menu_book Chapter 32

32. ENTERING INTO POLYGAMY. THE NEW WIFE. The following evening I went round again to the house to gaze once more at the form of And I looked at her long and tenderly as she rested, sleeping there.

Her features were peaceful and natural, as if in slumber. An expression of calm tranquillity hovered around her countenance. And in the repose of death she seemed almost happy. Poor girl! Her life had been short indeed, and she had known but little pleasure, but I believed

that she was now beyond the reach of earthly sorrow and earthly disappointment, happy in that land where suffering and tears are all unknown. There shall be no night there, the lord of that other life had said. Sorrow and sighing shall flee away from that bright and glorious land, and the grief and pain which on earth are the portion of so many tried and weary hearts shall find no

entrance into that eternal rest which our Father in Heaven has prepared for us, beyond the floods of death. O better far, I thought, it is that thus she should pass away. True she has seen but little of life, and has not tasted many of its joys, but as a compensation, how much has she been spared!

She was so gentle and so sensitive, so unfit to battle with the stern realities of existence, that I felt she had gained rather than lost in being taken away in the mourning of her life. Those anxieties, trials and cares which are more or less the portion of every one of us would never weary her now, and especially she was forever beyond the reach of those

painful thoughts and feelings which are the lot of the Mormon women alone. Certainly she thought, as also did I, that in that other future life, after the resurrection, we should live together a life much like that which we lived on earth, only more glorious and happy. We could not marry or be given in marriage in the world to come, but those who had been

united on earth for eternity, whether personally or by proxy, would in heaven lead a married life together and fulfill all the duties and obligations of that position. Carrie believed firmly that if I were sealed to my husband for her, she would be his second wife in heaven, and the reason why I had promised to be married for her before my husband was united to other wives, was that by doing so she would rank before all the rest.

I as first wife would be queen in my husband's kingdom if I continued faithful and very obedient. Carrie as second wife would rank next to me, and the others who might afterwards be added would be placed according to the date of their marriage. We, none of us, doubted that all this was true, and the thought that by her marriage with my husband she would be sure of exaltation in the celestial kingdom had comforted the

last hours of my poor friend. I was musing sadly over these things as I returned home that evening, resolved that nothing on my part should be left undone which might ensure her future happiness, and I presumed that in my mind her death and the promise which I had made were the all-absorbing thoughts. Certain it is that a little incident occurred to me which produced a vivid impression upon

my mind, then and for a long time after I believed that I was visited by my departed friend. Now I was not naturally superstitious and I would not, on any account, have the reader think that I was a believer in the very extraordinary claims of modern spiritualism. At the time of which I speak I knew absolutely nothing of the manifestations and communications received

in seances. I had in fact been so isolated and was so ignorant of the doings of the world in general that I had never even heard of such things. I certainly did not believe that apparitions of the dead returned to trouble us with communications of any kind, but nevertheless I was that night convinced that Carrie's spirit stood beside me and spoke to me just as in life she might herself have done.

Even now, after the lapse of several years, I hardly know what to think of the matter, for it made such a powerful impression on my mind. Probably it was all a dream, a vivid and life-like dream, but nothing more. The reader will remember that at that time I was in a very delicate condition of health, my mind was quite unsettled with trouble and anxiety, and for some time past my thoughts had been constantly fixed upon poor Carrie

and her sad fate. These circumstances combined might perhaps have shaped my ideas and raised up before me that strange vision. To me, however, at that time it had all the force of reality, and while I leave it to the reader's common sense to determine what really were the facts of the case, I think I should not be justified in altogether omitting an incident so singular, which at such a critical period of my life so strongly affected me.

I was sitting alone in my room and reading when suddenly I felt as if someone had opened the door and entered, and I looked round to see who it was. I felt a presence, if I may so speak, but I saw no one, so thinking that I was nervous and resolved to control my feelings I took up my book again and tried to interest myself in it. A few minutes elapsed and then I was startled again, for I felt sure that someone was leaning over me and I seemed almost

to hear them breathe. Quite certain now that the events of the preceding day had unsettled my mind I laid aside my book and prepared to retire for the night, but still I could not get rid of that feeling which we all experience when someone is near us whom we cannot see but of whose presence we are instinctively aware. After disrobing I lay down and began to read until I was sleepy. I then turned down the

light without entirely extinguishing it when immediately after the presence seemed to stand beside my bed and I lost all power over myself. I was not, I believed, asleep but at the same time I did not seem to be perfectly awake. But the presence was now no longer invisible. I plainly saw Carrie leaning over me. Is that you Carrie? I said.

Yes, she answered, or seemed to answer. I want something from you. Then pointing to a gold ring upon my finger, not my wedding ring, though it was a wedding ring, she said, I want you to give me that ring. You shall have it, I answered, and then she bent over me and kissed my cheek. I distinctly felt the coldness of her lips as she touched me and in another instant she was gone.

I was wide awake but trembling and covered with a cold perspiration, for I felt certain that Carrie's spirit had been with me, and now that she had spoken to me I felt that the presence in the room was gone. I could sleep no more although all fear had left me and I lay awake for hours thinking over the matter and trying to explain it away. In the morning I persuaded myself that it was all a dream or the effects of a disturbed imagination,

but as I had promised, whether dreaming or awake, it mattered little, to give her the ring I resolved to keep my word and put it on her finger secretly as she lay in the coffin. With that intention I went to the house some time before the funeral was appointed to take place, but as there was constantly someone in the room I felt ashamed to carry out my purpose lest they should think me silly to do such a thing. As the time approached when

they should carry her to the grave I became so troubled about the ring that I could not rest so I went into another room where one of Brigham Young's wives and a plural wife of Carrie's father were talking together and I told them of my dream, for so I called the vision of my dead friend although it seemed to me reality. They urged me to lose no time, but to go instantly and put the ring on the finger of the corpse. If you do not, they

said, you will never feel happy. She will never rest, but will sure to come back to reproach you. So I went and did as they said. Without anyone noticing me I stood beside the casket and raised the beautiful hand which looked so pure and wax-like, but oh, so cold, and I placed the ring on the wedding finger and then covered it with the other hand. Then again beside the dead body of my friend I vowed to be faithful to the promise that I

had made to her and after that I felt at peace. Not long subsequently I went to the house and finally to this my husband returned home. The following morning he took from his pocket a very beautiful ring which he presented to me, asking me to wear it for his sake. Directly after he held up another, a plain gold ring and asked me if I knew who that was for. I thought that I knew, for as he was soon to be married to Miss Pratt I supposed it was

for her. My pride however would not allow me to say so. I therefore simply replied that I did not know, feeling at the same time very much inclined to add, you had better give this one with it, whoever it is for, for I thought it unkind of him to show Melinda's ring to me. I was silent however and he then said, this one I bought for Carrie when I received your letter. Then I shall have to wear it now, I said and then I told him all

that I had just related. But I think he considered it only a dream or the fancy of a troubled imagination. I now expected very soon to be called upon to undergo the most painful ordeal that any wife can be required to pass through. I was to give my husband another wife, such as the sacrifice demanded of every Mormon woman. The thought of doing this was worse than death to me. I felt injured, humiliated and degraded by it and yet I still tried to

believe that it was the will of God and must therefore be right. To me this outrage upon all the purest feelings of womanhood seemed more like the will of men, men of the basest and most unholy passions. It was repulsive to me in whatever form it was presented, but still I reproached my own rebellious heart for feeling so, for I had been told that the ways of the Lord were past finding out and however unlike him this revelation might appear,

we Mormon women had been taught that it was our duty to bend our wills and to suffer in unquestioning and uncomplaining silence. As the time approached I felt like a condemned criminal awaiting the day of execution. A sense of apprehension, a dread of coming evil, was ever present to my mind and everything appeared to me through the medium of my griefs. To a certain extent my husband also suffered, for it would be impossible, I think, for any

man to see his wife suffering so intensely without feeling for her and I sometimes believed that his sympathy for me was so great that if he had dared he would even then have refused to obey the counsel of the priesthood. Then too he had a little trouble of his own, for he began to realize that this innovation upon the sanctity of our home would make a great change in his future. His freedom would be gone. However gratifying it may be to a man's

feelings to know that there is no limit to his privileges and that he is always at liberty, no matter how many wives he may already possess, to fall in love with every pretty girl he meets and marry her if she consents. Yet every intelligent man must be conscious that it can be no easy matter to keep peace between many wives in one house and that if he wishes to act rightly by all he must train himself to be scrupulously just, never showing any

partiality in look or deed or even by a word. There are many such men among the Mormons. They are conscientious and good men who try to live their religion, but who at the same time desire to act kindly towards their wives. My husband began to realize the great responsibility that he was about to take upon himself and seeing his thoughtful and troubled look I tried to hide my own feelings, for every true wife knows that nothing so powerfully arouses

a woman to struggle with her own sorrows as the knowledge that her husband is unhappy. The dreaded day at length arrived, the day which for so long and with such painful forebodings I had anticipated. I had spent a very wakeful and unhappy night and felt very sick and nervous and my health was anything but strong. I hardly felt as if I should have the courage to go through that day. I was, however, compelled to nerve myself to the task and I began to

make my preparations for going to the endowment house. The only thing that gave me strength was the thought that my husband had consented that I should go through the ceremony of being married to him that day for Carrie, for even then I supposed that those who would be married in heaven must first be married on earth and that too by those who had received authority from on high.

Ever since I had first embraced Mormonism I had been entirely cut off from Gentile society, although living in the Gentile world. Abroad and also when in New York the cares of a family kept me very much at home and the continual state of apprehension in which I was rendered me averse to visiting among friends. Thus it was that I never conversed freely with anyone who could have informed me truthfully of the origin of Mormonism and consequently

I brooded over my religion as a melancholy fact. But though with moments of weakness and wavering I never thoroughly doubted its divine origin. The terrible sacrifice which was about to be required of me might, I thought, be painful to make, but it was no less the will of God. I must submit whatever the effort might cost me. The morning was bright and lovely, a morning calculated to inspire happy hopes and pleasant

feelings, but to me it brought nothing but fear and trembling. Even the innocent prattle of my children annoyed me and they not knowing how deeply I was suffering looked at me with wonder in their eyes. Oh, I thought, surely my husband will at length comprehend the greatness of the love I bear him. Surely he will now appreciate the sacrifice I make for his sake and for my religion? Even now if I did not know that he believes this doctrine to be

true and he would feel condemned if through any opposition of mine he were not allowed to practice, I would at the last moment dash this bitter cup from my lips and take my chance of the consequences in the future state. Utterly cast down and broken-hearted, I felt almost as if the Lord himself had forsaken me and there was no one to whom I could look for aid. I could not go to my husband in that hour for sympathy, for I well knew that his

thoughts must be with his intended bride and that my sorrows would only trouble him at a time when he must desire to be at peace, besides which I was too proud to plead for love at a shrine that I felt should rightfully be all my own, and then too I knew not but what he might tell her of my feelings and it would be too great a humiliation for me should she think me jealous of the position which she now occupied and her influence over

my husband. With such feelings I went to the endowment house. There at the altar I was to give proof of my obedience and of my faith in my religion by placing the hand of the new wife in that of my husband. The thought was almost madness. To have followed my husband to the grave would have been a terrible blow to me, but to live to see him the husband of another woman was something that seemed to me beyond endurance. Notwithstanding every

effort of faith doubts would arise and in bitterest anguish I thought, this is more like the work of a cruel man than of God. Why should man have this power over woman and she so helpless? Surely a just and impartial God can have nothing to do with this. There was a darkness before my eyes and struggle as I might I could see no ray of light, no glimmering of hope. First my husband was married to Miss Pratt and then to me for Carrie. Thus

I fulfilled my pledge to my departed friend. Later in the day I placed the ring which my husband had bought for her upon my finger instead of the one which I had put on her wedding finger in the coffin. I shall always wear it in remembrance of her, although among the Mormons at that time wedding rings were never thought of and to this day are only used by the more educated and refined who cling to the gentile customs. I had found

before going to the endowment house that I could not have Carrie sealed to my husband next to me for Belinda had objected and her mother had appealed to Brigham Young about it. They told me that he had said that the living had claims before the dead, although my own feelings would have led me to think otherwise. Brigham Young performed the ceremony. He sat at the end of the altar and we three knelt down, my husband on one side and Miss

Pratt and myself on the other. Speaking to me Brigham Young asked, Are you willing to give this woman to your husband to be his lawful wife for time and for all eternity? If you are, you will signify it by placing her right hand within the right hand of your husband. I did so, but what words can describe my feelings? The anguish of a whole lifetime was crowded into that one single moment. The painful meaning of those words, for all eternity,

withered my soul and the unending contract which my husband had made with another woman was practically a divorce from me. I had now laid everything upon the altar of sacrifice, for I had given away my husband. What more could the Lord require of me that I was not prepared to do? I was bewildered and almost beside myself, and yet I had to hide my feelings. Hope was forever banished from my life. To whom could I look for sympathy among those

who were around me? They were most of them men who had ruthlessly wrecked the lives and lacerated the hearts of hundreds of women before my turn came and the sight of an unhappy wife was so common in their experience that it was more likely to awaken their anger than their pity. I felt this instinctively and I resolved that they should never know how much my poor heart was torn. My husband, it is true, was there, my husband. Was he not

now the husband of another woman and therefore no longer belonging to me? I knew that I could never overcome my early teaching sufficiently to feel that this was right, though such was my wretched fanaticism that I mentally and verbally ascended to it. I felt that now I stood alone. Our union was severed. There could never be any co-partnership between that other wife and myself. No, never. Salvation or no salvation, it was impossible that I

could ever love her. From that day I began to hide all my sorrows from my husband and it was but very seldom that I uttered a word of discontent and when I expressed what I felt it was in anger but never in sorrow seeking sympathy. I remember when we returned home, that home which had now lost its charm, for the young wife was to live there. My husband said to me, You have been very brave, but it is not so hard to bear after all, is it?

I had hidden my feelings so well that he really thought that I was indifferent. But during the remainder of the day, how I watched their looks and noticed every word. To me their tender tones were daggers and filling me with a desire to revenge myself upon the father of my children. Oh, what fanatics we Mormon women have been ever to have believed for a single moment that a just and loving father and God would have given a command that in

almost every instance has produced such fearful results upon those who should have been happy wives and mothers and consequently upon their children. Indeed, even then it made me feel that there was no justice in heaven. If this love which is the best part of women's nature, this love that we had always believed was a part of divinity itself, this principle without which there would be nothing worth living for, if this had been made our greatest

curse and the woman who showed herself most actuated by this gentle influence was to be the greatest victim. I felt that day that if I could not get away by myself alone and give expression to my overcharged feelings I should certainly lose my reason. I was utterly miserable. It was only in the dead of night in my own chamber that I gave way to the terrible anguish that was consuming me. God and my own soul can alone bear witness to what I

suffered in that time of woe. That night was to me such as even the most God-forsaken might pray never to know, and morning dawned without my having for a moment closed my eyes.