THE GRIMKÉ SISTERS
SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKÉ
_THE FIRST AMERICAN WOMEN ADVOCATES
OF ABOLITION AND WOMAN'S RIGHTS_
By CATHERINE H. BIRNEY
"The glory of all glories is the glory of self-sacrifice."
1885
PREFACE.
It was with great diffidence, from inexperience in literary work of
such length, that I engaged to write the biography which I now present
to the public. But the diaries and letters placed in my hands lightened
the work of composition, and it has been a labor of affection as well
as of duty to pay what tribute I might to the memory of two of the
noblest women of the country, whom I learned to love and venerate
during a residence of nearly two years under the same roof, and who,
to the end of their lives, honored me with their friendship.
C.H.B.
Washington City, Sept., 1885.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Childhood of Sarah, 7. Practical teachings, 9. Teaching slaves, 11.
Sarah a godmother, 13. Their mother, 15.
CHAPTER II.
Thirst for knowledge, 17. Religious impressions, 19. Providence
interposes, 21. Their father's death-bed, 23. Sarah and slavery, 25.
Salvation by works, 27. The Friends, 29. Sarah resists the call, 31.
Sarah leaves Charleston, 33.
CHAPTER III.
Sarah a Quaker, 35. Visit to Charleston, 37. Angelina, 39. Angelina's
slave, 41. Angelina converted, 43. Sarah's heart trial, 45.
CHAPTER IV.
Contrasts, 47. Spiritual change, 49. Novels and finery, 51. Plain
dress, 53.
CHAPTER V.
Angelina's progress, 55. Abandons Presbyterianism, 57. Adopts
Quakerism, 59. A Quaker quarrel, 61. Angelina goes north, 63. Trimming
a cap, 65.
CHAPTER VI.
Christian frugality, 67. Christian reproofs, 69. Faithful testimony,
71. Sitting in silence, 73. Sympathy with slaves, 75. Intercedes for a
slave, 77. A sin to joke, 79. Introspection, 81.
CHAPTER VII.
Intellectual power, 83. Anti-slavery in 1829, 85. Bane of slavery, 87.
Longs to leave home, 89. Narrow life, 91. Farewell to home, 93.
CHAPTER VIII.
Not in favor, 95. Doubts, 97. Benevolent activities, 99. Nullification,
101. Thomas Grimké, 103. Quaker time-serving, 105. Separation, 107.
CHAPTER IX.
Visits Catherine Beecher, 109. Morbid feelings, 111. Growing out of
Quakerism, 113. Lane Seminary debate, 115. Death of Thomas Grimké, 117.
The cause of peace, 119.
CHAPTER X.
Sarah Douglass, 121. The fire kindled, 123. Letter to Garrison, 125.
Apology for letter, 127. Publication of letter, 129. Sarah disapproves,
131.
CHAPTER XI.
Practical efforts, 133. Visit to Providence, 135. The sisters differ,
137. Elizur Wright's invitation, 139. Asking advice of Sarah, 141. The
last straw, 143. Sarah resolves to leave Philadelphia, 145. Angelina's
A.S. feelings, 147. Her clear convictions, 149.
CHAPTER XII.
The sisters together, 151. A rebellious Quaker, 153. Removal to New
York, 155. The anti-slavery leaders, 157. T.D. Weld, 159. Epistle to
the clergy, 161. First speeches to women, 163. Lectures, 165. Disregard
of the color line, 167. Henry B. Stanton, 169. Success on the platform,
171. They go to Boston, 173.
CHAPTER XIII.
Woman's rights, 175. Sentiment at Boston, 177. Speaking to men, 179.
Women's preaching, 181. Opposition, 183. The pastoral letter, 185.
Mixed audiences, 187. Hardships--eloquence, 189. Sarah prefers the pen,
191. A public debate, 193. Sarah's impulsiveness, 195.
CHAPTER XIV.
Catherine Beecher, 197-99. Woman and abolition, 201. Whittier's letter,
203. Weld's letter, 205. Weld's third letter, 207. How reforms fail,
209. Friendly criticism, 211. No human government-ism, 213. The sisters
desist, 215. Weld on dress, 217. Henry C. Wright, 219. Friendship
renewed, 221.
CHAPTER XV.
Crowded audiences, 223. Sickness, 225. The Massachusetts legislature,
Speeches in Boston, 229. Angelina's marriage, 231. The ceremony, 233.
Pennsylvania Hall, 235. The mob, 237. Last public speech, 239. Burning
the hall, 241.
CHAPTER XVI.
Disownment, 243. The home, 245. Self-denial, 247. Sarah Douglass, 249.
An ex-slave, 251. Uses of retirement, 253. Mutual love, 255. "Slavery
as it is," 257. Going to church, 259. The baby, 261. Life at
Belleville, 263-5. Educators, 267. Piety, 269. Christianity, 271.
CHAPTER XVII.
Eagleswood, 273. Sarah as teacher, 265. Sarah at sixty-two, 277. Love
of children, 279. Success of the school, 281. Affliction, 283. War to
end in freedom, 285. Sisterly affection, 287. The colored nephews, 289.
The discovery, 291. A visit to nephews, 293. Nephews educated, 295.
Voting petitions, 297. Work for charities, 299. Contented old age, 301.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Sarah's sickness, 303. Death of Sarah, 305. Eulogies, 307. Paralysis,
309. Sublime patience, 311. Death of Angelina, 313. Elizur Wright, 315.
Wendell Phillips, 317. The lesson of two lives, 319.
THE SISTERS GRIMKÉ.
CHAPTER I.
Sarah and Angelina Grimké were born in Charleston, South Carolina;
Sarah, Nov. 26, 1792; Angelina, Feb. 20, 1805. They were the daughters
of the Hon. John Fauchereau Grimké, a colonel in the revolutionary war,
and judge of the Supreme Court of South Carolina. His ancestors were
German on the father's side, French on the mother's; the Fauchereau
family having left France in consequence of the revocation of the Edict
of Nantes in 1685.
From his German father and Huguenot mother, Judge Grimké inherited not
only intellectual qualities of a high order, but an abiding consciousness
of his right to think for himself, a spirit of hostility to the Roman
Catholic priesthood and church, and faith in the Calvinistic theology.
Though he exhibited, during the course of his life, a freedom from
certain social prejudices general among people of his class at
Charleston, he seems to have never wavered in his adhesion to the
tenets of his forefathers. That they were ever questioned in his
household is not probable.
From a diary kept by him, it appears that his favorite subject of
thought for many years was moral discipline, and he was fond of
searching out and transcribing the opinions of various authors on this
subject.
His family was wealthy and influential, and he received all the
advantages which such circumstances could give. As was the custom among
people of means in those days, he was sent to England for his collegiate
course, and, after being graduated at Oxford, he studied law and
practised for a while in London, having his rooms in the Temple. With a
fine person, a cultivated mind and a generous allowance, he became a
favorite in the fashionable and aristocratic society of Great Britain;
nevertheless, he did not hesitate to quit the pleasant life he was
leading and return home as soon as his native country seemed to need
him. He speedily raised a company of cavalry in Charleston, and cast his
lot with the patriots whom he found in arms against the mother-country.
We have no record of his deeds, but we know that he distinguished himself
at Eutaw Springs and at Yorktown, where he was attached to Lafayette's
brigade.
When the war was over, Col. Grimké began the practice of law in
Charleston, and rose in a few years to the front rank at the bar. He
held various honorable offices before he was appointed judge of the
Supreme Court of the State.
Early in life Judge Grimké married Mary Smith of Irish and
English-Puritan stock. She was the great granddaughter of the second
Landgrave of South Carolina, and descended on her mother's side from
that famous rebel chieftain, Sir Roger Moore, of Kildare, who would
have stormed Dublin Castle with his handful of men, and whose handsome
person, gallant manners, and chivalric courage made him the idol of his
party and the hero of song and story. Fourteen children were born to
this couple, all of whom were more or less remarkable for the traits
which would naturally be expected from such ancestry, while in several
of them the old Huguenot-Puritan infusion colored every mental and
moral quality. This was especially notable in Sarah Moore Grimké, the
sixth child, who even in her childhood continually surprised her family
by her independence, her sturdy love of truth, and her clear sense of
justice. Her conscientiousness was such that she never sought to
conceal or even excuse anything wrong she did, but accepted
submissively whatever punishment or reprimand was inflicted upon her.
Between Sarah and her brother Thomas, six years her senior, an early
friendship was formed, which was ever a source of gratification to both,
and which continued without a break until his death. To the influence
of his high, strong nature she attributed to a great extent her early
tendency to think and reason upon subjects much beyond her age. Until
she was twelve years old, a great deal of her time was passed in study
with this brother, her bright, active mind eagerly reaching after the
kind of knowledge which in those days was considered food too strong
for the intellect of a girl. She begged hard to be permitted to study
Latin, and began to do so in private, but her parents, and even her
brother, discouraged this, and she reluctantly gave it up.
Judge Grimké's position, character, and wealth placed his family among
the leaders of the very exclusive society of Charleston. His children
were accustomed to luxury and display, to the service of slaves, and to
the indulgence of every selfish whim, although the father's practical
common sense led him to protest against the habits to which such
indulgences naturally led. He was necessarily much from home, but, when
leisure permitted, his great pleasure was teaching his children and
discussing various topics with them. To Sarah he paid particular
attention, her superior mental qualities exciting his admiration and
pride. He is said to have frequently declared that if she had been of
the other sex she would have made the greatest jurist in the land.
In his own habits, Judge Grimké was prudent and singularly economical,
and, in spite of discouraging surroundings, endeavored to instil
lessons of simplicity into his children. An extract from one of Sarah's
letters will illustrate this. Referring in 1863 to her early life, she
thus writes to a friend:--
"Father was pre-eminently a man of common sense, and economy was one of
his darling virtues. I suppose I inherited some of the latter quality,
for from early life I have been renowned for gathering up the fragments
that nothing be lost, so that it was quite a common saying in the
family: 'Oh, give it to Sally; she'll find use for it,' when anything
was to be thrown away. Only once within my memory did I depart from
this law of my nature. I went to our country residence to pass the
summer with father. He had deposited a number of useful odds and ends
in a drawer. Now little miss, being installed as housekeeper to papa,
and for the first time in her life being queen--at least so she
fancied--of all she surveyed, went to work searching every cranny, and
prying into every drawer, and woe betide anything which did not come up
to my idea of neat housekeeping. When I chanced across the drawer of
scraps I at once condemned them to the flames. Such a place of disorder
could not be tolerated in my dominions. I never thought of the
contingency of papa's shirts, etc., wanting mending; my oversight,
however, did not prevent the natural catastrophe of clothes wearing
out, and one day papa brought me a garment to mend, 'Oh,' said I,
tossing it carelessly aside, 'that hole is too big to darn.'
"'Certainly, my dear,' he replied, 'but you can put a piece in. Look in
such a drawer, and you will find plenty to patch with.'
"But behold the drawer was empty. Happily, I had commuted the sentence
of burning to that of distribution to the slaves, one of whom furnished
me the piece, and mended the garment ten times better than I could have
done. So I was let to go unwhipped of justice for that misdemeanor, and
perhaps that was the lesson which burnt into my soul. My story doesn't
sound Southerny, does it? Well, here is something more. During that
summer, father had me taught to spin and weave negro cloth. Don't
suppose I ever did anything worth while; only it was one of his maxims:
'Never lose an opportunity of learning what is useful. If you never
need the knowledge, it will be no burden to have it; and if you should,
you will be thankful to have it.' So I had to use my delicate fingers
now and then to shell corn, a process which sometimes blistered them,
and was sent into the field to pick cotton occasionally. Perhaps I am
indebted partially to this for my life-long detestation of slavery, as
it brought me in close contact with these unpaid toilers."
Doubtless she had many a talk with these "unpaid toilers," and learned
from them the inner workings of a system which her friends would fain
have taught her to view as fair and merciful.
Children are born without prejudice, and the young children of Southern
planters never felt or made any difference between their white and
colored playmates. The instances are many of their revolt and
indignation when first informed that there must be a difference. So
that there is nothing singular in the fact that Sarah Grimké, to use
her own words, early felt such an abhorrence of the whole institution
of slavery, that she was sure it was born in her. Several of her
brothers and sisters felt the same. But she differed from other
children in the respect that her sensibilities were so acute, her heart
so tender, that she made the trials of the slaves her own, and grieved
that she could neither share nor mitigate them. So deeply did she feel
for them that she was frequently found in some retired spot weeping,
after one of the slaves had been punished. She remembered that once,
when she was not more than four or five years old, she accidentally
witnessed the terrible whipping of a servant woman. As soon as she
could escape from the house, she rushed out sobbing, and half an hour
afterwards her nurse found her on the wharf, begging a sea captain to
take her away to some place where such things were not done.
She told me once that often, when she knew one of the servants was to
be punished, she would shut herself up and pray earnestly that the
whipping might be averted; "and sometimes," she added, "my prayers were
answered in very unexpected ways."
Writing to a young friend, a few years before her death, she says:
"When I was about your age, we spent six months of the year in the back
country, two hundred miles from Charleston, where we would live for
months without seeing a white face outside of the home circle. It was
often lonely, but we had many out-door enjoyments, and were very happy.
I, however, always had one terrible drawback. Slavery was a millstone
about my neck, and marred my comfort from the time I can remember
myself. My chief pleasure was riding on horseback daily. 'Hiram' was a
gentle, spirited, beautiful creature. He was neither slave nor slave
owner, and I loved and enjoyed him thoroughly."
When she was quite young her father gave her a little African girl to
wait on her. To this child, the only slave she ever owned, she became
much attached, treating her as an equal, and sharing all her privileges
with her. But the little girl died after a few years, and though her
youthful mistress was urged to take another, she refused, saying she
had no use for her, and preferred to wait on herself. It was not until
she was more than twelve years old that, at her mother's urgent
request, she consented to have a dressing-maid.
Judge Grimké, his family and connections, were all High-Church
Episcopalians, tenacious of every dogma, and severe upon any neglect of
the religious forms of church or household worship. Nothing but
sickness excused any member of the family, servants included, from
attending morning prayers, and every Sunday the well-appointed carriage
bore those who wished to attend church to the most fashionable one in
the city. The children attended Sabbath-school regularly, and in the
afternoon the girls who were old enough taught classes in the colored
school. Here, Sarah was the only one who ever caused any trouble. She
could never be made to understand the wisdom which included the
spelling-book, in the hands of slaves, among the dangerous weapons, and
she constantly fretted because she could only give her pupils oral
instruction. She longed to teach them to read, for many of them were
pining for the knowledge which the "poor white trash" rejected; but the
laws of the State not only prohibited the teaching of slaves, but
provided fines and imprisonment for those who ventured to indulge their
fancy in that way. So that, argue as she might, and as she did, the
privilege of opening the storehouse of learning to those thirsty souls
was denied her. "But," she writes, "my great desire in this matter
would not be totally suppressed, and I took an almost malicious
satisfaction in teaching my little waiting-maid at night, when she was
supposed to be occupied in combing and brushing my long locks. The
light was put out, the keyhole screened, and flat on our stomachs
before the fire, with the spelling-book under our eyes, we defied the
laws of South Carolina."
But this dreadful crime was finally discovered, and poor Hetty barely
escaped a whipping; and her bold young mistress had to listen to a
severe lecture on the enormity of her conduct.
When Sarah was about twelve years old, two important events occurred to
interrupt the even tenor of her life. Her brother Thomas was sent off
to Yale College, leaving her companionless and inconsolable, until, a
few weeks later, the birth of a little sister brought comfort and joy
to her heart. This sister was Angelina Emily, the last child of her
parents, and the pet and darling of Sarah from the moment the light
dawned upon her blue eyes.
Sarah seems to have felt for this new baby not only more than the
ordinary affection of a sister, but the yearning tenderness of a
mother, and a mysterious affinity which foreshadowed the heart and soul
sympathy which, notwithstanding the twelve years' difference in their
ages, made them as one through life. She at once begged that she might
stand godmother for her sister; but her parents, thinking this desire
only a childish whim, refused. She was seriously in earnest, however,
and day after day renewed her entreaties, answering her father's
arguments that she was too young for such a responsibility by saying
that she would be old enough when it became necessary to exercise any
of the responsibility.
Seeing finally that her heart was so set upon it, her parents
consented; and joyfully she stood at the baptismal font, and promised
to train this baby sister in the way she should go. Many years
afterwards, in describing her feelings on this occasion, she said: "I
had been taught to believe in the efficacy of prayer, and I well
remember, after the ceremony was over, slipping out and shutting myself
up in my own room, where, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I prayed
that God would make me worthy of the task I had assumed, and help me to
guide and direct my precious child. Oh, how good I resolved to be, how
careful in all my conduct, that my life might be blessed to her!"
Entering in such a spirit upon the duties she had taken upon herself,
we cannot over estimate her influence in forming the character and
training the mind of this "precious Nina," as she so often called her.
And, as we shall see, for very many years Angelina followed closely
where Sarah led, treading almost in her footsteps, until the seed sown
by the older sister, ripening, bore its fruit in a power and strength
and individuality which gave her the leadership, and caused Sarah to
fall back and gaze with wonder upon development so much beyond her
thoughts or hopes.
From the first, Sarah took almost entire charge of her little
god-daughter; and, as "Nina" grew out of her babyhood, Sarah continued
to exercise such general supervision over her that the child learned to
look up to her as to a mother, and frequently when together, and in her
correspondence for many years, addressed her as "Mother."
It does not appear that Judge Grimké entertained any views differing
greatly from those of intelligent men in the society about him. He was
a man of wide culture, varied experience of life, and a diligent
student. Therefore, as he made a companion of his bright and promising
daughter, he doubtless did much to sharpen her intellect, as well as to
deepen her conscientiousness and sense of religious obligation. Her
brother Thomas, too, added another strong influence to her mental
development. She was nearly fifteen when he returned from college,
bringing with him many new ideas, most of them quite original, and
which he at once set to work to study more closely, with a view to
putting them into practical operation. Sarah was his confidante and his
amanuensis; and, looking up to him almost as to a demi-god, she readily
fell in with his opinions, and made many of them her own.
Of her mother there is little mention in the early part of her life.
Mrs. Grimké appears to have been a very devout woman, of rather narrow
views, and undemonstrative in her affections. She was, however,
intelligent, and had a taste for reading, especially theological works.
Her son Thomas speaks of her as having read Stratton's book on the
priesthood, and inferring from its implications the sect to which the
author belonged. The oldest of her children was only nineteen when
Angelina was born. The burdens laid upon her were many and great; and
we cannot wonder that she was nervous, exhausted, and irritable. The
house was large, and kept in the style common in that day among wealthy
Southern people. The servants were numerous, and had, no doubt, the
usual idle, pilfering habits of slaves. All provisions were kept under
lock and key, and given out with scrupulous exactitude, and incessant
watchfulness as to details was a necessity.
As children multiplied, Mrs. Grimké appears to have lost all power of
controlling either them or her servants. She was impatient with the
former, and resorted with the latter to the punishments commonly
inflicted by slaveowners. These severities alienated her children still
more from her, and they showed her little respect or affection. It
never appears to have occurred to any of them to try to relieve her of
her cares; and it is probable she was more sinned against than
sinning,--a sadly burdened and much-tried woman. From numerous
allusions to her in the diaries and letters, the evidence of an
ill-regulated household is plain, as also the feelings of the children
towards her. From Angelina's diary we copy the following:--
"On 2d day I had some conversation with sister Mary on the deplorable
state of our family, and to-day with Eliza. They complain very much of
the servants being so rude, and doing so much as they please. But I
tried to convince them that the servants were just what the family was,
that they were not at all more rude and selfish and disobliging than
they themselves were. I gave one or two instances of the manner in
which they treated mother and each other, and asked how they could
expect the servants to behave in any other way when they had such
examples continually before them, and queried in which such conduct was
most culpable. Eliza always admits what I say to be true, but, as I
tell her, never profits by it.... Sister Mary is somewhat different;
she will not condemn herself.... She will acknowledge the sad state of
the family, but seems to think mother is altogether to blame. And dear
mother seems to resist all I say: she will neither acknowledge the
state of the family nor her own faults, and always is angry when I
speak to her.... Sometimes when I look back to the first years of my
religious life, and remember how unremittingly I labored with mother,
though in a very wrong spirit, being alienated from her and destitute
of the spirit of love and forbearance, my heart is very sore."
This unfortunate state of things prevailed until the children were
grown, and with more or less amelioration after that time. Sarah's
natural tenderness, and the sense of justice which, as she grew to
womanhood, was so conspicuous in Angelina, drew their mother nearer to
them than to her other children, though Thomas always wrote of her
affectionately and respectfully. She, however, with her rigid orthodox
beliefs, could never understand her "alien daughters," as she called
them; and she never ceased to wonder how such strange fledglings could
have come from her nest. It was only when they had proved by years of
self-sacrifice the earnestness of their peculiar views that she learned
to respect them; and, though they never succeeded in converting her
from her inherited opinions, she was towards the last years of her life
brought into something like affectionate sympathy with them.