An Englishwoman in Utah: The Story of a Life's Experience in Mormonism

by Mrs. T. B. H. Stenhouse

“Mary, dear,” I said, “don’t talk like that; he cannot have ceased to love you, I am sure; he used to almost worship you, dear.”

“It is because I know that he did once, that drives me crazy. You do not know what I feel, and what I have to bear!”

I did not utter a word; my own sorrows were hidden in my own heart. The heart knoweth its bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not in the matter. “You have been through the Endowments?” she asked. “So have I. We went through, Sister Stenhouse, about three months after we came to Utah, and never since then have I known a moment’s peace. I do not know what they said to my husband, but, whatever it was, it produced a great effect upon his mind, and changed him altogether; he has been an altered man from that very time. I have no doubt that they told them that it was his duty to take another wife, and they would say that no promise made to me before our marriage was binding if it comes in opposition to our religion. You know how devoted he is, how firm his faith is. Why, I do believe that he would obey counsel even if it broke his heart, and cost him his life. Did they say nothing to you or your husband, dear?”

“Certainly they did, Mary; we have heard it daily and hourly, and my husband is constantly being counselled about it. I am wretched, Mary, you know I must be; I feel just as you do, but how can we help ourselves?”

“No, we cannot help ourselves, there is no hope,” she said; “but it is a cruel wrong. You know well enough how determined I was never to marry a man who would take another wife. When I thought that Elder Shrewsbury might be influenced by his religion, I made him go to the Apostle and get counsel, and then he solemnly vowed to me that he never would enter into polygamy without my consent; which, of course, was the same as saying that he never would do so at all. Until we went through our Endowments, he never even hinted at such a thing. But they spoke to him then; and one day, after he had been having a long consultation with the Bishop, he came and spoke to me. He was not unkind in the least. In fact he seemed to be as much pained at all mention of the subject as I was. He said that the Bishop had been urging him to live up to his privileges, and had explained to him how great a loss in the celestial world it would be, both to him and to me, if he did not take more wives. He was told that now while he was young was the time, and that I would soon get over any pain that I might suffer. Yes, they actually said so. Fancy tearing out the very affections of one’s heart, and blasting every hope and happiness in life, and then saying that I should soon ‘get used to it!’ I tell you, Sister Stenhouse, a true woman never can ‘get used’ to this hideous system. If the hearts of some are dead and cold, it is a curse to them and a curse to their husband and children; and if a wife seems careless or callous, as the case may be, it is because love for her husband has first died out in her heart. She feels no jealousy because she has no love; but if a woman has but a spark of love for her husband, she will hate with a deadly hatred any other woman whom that husband loves.”

“But what did Elder Shrewsbury say when they told him to enter into polygamy?” I inquired.

“At first he told them it was utterly impossible,” she replied, “and he mentioned his promise to me, and said we were very happy together, and that he wished for nothing more. But they knew his weakness, and that he would do anything for his religion, and they urged him on that point. It was even a sin against me they said, for if he had no more than one wife he could never exalt me in the celestial kingdom; that I ought to be treated like a child—a very dear, but spoilt child; and if I refused what was for my own and my husband’s benefit and everlasting welfare, he ought to act up to what he knew was right, and leave the consequences with the Lord, who would order all things for the best. My husband told me all this very sadly at first, but I could see that it had an effect upon his mind. They saw it, too, and did not let the subject drop. Every day they spoke to him of it, and at last he gave way—for my sake, he said! This was the cruellest wrong of all. Then one day he told me very firmly and very coldly, as if he had steeled his heart to do so, that he had made up his mind to take another wife.”

“What!” I exclaimed, “after the solemn oath he swore never to do such a thing? Why, I could not have believed it of Elder Shrewsbury!”

“I reminded him of his promise,” she said, “but he told me that the Revelation justified him in breaking it; that it said in the second clause that ‘All covenants, contracts, and oaths not sealed by him who is appointed on earth to hold this power in the last days are of no force after the resurrection;’ that for this cause we had been married again for eternity, and that now he was free from his oath. I knelt down before him, and I wept and prayed as if for life itself; I entreated him, if no more, to wait and put off all thoughts of another marriage for a few months, until he had time to consider the matter carefully. He had already thoroughly thought it over, he said, and could not go back now, for the Bishop had chosen a wife for him, and had arranged everything. He even told me who it was—a young girl named Wilbur, about fourteen years of age—a mere child. I prayed him if he would be so wicked as to perjure himself and wrong me so foully, at least not to add to his sin by injuring a poor innocent child. He was very indignant with me for that, said that he was doing the child the greatest good he possibly could by marrying her; that he was ensuring her salvation as well as mine; and that he expected to receive the blessing of God.”