MYSTERIES OF THE ENDOWMENT HOUSE—FEARFUL OATHS AND SECRET CEREMONIES.  
Not many weeks after our arrival in Salt Lake City, my husband told me that we might now enjoy the privilege of going through the Endowment House.
This was intended as a great favour to us, on the part of the authorities, for most people have to wait a long while before receiving their Endowments; but my husband’s influence and position in the Church was, I presume, the reason why we were admitted so soon.
Now, I had heard so much of the Endowments and the Endowment House that I quite dreaded to pass through this ordeal. The idea of the whole ceremony was, that thereby we should receive the special grace of God; be united, man and woman, making one perfect creature; receive our inheritance as children of God; and, in fact, be made partakers of the plenitude of every blessing.
I knew well that no marriage was considered binding unless it had been celebrated in that place. I knew that the Saints, however long they might have been wedded, were under the necessity of being reunited there before they could be considered lawfully married and their children legitimate. According to the highest Mormon authority, no marriage is valid unless the ceremony is performed in the Temple. The Temple is not yet built, and as Joseph, the Prophet, said, “No fellow can be damned for doing the best he knows how,” the Saints, meanwhile, do “the next best thing,” and are married in the Endowment House. I knew that there and then the faithful were said to be “endowed” with their heavenly inheritance. I saw how absolutely needful it was that my husband and myself should become partakers of those mysteries; but I was influenced by the strange stories which I had heard of unhallowed and shameful doings in that same Endowment House, and consequently I feared to enter in.
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My fears were not, however, altogether groundless or visionary. It has been whispered—falsely perhaps—that in that Endowment House scenes have been enacted so fearful that words would falter on the lips of those who told the tale concerning them. I have heard of such things from men of integrity and honour; but they were not eye-witnesses of what they related, and they could not, or would not, give me their authorities. One thing I am certain of; if such horrible deeds were ever perpetrated within those walls, there remains no living witness to testify of them. The lips of those who alone could tell the whole truth are sealed in a silence which the trump of doom alone shall break.
It was, of course, no fear of any personal violence or any painful disclosures in that respect, that made me reluctant to receive my Endowments, for at that time I was by profession apparently a good Mormon; if I had my doubts and misgivings, I had them in common with nine-tenths of the Mormon women, and had therefore nothing to fear. The true cause of my reluctance was of a more delicate and personal nature. I had been informed that, if I refused to go, my husband could not go alone; he would be compelled to take another wife, and go with her. This was not all. I found that it was quite common for the Elders to take a second wife when they took their first Endowments, and thus, as they coarsely expressed it, “kill two birds with one stone.” Moreover, I had heard of men who feared to introduce Polygamy into their households, presenting to their wives, while going through the House, a young girl as their intended bride, feeling sure that the wife would not dare to make a scene before the Assembly. How could I know that my husband also had not such an idea in his mind? True, I trusted him implicitly, and did not believe it possible that he could deceive me. But had not men who were universally known for their integrity and honour acted in the same way to their wives; and with so many evidences of the best and most honest natures being corrupted by the unrighteous teachings of their religion, could I be blamed for doubting him whom I loved best?
There was also another reason why I particularly objected to passing through the Endowment House. I had been told many strange and revolting stories about the ceremonies which were there performed, for it was said that in the Nauvoo Temple the most disgraceful things were done. About what was done at Nauvoo I can say nothing, as it was before my time, but still it is only fair to say, that people who in every other relation[191] in life I should have deemed most reliable and trustworthy were my informants respecting those strange stories. Of the Endowments in Utah I can, of course, speak more positively, as I myself passed through them; and I wish to say most distinctly that, although the initiation of the Saints into “The Kingdom,” appears now to my mind as a piece of the most ridiculous absurdity, there was, nevertheless, nothing in it indecent or immoral—of which the reader himself shall presently be the judge.
It is an invariable rule among the Mormons, as I have before intimated, for every man or woman to mind his or her own business, and nothing else. Thus it was, that until I myself went through the Endowments, I was totally ignorant of what they were; although, of course, many people, with whom I had daily intercourse could easily have enlightened me if they had been thus minded. Besides this, every Mormon’s mouth was closed by the oath of that same Endowment House—the penalty of which was death, a penalty which no one doubted would be sternly enforced. Thus, totally in the dark, and remembering only the strange stories told about “washings” and “anointings,” and an imitation of the Garden of Eden, with Adam and Eve clothed in their own innocence alone, it can be no wonder that any modest woman should wish to evade all participation in such scenes.
I spoke to my husband about it, and he tried to reassure me, but what he said had rather a contrary effect.
Before we left England, when speaking of these ceremonies, my husband told me that they were simply a privilege and a matter of choice. But what a choice! I might go or refuse to go; but, if I refused, he must—if he went through it all—take another wife in my place, and, as I knew, there would be no difficulty in finding one. I should in consequence be known as a rebellious woman; annoyance and indignity would be heaped upon me; while within my own home I should be compelled to occupy the position of second wife—as the one who is married first in the Endowment House is considered the first wife, and has the control of everything.
My husband told me that now he was most anxious to go; he had already been notified three times that such was his privilege, and there were, he said, good reasons why we ought gladly to accept the opportunity. It was an honour, he said, for which many people had waited for years.
My husband reminded me that we had been married by a Gentile, and while living among Gentiles, and that, as I said[192] before, our marriage was not valid, and our children were not legitimate. Only those children of ours who were born after the ceremony in the Endowment House would be legitimate; the others were outcasts from the “Kingdom” unless we adopted them after our initiation, and thus made them heirs. In any case, poor children, they could never be considered the real heirs; they could only be “heirs by adoption.”
So I agreed to go, trying to persuade myself that it was a sacred duty; for, although my faith in Mormonism had been roughly shaken, I still believed that its origin was divine.
The Temple robe, which is a long, loose, flowing garment, made of white linen or bleached muslin, and reaching to the ankle, had been placed upon us just before we took the oaths. It was gathered to a band about twelve inches long, which rested on the right shoulder, passed across the breast, and came together under the left arm, and was then fastened by a linen belt. This leaves the left arm entirely free. The veil consists of a large square of Swiss muslin, gathered in one corner so as to form a sort of cap to fit the head; the remainder falls down as a veil. The men wear the same kind of under garment as the women, and their robes are the same, but their head-dress is a round piece of linen drawn up with a string and a bow in front, something after the fashion of a Scotch cap. All good Mormons, after they have received their first Endowments, get whole suits of Temple robes made on purpose for them, so that they may be ready for use at any time when they are needed. All marriages in the Endowment House are performed in these robes, and in them all Saints who have received their Endowments are buried. Besides our robes we were instructed to take with us a bottle of the best olive oil.
At seven o’clock in the morning of the day appointed, we presented ourselves at the door of the Endowment House, and were admitted by Brother Lyon, the Mormon poet. Everything within was beautifully neat and clean, and a solemn silence pervaded the whole place. The only sound that could be heard was the splashing of water, but whence the sound proceeded we could not see. In spite of myself, a feeling of dread and uncertainty respecting what I had to go through would steal over my mind, and I earnestly wished that the day was over.
We waited patiently for a little while, and presently a man entered and seated himself at a table placed there for that purpose, upon which was a large book. He opened the book, and[193] then calling each person in turn, he took their names and ages, and the names of their fathers and mothers, and carefully entered each particular in the book. Our bottles of oil were then taken from us, and we were supposed to be ready for the ceremony.
First we were told to take off our shoes, and leave them in the anteroom, and then to take up our bundles and pass into another room beyond. This was a large bath-room, which was divided down the middle by a curtain of heavy material placed there for the purpose of separating the men from the women. Here my husband left me—he going to the men’s and I to the women’s division. In the bath-room were two or three large bathing-tubs supplied by streams of hot and cold water. We were as much concealed from the men as if we had been in an entirely separate room, and everything was very quiet and orderly.
Miss Eliza R. Snow, the poetess, and a Mrs. Whitney, were the officiating attendants on that occasion. The former conducted me to one of the bathing-tubs, and placing me in it, she proceeded to wash me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. As she did this she repeated various formulas to the effect that I was now washed clean from the blood of this generation and should never, if I remained faithful, be partaker in the plagues and miseries which were about to come upon the earth. When I had thus been washed clean, she wiped me dry, and then taking a large horn filled with the olive oil which we had brought, she anointed me. The oil was poured from the horn by Mrs. Whitney into the hand of Eliza Snow, who then applied it to me. The horn was said to be the horn of plenty which, like the widow’s cruse of oil, would never fail as long as the ordinance should continue to be administered. In addition to the crown of my head, my eyes, ears, and mouth were also anointed; my eyes that they might be quick to see, my ears that they might be apt at hearing, and my mouth that I might with wisdom speak the words of eternal life. She also anointed my feet, that they might be swift to run in the ways of the Lord. I was then given a certain garment to put on.
Now this garment is one peculiar to the Mormon people. It is made so as to envelope the whole body, and it is worn night and day. I was told that after having once put it on, I must never wholly take it off before putting on another, but that I should change one half at a time, and that if I did so I should be protected from disease, and even from death itself;[194] for the bullet of an enemy would not penetrate that garment, and that from it even the dagger’s point should be turned aside. It has been said that the Prophet Joseph carelessly left off this peculiar garment on the day of his death, and that, had he not done so, the rifles of his assassins would have been harmless against him.
When thus arrayed, I proceeded to put on a white nightdress and skirt, stockings, and white linen shoes. A new name was then whispered into my ear, which I was told I must never mention to any living soul except my husband in the Endowment House. This name was taken from the Bible, and I was given to understand that it would be the name whereby I should be admitted into the celestial kingdom. This was of course very gratifying. A circumstance, however, occurred which took from me all the pride which might have been mine in the possession of a new name. There was among our number a deaf woman; Mrs. Whitney had to tell her her name once or twice over, loud enough for me to hear, and thus I found that her new name, as well as mine, was Sarah. To make the matter worse, another sister whispered, “Why, that is my name too.” This entirely dispelled any enthusiasm which otherwise I might have felt. I could well understand that I might yet become a Sarah in Israel, but if we all were Sarahs, there would not be much distinction or honour in being called by that name. As a matter of course I supposed that the men would all become Abrahams.
Our washing and anointing being now over, we were ready for the initiation—there were about fifteen couples in all.
A voice from behind the curtain asked Miss Snow if we were ready, and was answered in the affirmative. We were then arranged in a row, the curtain was drawn aside, and we stood face to face with the men, who had, of course, on their side of the curtain, been put through the same ordeal. I felt dreadfully nervous, for I did not know what was coming next, and I could not quite dismiss from my mind the stories that I had heard about these mysteries. But in spite of my nervousness, curiosity was strong in me at that moment, as it was, I suppose, in the others; for, as soon as the curtain was drawn aside, we all cast our eyes in the direction of the men. They, as might be expected, were looking in our direction, and when I beheld them I must say that my sympathies were drawn out towards the poor creatures. However little vanity or personal pride they possessed, they must have felt it unpleasant to have to appear in the presence of ladies in such[195] a dress—or rather undress; and notwithstanding the solemn meaning of the ceremony, there was just the ghost of a smile upon our faces as we looked at each other and dropped our eyes again. To any one who did not feel as we did the religious nature of the initiation, the scene must have appeared perfectly ludicrous. In fact, some of u............