The story which I propose to tell in these pages is a plain, unexaggerated record of facts which have come immediately under my own notice, or which I have myself personally experienced. Much that to the reader may seem altogether incredible, would to a Mormon mind appear simply a matter of ordinary every-day occurrence with which every one in Utah is supposed to be perfectly familiar. The reader must please remember that I am not telling—as so many writers have told in newspaper correspondence and sensational stories—the hasty and incorrect statements and opinions gleaned during a short visit to Salt Lake City; but my own experience—the story of a faith, strange, wild, and terrible it may be, but which was once so intimately enwoven with all my associations that it became a part of my very existence itself; and facts, the too true reality of which there are living witnesses by hundreds, and even thousands, who could attest if only they would.
With the reader’s permission I shall briefly sketch my experience from the very beginning.
I was born in the year 1829, in St. Heliers, Jersey—one of the islands of the English Channel.
From my earliest recollection I was favourably disposed to religious influences, and when only fourteen years of age I became a member of the Baptist Church, of which my father and mother were also members. With the simplicity and enthusiasm of youth I was devoted to the religious faith of the denomination to which I had attached myself, and sought to live in a manner which should be acceptable to God.
My childhood passed away without the occurrence of any[2] events which would be worthy of mention, although, of course, my mind was even then receiving that religious bias which afterwards led me to adopt the faith of the Latter-day Saints. Like most girls in their teens I had a natural love of dress—a weakness, if such it be, of the sex generally. I was not extravagant, for that I could not be; but thirty years ago members of dissenting churches were more staid in their dress and demeanour and were less of the world, I think, than they are to-day. In plainness of dress the Methodists and Baptists much resembled the Quakers. My girlish weakness caused me to be the subject of many a reprimand from older church-members who were rather strict in their views. I well remember one smooth-faced, pious, corpulent brother, who was old enough to be my father, saying to me one day: “My dear young sister, were it not for your love of dress, I have seriously thought that I would some day make you my wife.” I wickedly resolved that if a few bright coloured ribbons would disgust my pious admirer, it should not be my fault if he still continued to think of me. But many of our other church-members were more lenient. Our good minister in particular bore with my imperfections, as he said, on account of my youth and inexperience; and later still, when I was ready to leave my native island, an extra ribbon or a fashionable dress had not affected my standing in the Baptist denomination.
I mention these trifles, not because I attach any importance to them in themselves, but because similar religious tendencies and a devotional feeling were almost universally found to be the causes which induced men and women to join the Mormon Church. From among Roman Catholics, who place unquestioning confidence in their priesthood, and also from among persons predisposed to infidelity, came few, if any, converts to Mormonism. But it was from among the religiously inclined, the Evangelical Protestants of the Old World, that the greater number of proselytes came.
But to return to my story. I was one of the younger members of a large family; and when I thought of the future I readily saw that if I desired a position in life I should have to make it for myself; and this I resolved to do. I began by consulting all my friends who I thought would be able to counsel or assist me in carrying out my determination; and before long I found the opportunity which I sought. An English lady, the wife of a captain in the British army, to whom I had confided my aspirations, proposed—although I[3] was not yet fifteen years of age—to take me with her to France, in the temporary capacity of governess, to her children, assuring me at the same time that she would advance my interests in every possible way after our arrival.
This lady and her husband were as kind to me as my own parents could have been; and soon after our arrival in France they procured for me a situation in one of the best schools in St. Brieux, called the Maison-Martin, where, young as I was, I engaged myself to teach the young ladies fancy-needlework and embroidery, as well as to give lessons in English. Some of the elder girls, I soon found, were further advanced in fancy-needlework and some other matters than I was myself. This, of course, I did not tell them; but to supply my deficiency I spent many a midnight hour in study and in preparing myself to give the advanced instructions which would be required by my pupils on the following day. For some time after I began my work as teacher in that school, I spent the whole of my salary in paying for private lessons to keep me in advance of my pupils. It was for awhile a severe task and a strain upon my youthful energies; but I have never since regretted it, as it gave an impulse to my mind that has remained with me through life.
I had not been more than six months in my situation when the parents of one of the pupils objected to the school retaining a Protestant teacher, and I was consequently given to understand that unless I consented to be instructed, if nothing more, in the Roman Catholic faith, I could not remain in my present position. This was my first experience of that religious intolerance of which I afterwards saw so much. The principal of the establishment, however, being very kindly disposed towards me, advised me to submit, and it was finally agreed that I should be allowed twelve months for instruction and consideration.
During this probationary year I attended mass every morning from seven to eight o’clock, and was present at vespers at least three times a week. Every Saturday morning I accompanied my pupils to the confessional, where I had to remain from seven o’clock till noon; after which we returned to breakfast. On Sundays there was the usual morning mass, and after that high mass; and in the afternoon, from two to four, we listened to a sermon. In addition to all these services, at which I was expected to “assist,” a very good-looking, interesting young priest was appointed to attend to the spiritual instruction of the young Protestant, as they called me, after[4] school hours. He saw me frequently, but he was ill-qualified to instruct me in the Catholic faith or to remove my doubts, for he was not himself too happy in the sacerdotal robe. At first he aimed at convincing me that the apostolic priesthood vested in the fishermen of Galilee had descended in unbroken succession in the Church of Rome; but he seemed to me much more inclined for a flirtation than for argument; I thought I could at times discover something of regret on his own part at having taken holy orders; and in after years I heard that he had abandoned his profession.
To the numerous stories of Catholic oppression and artifice in undermining Protestants and seducing them from their faith, I cannot add my own testimony. Those among whom I lived very naturally desired that I should be instructed in their religion, and join the church to which they belonged; but their bearing towards me was ever kind and respectful; although when the twelve months of probation had expired, I found myself as much attached to the religion of my childhood as ever, and had in consequence to resign my situation. I had made many warm friends in the school, and none were kinder to me than the principal, who proved her attachment by finding for me a lucrative situation in a wealthy private family.
My new position was a decided advance in social life. The family consisted of husband and wife, two children, the husband’s brother, and an elderly uncle. The little girls were, when I first knew them, of the ages of five and seven years respectively. The young gentleman alluded to—the husband’s brother—had been educated for the church, but when the proper time came had refused to take orders; the uncle was a fine old gentleman, a retired general in the French army, and a bachelor. Altogether they formed as happy a domestic circle as I had ever known. The position which I occupied among them was that of governess and English teacher to the two little girls.
My young charges during the first year made rapid progress, which was very gratifying to the family, and secured for me their good-will and interest. Had I been their nearest relative I could not have received more respect and consideration from them. One member of the circle alone seemed to be entirely indifferent to my presence; this was the brother of Monsieur D——. Though I had lived in the same house with him a whole year, and had sat at the same table every day, scarcely a word had ever passed between us beyond a formal salutation.
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The young gentleman was very handsome, and when conversing with others his manner was extremely fascinating. I did not believe that I particularly desired his attentions, but his indifference annoyed me—for I had never before been treated with such coldness, and I determined to become as frigid and formal as he could possibly be himself. This formal acquaintanceship continued for two years, and I persuaded myself that I had become altogether indifferent to the presence of my icicle, while at the same time all the other members of the family increased in their manifestations of attachment to me.
But trifles often possess a great significance. It was the custom of the family to get up a little lottery once a week for the children, if my report of their deportment and progress was favourable. In this lottery were presents of books, toys, gloves, and a variety of fancy articles, and among them there was sure to be a bouquet of choice flowers for “Mademoiselle-Miss,” as they familiarly called me. I knew not positively whom to thank, although I instinctively felt from whom they came, for the other members of the family always made me more useful presents. In time one little attention led to another, until at the end of three years I found myself the fiancée of the wealthy Constant D——.
Madame D—— was opposed to my marriage with her brother-in-law, as she desired that he should marry one of her own wealthy cousins of the old noblesse of France. She treated me, notwithstanding, with great kindness, and confined her opposition to persuading me not to listen to her brother’s suit; but finding opposition to his wishes ineffectual, she finally consented to our engagement, which took place in the following winter.
From what I observed of the relations which existed between husbands and wives in France, I did not feel perfectly happy in the thought of becoming the wife of a Frenchman, although I dearly loved the French people. Several of my young lady acquaintances, I knew, had married because it was fashionable, and especially because it was an emancipation from what ladies in the higher ranks of society regarded as a severe social restraint. It was considered shocking for any young lady to be seen talking to a young gentleman in the street; indeed it was hardly proper for any unmarried girl to be seen in the street at all without a bonne or some married lady to accompany her. But immediately she was married she was at liberty to flirt and promenade with all the gentlemen[6] of her acquaintance, while her husband enjoyed the same liberty among the ladies. This state of affairs did not at all coincide with my English ideas, for to me the very thought of marriage was invested with the most sacred obligations, and I knew I should never be able to bring my mind to accept less from my husband than I should feel it my duty to render to him.
I loved the French people, and was pleased with their polite mannerism, but I was not French in character; and though the prospect before me of an alliance with a wealthy and noble family was certainly pleasant, and I was greatly attached to my fiancé, my mind was considerably agitated upon the subject of marriage, as it had before been occupied with religion.
During my sojourn in France I had frequently questioned myself whether I had not done wrong in remaining absent for so many years from my home and from communion with the church of my childhood, and I had always looked forward to the time when I should return to them again. To this occasional self-examination was now added another cause of anxiety, produced by the thought of marriage with a person of a different faith. Marriage, to me, was the all-important event in a woman’s life, and some mysterious presentiment seemed to forewarn me that marriage in my life was to be more than an ordinary episode—though little did I then dream that it would have a polygamic shaping.
My young ambition alone had led me to France. I had aspired to an honourable social position, and had found both it and also devoted friends. Sometimes I felt that I could not relinquish what I had gained; at other times I yearned for the associations of my childhood and the guiding hand of earlier friends. The conflict in my mind was often painful. My early prejudices and the teachings of those around me induced me to believe that the Roman Catholic religion was entirely wrong; yet, notwithstanding, while living among Catholics I saw nothing to condemn in their personal lives, but much to the contrary. In fact, Romanism fascinated me, while it failed to convince my judgment.
While labouring under these conflicting sentiments, I resolved to visit my native land, to consult with my parents about my contemplated marriage; and for that purpose I asked and obtained two months’ vacation. Surely some mysterious destiny must have been drawing me to England at that particular crisis, and before the fulfilling of my engagement, which would have changed so entirely the whole current of my existence.