As soon as Isabella saw God as an all-powerful, all-pervading
spirit, she became desirous of hearing all that had been written
of him, and listened to the account of the creation of the world
and its first inhabitants, as contained in the first chapters of
Genesis, with peculiar interest. For some time she received it all
literally, though it appeared strange to her that 'God worked by
the day, got tired, and stopped to rest,' &c. But after a little time,
she began to reason upon it, thus-'Why, if God works by the
day, and one day's work tires him, and he is obliged to rest,
either from weariness or on account of darkness, or if he waited
for the "cool of the day to walk in the garden," because he was
inconvenienced by the heat of the sun, why then it seems that
God cannot do as much as I can; for I can bear the sun at noon,
and work several days and nights in succession without being
much tired. Or, if he rested nights because of the darkness, it is
very queer that he should make the night so dark that he could
not see himself. If I had been God, I would have made the night
light enough for my own convenience, surely.' But the moment
she placed this idea of God by the side of the impression
she had once so suddenly received of his inconceivable greatness
and entire spirituality, that moment she exclaimed mentally,
'No, God does not stop to rest, for he is a spirit, and cannot tire;
he cannot want for light, for he hath all light in himself. And if
"God is all in all," and "worketh all in all," as I have heard them
read, then it is impossible he should rest at all; for if he did, every
other thing would stop and rest too; the waters would not flow,
and the fishes could not swim; and all motion must cease. God
could have no pauses in his work, and he needed no Sabbaths of
rest. Man might need them, and he should take them when he
needed them, whenever he required rest. As it regarded the
worship of God, he was to be worshipped at all times and in all
places; and one portion of time never seemed to her more holy
than another.'
These views, which were the results of the workings of her
own mind, assisted solely by the light of her own experience and
very limited knowledge, were, for a long time after their adoption,
closely locked in her own breast, fearing lest their avowal
might bring upon her the imputation of 'infidelity,'-the usual
charge preferred by all religionists, against those who entertain
religious views and feelings differing materially from their own.
If, from their own sad experience, they are withheld from shouting
the cry of 'infidel,' they fail not to see and to feel, ay, and
to say, that the dissenters are not of the right spirit, and that their
spiritual eyes have never been unsealed.
While travelling in Connecticut, she met a minister, with
whom she held a long discussion on these points, as well as on
various other topics, such as the origin of all things, especially the
origin of evil, at the same time bearing her testimony strongly
against a paid ministry. He belonged to that class, and, as a matter
of course, as strongly advocated his own side of the question.
I had forgotten to mention, in its proper place, a very important
fact, that when she was examining the Scriptures, she wished
to hear them without comment; but if she employed adult
persons to read them to her, and she asked them to read a passage
over again, they invariably commenced to explain, by giving her
their version of it; and in this way, they tried her feelings
exceedingly.
In consequence of this, she ceased to ask adult persons to
read the Bible to her, and substituted children in their stead.
Children, as soon as they could read distinctly, would re-read the
same sentence to her, as often as she wished, and without
comment; and in that way she was enabled to see what her own
mind could make out of the record, and that, she said, was what
she wanted, and not what others thought it to mean. She wished
to compare the teachings of the Bible with the witness within
her; and she came to the conclusion, that the spirit of truth spoke
in those records, but that the recorders of those truths had
intermingled with them ideas and suppositions of their own.
This is one among the many proofs of her energy and independence
of character.
When it became known to her children, that Sojourner had
left New York, they were filled with wonder and alarm. Where
could she have gone, and why had she left? were questions no
one could answer satisfactorily. Now, their imaginations painted
her as a wandering maniac-and again they feared she had been
left to commit suicide; and many were the tears they shed at the
loss of her.
But when she reached Berlin, Conn., she wrote to them by
amanuensis, informing them of her whereabouts, and waiting an
answer to her letter; thus quieting their fears, and gladdening
their hearts once more with assurances of her continued life and
her love.