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.