MY HUSBAND’S MISSION—I AM LEFT ALONE.  
When the Apostle Snow called upon Mr. Stenhouse to go to Italy, the Saints willingly accepted the responsibility of providing for me during his absence.
They thought it was more an honour than a burden to have this charge committed to them; but it was very humiliating to me to be placed in such a position, however anxious they might be to assist me and to serve the general cause. To face opposition, or to give my all for my religion, I was willing indeed; but to depend upon others for my daily bread was utterly repugnant to my feelings, although, of course, if the Church sent away my husband, whose proper place and duty it was to support his family, it was only right that the members of that Church should undertake the responsibility. But then, and at many other times during my life, I have learned the truth of Christ’s precept, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
The American Apostle was not without worldly wisdom when he proposed that an unmarried man should be appointed to preside over the Southampton Conference, as his wants would be few. But Mr. Stenhouse had been solicited by a friend, who had a wife and children, to secure his appointment; and with ready confidence in that friend, he overlooked his own interests and my welfare, and I was left to pass through trials and privations which I can never forget.
The Saints were very kind, and took pleasure in doing all they could for me; but the mistake which my husband committed in leaving his friend to succeed him as president of the Conference was soon apparent. The “friend” thought of his own family first, and the family required all that the Saints could reasonably be expected to contribute; and even then they had not enough. I therefore received only such little sums as could be withheld from them; and to make the matter worse, those who had any property or estate were counselled to sell all,[42] and “gather to Zion.” The more wealthy Saints were soon gone; and the current expenses of the church fell heavily upon those who were hardly able to support their own families.
They tried to send me something every week, and I have no doubt they did send me all that they could. When their contributions reached four or five shillings (about $1) I thought myself fortunate; more often I did not receive the value of fifty cents in the whole week, at times less, and sometimes nothing at all. That unfailing comfort to respectable English poverty, a cup of tea, was my greatest luxury, but at times for weeks together I had not even that; I had nothing but bread; but I never complained.
Whenever it was possible I concealed my true situation from every one, and in my almost daily letters to my husband not a shadow of a hint was ever dropped relative to my own privations. I wanted him to be successful in his mission, and I feared that his energy would desert him if he knew of my difficulties. I was in extreme poverty, certainly, but for myself I was not in trouble. God would provide for me, I felt; and it was glorious to suffer in a sacred cause.
But darker days, days of severer trial, were creeping slowly near me. Up to this time I had worshipped God and loved my husband with a perfect heart. Now the dark shadow of an accursed thing was looming in the distance, and approaching surely if slowly.
In some way an idea had got abroad that the Mormons were somewhat unsound respecting the marriage question. Still the elders stoutly denied the charge, and the more they were accused the more strenuous became their denials.
At a public discussion at Boulogne-sur-mer, in France, the Apostle John Taylor, in reply to the accusations of Polygamy which were brought against him, said,—
“We are accused here of actions the most indelicate and disgusting, such as none but a corrupt and depraved heart could have conceived. These things are too outrageous to admit of belief.... I shall content myself with quoting our views of chastity and marriage from a work published by us, containing some of our articles of faith—Doctrine and Covenants.”
He then proceeded to quote from the “Book of Doctrine and Covenants” such passages as the following:—
“Marriage is ordained by God unto man; wherefore it is lawful that he should have one wife, and they twain should be one flesh” (p. 218).
[43]
He quoted many other things also, among which might be enumerated the following:—
“Thou shalt love thy wife with all thy heart, and shalt cleave unto her, and none else.”
He quoted also many other passages of Scripture which had reference to the subject—each powerful to put aside even the idea of polygamy; and each equally powerful as an argument against polygamy itself.
Let the reader here note the value of what Mormons say when their faith is called in question. See and judge.
Brother Taylor, who spoke at that meeting, and utterly denied polygamy, had himself—at that very moment when he so atrociously perjured himself, and when he swore that no Mormon had more than one wife—five wives living in Salt Lake City. One of his friends there present had two wives; and the other was married to a mother, and her own daughter!
Any conclusion, any expression of disgust at these abominations and deliberate perjuries, I leave to the reader.
Among those who came to see Mr. Stenhouse before he left for Italy, was Elder Margetts, an English elder of some prominence in the British mission. At the picnic of which I have already spoken, I noticed that this elder was more than usually attentive to a pretty young sister who was also present. There was always an affectionate familiarity among the Saints; as I previously mentioned, they were like brothers and sisters, and addressed each other as such. But the attentions of the elder I speak of pointed a little beyond all this. He could not, perhaps, be accused of any open impropriety, but he certainly looked much more like the girl’s lover than an ordinary friend or her spiritual adviser.
I knew this Elder’s family in London, and his conduct pained me a good deal. So I drew the attention of my husband to the circumstance; and he said the Elder was foolish, but he would speak to them both; and this he did.
After the departure of the missionaries, this elder remained for several days. He then returned to London, but it was not long before he was again in Southampton, and he still paid marked attention to the same young sister. This caused unpleasant remarks among the Saints, who at this time certainly did not believe that polygamy was practised in Utah.
At a later date this Elder, with some others, was again in Southampton, and I was invited to take tea with them at the house of one of the Saints. In the course of the evening[44] there was a general conversation on “the work of the Lord,” in which I, of course, was greatly interested.
Whenever any of the missionaries were visiting, the Saints would seek their society, just like children who were glad to meet again their parents after a long absence; and at such times they were at liberty to ask what questions they pleased. On the evening I speak of, I well remember that the general subject of conversation was the apostasy of the Christian Church from the true order of God’s salvation. Prominence was given to the history of Abraham and his descendants, and occasional allusion was made to their marital relations; but nothing directly was spoken. It was very evident that these elders only wanted to drop a word or two here and there, to suit those who wanted it; but nevertheless they spoke so obscurely and mysteriously that they could easily have retracted what was said if any one had accused them of teaching a doctrine which they were unwilling openly to avow.
When I returned home that night I was fully satisfied that the Elder I have spoken of had a reason for his frequent visits to Southampton, and shortly after the young sister went to London. Whether Polygamy was ever to be a doctrine of the Church or not, it was very clear to me that the London Elder was a polygamist at heart. The more my mind dwelt on these things, the more sick at heart did I become, and faint and weary.
I had, however, personal cares and trials enough to engage my attention. I found that I could not depend upon the Saints to provide me with even the barest necessaries of life, so I looked about me and made inquiries for some light employment by which I might support myself. My health at that time would not have allowed me to do much, but for a long time I could not get anything at all to do. I had, of course, been used to teaching, but employment of that kind it was just then impossible for me to take, even if I could have got it; the only resource which seemed left to me was to find occupation for my needle, and it was a long and weary time before I could obtain even this.
At length I got a little plain sewing to do, and out of the miserable pittance thus earned I contrived to pay my rent and provide a few necessaries; but at times that too was beyond my power, and I have gone a fortnight at a time with nothing to eat but dry bread. Still my faith never failed. And thus the weary days passed by.
Now, however, a new interest began to gather round my life,[45] for I expected before the end of the year the arrival of a little stranger to share my affections and my care. This certainly was a sad beginning of domestic bliss, but still the thought was pleasant to me. I had at that time no one to aid me or comfort me. The Saints were very kind, but they could not supply the place of an absent husband. My dearest friend, Mary Burton, used to come as often as she could to see me, and her presence was like a gleam of sunshine; but she was so young, and innocent, and happy, that I had not the heart to trouble her with my sorrows. All my jewellery and trinkets, and the greater part of my wardrobe, had gone in providing for my daily wants, and in preparing those necessary trifles upon which a young mother bestows so much loving care. My health was daily failing, and sometimes I doubted if I should ever be well and strong again. But all that I suffered was for the Church, and that thought sustained me.
Often I would sit alone and think—think of the past, and all my early day-dreams of love, and hope, and bliss; think of my husband in a far-off land devoting his life and all his energies to the preaching of the latter-day glory; think of those whisperings of that accursed doctrine which has since brought desolation and anguish to the hearts of so many weary women; think of my future life, dark as its promise even then appeared.
Sometimes I heard from Italy—heard how my husband was progressing with his work, and with wifely love I sympathized with him in all his difficulties, for he told me how arduous the task was in which he was engaged.
It was not the expectation of the Mormon Apostles that the missionaries would do much in Catholic Italy. The same causes were in operation there as affected the work in France. Few, if any, really good Roman Catholics have ever joined the Saints. The Irish mission was never successful, and the same may be said of the French and Italian missions. In France and Italy by far the greater part of the people might be classed under two heads—Roman Catholics, and infidels. The first had already an infallible guide in which they trusted; and as for the infidels, they ridiculed the idea of any guide at all. Both classes were utterly devoid of that acquaintance with Scripture of which the Mormon missionaries understood so well how to take advantage, and which rendered those so susceptible to religious influences who took the Bible as their basis. The missionaries in Italy soon experienced the difficulties presented by these facts.
[46]
After their arrival in Genoa, Mr. Stenhouse was directed to carry the gospel to the Waldenses—those brave old Protestants of the dark ages, who so manfully suffered, even unto death, for conscience sake; and some time after he had begun his labours among them, the Apostle Snow joined him.
Whatever they might believe or teach theoretically, there can be no doubt that the American Apostles were largely endowed with the “organ” of caution. Preaching without purse or scrip among people who either detest you as a heretic or else regard you with profound indifference is not a pleasant task, and the Mormon Apostles very prudently “took up” liberal collections in England before they started. Had it not been for this common-sense proceeding, I am at a loss to say what would have become of the missionaries in Italy; and as it was, their lot was not a very enviable one.
Besides the scarcity of money, the other great difficulty experienced by the missionaries was learning the language of their destined converts. For many years it was supposed among the Saints that the “gift of tongues” would be all-sufficient for this purpose. The two distinguished Apostles, Orson and Parley P. Pratt, whose writings did so much for Mormonism, had both of them eloquently discussed the subject in print; but the missionaries soon discovered that for practical purposes the “gift” was not of much service; and the two Pratts themselves afterwards experienced—the one in South America and the other in Austria—the fallacy of their theories. Without the “gift” in any shape the work in Italy was necessarily very slow, and an Elder who could speak a little French was sent out from London to assist them. They had at last come to the conclusion that if the Lord would not bestow the “gift” upon them, they must try to acquire it themselves.
The Apostle Snow now thought of sending the Gospel to the Swiss, and Mr. Stenhouse was selected for the work. But before he went it was determined that the Church in Italy should be “organized,” and about a week later, I received a long account of how this was done. I heard how, one pleasant November morning, the Apostle Snow, Elders Stenhouse and Woodward, together with several Waldenses whom they had converted, ascended the mountain side contiguous to La Tour, and overlooking the fertile valley of Pinerello. There they sang praises and prayed. They christened the place “Mount Brigham;” and the stone upon which the three elders stood and offered up a written prayer, they named “The Rock of Prophecy;” and there they organized the church, dedicating[47] the soil of Italy to the Lord. Moreover, then and there my husband was solemnly consecrated a “High-Priest after the Order of the Son of God.”
All this I heard, and much more; and in confiding faith that this was indeed a great and glorious work, I rejoiced that I had been accounted worthy to suffer patiently at home, if only my husband might successfully fulfil his task abroad.
After that I heard that he had left Italy, and had arrived in Geneva, believing that he would be more successful among the Swiss than the Italians.
A few days after the arrival of the missionary in Geneva, an event occurred which interested my own self personally—my little Clara was born. Very happy was I when I looked upon her tiny little face for the first time, and kissed her for being the prettiest baby in the world; very happy was I when I folded her in my arms, and talked to her as if she could understand all that I said; very happy indeed, as I looked at her again and again, and marvelled whether she really could be, indeed and certainly, my own baby girl. It seemed as if baby’s papa would never come back again, but I had a companion now in my child; and weak and weary as I was, with new responsibilities and less power to help myself, I found comfort in my new care, and realized the truth of the old Scotch song:—
“Muckle lichter is the load
When luve bears up the creel.”
I was not now alone.
Then, too, came round to see me, Mary Burton. She was as fond and tender to me as ever, and tripped quietly about the room, and tried to wait upon me, and sat by the bed, playing with baby, calling her all the pretty things she could think of; and I felt that her presence brought new light and life to my room. She brought me another letter from my husband, and I found that he was now acquiring for himself the “gift” of the French tongue, unable to do much else, as he and everybody didn’t understand each other. He could not yet talk to the French-speaking Genevese; and the English-speaking residents would not listen to him; they had only heard of Mormonism as a clumsy fraud, and looked upon the prophet Joseph Smith as an impostor. So, for a whole winter, he sat shut up in his own room, poring over a French grammar, and deploring his hard fate in being denied the gift of tongues.
In the spring of the new year I received a distinguished[48] visitor, who kindly interested himself in my welfare. The Apostle Lorenzo Snow left Piedmont for England, and passed through Geneva en route. On his way to London he called upon me at Southampton, and expressed much sympathy for me. He noticed the change in my appearance, and immediately sent for Mr. Stenhouse to return to England. He acted very kindly by me at that time; did all that he could to assist me, and said that he never again would ask any man to make such a sacrifice. I fully appreciated all his kindness; but much as I wanted to, I did not venture to ask him about the truth or falsity of those terrible suggestions which I had heard whispered of late.
My husband hastened home, coming by way of Calais, in order ............