To Theodore D. Weld.
Wayland, July 10, 1880.
I thank you cordially for the interesting Memorial of your excellent wife.1 Such a benediction is rarely bestowed on any man as to have loved and been beloved
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by such a woman.
How dim and cold all the pictures of the old saints seem, when brought into comparison with the clear light of her conscience, and the glowing warmth of her love for her fellow-creatures.
The memory of the early anti-slavery days is very sacred to me. The Holy Spirit did actually descend upon men and women in tongues of flame.
Political and theological prejudices and personal ambitions were forgotten in sympathy for the wrongs of the helpless, and in the enthusiasm to keep the fire of freedom from being extinguished on our national altar.
All suppression of selfishness makes the moment great; and mortals were never more sublimely forgetful of self than were the abolitionists in those early days, before the moral force which emanated from them had become available as a political power.
All, my friend, that is the only true church organization, when heads and hearts unite in working for the welfare of the human race!
And how wonderfully everything came as it was wanted!
How quickly the “mingled flute and trumpet eloquence” of Phillips responded to the clarion call of Garrison!
How the clear, rich bugle-tones of Whittier wakened echoes in all living souls!
How wealth poured from the ever-open hands of Arthur Tappan, Gerrit Smith, the Winslows, and thousands of others who gave even more largely in proportion to their smaller means!
How the time-serving policy of Dr. Beecher drove the bold, brave boys of Lane Seminary into the battle-field!
Politicians said, “The abolitionists exaggerate the evil; they do not know whereof they affirm;”
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and in response up rose Angelina and her sister Sarah, shrinking from the task imposed upon them by conscience, but upheld by the divine power of truth to deliver this message to the world: “We know whereof we affirm; for we were born and bred in South Carolina; and we know that abolitionists have not told, and could not tell, half the horrors of slavery.”
Then, like a cloud full of thunder and lightning, Frederick Douglass loomed above the horizon.
He knew whereof he affirmed, for he had been a slave.
Congress seemed in danger of becoming a mere “den of thieves,” when Daniel Webster walked out with Ichabod written on his garments; and, strong in moral majesty, in walked Charles Sumner, a man so honest and pure that he could not see any other line than a straight one.
What if the pulpits were silent?
Theodore Parker, that Boanerges of the clerical ranks, spoke in tones strong and far-reaching as a thousand voices.
Those were indeed inspiring days.
I look back lovingly upon them; and I find it very hard to realize that so much of it has passed into oblivion, and that whatever remains is merely the cold record of history.
Your good and great Angelina and yourself are prominent in these memory pictures of a thrilling and exalting period.
How well I remember her pale countenance and trembling limbs, when she rose to address the Legislature of Massachusetts!
The feminine shrinking was soon overcome by her sense of the duty before her, and her words flowed forth, free, forcible, and well-arranged.
Those who went from that hall unconverted were those who, being “convinced against their will, were of the same opinion still.”
