINTLY SPOUSES:—A VISIT FROM MY TALKATIVE FRIEND.
Not long after I had received my Endowments, my talkative friend, of whom I have already spoken, came to see me and to offer her congratulations. She was quite enthusiastic upon the subject, spoke of the honour which had been conferred upon us, and promised to call frequently “to build me up.” She was particularly anxious to learn whether I did not feel much better and happier now.
On that point I could say little, for to have answered her truthfully would have provoked discussion, into which I did not care to enter. I knew, too, that anything I said to her would soon be known to every one else. So I told her that I was feeling well enough.