Читать книгу An Englishwoman in Utah - Mrs. T. B. H. Stenhouse - Страница 14

“Since you went, I have grown quite an old woman. You used to call me ‘Little fairy,’ but, Sister Stenhouse, I am much bigger now. I am now a good deal over seventeen, and people say that I am getting to be quite a woman. I might tell you some other pretty things that are said about me, but I’m afraid you would say it was all vanity of vanities. If you stay away much longer, you won’t recognize me when we meet again.

“And now I want to tell you something that interests you as much as me. I have not been able to discover anything more with certainty about those hateful things of which I told you, although the word Polygamy seems to me to become every day much more familiar in people’s conversation. Elder Shrewsbury tells me that there is not a word of truth in it; and he has had a good deal of conversation upon that subject with the apostles who are here, and also with a man named Curtis E. Bolton—an Elder from the Salt Lake; and they all positively declare that it is a foul slander upon the Saints of the Most High. So you see that all our unhappiness was for naught. Our Saviour said we should be blessed when all men spoke evil of us falsely for His name’s take; and the wicked scandal which has been raised against our religion has had a tendency to strengthen my faith, which you know was rather wavering.

“And yet do you know, Sister Stenhouse, that even while I am writing to you in this strain, I am weak enough to allow doubts and fears to creep into my heart when I think of the conduct of some of the American brethren.

“They appear to me, for married men, to act so very imprudently; and to call their conduct ‘imprudent’ is really treating it with the greatest leniency, for I have often been quite shocked at the way in which some of the brethren and sisters acted. But I will tell you a little about it, and you shall judge for yourself.

“When I found out, as I had long suspected, that dear papa was going to marry again, I at once resolved that I would no longer be a burden to him, but would find some employment, and support myself. I was induced to do this, partly because as you know, step-mothers and daughters do not always love each other quite as much as they might. So I communicated my wishes to papa, and told him that I had been introduced to a very nice lady, who had a large dressmaking establishment at the west end of London. She is a member of the Church, and has always been very highly spoken of. I told him that she employed a number of highly respectable young girls, and that four, at least, of them were members of the Church, and that, in consideration of my lonely situation, and at the earnest request of Elder Shrewsbury, she was willing to take me into her house, to board and lodge me, and teach me the business thoroughly, if my father would pay her a premium of fifty pounds.

“This papa readily agreed to do, as I expected he would, for he is so taken up with my step-mamma that is to be; and beside which he has, I know, been unfortunate lately in some railway speculations, and has lost a great deal of money, and therefore wishes to economize. In this way I went to London, and became a member of Mrs. Elsworth’s family—and here I am still.

“Now you have been in London, Sister Stenhouse, and must remember ‘the office’ in Jewin Street—the head-quarters where all the elders congregate, and where the American elders board, and church business is managed. Well, the very first week I was at Mrs. Elsworth’s I noticed that the four young sisters who were working there were constantly talking of Jewin Street, and the dear American brethren who were stopping there. One of them in particular was always talking about dear Elder Snow; and another girl whispered to me that she went to Jewin Street every evening, and frequently remained there to tea with him, and went afterwards to the theatre with him, or to a meeting, as the case might be; and the young lady added, ‘She does make such a fuss over him, toying with him, and brushing and combing his hair. I know that she does it, for I have been there with her, and have seen her do it; and he appears to enjoy it quite as much as she does; and I believe, if Polygamy was true he would marry her.’

“ ‘But,’ I said, ‘it is not true, and therefore it is very wrong for her to act in that way, for he is a married man.’

“ ‘Oh, but you know,’ she answered, ‘that we are all brothers and sisters, and the brethren tell us that those little attentions make them feel that they are not so far from home, and they are thus enabled to perform their mission better; and if that is so, it is the duty of the young sisters to encourage them. These little attentions cost nothing, and I’m sure it’s quite a pleasure to me.’

“ ‘Then you go to Jewin Street?’ I asked.

“ ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘sometimes, but not very often, for my elder calls here frequently, as he is acquainted with Mrs. Elsworth; and then I take my work up into the parlour sometimes, and have a long talk with him. Mrs. Elsworth does not like it, I know, but she does not care to oppose the elders;—in fact, her husband will not allow any such thing—he has dared her to do so. After all, she is very silly, for we ought to love each other and be free and friendly. My elder—I call him my elder, you know, simply because I like him better than the others—calls Mrs. Elsworth ‘Gentilish,’ and says she’ll get over it when she goes to Zion. But she says she won’t. She is awfully jealous of her husband and a certain Miss Caroline somebody, though she doesn’t care for him.’

“ ‘But what difference can it make to him?’ I asked her. ‘He has a wife, and ought not to pay attention to any other woman.’

“ ‘Ah, you silly child,’ she said, ‘it is only brotherly love, after all, and men often have wives who do not make them happy, and that makes them seek the society of the young sisters, for those who are far from home are lonely. My own elder’s wife is here in London, but he isn’t much with her. He spends nearly all his time in Jewin Street; he is a travelling Elder, and when he is going anywhere to preach he always calls for me, as he does not like going alone, he is such a genial soul. If Polygamy were true, I’d promise to marry him when we reached the Valley.’

“Then I asked why his wife didn’t go with him; and she said, ‘Oh, poor man! he has no pleasure in her society. She is always moping and unhappy. You know, some women are naturally so. I do all I can to make him feel well, for it must be awful to be married to a woman who is always sad.’

“I asked her why his wife should be so unhappy; and she said, ‘He tells me that she has got it into her head that somehow or other Polygamy is practised in Zion; and I’m sure I, for one, wish it was so, for then we could marry whoever we pleased.’

“ ‘Oh, for shame!’ I said. ‘I’m sure I’d never go there, if I thought so.’

“Then I asked her whether she did not think it was wrong for her to encourage the attentions of her elder; and she said, ‘He wishes it just as much as I do; and his wife had better behave herself, or I’ll marry him whether Polygamy exists or not in Zion; and he does not know, though we both suspect, that there is something in the rumours which we have heard.’ Then I told her I thought it was very wicked to encourage the visits of that man; for I believe that if he paid a little more attention to his wife she would be less unhappy—for I suppose she knew of his attentions to her.

“She said the wife knew nothing about it; that he was obliged to be out late at night, preaching, or at Jewin Street—which I knew meant flirting with the sisters and going to the theatre; and I fancy he does more of that than preaching. But she seemed to think it was all the wife’s fault, and blamed her. I asked her if she would like to be treated so, if she were an Elder’s wife, and had to work as hard and endure as much as all the Missionaries’ wives do. But she said she never could be in such a position, and told me that I was not a good Mormon or I would not set myself up as the accuser of the brethren. But I ask you, Sister Stenhouse, if that is the Mormonism which the elders used to teach us?

“And now I have told you all our long talk together, and so you can judge for yourself what a change has taken place since you left.

“The same day, after dinner, Brother Snow called, in company with two other elders, to see Mrs. Elsworth, and to ask her and the girls to a tea-party the next day. Mrs. Elsworth declined; but one young lady would go with Brother Snow, and Miss Caroline went with another elder; and my light-hearted friend waited till her Elder came also to ask her. After that, came Elder Shrewsbury, and I, of course, was to go with him.

“With all my faith, I am very much troubled about these things. They are not right, I think. Why, scarcely a day passes but some of these elders, who appear to have very little to do, call here, and send for one or two of these young sisters, and detain them from their work, much to the annoyance of poor Mrs. Elsworth, who, I believe, will apostatize over it eventually.

“See what a long letter I have written to you! I am afraid it will tire you. I often long to have you here, that I might come to you and tell you all my troubles. But perhaps after all I am wrong, and ought to see things in a different light. Have not the Elders and Apostles positively denied that Polygamy or any other sin was practised in Utah, or formed any part of the Mormon religion? and we know that these men of God would not deceive us.

“Be sure, dear, to write a nice long letter to me very soon; and, with fondest love, remember your own

“Mary Burton.”

I read this letter carefully through, and I sat down and thought of dear Mary Burton, and felt deeply sorry that she should be placed in a situation surrounded by so many temptations. To myself the letter brought a sad confirmation of all my fears. There was something painful in the thought. Had Polygamy been openly avowed as a Mormon doctrine, I should never have joined the Church. But now, what could I do?

After three months’ absence, Mr. Stenhouse was to return home, and I went to Geneva to meet him, feeling very happy when I saw him once again. Numbers of persons, both in Geneva and Lausanne had been converted while he was away, and were waiting for him to baptize them—among them was a retired Protestant minister, Monsieur Petitpierre, of whom I have something yet to mention. We began at last to rejoice in our success, and to be thankful that the Lord had answered our prayers.

I was now more than ever anxious about Polygamy. From much thinking on that subject, it had become the haunting spectre of my existence, and I dreaded what every day might bring forth. The news which my husband brought with him by no means reassured me. He told me that he had heard in England from the American Elders that there was a general expectation among the Saints in Utah that at the October Conference in Salt Lake City, Brigham Young would publish to the world that Polygamy was a doctrine of the Mormon Church.

After all the prevarications and denials then of the Apostles and Elders, Polygamy among the Saints was really a fact. As the truth became clearer to my mind, I thought I should lose my senses. The very foundations of my faith were shaken, and not only did I feel a personal repugnance to the unholy doctrine, but I began to realize that the men to whom I had listened with such profound respect, and had regarded as the representatives of God, had been guilty of the most deliberate and unblushing falsehood; and I began to ask myself whether, if they could do this in order to carry out their purpose in one particular, they might not be guilty of deception upon other points? Who could I trust now? For ten years the Mormon Prophets and Apostles had been living in Polygamy at home, while abroad they vehemently denied it, and spoke of it as a deadly sin. This was a painful awakening to me; we had all of us been betrayed. I lost confidence in man, and almost began to question within myself whether I could even trust in God.

There was no argument between Mr. Stenhouse and myself. It would have been worse than useless, for it was not his doing, and he assured me that he had as great a repugnance to the doctrine as I had. He had at first only hinted that it might eventually be acknowledged by the leaders of the Church; but it was a matter of too deeply a personal character for me to keep silence, and I did not rest until he had told me all. He had not seen the revelation, but the information which he had received was beyond a question; and singularly enough Elder Margetts, the London Elder of whose flirtation in Southampton I have already spoken, was at that time on a visit to Switzerland, and confirmed all that my husband had said. Thus the very man who, two years before, first excited my suspicions, now confirmed my fears, and openly stated as a fact that which he then was ashamed almost to suggest.

Elder Margetts had been in Utah from the time I saw him in England, and was now on a mission to Italy. He knew, therefore, very well what was said and done among the Saints in Zion. I, and those like me, whose faith was not too strong, were spoken of as “babes” to whom milk only must be given; and in this way any deception necessary to quiet our tender consciences was allowable; but Elder Margetts was one of the “strong men,” to whom meat was necessary—in other words, they were initiated into all the mysteries of the faith.

My husband enjoined me not to speak of what I had heard, and I felt very little inclination to do so—my heart was too full. The pleasant dreams and hopes of life were ended now to me. What could I look forward too? Henceforth the stern realities of a lonely and weary existence were all the future that should be mine.

Still, the “Revelation” sanctioning a change in the doctrines and practice of the church, was not yet published; and until polygamy was openly avowed I felt that the doom of my happiness was not yet sealed; and like many another heart-broken woman, I hoped against hope.