An Englishwoman in Utah. Mrs. T. B. H. Stenhouse
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 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, 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. 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