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 Sarahs. 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 Sarahs 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. Angelinas 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 persécutions
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 Sarahs 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 Grimke
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 linéaments. 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.