At this time of her life, ere a single sorrow had thrown its shadow across
her heart, and all her tears were shed for others woes, we see very distinctly
Angelinas 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 Mth. 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 Mst. 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 Mth. 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 Md. 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 Mth. 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 Stephens or Williams 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 Grimke 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 Mth. 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.
Grimke 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.