All through the winter of 1835-36, demonstrations of violence continued
to be made against the friends of emancipation throughout the country.
The reign of terror inaugurated in 1832 threatened to crush out the
grandest principles of our Constitution. Freedom of press and speech
became by-words, and personal liberty was in constant danger. A man or
woman needed only to be pointed out as an abolitionist to be insulted
and assaulted. No anti-slavery meetings could be held uninterrupted by
the worst elements of rowdyism, instigated by men in high position. In
vain the authorities were appealed to for protection; they declared
their inability to afford it. The few newspapers that dared to express
disapproval of such disregard of the doctrine of equal rights were
punished by the withdrawal of subscriptions and advertisements, while
the majority of the public press teemed with the vilest slanders
against the noble men and women who, in spite of mobs and social
ostracism, continued to sow anti-slavery truths so diligently that new
converts were made every day, and the very means taken to impose upon
public opinion enlightened it more and more.[3]
[3] Apropos of sowing anti-slavery truths, I remember seeing at the
first anti-slavery fair I attended,--in 1853, I think,--a sampler
made in 1836 by a little girl, a pupil in a school where evidently
great pains were taken to propagate anti-slavery principles. On the
sampler was neatly worked the words: "May the points of our needles
prick the slave-holders' consciences."
During this winter we find nothing especial to narrate concerning Sarah
and Angelina. Sarah's diary continues to record her trials in meeting,
and her religious sufferings, notwithstanding her recently expressed
belief that her eternal salvation was secured. Angelina kept no diary
at this time, and wrote few letters, but we see from an occasional
allusion in these that her mind was busy, and that her warmest interest
was enlisted in the cause of abolition.
She read everything she could get on the subject, wrote some effective
articles for the anti-slavery papers, and pondered night and day over
the question of what more she could do. One practical thing she did was
to write to the widow of her brother Thomas, proposing to purchase from
her the woman whom she (Angelina) in her girlhood had refused to own,
and who afterwards became the property of her brother. This woman was
now the mother of several children, and Angelina, jointly with Mrs.
Frost, proposed to purchase them all, bring them to Philadelphia, and
emancipate them. But no notice was taken of the application, either by
their sister-in-law or their sister Eliza, to whom Angelina repeatedly
wrote on the subject.
Learning from their mother that she was about to make her will,
Angelina and Sarah wrote to her, asking that her slaves be included in
their portions. To this she assented, but managed to dispose of all but
four before she died. These were left to her two anti-slavery
daughters, who at once freed them, at the same time purchasing the
husband of one of them and freeing him.
As she continued to study anti-slavery doctrines, one thing became very
plain to Angelina--that the friends of emancipation, in order to clear
their skirts of all participation in the slave-owner's sin, must cease
to use the products of slave labor. To this view she tried to bring all
with whom she discussed the main subject, and so important did it
appear to her, that she thought of writing to some of the anti-slavery
friends in New York about it, but her courage failed. After what she
had gone through because of the publication of her letter to Mr.
Garrison, she shrank from the risk of having another communication made
public. But her mind was deeply exercised on this point, and when--in
the spring--she and Sarah went to attend Yearly Meeting in Providence,
R.I., an opportunity offered for her to express her views to a
prominent member of the New York Society, whom she met on the boat. She
begged this lady to talk to Gerrit Smith, recently converted from
colonization, and others, about it, and to offer them, in her name, one
hundred dollars towards setting up a free cotton factory. This was the
beginning of a society formed by those willing to pledge themselves to
the use of free-labor products only. In 1826 Benjamin Lundy had
procured the establishment, in Baltimore, of a free-labor produce
store; and subsequently he had formed several societies on the same
principle. Evan Lewis had established one in Philadelphia about 1826,
and it was still in existence.
The sisters had been so long and so closely tied to Philadelphia and
their duties there, that the relief of the visit to Providence was very
great. Sarah mentions it in this characteristic way:--
"The Friend of sinners opened a door of escape for me out of that city
of bonds and afflictions." In Providence she records how much more
freedom she felt in the exercise of her ministerial gift than she did
at home.
Angelina sympathized with these sentiments, feeling, as she expresses
it, that her release from Philadelphia was signed when she left for
Providence. She found it delightful to be able to read what she pleased
without being criticised, and to talk about slavery freely. While in
Providence she was refreshed by calls upon her of several
abolitionists, among them a cotton manufacturer and his son, Quakers,
with whom she had a long talk, not knowing their business. She
discussed the use of slave-labor, and descanted on the impossibility of
any man being clean-handed enough to work in the anti-slavery cause so
long as he was making his fortune by dealing in slave-labor products.
These two gentlemen afterwards became her warm friends.
An Anti-slavery Society meeting was held in Providence while Angelina
was there, but she did not feel at liberty to attend it, though she
mentions seeing Garrison, Henry B. Stanton, Osborne, "and others," but
does not say that she made their acquaintance; probably not, as she was
visiting orthodox Quakers who all disapproved of these men, and
Angelina's modesty would never have allowed her to seek their notice.
Leaving Providence, the sisters attended two Quarterly Meetings in
adjacent towns, where, Angelina states, the subject of slavery was
brought up, "and," she says, "gospel liberty prevailed to such an
extent, that even poor I was enabled to open my lips in a few words."
She neglected to say that these few words introduced the subject to the
meetings, and produced such deep feeling that many hitherto wavering
ones went away strengthened and encouraged.
They also attended Yearly Meeting at Newport, where many friends were
made; and where Angelina's conversations on the subject which absorbed
all her thoughts produced such an impression that she was strongly
urged to remain in New England, and become an anti-slavery missionary
in the Society of Friends. But she did not feel that she could stay,
as, she says, it was shown her very clearly that Shrewsbury was her
right place for the summer, though why, she knew not. The reason was
plainly revealed a little later.
She returned to Shrewsbury refreshed and strengthened, and feeling that
her various experiences had helped her to see more clearly where her
duty and her work lay. But she was saddened by the conviction that if
she gave herself up, as she felt she must, to the anti-slavery cause,
she would be cast loose from her peaceful home, and from very many dear
friends, to whom she was bound by the strongest ties of gratitude and
affection. She thus writes to a friend:--
"Didst thou ever feel as if thou hadst no home on earth, except in the
bosom of Jesus? I feel so now."
For several weeks after her return to Shrewsbury, Angelina tried to
withdraw her mind from the subject which her sister thought was taking
too strong hold on it, and interfering with her spiritual needs and
exercises. Out of deference to these views, she resumed her studies,
and tried to become interested in a "History of the United States on
Peace Principles," which she had thought some time before of writing.
Then she began the composition of a little book on the "Beauty and Duty
of Forgiveness, as Illustrated by the Story of Joseph," but gave that
up to commence a sacred history. In this she did become much interested
for a time, but her mind was too heavily burdened to permit her to
remain tranquil long. Still the question was ever before her: "Is there
nothing that I can do?" She tried to be cheerful, but felt at all times
much more like shedding tears. And her suffering was greater that it
was borne alone. The friend, Mrs. Parker, whom she was visiting, was a
comparative stranger, whose views she had not yet ascertained, and whom
she feared to trouble with her perplexities. Of Sarah, so closely
associated with Catherine Morris, she could not make an entire
confidant, and no other friend was near. Catherine, and some others in
Philadelphia, anxious about her evident and growing indifference to her
Society duties, tried to persuade her to open a school with one who had
long been a highly-prized friend, but Angelina very decidedly refused
to listen to the project.
"As to S.W.'s proposal," she writes, "I cannot think of acceding to it,
because I have seen so clearly that my pen, at least, must be employed
in the great reformations of the day, and if I engaged in a school, my
time would not be my own. No money that could be given could induce me
to bind my body and mind and soul so completely in Philadelphia. There
is no lack of light as to the right decision about this."
For this reply she received a letter of remonstrance from Sarah, to
which she thus answered:--
"I think I am as afraid as thou canst be of my doing anything to hurt
my usefulness in our Society, if that is the field designed for me to
labor in. But, Is it? is often a query of deep interest and solemnity
to my mind. I feel no openness among Friends. My spirit is oppressed
and heavy laden, and shut up in prison. What am I to do? The only
relief I experience is in writing letters and pieces for the peace and
anti-slavery causes, and this makes me think that my influence is to
reach beyond our own limits. My mind is fully made up not to spend next
winter in Philadelphia, if I can help it. I feel strangely released,
and am sure I know not what is to become of me. I am perfectly blind as
to the future."
But light was coming, and her sorrowful questionings were soon to be
answered.
It was not long before Mrs. Parker saw that her guest's cheerfulness
was assumed, and only thinly veiled some great trouble. As they became
more intimate, she questioned her affectionately, and soon drew from
her the whole story of her sorrows and her perplexities, and her great
need of a friend to feel for her and advise her. Mrs. Parker became
this friend, and, though differing from her on some essential points,
did much to help and strengthen her. For many days slavery was the only
topic discussed between them, and then one morning Angelina entered the
breakfast-room with a beaming countenance, and said:--
"It has all come to me; God has shown me what I can do; I can write an
appeal to Southern women, one which, thus inspired, will touch their
hearts, and lead them to use their influence with their husbands and
brothers. I will speak to them in such tones that they must hear me,
and, through me, the voice of justice and humanity."
This appeal was begun that very day, but before she had written many
pages, she was interrupted in her task by a letter which threw her into
a state of great agitation, and added to her perplexity. This letter
was from Elizur Wright, then secretary of the American Anti-Slavery
Society, the office of which was in New York. He invited her, in the
name of the Executive Committee of the Society, to come to New York,
and meet with Christian women in sewing circles and private parlors,
and talk to them, as she so well knew how to do, on slavery.
The door of usefulness she had been looking for so long was opened at
last, but it was so unexpected, so different from anything she had yet
thought of, that she was cast into a sea of trouble. Naturally retiring
and unobtrusive, she shrank from so public an engagement, and this
proposal frightened her so much that she could not sleep the first
night after receiving it. She had never spoken to the smallest assembly
of Friends, and even in meeting, where all were free to speak as the
spirit moved them, she had never uttered a word; and yet, how could she
refuse? She delayed her answer until she could make it the subject of
prayer and consult with Sarah. Desiring to leave her sister entirely
free to express her opinion, she merely wrote to her that she had
received the proposition.
Sarah was beginning to feel that Angelina was growing beyond her, and,
may be, above her. She did not offer a word of advice, but most
tenderly expressed her entire willingness to give up her "precious
child," to go anywhere, and do anything she felt was right. And in a
letter to a friend, alluding to this, she says:--
"My beloved sister does indeed need the prayers of all who love her.
Oh! may He who laid down his life for us guide her footsteps and keep
her in the hollow of His holy hand. Perhaps the Lord may be pleased to
cast our lot somewhere together. If so, I feel as if I could ask no
more in this world."
Sarah's willingness to surrender her to whatever work she felt called
to do was a great relief to Angelina. In writing to thank her and to
speak more fully of Mr. Wright's letter, she says:--
"The bare idea that such a thing may be required of me is truly
alarming, and that thy mind should be at all resigned to it increases
the fear that possibly I may have to do it. It does not appear by the
letter that it is expected I should extend my work outside of our
Society. One thing, however, I do see clearly, that I am not to do it
now, for I have begun to write an 'Appeal to the Christian Women of the
South,' which I feel must be finished first."
She then proceeds to give an account of the part of this Appeal already
written, and of what she intended the rest to be, and shows that she
shared the feelings common among Southerners, the anticipation of a
servile insurrection sooner or later. She says:--
"In conclusion I intend to take up the subject of abolitionism, and
endeavor to undeceive the South as to the supposed objects of
anti-slavery societies, and bear my full testimony to their pacific
principles; and then to close with as feeling an appeal as possible
to them as women, as Christian women, setting before them the awful
responsibility resting on them at this crisis; for if the women of
the South do not rise in the strength of the Lord to plead with
their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons, that country must
witness the most dreadful scenes of murder and blood.
"It will be a pamphlet of a dozen pages, I suppose. My wish is to
submit it to the publishing committee of the A.A.S.S., of New York,
for revision, to be published by them with my name attached, for I
well know my _name_ is worth more than _myself_, and will add
weight to it.[4] Now, dearest, what dost thou think of it? A pretty
bold step, I know, and one of which my friends will highly
disapprove, but this is a day in which I feel I must act
independently of consequences to myself, for of how little
consequence will my trials be, if the cause of truth is helped
forward ever so little. The South must be reached. An address to
men will not reach women, but an address to women will reach the
whole community, if it can be reached at all.
"I mean to write to Elizur Wright by to-morrow's mail, informing
him that I am writing such a pamphlet, and that I feel as if the
proposition of the committee is one of too much importance, either
to accept or refuse, without more reflection than I have yet been
able to give to it. The trial would indeed be great, to have to
leave this sweet, quiet retreat, but if duty calls, I must go....
Many, many thanks for thy dear, long letters."
[4] In a letter written some time after, she says: "I would have
liked thee to join thy name to mine in my Appeal, but thought it
would probably bring out so much opposition and violence, that I
preferred bearing it all myself."
While Angelina was thus busily employed, and buoyed up by the hope of
benefiting those whose wrongs she had all her life felt so deeply,
Sarah was reaching towards her, and in trying to be indulgent to her
and just to her Society at the same time, she was awakening to her own
false position and to some of the awful mistakes of her religious life.
Through the summer, such passages as the following appear in her diary:
--
"The approach of our Yearly Meeting was almost overwhelming. I felt as
if I could be thankful even for sickness, for almost anything so I
might have escaped attending it. But my dear Saviour opened no door,
and after a season of unusual conflict I was favored with resignation.
"Oh! the cruel treatment I have undergone from those in authority. I
could not have believed it had I not been called to endure it. But the
Lord permits it. My part is not to judge how far they have been moving
under divine direction, but to receive humbly and thankfully through
them the lessons of meekness, lowliness, faith, patience, and love, and
I trust I may be thankful for the opportunity thus afforded to love my
enemies and to pray for them, and perhaps it is to prepare me to feel
for others, that I have been thus tried and afflicted."
That she was thus prepared was evidenced through all the varied
experiences of her after-life, for certainly no more sympathetic soul
ever dwelt in a mortal frame, and more generously diffused its warmth
and tenderness upon all who came within its radius.
After the next First Day meeting, she writes:--
"The suffering in my own meeting is so intense that I think nothing
short of a settled conviction that obedience and eternal life are
closely connected could enable me to open my lips there."
Two weeks later, an almost prophetic sentence is written.
"Truly discouragement does so prevail that it would be no surprise to
me if Friends requested me to be silent. Hitherto, I have been spared
this trial, but if it comes, O Holy Father, may my own will be so slain
that I may bow in reverent adoring submission."
Notwithstanding all this distress, however, Sarah might still have
lingered on some time longer, stifling in the dry dust of the Quaker
Church, and refusing to partake of the living water Angelina proffered
to her, but for an incident which occurred about this time, scarcely a
fortnight after the last sentence quoted,--an incident which proved to
be the last straw added to the heavy burden she had borne so
submissively, if not patiently. It is best given in her own words, and
I may add, it is the last entry in her most remarkable diary.
"8th Mo. 3d. Went this morning to Orange Street meeting after a season
of conflict and prayer. I believed the Lord required this sacrifice,
but I went with a heart bowed down, praying to Jesus that I might not
speak my own words, that he would be pleased to make a way for me, or,
if what I had to deliver brought upon me opposition, to strengthen me
to endure it. The meeting had been gathered some time when I arose, and
after repeating our Lord's thrice-repeated query to Peter, 'Lovest thou
me?' I remarked that it was addressed to one who had been forgiven
much, and who could appeal to the Searcher of hearts that he did indeed
love Him. Few of us had had the temptation to endure which overcame
Peter when he denied his Lord and Master. But although few of us might
openly deny the Lord who bought us, yet there is, I apprehend, in many
of us an evil heart of unbelief, which alienates us from God and
disqualifies from answering the query as Peter did. I had proceeded so
far when Jonathan Evans rose and said: 'I hope the Friend will now be
satisfied.' I immediately sat down and was favored to feel perfectly
calm. The language, 'Ye can have no power at all against me unless it
be given you,' sustained me, and although I am branded in the public
eye with the disapprobation of a poor fellow worm, and it was entirely
a breach of discipline in him to publicly silence a minister who has
been allowed to exercise her gifts in her own meeting without ever
having been requested to be silent, yet I feel no anger towards him.
Surely the feelings that could prompt to so cruel an act cannot be the
feelings of Christian love. But it seems to be one more evidence that
my dear Saviour designs to bring me out of this place. How much has his
injunction rested on my mind of latter time. 'When they persecute you
in one city, flee ye into another.' I pray unto Thee, O Lord Jesus, to
direct the wanderer's footsteps and to plant me where thou seest I can
best promote thy glory. Expect to go to Burlington to-morrow."
To those unacquainted with the Society of Friends fifty years ago, and
its discipline at that period, so different from what it is now, this
incident may seem of little consequence; but it was, on the contrary,
extremely serious. Jonathan Evans was the presiding elder of the Yearly
Meetings, a most important personage, whose authority was undisputed.
He was sometimes alluded to as "Pope Jonathan." He had disliked Sarah
from the time of her connection with the Society, and had habitually
treated her and her offerings with a silent indifference most
significant, and which, of course, had its effect on many who pinned
their prejudices as well as their faith to the coats of the elders. It
was owing entirely to this secretly-exercised but well-understood
opposition, that Sarah had for nine long years used her ministerial
gift only through intense suffering. She believed, against much
rebellion in her own breast, that it had been given her to use in God's
service, and that she had no right to withhold it; but she had been
made so often to feel the condemnation under which she labored, that
she was really not much surprised when the final blow came.
But with all her religious humility her pride was great, and her
sensitiveness to any discourtesy very keen. She may not have felt anger
against Elder Evans. We can imagine, on the contrary, that her heart
was filled with pity for him, but a pity largely mixed with contempt;
and it is certain that the Society was made, in her view, responsible
for his conduct. Every slight she had ever received in it came back to
her exaggerated; all her dissatisfaction with its principles of action
doubled; the grief she had always felt at its indifference to the
doctrine of the atonement, and its neglect to preach "Jesus Christ and
him crucified," of which she had often complained, was intensified, and
her first impulse was to quit the Society, as she determined to quit
Philadelphia, for ever.
Angelina was greatly shocked when she learned of the treatment her
sister had received, but the words, "I will break your bonds and set
you free," came immediately to her mind, and so comforted her that her
grief and indignation were turned to joy. She had long felt that, kind
as Catherine Morris had always been, her strict orthodox principles,
which she severely enforced in her household, circumscribed Sarah's
liberty of thought and action, and operated powerfully in preventing
her from rising out of her depressed and discouraged state. But though
the question had often revolved itself in her mind, and even been
discussed between her and her sister, neither had been able to see how
Sarah could ever leave Catherine, bound to her as she was by such
strong ties of gratitude, and feeling herself so necessary to
Catherine's comfort. But now the way was made clear, and certainly no
true friend of Sarah could expect her to remain longer in Philadelphia.
It is surprising that Sarah had not discovered many years earlier that
the attempt must be futile to engraft a scion of the Charleston
aristocracy upon the rugged stock of Quaker orthodoxy.
She went to Burlington, to the house of a dear friend who knew of all
her trials, and there she remained for several weeks.
Angelina had finished her "Appeal," and, only two days before she heard
of the Evans incident, wrote to Sarah to inform her of the fact. This
letter is dated "Aug. 1st, 1836."
After a few affectionate inquiries, she says: "I have just finished my
'Appeal to Southern Women.' It has furnished work for two weeks. How
much I wish I could have thee here, if it were only for three or four
hours, that we might read it over together before I send it to Elizur
Wright. I read it to Margaret, and she says it carries its own evidence
with it; still, I should value thy judgment very much if I could have
it, but a private opportunity offers to-morrow, and I think I had
better send it. It must go just as I sent my letter to W.L.G., with
fervent prayers that the Lord would do just as he pleased with it. I
believe He directed and helped me to write it, and now I feel as if I
had nothing to do but to send it to the Anti-Slavery Society,
submitting it entirely to their judgment.... I cannot be too thankful
for the change thou expressest in thy feelings with regard to the
Anti-Slavery Society, and feel no desire at all to blame thee for
former opposition, believing, as I do, that it was permitted in order
to drive me closer to my Saviour, and into a deeper examination of the
ground upon which I was standing. I am indeed thankful for it; how
could I be otherwise, when it was so evident thou hadst my good at
heart and really did for the best? And it did not hurt me at all. It
did not alienate me from the blessed cause, for I think the same
suffering that would drive us back from a bad cause makes us cling to
and love a good one more ardently. O sister, I feel as if I could give
up not only friends, but life itself, for the slave, if it is called
for. I feel as if I could go anywhere to save him, even down to the
South if I am called there. The conviction deepens and strengthens, as
retirement affords fuller opportunity for calm reflection, that the
cause of emancipation is a cause worth suffering for, yea, dying for,
if need be. With regard to the proposed mission in New York, I can see
nothing about it, and never did any poor creature feel more unfit to do
anything than I do to undertake it. But what duty presses me into, I
cannot press myself out of.... I sometimes feel frightened to think of
how long I was standing idle in the market-place, and cannot help
attributing it in a great measure to the doctrine of nothingness so
constantly preached up in our Society. It is the most paralyzing,
zeal-quenching doctrine that ever was preached in the Church, and I
believe has produced its legitimate fruit of nothingness in reducing us
to nothing, when we ought to have been a light in the Christian
Church.... Farewell, dearest, perhaps we shall soon meet."
The Appeal was sent to New York, and this was what Mr. Wright wrote to
the author in acknowledging its receipt:--
"I have just finished reading your Appeal, and not with a dry eye. I do
not feel the slightest doubt that the committee will publish it. Oh
that it could be rained down into every parlor in our land. I know it
will carry the Christian women of the South if it can be read, and my
soul blesses that dear and glorious Saviour who has helped you to write
it."
When it was read some days after to the gentlemen of the committee,
they found in it such an intimate knowledge of the workings of the
whole slave system, such righteous denunciation of it, and such a warm
interest in the cause of emancipation, that they decided to publish it
at once and scatter it through the country, especially through the
South. It made a pamphlet of thirty-six pages. The Quarterly
Anti-Slavery Magazine for October, 1836, thus mentions it:--
"This eloquent pamphlet is from the pen of a sister of the late Thomas
S. Grimké, of Charleston, S.C. We need hardly say more of it than that
it is written with that peculiar felicity and unction which
characterized the works of her lamented brother. Among anti-slavery
writings there are two classes--one especially adapted to make new
converts, the other to strengthen the old. We cannot exclude Miss
Grimké's Appeal from either class. It belongs pre-eminently to the
former. The converts that will be made by it, we have no doubt, will be
not only numerous, but thorough-going."
Mr. Wright spoke of it as a patch of blue sky breaking through the
storm-cloud of public indignation which had gathered so black over the
handful of anti-slavery workers.
This praise was not exaggerated. The pamphlet produced the most
profound sensation wherever it was read, but, as Angelina predicted,
she was made to suffer for having written it. Friends upbraided and
denounced her, Catherine Morris even predicting that she would be
disowned, and intimating pretty plainly that she would not dissent from
such punishment; and Angelina even began to doubt her own judgment, and
to question if she ought not to have continued to live a useless life
in Philadelphia, rather than to have so displeased her best friends.
But her convictions of duty were too strong to allow her to remain long
in this depressed, semi-repentant state. In a letter to a friend she
expresses herself as almost wondering at her own weakness; and of
Catherine Morris she says: "Her disapproval, more than anything else,
shook my resolution. Nevertheless, I told her, with many tears, that I
felt it a religious duty to labor in this cause, and that I must do it
even against the advice and wishes of my friends. I think if I ever had
a clear, calm view of the path of duty in all my life, I have had it
since I came here, in reference to slavery. But I assure thee that I
expect nothing less than that my labors in this blessed cause will
result in my being disowned by Friends, but none of these things will
move me. I must confess I value my right very little in a Society which
is frowning on all the moral reformations of the day, and almost
enslaving its members by unchristian and unreasonable restrictions,
with regard to uniting with others in these works of faith and labors
of love. I do not believe it would cost me one pang to be disowned for
doing my duty to the slave."
But her condemnation reached beyond the Quaker Society--even to her
native city, where her Appeal produced a sensation she had little
expected. Mr. Weld's account of its reception there is thus given:--
"When it (the Appeal) came out, a large number of copies were sent by
mail to South Carolina. Most of them were publicly burned by
postmasters. Not long after this, the city authorities of Charleston
learned that Miss Grimké was intending to visit her mother and sisters,
and pass the winter with them. Thereupon the mayor called upon Mrs.
Grimké and desired her to inform her daughter that the police had been
instructed to prevent her landing while the steamer remained in port,
and to see to it that she should not communicate, by letter or
otherwise, with any persons in the city; and, further, that if she
should elude their vigilance and go on shore, she would be arrested and
imprisoned until the return of the vessel. Her Charleston friends at
once conveyed to her the message of the mayor, and added that the
people of Charleston were so incensed against her, that if she should
go there despite the mayor's threat of pains and penalties, she could
not escape personal violence at the hands of the mob. She replied to
the letter that her going would probably compromise her family; not
only distress them, but put them in peril, which she had neither heart
nor right to do; but for that fact, she would certainly exercise her
constitutional right as an American citizen, and go to Charleston to
visit her relatives, and if for that, the authorities should inflict
upon her pains and penalties, she would willingly bear them, assured
that such an outrage would help to reveal to the free States the fact
that slavery defies and tramples alike upon constitutions and laws, and
thus outlaws itself."
These brave words said no more than they meant, for Angelina Grimké's
moral heroism would have borne her to the front of the fiercest battle
ever fought for human rights; and she would have counted it little to
lay down her life if that could help on the victory. She touched as yet
only the surf of the breakers into which she was soon to be swept, but
her clear eye would not have quailed, or her cheek have blanched, if
even then all their cruelty could have been revealed to her.