At this time of her life, ere a single sorrow had thrown its shadow
across her heart, and all her tears were shed for other's woes, we see
very distinctly Angelina's peculiar characteristics. Her
conscientiousness and her pride are especially conspicuous. The former,
with its attendant sacrifices at the shrine of religious principle, had
the effect of silencing criticism after a while, and inspiring a
respect which touched upon veneration. One of her sisters, in referring
to this, says:--
"Though we considered her views entirely irrational, yet so absolute
was her sense of duty, her superiority to public sentiment, and her
moral courage, that she seemed to us almost like one inspired, and we
all came to look upon her with a feeling of awe."
Of her pride--"that stumbling block," as she calls it, to Christian
meekness--she herself writes:--
"My pride is my bane. In examining myself, I blush to confess this
fault, so great do I find its proportions. I am all pride, and I fear I
am even proud of my pride."
But hers was not the pride that includes personal vanity or the desire
for the applause of the multitude, for of these two elements few ever
had less; neither was there any haughtiness in it, only the dignity
which comes from the conscious possession of rare advantages, joined to
the desire to use them to the glory of something better than self.
Still it was pride, and, in her eyes, sinful, and called for all her
efforts to subdue its manifestations. It especially troubled her
whenever she entered into any argument or discussion, both of which she
was rather fond of inviting. She knew full well her intellectual power,
and thoroughly enjoyed its exercise.
I regret that space does not permit me to copy her discussion with the
Rev. Mr. McDowell on Presbyterianism; her answers to the questions
given her when arraigned before the Sessions for having left the
Church; her conversation on Orthodoxy with some Hicksites who called on
her, and her arguments on silent worship. They all show remarkable
reasoning power, great lucidity of thought, and great faculty of
expression for so young a woman.
But, interesting as is the whole history of Angelina's last year in
Charleston, I may not dwell longer upon it, but hasten towards that
period when the reason for all this mental and spiritual preparation
was made manifest in the work in which she became as a "light upon the
hill top," and, which, as long as it lasted, filled the measure of her
desires full to the brim.
As it is important to show just what her views and feelings about
slavery were at this time, and as they can be better narrated in her
own words than in mine, I shall quote from her diary and a few letters
all that relates to the subject.
In May, 1829, we find this short sentence in her diary:--
"May it not be laid down as an axiom, that that system must be
radically wrong which can only be supported by transgressing the laws
of God."
"3d Mo. 20th. Could I think I was in the least advancing the glory of
God by staying here, I think I would be satisfied, but I am doing
nothing. Though 'the fields are white for harvest, yet am I standing
idle in the market place.' I am often tempted to ask, Why am I kept in
such a situation, a poor unworthy worm, feeding on luxuries my soul
abhors, tended by slaves, who (I think) I would rather serve than be
served by, and whose bondage I deeply deplore? Oh! why am I kept in
Carolina? But the answer seems to be: 'I have set thee as a sign to the
people.' Lord, give me patience to stand still."
"29th. At times slavery is a heavy burden to my heart. Last night I was
led to speak of this subject, of all others the sorest on which to
touch a Carolinian. The depravity of slaves was spoken of with
contempt, and one said they were fitted to hold no other place than the
one they do. I asked what had made them so depraved? Was it not because
of their degraded situations, and was it not white people who had
placed them and kept them in this situation, and were _they_ not to
blame for it? Was it not a fact that the minds of slaves were totally
uncultivated, and their souls no more cared for by their owners than if
they had none? Was it not true that, in order to restrain them from
vice, coercion was employed instead of the moral restraint which, if
proper instruction had been given them, would have guarded them against
evil? 'I wish,' exclaimed one, 'that you would never speak on the
subject.' 'And why?' I asked. 'Because you speak in such a serious
way,' she replied. 'Truth cuts deep into the heart,' I said, and this
is no doubt the reason why no one likes to hear me express my
sentiments, but I did feel it my duty to bear a decided testimony
against an institution which I believe altogether contrary to the
spirit of the Gospel; for it was a system which nourished the worst
passions of the human heart, a system which sanctioned the daily
trampling under foot of the feelings of our fellow creatures. 'But,'
said one, 'it is exceedingly imprudent in you to speak as you do.' I
replied I was not speaking before servants, I was speaking only to
owners, whom I wished to know my sentiments; this wrong had long enough
been covered up, and I was not afraid or ashamed to have any one know
my sentiments--they were drawn from the Bible. I also took occasion to
speak very plainly to sister Mary about the bad feeling she had towards
negroes, and told her, though she wished to get rid of them, and would
be glad to see them _shipped_, as she called it, that this wish did not
spring from pure Christian benevolence. My heart was very heavy after
this conversation."
"3d Mo. 31st. Yesterday was a day of suffering. My soul was exceedingly
sorrowful, and out of the depths of it, I cried unto the Lord that He
would make a way for me to escape from this land of slavery. Is there
any suffering so great as that of seeing the rights and feelings of our
fellow creatures trodden under foot, without being able to rescue them
from bondage? How clear it is to my mind that slaves can be controlled
only by one of two principles,--fear or love. As to moral restraint,
they know nothing of it, for they are not taught to act from principle.
I feel as though I had nothing to do in this thing, but by my manner to
bear a decided testimony against such an abuse of power. The suffering
of mind through which I have passed has necessarily rendered me silent
and solemn. The language seems to be, 'It behooves thee to suffer these
things,' and this morning I think I saw very plainly that this was a
part of the preparation for the awful work of the ministry."
"4th Mo. 4th. Does not this no less positive than comprehensive law
under the Gospel dispensation entirely exclude slavery: 'Do unto others
as you would he done by?' After arguing for some time, one evening,
with an individual, I proposed the question: 'Would'st thou be willing
to be a slave thyself?' He eagerly answered 'No!' 'Then,' said I, 'thou
hast no right to enslave the negro, for the Master expressly says: "Do
unto others as thou wouldst they should do unto thee."' Again I put the
query: 'Suppose thou wast obliged to free thy slaves, or take their
place, which wouldst thou do?' Of course he said he would free them.
'But why,' I asked, 'if thou really believest what thou contendest for,
namely, that their situation is as good as thine?' But these questions
were too close, and he did not know what to say."
"4th Mo. 23d. Friend K. drank tea here last night. It seems to me that
whenever mother can get anyone to argue with her on the subject of
slavery, she always introduces it; but last night she was mistaken,
for, to my surprise, Friend K. acknowledged that notwithstanding all
that could be said for it, there was something in her heart which told
her it was wrong, and she admitted all I said. Since my last argument
on this subject, it has appeared to me in another light. I remarked
that a Carolina mistress was literally a slave-driver, and that I
thought it degrading to the female character. The mistress is as great
a slave to her servants, in some respects, as they are to her. One
thing which annoys me very much is the constant orders that are given.
Really, when I go into mother's room to read to her, I am continually
interrupted by a variety of orders which might easily be avoided, were
it not for the domineering spirit which is, it seems to me, inherent in
a Carolinian; and they are such fine ladies that if a shutter is to be
hooked, or a chair moved, or their work handed to them, a servant must
be summoned to do it for them. Oh! I do very much desire to cultivate
feelings of forbearance, but I feel at the same time that it is my duty
to bear an open and decided testimony against such a violation of the
divine command."
"28th. It seems this morning as if the language was spoken with regard
to dear mother: _Thy_ work is done. My mind has been mostly released
from exercises, and it seems as though I had nothing to do now but to
bear and forbear with her. I can truly say I have not shunned to
'declare unto her the whole counsel of God, but she would none of my
reproofs.' I stretched out my hands to her, speaking the truth in
_love_, but she has not regarded. Perhaps He has seen fit not to work
by me lest I should be exalted above measure."
"5th Mo. 6th. Today has been one of much trial of mind, and my soul has
groaned under the burden of slavery. Is it too harsh to say that a
person must be destitute of Christian feelings to be willing to be
served by slaves, who are actuated by no sentiment but that of fear?
Are not these unfortunate creatures expected to act on principles
directly opposite to our natural feelings and daily experience? They
are required to do more for others than for themselves, and all without
thanks or reward."
"12th. It appears to me that there is a real want of natural affection
among many families in Carolina, and I have thought that one great
cause of it is the independence which members of families feel here.
Instead of being taught to do for themselves and each other, they are
brought up to be waited on by slaves, and become unamiable, proud, and
selfish. I have many times felt exceedingly tried, when, in the
flowings of love towards mother, I have offered to do little things for
her, and she has refused to allow me, saying it was Stephen's or
William's duty, and she preferred one of them should do it. The other
night, being refused in this way, I said:--
"'Mother, it seems to me thou would'st at any time rather have a
servant do little things for thee, than me.' She replied it was their
business. 'Well,' said I, 'mother, I do not think it ever was designed
that parents and children should be independent of each other. Our
Heavenly Father intended that we should be dependent on each other, not
on servants.' From time to time ability is granted me to labor against
slavery. I may be mistaken, but I do not think it is any longer without
sin in mother, for I think she feels very sensibly that it is not
right, though she never will acknowledge it."
_Night._ Left the parlor on account of some unpleasant occurrence, and
retired to weep in solitude over the evils of slavery. The language was
forcibly revived: 'Woe unto you, for you bind heavy burdens, grievous
to be borne, on men's shoulders, and will not move them yourselves with
one of your fingers.' I do not think I pass a single day without
apprehension as to something painful about the servants."
"15th. Had a long conversation with Selina last evening about servants,
and expressed very freely my opinion of Henry's feelings towards them,
and his treatment of John. She admitted all I said, and seemed to feel
for slaves, until I said I thought they had as much right to freedom as
I had. Of course she would not admit this, but I was glad an
opportunity was offered for me to tell her that my life was one of such
continual and painful exercise on account of the manner in which our
servants were treated, that, were it not for mother, I would not stay a
day longer in Carolina, and were it not for the belief that Henry would
treat his servants worse if we were not here, that both Eliza and I
would leave the house. Dear girl; she seemed to feel a good deal at
these strictures on her husband, but bore with me very patiently."
"18th. Oh, Lord! grant that my going forth out of this land may be in
such a time and such a way, let what may happen after I leave my
mother's house, I may never have to reproach myself for doing so. Of
late my mind has been much engrossed with the subject of slavery. I
have felt not only the necessity of feeling that it is sinful, but of
being able to prove from Scripture that it is not warranted by God."
"30th. Slavery is a system of abject selfishness, and yet I believe I
have seen some of the best of it. In its worst form, tyranny is added
to it, and power cruelly treads under foot the rights of man, and
trammels not only the body, but the mind of the poor negro. Experience
has convinced me that a person may own a slave, with a single eye to
the glory of God. But as the eye is kept single, it will soon become
full of light on this momentous subject; the arm of power will be
broken; the voice of authority will tremble, and strength will be
granted to obey the command: 'Touch not the unclean thing.'"
"_Night._ Sometimes I think that the children of Israel could not have
looked towards the land of Canaan with keener longing than I do to the
North. I do not expect to go there and be exempt from trial, far from
it; and yet it looks like a promised land, a pleasant land, because it
is a land of freedom; and it seems to me that I would rather bear much
deeper spiritual exercises than, day after day, and month after month,
to endure the conutless evils which incessantly flow from slavery. 'Oh,
to grace how great a debtor for my sentiments on this subject. Surely I
may measurably adopt the language of Paul, when with holy triumph he
exclaimed: 'By the grace of God I am what I am.'"
A few weeks later, we read: "If I could believe that I contributed to
dear mother's happiness, surely duty, yea, inclination, would lead me
to continue here; but I do not. Yesterday morning I read her some
papers on slavery, which had just come by the L.C. (vessel). It was
greatly against her will, but it seemed to me I must do it, and that
this was the last effort which would be required of me. She was really
angry, but I did not feel condemned."
"_Night._ Have sought a season of retirement, in order to ponder all
these things in my heart, for I feel greatly burdened, and think I must
open this subject to dear mother to-morrow, perhaps. I earnestly desire
to do the Lord's will."
"12th. This morning I read parts of dear sister's letters to mother, on
the subject of my going to the North. She did not oppose, though she
regretted it. My mind is in a calm, almost an indifferent, state about
it, simply acquiescing in what I believe to be the divine will
concerning me."
Had we all of Sarah's letters written to Angelina, we should doubtless
see that she fully sympathized with her in her anti-slavery sentiments;
but Sarah's diary shows her thoughts to have been almost wholly
absorbed by her disappointed hopes, and her trials in the ministry. As
positive evidences of her continued interest in slavery, we have only
the fact that, in 1829, Angelina mentions, in her diary, receiving
anti-slavery documents from her sister, and the statements of friends
that she retained her interest in the subject which had, in her earlier
years, caused her so much sorrow.
It is astonishing how ignorant of passing events, even of importance, a
person may remain who is shut up as Sarah Grimké was, in an
organization hedged in by restrictions which would prevent her from
gaining such knowledge. She mingled in no society outside of her
church; her time was so fully occupied with her various charitable and
religious duties, that she frequently laments the necessity of
neglecting reading and writing, which, she says, "I love so well."
When a few friends met together, their conversation was chiefly of
religious or benevolent matters, and it is probable that Sarah even
read no newspaper but the _Friends' Journal_.
That this narrow and busy life was led even after Angelina joined her
we judge from what Angelina writes to her brother Thomas, thanking him
for sending them his literary correspondence to read. She says: "It is
very kind in thee to send us thy private correspondence. We enjoy it so
much that I am sure thou would'st feel compensated for the trouble if
thou could'st see us. We mingle almost entirely with a Society which
appears to know but little of what is going on outside of its own
immediate precincts. It is therefore a great treat when we have access
to information more diffuse, or that which introduces our minds in some
measure into the general interest which seems to be exciting the
religious world."
The fact, however, remains, that in 1829 Sarah sent to Angelina various
anti-slavery publications, from which the latter drew strength and
encouragement for her own arguments. Angelina also mentions reading
carefully Woolman's works, which she found very helpful. But it is
evident that neither she nor Sarah looked forward at all to any
identification of themselves with the active opponents of slavery. For
them, at that time, there seemed to be nothing more to do than to
express their opinions on the subject in private, and to get as far
away from the sight of its evils as possible. As Sarah had done this,
so now Angelina felt that the time had come when she too must go.
She had done what she could, and had failed in making the impression
she had hoped to make. Why should she linger longer where her feelings
were daily tortured, and where there was not one to sympathize with her
or aid her, where she could neither give nor receive any good? Still
there was a great struggle in her mind about leaving her mother. She
thus writes of it:
"Though I am favored to feel this is the right time for me to go, yet I
cannot but be pained at the thought of leaving mother, for I am sure I
shall leave her to suffer. It has appeared very plain to me that I
never would have been taken from her again if she had been willing to
listen to my remonstrances, and to yield to the requisitions of duty,
as shown her by the light within. And I do not think dear sister or I
will ever see her again until she is willing to give up slavery."
"10th Mo. 4th. Last night E.T. took tea here. As soon as she began to
extol the North and speak against slavery, mother left the room. She
cannot bear these two subjects. My mind continues distressingly
exercised and anxious that mother's eyes should be open to all the
iniquities of the system she upholds. Much hope has lately been
experienced, and it seems as though the language to me was: 'Thou hast
done what was given thee to do; now go and leave the rest to _me_."
Two weeks later, she writes as follows:
"_Night._ This morning I had a very satisfactory conversation with dear
mother, and feel considerably relieved from painful exercise. I found
her views far more correct than I had supposed, and I do believe that,
through suffering, the great work will yet be accomplished. She
remarked that, though she had found it very hard to bear many things
which sister and I had from time to time said to her, yet she believed
that the Lord had raised us up to teach her, and that her fervent
prayer was that, if we were right and she was wrong, she might see it.
I remarked that if she was _willing_, she would, I was sure, see still
more than she now did; and I drew a contrast between what she once
approved and now believed right. 'Yes,' she said, 'I see very
differently; for when I look back and remember what I used to do, and
think nothing of it, I shrink back with horror. Much more passed, and
we parted in love."
Two weeks later Angelina left Charleston, never to return. The
description of the parting with her mother is very affecting, but we
have not room for it here. It shows, however, that Mrs. Grimké had the
true heart of a mother, and loved her daughter most tenderly. She shed
bitter tears as she folded her to her bosom for the last time,
murmuring amid her sobs: "Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will
take Benjamin away also!" The mother and daughter never saw each other
again.