“But do you think you would be doing right in trying to gain the position of first wife in that way?”
“Why not?” she said; “didn’t Jacob obtain his brother’s birthright by deception—and was he ever punished for it? Do you think that Brother Brigham, notwithstanding that he is the inspired servant of God, could have obtained his position, and all his money, by simple honest dealing? If you think so, I don’t; and it is just as proper and right for us women to secure a position for ourselves by such means as it is for Brigham Young—the end justifies the means.”
“If that is so,” I said, “it is a wonder to me that any woman should consent to become second, third, or fourth wife—seeing they cannot be queens.”
“I can see that you have not yet had your ‘Endowments,’” she said, “or you would understand more about these things; but as you are a good Mormon, I can speak freely to you. You see it is not always those who are first wives in this world who will be first in the celestial kingdom. It all depends upon the amount of sacrifice the wife is capable of making for her husband, her faithfulness to him, and the number of children she has borne him. If she pleases him in every particular, and is good, patient, and above all things obedient to all his wishes and commands, then she is almost certain to be made queen, unless the first wife is just as good, and then I don’t know how they would fix that. And so you see it is safer to be first wife at once.”
“Well, but,” I asked, “knowing all this, I am surprised that you consented to be third wife!”
“But I did not know it then,” she continued. “My husband told me that all the wives were queens—all equal—and he says so still when I talk to him about it. But he can’t deceive me. I have spoken to some of the old Nauvoo women who know all about it, and they tell me that all the Polygamic wives will be subject to the first wife; but the first wife, having suffered most, will be the one who has gone through the fire and been purified, and found worthy.”
“But do you think that your husband would wish to deceive you about such an important matter?” I said.
“Wait till you have lived a little longer here,” she replied, “and you will be able to answer that question yourself, or else your experience will be very different from that of the rest of the people here.”
Just then the husband made his appearance, and put an end to the conversation. He was a tall, dark-looking man, with grey hair, old enough to be her father. He appeared to be well educated and to have seen better days, though everything about their home indicated poverty—the room in which we were sitting had no carpet on the floor, there was a plain white-pine table in the middle, a small sheet-iron stove, four wooden chairs, a small looking-glass, and some cheap pictures. This was the sitting-room for the whole family—three wives, eleven children, one husband. He asked me if I had seen the rest of the family.