MY DAUGHTER BECOMES THE FOURTH WIFE OF BRIGHAM YOUNG’S SON—THE SECOND ENDOWMENTS.  
After I had consented, and in reality had given my husband a second wife, my status in Mormon polygamic society was very considerably improved. First wives who lived in, and firmly believed, this “Order of Celestial Marriage,” tried in every way to make me feel that I was one with them; and those who had not much faith felt more kindly towards me, because I had been caught in the same snare with themselves.
Every polygamic wife, whether first, second, third, or tenth, no matter how much or how little she may believe in “Celestial Marriage”—no matter how refined or how coarse and degraded her nature may chance to be—must feel that her position is inferior to that of a monogamic wife. On this account, many of the Mormon women are never satisfied until they have drawn every woman of their acquaintance down to their own level. The influence of this supposed “Revelation” is by no means elevating or refining.
I was now upon an equal footing with other first wives. They had, therefore, no hesitation in confiding to me their griefs; and, situated as I was, I had abundant opportunities of hearing stories of cruelty, wrong, and suffering, under the “Celestial” system—many of them so utterly revolting that I would not dream of relating them again. Polygamy among the Mormons is so full of disgusting and disgraceful details, that a modest woman would not dare to relate all she knew. In this book I have endeavoured to be true to my title and to “tell all,” as far as such a thing is possible. But there are thousands of horrible incidents, which form part and parcel of the system of Polygamy, but which no woman who had any respect for herself would think of putting upon paper.
Previous to the time when my husband took his second wife,[315] although I had learned too much, I had to a certain extent been kept in the dark respecting some of the vile and loathsome practices of Polygamy; but after that, by slow degrees, I was thoroughly initiated into the system.
Visitors to Utah would perhaps notice in the faces of the Mormon wives a dull, careworn, weary expression, altogether the reverse of that contented look which is seen among “Gentile” women. But those very women would never disclose to the stranger the depth of that sorrow which is wearing away their lives. Some few, indeed, have been led to speak of their troubles; but they have afterwards found that the very persons in whom they confided most distorted and exaggerated every word that they had uttered, for the sake of making a good story for the press. In many cases the names of those who were thoughtless enough to expose their sorrows, together with little personal matters which should never have been made public, were put into print; and when the matter came before the Church authorities, as in course of time it was certain to do, there was a great deal of trouble and unpleasantness. Women, consequently, as a rule, tell nothing; and book-makers and people connected with the press, while they give to the world astonishing stories of what they have heard, know really nothing of the truth. When a smart man, or a man connected with the press, comes to Utah, the Church authorities take him in hand at once. He is carried here and there, and treated with the utmost deference; a pair of Mormon spectacles is placed by Brigham, or one of his numerous factotums, upon the visitor’s eyes, and through them he looks at all that transpires. Then comes a glowing account in the papers, or else apocryphal stories appear in the visitor’s last new book; and unsophisticated people, who innocently suppose that all that is in print must be true, begin to think that the stories of the evil-doing of the Prophet, which from time to time have crept out, were only scandalous reports, and that Brigham Young—like somebody else who shall be nameless!—was, after all, not quite so black as he has been painted.
A gentleman, who had for five years resided in Salt Lake City, said to me a few months ago: “Mrs. Stenhouse, when I had been here about three weeks, I thought that I knew enough of Mormonism to write a book; when I had been here three months, I began to think that I did not know quite as much; and now, after five years, I have come to the conclusion that I really know nothing at all. I have lived in a Mormon family[316] for the past year, but that has not increased my knowledge. They are constantly upon their guard. They treat me kindly, but they never let me know anything.”
This, I believe, has been the experience of nearly all the Gentiles resident in Salt Lake City. Gentlemen had no chance of learning anything, and the opportunities of ladies were only a trifle better.
Up to this time I had said very little to my children about my doubts and fears. With the exception of my daughter Clara, they were all too young. Clara was just budding into womanhood, and day by day gave promise of more beauty and interest in her future life. I dreaded to cast a cloud across her way by telling her of my own apprehensions in respect to Polygamy. If that were the “Order” of “Heaven,” she would certainly have to live in it; and in any case it was the “order” of Brigham Young, and my child could not escape from it.
We had lived together in Polygamy about a year, when my husband told me that his young wife desired to have a home of her own, and that he intended to provide her with one. This was very pleasant intelligence to me; for the sight of that other wife constantly before my eyes, sitting at my table, in the midst of my family, walking in the garden with my husband in the evening, or tête-á-tête with him in the parlour, was more than I could bear. I began to feel, whether justly or not, that my presence was a restraint to them, and that they felt annoyed when I was with them. This feeling was so strong with me that I constantly avoided them, and I finally concluded to spend the evenings in my own room with my children, for, being out of their presence, I should perhaps be at peace.
This, however, was all changed when my husband established a second home. I did not mind being deprived of his society so long as I could get rid of her: her presence was painful to me, and when she was near me I hardly felt able to breathe.
Just at that time the marriage of my daughter Clara first began to be talked about seriously. One day my husband being out driving with Joseph A. Young, the eldest son of the Prophet, the subject was discussed between them, and Joseph A. made a proposition of marriage. This, to me, was the cause of considerable uneasiness, as Joseph A. was a Polygamist, and at first I altogether refused to listen to the suggestion. At that time Clara was not fifteen years of age, and not only did I consider her altogether too young to think of marriage, but I was shocked[317] at the bare idea of her becoming a polygamic wife. I almost hated Joseph for asking for her.
Personally I had no objection to Clara’s lover. I had known him for several years. He was an intelligent, generous-hearted, and handsome man, of very good standing among the Saints, and wealthy. As a friend, I valued and esteemed him; but that he, a polygamist, should wish to marry my darling daughter, was very repugnant to my feelings. Clara was then growing old enough to understand my more serious thoughts and sentiments, and her companionship was very precious to me. The thought of her marrying into Polygamy was to my mind almost as painful as the thought of her death would have been.
My husband agreed with me that she was too young to marry; but on that point he could not offer any great objection, as his own wife, although very womanly in appearance, was but very little older in years. I told Joseph A. of my reluctance to the proposed marriage, and he fully entered into my feelings. I could not absolutely refuse him, but I wished to gain time. Every day found me more and more weak in the faith, and I thought that, if I could only postpone my Clara’s marriage for a few years, something might transpire which would relieve me of my difficulty.
Joseph promised to wait just as long as we thought proper, if only we would allow him to speak to Clara and explain to her the sentiments with which he regarded her. In this he acted in a way very unlike the Mormon men generally, and I respected him accordingly. I promised him that I would not influence my daughter, but would let her decide for herself. This, after much careful consideration, I came to the conclusion was all that I could do. My mind at that time was in a very troubled state. Day by day my doubts respecting the plural wife system became stronger and stronger, and I felt that before very long some great change must take place, both in my fate and in my life. At the same time, outward circumstances gave no promise of any such change. My husband gave no signs of apostasy, and, as a Saint, I knew he would never think of undertaking anything without the permission of Brother Brigham. We did not even dare to leave the city without consulting the Prophet. In times, then very recent, it was at the risk, and sometimes, indeed, at the sacrifice of life, that any one left Salt Lake Valley without permission; and even at the present moment no good Saint who values his standing in the Church would dream of going East without first obtaining[318] the approval of Brigham Young. I could not, therefore, at the time of which I write, foresee the great changes which have since taken place. To refuse my daughter to the Prophet’s son would, I knew, be utterly useless. By partial submission I might gain some advantages; and the longer I postponed the marriage, the greater chance there was that “something” might turn up, which we all more or less look for when we are placed in circumstances which admit of the ex............