Angelina's diary, commenced in 1828, is most characteristic, and in the
very beginning shows that inclination to the consideration and
discussion of serious questions which in after years so distinguished
her.
It is rather remarkable to find a girl of twenty-three scribbling over
several pages about the analogy existing between the natural and the
spiritual world, or discussing with herself the question: "Are seasons
of darkness always occasioned by sin?" or giving a long list of reasons
why she differs from commentators upon certain texts of scriptures. She
enjoyed this kind of thinking and writing, and seems to have been
unwearying in her search after authorities to sustain her views. The
maxims, too, which she was fond of jotting down here and there, and
which furnished the texts for long dissertations, show the serious
drift of her thoughts, and their clearness and beauty.
From this time it is interesting to follow her spiritual progress, so
like and yet so unlike Sarah's. She, also, early in her religious life,
was impressed with the feeling that she would be called to some great
work. In the winter of 1828, she writes:--
"It does appear to me, and it has appeared so ever since I had a hope,
that there was a work before me to which all my other duties and trials
were only preparatory. I have no idea what it is, and I may be
mistaken, but it does seem that if I am obedient to the 'still small
voice' in my heart, that it will lead me and cause me to glorify my
Master in a more honorable work than any in which I have been yet
engaged."
Knowing Sarah's convictions at this time, it is easy to imagine the
long, confidential talks she must have had with Angelina, and the
loving persuasion used to bring this dear sister into the same
communion with herself, and it is no marvel that she succeeded.
Angelina's nature was an earnest one, and she ever sought the truth,
and the best in every doctrine, and this remained with her after the
rest was rejected. The Presbyterian Church satisfied her better than
the Episcopal, but if Sarah or anyone else could show her a brighter
light to guide her, a better path leading to the same goal, she would
have thought it a heinous offence against God and her own true nature
to reject it. That no desire for novelty impelled her in her then
contemplated change, and that she foresaw all she would have to contend
with, and the sacrifices she would have to make, is evident from
several passages like the following:--
"Yesterday I was thrown into great exercise of mind. The Lord more
clearly than ever unfolded his design of appointing me another field of
labor, and at the same time I felt released from the cross of
conducting family worship. I feel that very soon all the burdens will
drop from my hands, and all the cords by which I have been bound to
many Christian friends will be broken asunder. Soon I shall be a
stranger among those with whom I took sweet counsel, and shall have to
tread the wine press alone and be forsaken of all."
A day or two after she says:--
"This morning I felt no condemnation when I went into family prayers,
and did not lead as usual in the duties. I felt that my Master had
stripped me of the priest's garments, and put them on my mother. May He
be pleased to anoint her for these sacred duties."
Her impressions may be accounted for by the influence of Sarah's
feelings regarding herself, and as there was then no other field of
public usefulness open to women, especially among the Quakers, than the
ministry, her mind naturally settled upon that as her prospective work.
But, unlike Sarah, the anticipation inspired her with no dread, no
doubt even of her ability to perform the duties, or of her entire
acceptance in them. It is true she craved of the Lord guidance and
help, but she was confident she would receive all she needed, and in
this state of mind she was better fitted, perhaps, to wait patiently
for her summons than Sarah was.
She gives a minute and very interesting account of the successive steps
by which she was led to feel that she could no longer worship in the
Presbyterian Church, and we see the workings of Sarah's influence
through it all. But it was not until after Sarah left for Philadelphia
that Angelina took any decided measures to release herself from the old
bonds. All winter it had grieved her to think of leaving a church which
she had called the cradle of her soul, and where she had enjoyed so
many privileges. She loved everything connected with it; the pastor to
whom she had looked up as her spiritual guide; the members with whom
she had been so intimately associated, and the Sunday-school in which
she was much beloved, and where she felt she was doing a good work.
Again and again she asked herself: "How can I give them up?"
Her friends all noticed the decline of her interest in the church work
and services, and commented upon it. But she shrank for a long time
from any open avowal of her change of views, preferring to let her
conduct tell the story. And in this she was straightforward and open
enough, not hesitating to act at once upon each new light as it was
given to her. First came the putting away of everything like ornament
about her dress. "Even the bows on my shoes," she says, "must go," and
then continues:--
"My friends tell me that I render myself ridiculous, and expose the
cause of Jesus to reproach, on account of my plain dressing. They tell
me it is wrong to make myself so conspicuous. But the more I ponder on
the subject, the more I feel that I am called with a high and holy
calling, and that I ought to be peculiar, and cannot be too zealous. I
rejoice to look forward to the time when Christians will follow the
apostolical injunction to 'keep their garments unspotted from the
world;' and is not every conformity to it a spot on the believer's
character? I think it is, and I bless the Lord that He has been pleased
to bring my mind to a contemplation of this subject. I pray that He may
strengthen me to keep the resolution to dress always in the following
style: A hat over the face, without any bows of ribbon or lace; no
frills or trimmings on any part of my dress, and materials _not_ the
finest."
This simplicity in dress, and the sinfulness of every self-indulgence,
she also taught to her Sunday-school scholars with more or less
success, as one example out of several of a similar character will
show.
"Yesterday," she writes, "I met my class, and think it was a profitable
meeting to all. One of them has entertained a hope for about a year.
She asked me if I thought it wrong to plant geraniums? I told her _I_
had no time for such things. She then said that she had once taken
great pleasure in cultivating them, but lately she had felt so much
condemnation that she had given it up entirely. Another professed to
have some little hope in the Saviour, and remarked that I had changed
her views with regard to dress very much, that she had taken off her
rings and flounces, and hoped never to wear them again. Her hat also
distressed her. It was almost new, and she could not afford to get
another. I told her if she would send it to me I would try to change
it. Two others came who felt a little, but are still asleep. A good
work is evidently begun. May it be carried triumphantly on."
Towards spring she began to absent herself from the weekly
prayer-meetings, to stop her active charities, and to withdraw herself
more from the family and social circle. In April she writes in her
diary:--
"My mind is composed, and I cannot but feel astonished at the total
change which has passed over me in the last six months. I once
delighted in going to meeting four and five times every week, but now
my Master says, 'Be still,' and I would rather be at home; for I find
that every stream from which I used to drink the waters of salvation is
dry, and that I have been led to the fountain itself. And is it
possible, I would ask myself to-night, is it possible that I have this
day paid my last visit to the Presbyterian Church? that I have taught
my interesting class for the last time? Is it right that I should
separate myself from a people whom I have loved so tenderly, and who
have been the helpers of my joy? Is it right to give up instructing
those dear children, whom I have so often carried in the arms of faith
and love to the throne of grace? Reason would sternly answer, _No_, but
the Spirit whispers, 'Come out from among them!' I am sure if I refuse
the call of my Master to the Society of Friends, I shall be a dead
member in the Presbyterian Church. I have read none of their books for
fear of being convinced of their principles, but the Lord has taught me
Himself, and I feel that He who is Head over all things, has called me
to follow Him into the little silent meeting which is in this city."
And into the little silent meeting she went,--little, indeed, as the
only regular attendants were two old men; and silent, chiefly because
between these two there was a bitter feud, and the communion of spirit
was naturally preferred to vocal intercession.
When Angelina became aware of this state of feeling, and saw that the
two old Quakers always left the meeting-house without shaking hands, as
it was the custom to do, she became much troubled, and for several
weeks much of the comfort of attending meeting was destroyed. "The more
I thought of it," she writes to Sarah, "the clearer became the
conviction that I must write to J.K. (the one with whom she was best
acquainted). This I did, after asking counsel of the Lord, for full
well did I know that I should expose myself to the anger and rudeness
of J.K., by touching on a point which I believed was already sore from
the prickings of conscience. His reply was even harsher than I
expected; but, though it did wound my feelings, it convinced me that he
needed just what I wrote, and that the pure witness within him
condemned him. My letter, I think, was written in conformity to the
direction given by Paul to Timothy, 'Rebuke not an _elder_, but entreat
him as a father,' and in a spirit of love and tenderness. His answer
spoke a spirit too proud to brook even the meekest remonstrance, and he
tried to justify his conduct by saying that D.L. was a thief and a
slave-holder, and had cheated him out of a large sum of money, etc. I
answered him, expressing my belief that, let D.L.'s moral character be
what it might, the Christian ought to be gentle and courteous to all
men; and that we were bound to love our enemies, which was not at all
inconsistent with the obligation to bear a decided testimony against
all that we believed contrary to the precepts of the Bible. He sent me
another letter, in which he declared D.L. was to him as a 'heathen and
a publican,' and I was a 'busybody in other men's matters.' Here I
think the matter will end. I feel that I have done what was required of
me, and I am willing he should think of me as he does, so long as I
enjoy the testimony of a good conscience."
We cannot wonder that Angelina drew upon herself, as Sarah had done,
the arrows of ridicule; and that taunts and sneers followed her, as she
walked alone in her simple dress to her humble place of worship. But we
marvel that one situated as she was,--young, naturally gay and
brilliant, the centre of a large circle of fashionable friends, the ewe
lamb of an influential religious society,--should have unflinchingly
maintained her position under persecutions and trials that would have
made many an older disciple succumb. That they were martyrdom to her
proud spirit there can be no doubt; but, sustained by the inner light,
the conviction that she was right, she could put every temptation
behind her, and resist even the prayers and tears of her mother.
Her withdrawal from the Presbyterian Church caused the most intense
excitement in the community, and every effort was made to reclaim her.
The Rev. Mr. McDowell, her pastor, visited her, and remonstrated with
her in the most feeling manner, assuring her of his profound pity, as
she was evidently under a delusion of the arch-adversary. Members of
the congregation made repeated calls upon her, urging every argument
they could think of to convince her she was deceived. Some expressed a
fear that her mind was a little unbalanced, and shook their heads over
the possible result; others declared that she was committing a great
impropriety to shut herself up every Sunday with two old men. This,
Angelina informed them, was a mistake, as the windows and doors were
wide open, and the gate also. Others of her friends assured her with
tears in their eyes that they would pray to the Lord to bring her back
to the path of duty she had forsaken.
The superintendent of the Sunday-school came also to plead with her, in
the name of the children she was abandoning. Some of the scholars
themselves came and implored her not to leave them.
"But," she writes, "none of these things turn me a hair's breadth, for
I have the witness in myself that I have done as the Master commanded.
Some tell me this is a judgment on me for sin committed; and some say
it is a chastisement to Mr. McDowell for going away last summer."
(During the prevalence of an epidemic the summer before, the
Presbyterian pastor had been much blamed for deserting his flock and
fleeing to the sea-shore until all danger was past.)
By all this it will be seen that Angelina was regarded as too precious
a jewel in the crown of the Church to be relinquished without a
struggle.
But satisfied as was her conscience, Angelina's natural feelings could
not be immediately stifled. Though not so sensitive or so affectionate
as Sarah, she was quite as proud, and valued as greatly the good
opinion of her family and friends. She could not feel herself an
outcast, an object of pity and derision, without being deeply affected
by it. Her health gave way under the pressure, and a change of scene
and climate was recommended. Sarah at once urged that she join her in
Philadelphia; and, this meeting the approbation of her mother, she
sailed for the North in July (1828).
In Sarah's diary, about this time, we find the following entry:--
"13th. My beloved Angelina arrived yesterday. Peace has, I believe,
been the covering of our minds; and in thinking of her to-day, and
trying to feel whether I should advise her not to adopt immediately the
garb of a Quaker, the language presented itself, 'Touch not mine
anointed, and do my prophets no harm.' So I dared not meddle with her."
The summer was a peaceful and delightful one to Angelina. She was the
guest of Catherine Morris, and was treated like a daughter by all the
kind Quaker circle. The novelty of her surroundings, the fresh scenes
and new ideas constantly presented before her, opened up a field of
thought whose boundaries only she had until then touched, but which she
soon began eagerly and conscientiously to explore. Two extracts from
letters written by her at that time will show how strict she was in her
Quaker principles, and also that the persuasion that she was to be
given some great work to do was becoming even more firmly grounded.
To Sarah, who was absent from her for a short time, she writes:--
"Dear Mother: My mind begins to be much exercised. I scarcely want to
converse at all, and believe it best I should be much alone. Sister
Anna is very kind in leaving me to myself. She appears to feel much for
me, but I do not feel at liberty to ask her what occasions the tears
which at times flow as she throws her arms around me. I sometimes think
she sees more than I do about myself. I often tremble when I think of
the future, and fear that I am not entirely resigned to my Master's
will. Read the first chapter of Jeremiah; it rests much on my mind, and
distresses me; and though I would wish to put far off the evil day, yet
I am urged continually to pray that the Lord would cut short the work
of preparation."
Her sister Anna (Mrs. Frost) was one of those who thought Angelina was
under a terrible delusion, and mourned over her wasted energies. But it
is certainly singular that the chapter to which she refers, taken in
connection with the work with which she afterwards became identified,
should have made the impression on her mind which it evidently did, as
she repeatedly alludes to it. This letter is the last in which she
addresses Sarah as _mother_. Their Quaker friends all objected to the
habit, and it was dropped.
In another letter she describes a visit she made to a friend in the
country, and says:--
"I have already had reason to feel my great need of watchfulness here.
Yesterday the nurse gave me a cap to tuck and trim for the baby. My
hands actually trembled as I worked on it, and yet I had not
faithfulness enough to refuse to do it. This text was repeatedly
presented to me, 'Happy is he who condemneth not himself in that thing
which he alloweth.' While working, my heart was lifted up to the Father
of mercies for strength to bear my testimony against such vanities; and
when I put the cap into Clara's hands, I begged her not to give me any
more such work to do, as I felt it a duty to bear my testimony against
dress, and believed it sinful in me to assist anyone in doing what I
was convinced was sinful, and assured her of my willingness to do any
plain work. She laughed at my scruples, but my agitated mind was
calmed, and I was satisfied to be thought foolish for Christ's sake.
Thomas (Clara's husband) and I had along talk about Quakers yesterday.
I tried to convince him that they do not reject the Bible, explained
the reason of their not calling it the word of God, and got him to
acknowledge that in several texts I repeated the word was the Spirit.
We conversed on the ordinances. He did not argue much for them, but was
immovable in his opinions. He thinks if all Quakers were like _me_, he
could like them, but believes I have carried all the good of
Presbyterianism into the Society, therefore they cannot be judged of by
me."
On the 11th of November Sarah writes: "Parted with my dearly beloved
sister Angelina this afternoon. We have been one another's consolation
and strength in the Lord, mingling sweetly in exercise, and bearing one
another's burdens."
The first entry in Angelina's diary after her return to Charleston is
as follows: "Once more in the bosom of my family. My prayer is that our
coming together may be for the better, not for the worse."
Considering the agitation which had been going on at the North for
several years concerning slavery, we must suppose that Angelina and
Sarah Grimké heard it frequently discussed, and had its features
brought before them in a stronger light than that in which they had
previously viewed them. In Sarah's mind, absorbed as it was at that
time by her own sorrows and by the deeply-rooted conviction of her
prospective and dreaded call to the ministry, there appears to have
been no room for any other subject, if we except the strife then going
on in the Quaker Church, and which called forth all her sympathy for
the Orthodox portion, and her strong denunciation of the Hicksites. But
upon Angelina every word she heard against the institution which she
had always abhorred, but accepted as a necessary evil, made an
indelible impression, which deepened when she was again face to face
with its odious lineaments. This begins to show itself soon after her
return home, as will be seen by the following extract:--
"Since my arrival I have enjoyed a continuation of that rest from
exercise of mind which began last spring, until to-night. My soul is
sorrowful, and my heart bleeds. I am ready to exclaim, When shall I be
released from this land of slavery! But if my suffering for these poor
creatures can at all ameliorate their condition, surely I ought to be
quite willing, and I can now bless the Lord that my labor is not all in
vain, though much remains to be done yet."
The secluded and inactive life she now led confirmed the opinion of her
Presbyterian friends that she was a backslider in the divine life.
I must reserve for another chapter the recital of Angelina's efforts to
open the eyes of the members of her household to the unchristian life
they were leading, and the sins they were multiplying on their heads by
their treatments of those they held in bondage.