CHAPTER XX.
WAYS AND WORKS OF THE SAINTS:—THE PROPHET’S MILLINERY BILL.
When I arrived in Utah I found that nearly all the Elders with whom I had formerly been acquainted had more than one wife there. Many of these brethren called to see me, and kindly insisted that I should visit their families; but this I felt was almost an impossibility.
My whole nature rebelled at the thought of visiting where there were several wives; for, in defiance of all the teaching that I had listened to, and the tyranny to which we had submitted, human nature would assert itself, and my womanly instincts revolted against the system. I could not endure the thought of visiting those families in company with my husband. I thought that perhaps sometimes I might venture alone; but, oh, not with him,—no, not with him. It was bad enough and humiliating enough for me to witness by myself the degradation of my sex; but to do so in the presence of my husband was more than I could calmly contemplate. I knew that I should not be able to control myself, and might probably say some very unpleasant things, which I should afterwards regret; for I so thoroughly loathed even the idea of polygamy at that time that I was filled with a desire to let every one know and understand just what my feelings were on that subject.
I had left New York against my will, although I had not openly rebelled. I had never reproached my husband about it, for I felt that his lot was irrevocably cast with the Mormons: I knew that when I married him, and it was of no use now for me to repine. I must go on to the end—there was no help for me. The journey across the Plains, and all the discoveries which I had made, had not tended to soothe my rebellious heart, and I am not quite sure that I did not sow by the way a little discontent among the sisters. The idea, however, that such was the case did not, I must admit, fill me with much repentance. To my husband I had said very little, but I think he would bear me witness that what I did say was said effectively. Now when I was brought face to face with practical polygamy and could observe it in its most repulsive phases, I hated it more than ever.
One day not long after our arrival, as we were taking a walk together, I saw across the road a man gesticulating after an eccentric fashion and beckoning to us. Mr. Stenhouse said, “That is Brother Heber C. Kimball;” and I looked again with interest to see what that celebrated Apostle was like. I had both heard and read a great deal about Brother Heber, and what I had learned was not at all of a character to impress me favourably—he had been so severe in his denunciation of every woman who dared to oppose polygamy. On the present occasion his conduct was, I thought, anything but gentlemanly; and when we crossed the road to him,—which on account of his position in the Church—next to Brigham himself—we, of course, were compelled to do,—my face must have betrayed my feelings I am sure, for almost his first words after shaking hands were, “Have you got the blues?”
My answer was ready in a moment. “I have had nothing else ever since I came here.”
“Well,” he replied, “it is time that you should get rid of them, and I am going to talk to you some day soon, for I rather like your looks.”
I did not like his looks much, however, nor was I at all pleased with his manner. I do not say that I was altogether without blame in feeling thus, for I was prejudiced. Of course I was prejudiced. From the first moment when I heard that polygamy was a doctrine of the Church, I was predisposed to be dissatisfied with everything: I was henceforth not myself, for the terrible apprehension of my own fate in the “Celestial Order” had changed my whole nature, and that change of itself was a great source of grief to me. I keenly realized that I was no longer the light-hearted, pleasant companion to my husband that I had been, and many a time and oft I wished for his sake that I could die, for I felt that I never could be happy in Mormonism again.
How many times have I knelt by my husband’s couch when he was unconscious of it, and have wept bitter tears of sorrow, earnestly praying to the Lord to subdue my rebellious heart, and, if it were necessary, rather than I should be a continual annoyance to my husband, whom I loved with all my soul, that every particle of love in my heart should be withered, so that I might perchance, if without love, be able at least to do my duty. I fully realized that in polygamy there could be no real love; and while my affections were still placed upon my husband, it was torture to live in a community where I was compelled to listen to the “counsels” which were given to him, day after day, regardless of my presence, to take another wife. I was too proud to notice any ordinary allusion that was made to the subject before me; but when the conversation was turned in that direction by those who professed to be sincere friends and to entertain a kindly interest in my welfare, I was compelled to listen and reply.