LIFE AMONG THE SAINTS—MY NEW ENGAGEMENTS.  
I was now a Mormon in every sense of the word, although entirely ignorant of Utah politics and polygamy.
My dreams were of a life of happiness spent in seeking to convert the whole world to the religion of Jesus, which I believed had been restored again to earth by the ministry of holy angels. It is easy to say that such an ambition was ill-directed when associated with Mormonism, but no one can deny that, in itself, it was the noblest and purest that could inspire the heart of man. There was no sacrifice too great for me to make; there was no object too dear for me to resign, if it stood in the way of my sacred calling. The whole current of my thoughts and plans was now changed. It was henceforth my duty to be entirely forgetful of self, and to devote my energies—my all—to the advancement of the Kingdom of God. My life was to be identified with the Saints,—my faith required it, and I was willing that it should be so.
But what of my beloved France, all this time; and my betrothed husband?
This reflection aroused within me a most painful train of thought. How many fond and endearing memories entwined themselves around my heart at that moment, when most I needed to banish them for ever! With what lingering love did I look back to those dear ones from whom I had parted but a few short weeks before, and whom I might perhaps never see again! To return would be to desert my newly-adopted friends and faith—to violate the covenant which I had made at baptism to “be ever afterwards governed by the servants of God.”
No; it was too late—I could not now return;—I tried to persuade myself that I did not even wish to;—in a word, affection, and what I thought duty, were at war together in my heart. All my former ties and associations must now be severed, however terrible the cost might be; and I was bound[26] not only to submit, but even to glory in the sacrifice. Thus I argued away the regrets which would at times agitate my very soul, and cause me much painful thought.
The trial of my profession in the new faith came swiftly to my door. My marriage-engagement must be broken off, though I knew not how that could honourably and conscientiously be done. Of myself I had no wish to draw back from anything that I had promised of my own free will; and much less did I desire to be faithless to my solemnly plighted word.
I now first realized the all-absorbing influence of an earnest religious faith. I was brought face to face with the fact that I could not marry out of the Mormon Church. The teaching of the Elders was against it, and I saw that in this they were consistent. Great as was the trial, and painful as was the sacrifice, I resolved to be true to my religion. How very earnestly the Elders insisted upon such sacrifices, may be seen from an appeal made at a later date by the “Apostle” Orson Pratt. Brother Orson was in Europe, and, speaking authoritatively, he set forth the duties of mothers and daughters in “Babylon,” as he graciously styled the rest of the world, in the following terms, which unmistakably show the purposes of the leaders relative to marriage:—
“Many of you have daughters, some of whom are grown to womanhood; others are now young. Would, you have them gather with you to a land where virtue and peace dwell, where God has promised to protect and bless the righteous? If so, teach them, as they love their parents, and the Saints, and the truth, not to throw themselves away by marrying Gentiles; teach them to keep themselves entirely aloof from Gentile courtships and associations. Scores of women who once were counselled as you are now, are mourning in wretchedness, in bondage to Gentile husbands, cut off from all privilege of gathering with their fathers, mothers, brethren, and sisters; and, in some instances, cut off from even attending the Saints’ meetings. But this is not all. They are raising up children in these lands to perish with themselves in the general desolations coming upon Babylon. But what is still more aggravating and heart-rending, they are raising up children not only destined for temporal judgments, but who must for ever be cut off from the presence of God and the glory of the celestial kingdom.... What fearful responsibility for any young sister to voluntarily take upon herself, after all the warnings she has received. See to it, then,[27] parents, that you not only do not give your consent, but actually forbid all such marriages....
“Let them marry according to the holy order of God, and begin to lay the foundation of a little family kingdom which shall no more be scattered upon the face of the earth, but dwell in one country, keeping their genealogies from generation to generation, until each man’s house shall be multiplied as the stars of heaven.”
These were the influences which were brought to bear upon my mind at a time when it was peculiarly sensitive, and open to impressions from without.
While in this uncertain state a little incident occurred which, though in itself of the most trifling nature, assisted in forming my ultimate decision.
It was a beautiful evening in early summer, and my mother and sister asked me to accompany them to one of the testimony-meetings which I have already described. This meeting was very similar to the others, with one notable exception:—it was here that I saw and heard, for the first time in my own experience, the “gift of tongues” exercised.
Long before I had even heard of Mormonism, I had frequently thought how wonderfully useful this gift must have been to the Apostles. One of the great difficulties encountered by the missionary is learning the language of the people among whom he works and lives. To be able to dispense with all this labour, and to be understood wherever he went, must have lightened the mind of the holy man of half its load; and naturally, when I heard that the Mormons had “the Gift of Tongues,” I supposed it was the self-same power of diverse speech as that exercised by the Apostles; and I presume the reader will conjecture with me that it was the same “gift,” or, at least, some imitation of it. How surprised I was when I first discovered the meaning of the term “speaking in tongues” among the Mormons, may perhaps be imagined when I explain what happened at that testimony-meeting.
After prayer, and singing, and listening to several very fervent addresses from some of the elders, Brother Seely had delivered a most impassioned speech, and had hardly concluded, when Sister Ellis, who was sitting near me, gave evidence of being in an abnormal condition of mind, which to me was painful in the extreme. Her hands were clenched, and her eyes had that wild and supernatural glare which is never seen, save in cases of lunacy or intense feverish excitement.[28] Every one waited breathlessly, listening to catch what she might say;—you might have heard a pin drop.
Then in oracular language and with all the impassioned dignity of one inspired of heaven, she began to speak.
I say “speak,” as that term is generally applied to the utterances of the human voice; but she did not speak in the sense in which we always employ that word; she simply emitted a series of sounds. They seemed to me chiefly the repetition of the same syllables—something like a child repeating, la, la, la, le, lo; ma, ma, ma, mi, ma; dele, dele, dele, dela—followed, perhaps, by a number of sounds strung together, which could not be rendered in any shape by the pen. Sometimes in the Far West, in later years, I have heard old Indian women, crooning weirdly monotonous and outlandish ditties in their native tongue. These wild dirges, more nearly than anything else I ever heard, resembled the prophetic utterances of Sister Ellis; save only, that the appearance of the latter was far too solemn to admit of even a smile at what she said.
Ridiculous as this appears when I now write it down on paper, and strange as even then it was to me, there was something so commanding, so earnest, so “inspirational,” if I may be allowed the term, in Sister Ellis’s manner, that I could not wonder at the attention which the brethren and sisters paid to this gifted speaker in tongues.
I now know that these extraordinary displays are by no means confined to Mormonism. People of a certain temperament, excited to frenzy—generally by religious enthusiasm—have in all ages given painful illustrations of this mental disease; as the student who remembers the Convulsionnaires of the middle ages, the Munster Anabaptists of Luther’s time, and the various emotional sects of more modern days, will abundantly bear me witness. But at that time, new in the faith, and believing as I did that, as the Elders said, it was the manifestion of the power of God, as foretold by the prophet Joel, though I secretly felt a sense of repugnance, I tried to combat my better sentiments.
Overcome by the excitement of the moment, Sister Ellis suddenly paused, not so much intentionally as from sheer inability to proceed; and the leading Elders looked round from one to another to see if any one was present who could interpret. The gift of interpretation is very rarely possessed by the same person who has the gift of tongues, and you may often hear one after another arise and “speak,” but there is[29] no one to “interpret,” and the Saints go away unedified. Even when an interpreter is present, there is no authority to determine whether he gives the proper rendering of the sounds uttered, and I have over and over again heard the most ludicrous stories of the comical interpretation placed by some half-witty or half-witted expounder upon these oracles.
When Brother Brigham—then a man who was lowly in his own eyes—first met the prophet Joseph Smith, at Kirtland, Ohio, there was a scene somewhat like the one I have described; and the future leader of “this people,” as he calls the Saints, himself spake with tongues and uttered wonderful things. But even supposing his words at that time to have been of the wisest, we all know from the example of Balaam’s reprover, that it does not require a very high order of intellect to speak in unaccustomed language—and that, too, to some purpose. In later days the exercise of this gift has been discouraged by the Elders, and especially by Brigham Young. Going one day, some years after, to the Lion-House to see a certain member of the Prophet’s little family concerning a subject which lay very near to my heart at that time, we prayed together earnestly and anxiously; when suddenly the lady’s face was lighted up with a supernatural glow, and placing her hand on my head she, sibyl-like, poured forth a flood of eloquence which—although I did not understand a single word that was uttered—I confess sent through me a magnetic thrill as if I had been listening to an inspired seeress. Another of Brigham’s wives who was present interpreted the words of blessing to me, but added: “Do not speak of this, Sister Stenhouse, for Brother Young does not like to hear of these things.” Thus we see that one inspired prophet in the presence of another “prophet, seer, and revelator,” could himself take part at one time in a miraculous manifestation, which in later years he “would not like to hear of,” if it was only one of his many wives who enacted the prophet’s r?le.
But my meeting! I have wandered far away from that. Let me proceed.
After more testimony, more “speaking,” and much enthusiasm, the Saints separated. My sister was talking with a young-lady friend, and regretting that no one present had been able to interpret; and I stood by, but did not join in the conversation. Suddenly the young lady turned to me and said: “Sister Fanny, do you not see in all this, more and more, the convincing power of God?”
[30]
Rather hesitatingly I replied, “Yes, I think I do.”
“Think! sister?” said she, with warmth. “Oh, yes, I see by your looks that you are only half convinced; your faith is not strong enough yet; but remember, whatsoever is of doubt is sin!”
“But,” I answered, “I do not see clearly what good we receive from these manifestations when no one can understand them.”
“That is your want of faith—nothing else; you have the evidence of the truth before you, and you see how these miraculous powers build up the belief of God’s people; and yet you doubt. To doubt is sin: whatsoever is not of faith is sin. You must pray and strive, sister, to be strengthened against temptation.”
All this was not very logical, and it certainly did not help to dispel my doubts. But twice in the course of a few short sentences, she had used a certain expression which, though trifling in itself, was recalled to my mind very forcibly before many days had passed.
This was my first experience of speaking in tongues.
But there were every-day matters of much more real importance to me than those strange speculations which had recently employed so much of my time and attention. It was now necessary that I should either return to France and fulfil my engagement with Monsieur D—— or else resolve, once and for ever, to renounce all those ties which had become so dear to me.
Meanwhile, religious theories were not the only influences brought to bear upon my mind.
While day by day I began to be still more doubtful whether it would not after all be sinful in God’s sight for me to leave my friends in the new faith and go back to France and my betrothed, who I knew neither was nor ever could become a Saint, other thoughts began to intrude themselves, and to shake my determination.
Elder Stenhouse’s visits to my father’s house began to be more frequent than ever, but as he desired to become familiar with the French language, and would bring his French grammar with him “to get a lesson,” as he said, no particular notice was taken of his frequent coming. He was always welcomed with pleasure by the whole family, and, of course, by myself, who was his teacher. After awhile he took so much delight in his studies that he could not endure to let an evening pass without a lesson; and somehow or other, I must confess, it[31] was the first time since I had been a teacher that I felt such a peculiar pleasure in imparting instruction. I suppose it was the interest which all teachers experience when their pupils are studiously inclined. My pupil was particularly studious—so much so that he told my father and mother that he could not study very well in the parlour where every one was conversing, and begged the privilege of having the folding doors thrown partly open, that we might sit in the back parlour and be more quiet.
This was granted. But after a few evenings my pupil took a notion to partly close the folding doors after him, and, as mother’s eyes are ever watchful, one of my sisters was sent in with her sewing to keep us company. But my pupil by this time had made rapid progress in the French language, and while my sister was innocently sewing, he was repeating his lesson to me; and it was not our fault if in those French phrase-books there were passages expressive of love and devotion. Unconsciously to us both, he formed the habit of repeating those phrases to me at all times, and I formed the equally bad habit of blushing whenever he made use of them.
This my sister observed, and communicated the fact to my mother, who immediately said that we had better discontinue our French for awhile, as it was monopolizing too much of our time, and keeping both of us from attending to other and more important duties. But the discontinuation of the French lessons did not put an end to the visits of Elder Stenhouse. He was a persevering young man; but the secret of the great interest taken in the French lessons was soon discovered.
Then it was that arguments of all kinds, and strong reasons, were brought forward to shake my purpose of returning to France. I was “in doubt;” when one day, discussing the point, Elder Stenhouse made use of the very same expression which had fallen from the sister’s lips at the testimony-meeting—“Whatsoever is not of faith is sin.” My mind unsettled, with all the strength of argument and religion on the one side, and on the other no one to plead for reason and for my return to France, who can wonder that I—at best only a weak and inexperienced girl—listened to the entreaties of my friends, and resolved to stay.
In the course of a few months I was engaged to be married to Elder Stenhouse. It may, perhaps, seem strange that I could so soon forget the past, with all its pleasant memories and[32] renouncing my betrothed husband, accept the attentions of another; but it should be remembered that I now firmly believed it was my duty—a duty which I dared not neglect—to blot out for ever all past associations, however dear to my heart they might be. Besides which, I, in common with all around me, had learned to look upon Elder Stenhouse as almost an angel, on account of what he had endured for the gospel’s sake; and I thought that any girl might consider herself honoured by an offer of marriage from a man in his position in the Church. My marriage in France would, I feared, have been but doubtful happiness in this world, and certain ruin in the next; but heaven itself would bless my union with one of its own ordained and tried servants.
Thus it came to pass that on the 6th of February, 1850—eight months after my arrival in Southampton—I was married to the young Mormon missionary, Elder Stenhouse. I entered upon my new sphere as a missionary’s wife, feeling that there were no obstacles so great that I could not overcome them for the gospel’s sake. How little could I then imagine the life that was before me!
I wrote to my friends in France. I told them frankly all. In return they wrote to me—especially Monsieur D——, entreating me to alter my determination. Kind, and very gentle, were those letters. Dear, very dear, has been the memory of them, and of their writers, in later days. But at the time I felt that the influence which they still retained over me was in itself a sin.