An Englishwoman in Utah. Mrs. T. B. H. Stenhouse
pale and trembling, and she thought that I was not well. I was not indeed well; I was sick at heart. Never before had the face of a friend been so unwelcome.
She asked me what it was that I had to tell her; and when I hesitatingly denied having wanted to speak to her at all, she said she knew there must be something, as her husband had told her so.
I hesitated still; but at last found courage, and told her all. It was a cruel task to impose upon me. Day after day I had observed her and her husband, I had noticed their deep affection; had seen her watching at the window for his return; and he would come with a little offering of choice fruit or flowers; and I thought no woman could be happier than Madame Balif. And now for me to so cruelly awaken them from their dream of bliss!
She sat and listened eagerly as I told my story; and when at length she began to understand what was meant by it, she thought that I must be playing some unseasonable joke upon her, and showed as much in her countenance. But when she saw that I really was in earnest, she sprang up, and cried out, “Oh, my God! what a beastly religion! How dared your husband and you come to us Swiss with such a religion as that?” My eyes sank before her as she turned on me with mingled rage and disgust, as if she would wither me with her contemptuous looks. I felt as humbled as if I myself had been the author of the Revelation.
“And does my Serge believe this?” she cried.
I assured her that he did believe it, and she paced the room, to and fro, as if she would go crazy; my heart ached for her. She gave way to a perfect storm of rage, and then sobbed and cried like a child who had lost its mother. I was silent, for I knew how she must feel, and I felt that she would be relieved by tears. I had gone through the trial all alone, without one word from a woman’s heart that could reach my own. And I tried to comfort her. I remembered how I had felt myself, and I believed that thus it was now with her. In an instant, when I first realized that polygamy had anything to do with me, just as I have heard it said of dying men, all my past life rushed to my remembrance, and every word or deed of love therein, stood out in brightest reality. Thus I doubted not it was with my friend. Every tender word which her husband had ever uttered; every loving deed he had ever done, came to her recollection with a ten-fold dearness as she realized the horrors which awaited her in the future.
How little did we either of us imagine the story she would afterwards tell me in Utah!
I tried to soothe her, and she threw her arms passionately round me, and pressed me to her throbbing heart, and wept again. She thought of her husband and her little girls. But with all her fears she dreamed not how miserable was the life before her in poverty and polygamy. She was herself handsome in form and fair in feature; and, in the full enjoyment of all that could be desired in her sphere of life, she was as happy as a youthful wife could be. She pictured to herself a time—not now, her Serge loved her too truly now—when her husband might cast his eyes upon some blooming damsel, younger than she was then, and might begin to take a nearer interest in polygamy. She pictured him bestowing on the youthful beauty the love and tenderness which he had always bestowed on her; how his affections would die out towards her; how her heart would be desolate and alone!
I took her hand in mine and spoke very gently to her; and when she was calmer, I talked to her more freely. We found now, as we tried to look our common enemy in the face, how strong a hold Mormonism had taken of us; and it is in this that persons unacquainted with the Saints have so greatly misjudged the women of Utah; they know how small a hold such a religion—now they look upon Mormonism and polygamy as identical—would have upon them; and they forget how all-absorbing was our faith in Mormonism without polygamy. We confided not wisely, but too well.
Had polygamy been an invention of our husbands, or a system which they capriciously adopted, we might have been grieved, but we should have known how to act, for we were in a Christian country, where women had rights as well as men; it was our own hearts which were traitors to us. We had been taught to regard Abraham and Jacob, and David and Solomon as types of holiness, as men who were fit objects for imitation; and now it was proved to us, from Scripture, that these men were polygamists, and yet were blessed by God; and we were called upon to follow their example. Thus we tried to crush out the remembrance of our own womanhood. Had we but followed the light of reason which God had given for our guide, we should have trampled in the dust that vile burlesque upon the holy religion of Jesus called a “Revelation upon Celestial Marriage.” As it was, the religious teachings which we had received, both before and after we embraced Mormonism, alike combined to blind us to the truth.
In this state of mind we knelt, and prayed for the Lord to increase our faith in that very doctrine which in our hearts we cursed and hated; and on our knees we wept again; and natural feelings of repugnance mingled with an earnest struggle to submit to the will of God. Madame Balif had not so much faith in Mormonism as I had, and she had consequently less to trouble her in that respect; but she loved her husband, and she knew that he was determined to go to Zion as soon as he could; and then not only would all the luxuries of a happy home be sacrificed, but all her anticipations of the future were overshadowed by a terrible apprehension. Thus we were equally troubled, though I had to endure most, as the task of teaching fell upon me. I did at last manage to persuade her not to offer any active opposition to the Revelation, but I could not satisfy her that all was right. She even went so far as to promise to try to overcome her own feelings, for if it was really true she did not wish to be found fighting against the Lord. She had, however, hardly ceased speaking when the thought of her little daughters crossed her mind, and once more she paced the room like an enraged tigress, declaring angrily that “no vile polygamist should ever possess either of her sweet girls.” I had felt like this for my own darling Clara.
I had now a companion in misery, some one who could sympathize with me. Even had my husband detested the doctrine as I did, he could not have comforted me as a woman and a mother could. My poor friend could feel as I felt, and her sympathy was very dear to me; misery loves companionship; we were sisters in affliction. Not only so, Madame Balif declared that this painful task should not rest on me alone; she would help me in speaking to the sisters. Thus we helped each other in the time of our trouble.
It must have been about this time that I received another letter from Mary Burton. The postmark is quite indistinct, but a week or two one way or the other does not signify much. In her usual quick and impulsive way, she gave me her views of the “beauties” of polygamy, and perhaps the reader would like to hear what she said.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.