ORSON PRATT,
The Mormon Philosopher.
Born in 1811.
CHAPTER XXXV.
REALITIES OF POLYGAMIC LIFE—ORSON PRATT: THE STORY OF HIS YOUNG ENGLISH WIFE.
The position of the plural wives—second, third, fourth, or twentieth, it matters not—is but a mockery, after all; and in many respects they are more to be pitied than the first wives. The first wives have known, if only for a little while, a husband’s love and care; but that has never been felt by the second wives. They are, in fact, in many respects little better than slaves; and if they are sensitive girls, their position must be extremely painful, for they must realize at all times that they are receiving the attentions of another woman’s husband; and in many instances they are even afraid to be seen speaking to their husband for fear of bringing down the wrath of the first wife upon their heads. Others, who are not so sensitive, assert their own rights and are defiant.
I am well acquainted with a pretty young Welsh girl who was a second wife. Her husband had converted her to Mormonism while he was on a mission to Europe, and when they reached Salt Lake he married her. I saw her first two years after her marriage, when one day she came to me in the greatest distress. She asked me if I would give her some employment, and, greatly surprised at the request, I asked her how she came to need anything to do, as I knew her husband could well afford to support her.
“I have left my husband,” she answered, “for I could stand no longer the ill-treatment that I received. I endured it until, as you see, my health is failing and I am broken-hearted. The creature I married has no manhood in him. He has allowed me to be treated like a slave, and has himself half-starved me, and has acted towards me with the greatest inhumanity. When I married him,” she said, “I was willing to make myself useful in the family, and I did so. But one thing after another was given me to do, until I became a regular drudge; they would not have dared to treat a hired girl in the way they treated me. I was put into a miserable little back room, and was never allowed to see any of my friends; I had to work early and late. When at last my position would not admit of my working quite so much, they punished me with all sorts of petty unkindnesses, and nearly starved me, giving me only a little flour or a few potatoes every day.
“At last,” she continued, “I went to Brother Brigham to know what I should do. He sent for my husband and talked to him a long time, and he promised to do better if I would go back with him. Brother Brigham counselled me to do so, and try him again; and I went. Soon after that, my babe was born, and then they treated me with worse unkindness.”
“Who do you mean by they?” I asked.