marriage for the dead—entering into polygamy—the new wife.
the following evening i went round again to the house, to gaze once more at the form of my dear friend. she was lying in her coffin, dressed for the grave, 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.
oh, 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 morning of her life.
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 is 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[294] 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, for i was about to become a mother, and my[295] health was anything but strong. i hardly felt as if i should have 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 any one 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 practise it, i would at the last moment dash this bitter cup from my lips and take my chance of the consequences in a 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[296] 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 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. 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?
the crisis of a life—entering into polygamy.
to face p. 296.
i was bewildered and almost beside myself, and yet i had to hide my feelings. hope was for ever banished from my[297] 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 never could overcome my early teaching sufficiently to feel that this was right, though such was my wretched fanaticism that i mentally and verbally assented to it. i felt that now i stood alone—our union was severed, there could never be any copartnership 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, piercing my heart 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 woman’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 was to be 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[298] 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.
