If you ever go to Salem, Massachusetts to visit both the historic sites in the town and to fund the whacky tourist industry focused on witchcraft, aura readings, and magical equipment, please take a few moments to visit the new statue of the noted Black Abolitionist, educator, and poet Charlotte Forten Grimke. The statue is located at 289 Derby St. in Salem in a popular part of the city near where the witch trials took place. The artist who created the statue is Ai Qiu Hopen of Humanity Memorial Inc., a Chinese immigrant, and it was dedicated in November of 2024, just a year and a half before I visited it.
Grimke was born Charlotte Forten in 1837 in Philadelphia. Because white schools in that city would not enroll Black students, her family sent her to Salem, Massachusetts to be educated at the Higginson Grammar School. When she graduated from the previously all-white grammar school, she enrolled at the Salem Normal School, a college for educating teachers. She was then hired at the Eppes Grammar School as a teacher, becoming the first professional Black educator in Salem.
In the second year of the American Civil War, Grimke volunteered to go down South to teach Black children how to read and other elementary school skills. There she encountered escaped slaves trying to form a freedpersons colony in the Sea Islands off the coast of Carolina. These refugees formed their own churches, schools, and mutual support organizations with help from the Union troops nearby. In 1864, The Atlantic Magazine published two accounts from her of her experiences there. The articles are now known as Life on the Sea Islands.
Below are some extended excerpts from these two articles written by Grimke:
“I was on the afternoon of a warm, murky day late in October [1862] that our steamer, the United States, touched the landing at Hilton Head. A motley assemblage had collected on the wharf, — officers, soldiers, and “contrabands” of every size and hue: black was, however, the prevailing color. The first view of Hilton Head is desolate enough, — a long, low, sandy point, stretching out into the sea, with no visible dwellings up- on it, except the rows of small white-roofed houses which have lately been built for the freed people.
After signing a paper wherein we declared ourselves loyal to the Government, and wherein, also, were set forth fearful penalties, should we ever be found guilty of treason, we were allowed to land, and immediately took General Saxton’s boat, the Flora, for Beaufort. The General was on board, and we were presented to him. He is handsome, courteous, and affable, and looks—as he is—the gentleman and the soldier.
From Hilton Head to Beaufort the same long, low line of sandy coast, bordered by trees; formidable gunboats in the distance, and the gray ruins of an old fort, said to have been built by the Huguenots more than two hundred years ago. Arrived at Beaufort, we found that we had not yet reached our journey’s end. While waiting for the boat which was to take us to our island of St. Helena, we had a little time to observe the ancient town. The houses in the main street, which fronts the “Bay,” are large and handsome, built of wood, in the usual Southern style, with spacious piazzas, and surrounded by fine trees. We noticed in one yard a magnolia, as high as some of our largest shade – maples, with rich, dark, shining foliage. A large building which was once the Public Library is now a shelter for freed people from Fernandina. Did the Rebels know it, they would doubtless upturn their aristocratic noses, and exclaim in disgust, “To what base uses,” etc. We confess that it was highly satisfactory to us to see how the tables are turned, now that “the whirligig of time has brought about its revenges.”
Little colored children of every hue were playing about the streets, looking as merry and happy as children ought to look,—now that the evil shadow of Slavery no longer hangs over them. Some of the officers we met did not impress us favorably. They talked flippantly, and sneeringly of the negroes, whom they found we had come down to teach, using an epithet more offensive than gentlemanly. They assured us that there was great danger of Rebel attacks, that the yellow fever prevailed to an alarming extent, and that, indeed, the manufacture of coffins was the only business that was at all flourishing at present. Although by no means daunted by these alarming stories, we were glad when the announcement of our boat relieved us from their edifying conversation. We rowed across to Ladies Island, which adjoins St. Helena, through the splendors of a grand Southern sunset. The gorgeous clouds of crimson and gold were reflected as in a mirror in the smooth, clear waters below. As we glided along, the rich tones of the negro boat- men broke upon the evening stillness, — sweet, strange, and solemn—”Jesus make de blind to see, Jesus make de cripple walk, Jesus make de deaf to hear. Walk in, kind Jesus! No man can bender me.”
It was nearly dark when we reached the island, and then we had a three-miles’ drive through the lonely roads to the house of the superintendent. We thought how easy it would be for a band of guerrillas, had they chanced that way, to seize and hang us; but we were in that excited, jubilant state of mind which makes fear impossible, and sang “John Brown” with a will, as we drove through the pines and palmettos. Oh, it was good to sing that song in the very heart of Rebeldom! Harry, our driver, amused us much. He was surprised to find that we had not heard of him before. “Why, I thought eberybody at de Nort had heard o’ me,” he said, very innocently. We learned afterward that Mrs. F., who made the tour of the islands last summer, had publicly mentioned Harry. Some one had told him of it, and he of course imagined that he had become quite famous. Notwithstanding this little touch of vanity, Harry is one of the best and smartest men on the island.
…Arrived at the headquarters of the general superintendent, Mr. S., we were kindly received by him and the ladies, and shown into a large parlor, where a cheerful wood-fire glowed in the grate. It had a home-like look; but still there was a sense of unreality about everything, and I felt that nothing less than a vigorous “shaking-up,” such as Grandfather Smallweed daily experienced, would arouse me thoroughly to the fact that I was in South Carolina.
The next morning L. and I were awakened by the cheerful voices of men and women, children and chickens, in the yard below. We ran to the window, and looked out. Women in bright-colored handkerchiefs, some carrying pails on their heads, were crossing the yard, busy with their morning work; children were playing, and tumbling around them. On every face there was a look of serenity and cheerfulness. My heart gave a great throb of happiness as I looked at them, and thought, “They are free! so long down-trodden, so long crushed to the earth, but now in their old homes, forever free!” And I thanked God that I had lived to see this day.”
The next morning, Grimke saw where her work was to be done:
“…we drove to the school, in which I was to teach. It is kept in the Baptist Church, — a brick building, beautifully situated in a grove of live-oaks. These trees are the first objects that attract one’s attention here: not that they are finer than our Northern oaks, but because of the singular gray moss with which every branch is heavily draped. This hanging moss grows on nearly all the trees, but on none so luxuriantly as on the live-oak. The pendants are often four or five feet long, very graceful and beautiful, but giving the trees a solemn, almost funereal look. The school was opened in September. Many of the children had, however, received instruction during the summer. It was evident that they had made very rapid improvement, and we noticed with pleasure how bright and eager to learn many of them seemed.
The Sunday after our arrival we attended service at the Baptist Church. The people came in slowly for they have no way of knowing the hour, except by the sun. By eleven they had all assembled, and the church was well filled. They were neatly dressed in their Sunday attire, the women mostly wearing clean, dark frocks, with white aprons and bright-colored head-handkerchiefs. Some had attained to the dignity of straw hats with gay feathers, but these were not nearly as becoming nor as picturesque as the handkerchiefs. The day was warm, and the windows were thrown open as if it were summer, although it was the second day of November. It was very pleasant to listen to the beautiful hymns, and look from the crowd of dark, earnest faces within, upon the grove of noble oaks without….”
Grimke began to teach at the village school:
“The first day at school was rather trying. Most of my children were very small, and consequently restless. Some were too young to learn the alphabet. These little ones were brought to school because the older children—in whose care their parents leave them while at work—could not come without them. We were therefore willing to have them come, although they seemed to have discovered the secret of perpetual motion, and tried one’s patience sadly. But after some days of positive, though not severe treatment, order was brought out of chaos, and I found but little difficulty in managing and quieting the tiniest and most restless spirits. I never before saw children so eager to learn, although I had had several years’ experience in New-England schools. Coming to school is a constant delight and recreation to them. They come here as other children go to play. The older ones, during the summer, work in the fields from early morning until eleven or twelve o’clock, and then come into school, after their hard toil in the hot sun, as bright and as anxious to learn as ever….
Many of the grown people are desirous of learning to read. It is wonderful how a people who have been so long crushed to the earth, so imbruted as these have been, — and they are said to be among the most degraded negroes of the South, — can have so great a desire for knowledge, and such a capability for attaining it. One cannot believe that the haughty Anglo-Saxon race, after centuries of such an experience as these people have had, would be very much superior to them. And one’s indignation increases against those who, North as well as South, taunt the colored race with inferiority while they themselves use every means in their power to crush and degrade them, denying them every right and privilege, closing against them every avenue of elevation and improvement….
After the lessons, we used to talk freely to the children, often giving them slight sketches of some of the great and good men. Before teaching them the “John Brown” song, which they learned to sing with great spirit, Miss T. told them the story of the brave old man who had died for them. I told them about Toussaint, thinking it well they should know what one of their own color had done for his race. They listened attentively, and seemed to understand….
We made daily visits to the “quarters,” which were a few rods from the house. The negro-houses, on this as on most of the other plantations, were miserable little huts, with nothing comfortable or home-like about them, consisting generally of but two very small rooms, —the only way of lighting them, no matter what the state of the weather, being to leave the doors and windows open. The windows, of course, have no glass in them. In such a place, a father and mother with a large family of children are often obliged to live….
Harry, the foreman on the plantation, a man of a good deal of natural intelligence, was most desirous of learning to read. He came in at night to be taught, and learned very rapidly. I never saw any one more determined to learn. We enjoyed hearing him talk about the “gun- shoot,”—so the people call the capture of Bay Point and Hilton Head. They never weary of telling you “how Massa run when he hear de fust gun.”
“Why did n’t you go with him, Harry?” I asked.
“Oh, Miss, ‘t was n’t ’cause Massa did n’t try to ‘suade me. He tell we dat de Yankees would shoot we, or would sell we to Cuba, an’ do all de wust tings to we, when dey come. ‘Bery well, Sar,’ says L ‘If I go wid you, I be good as dead. If I stay here, I can’t be no wust; so if I got to dead, I might ‘s well dead here as anywhere. So I ‘ll stay here an’ wait for de “dam Yankees.”‘ Lor’, Miss, I knowed he was n’t tellin’ de truth all de time.—
“But why did n’t you believe him, Harry?”
“Dunno, Miss; somehow we hear de Yankees was our friends, an’ dat we ‘d be free when dey come, an’ ‘pears like we believe dat.”
…I found this to be true of nearly all the people I talked with, and I thought it strange they should have had so much faith in the Northerners. Truly, for years past, they had had but little cause to think them very friendly….”
Cupid, an escaped slave, told her that his owner had told him to assemble all of the slaves to be carried off the island. Cupid told Grimke; “Jus’ as if I was gwine to be sich a goat!” added he, with a look and gesture of ineffable contempt. He and the rest of the people, instead of obeying their master, left the place and hid themselves in the woods; and when he came to look for them, not one of all his “faithful servants” was to be found. A few, principally house-servants, had previously been carried away.”
Grimke next writes about the commander of the region, General Rufus Saxby. He was from Greenfield in Massachusetts, from a Unitarian family that supported the Abolitionist Movement and Feminist practices. He was accepted at the West Point Military Academy and graduated in 1849. He had varied services after graduation. He fought in the Seminole Wars in Florida, surveyed the uncharted Rocky Mountains under George McClellan, and taught at West Point.
When the Civil War broke out, he served as a quartermaster general and for his actions at Harpers Ferry he was awarded the Medal of Honor. In May of 1862 he was appointed the Military Governor of the South with a headquarters at Beaufort Island in South Carolina. In addition to his military duties, he was also in charge of the large “contraband camps” on the islands off the coast of the Carolinas. He also authorized the recruitment of the First South Carolina Volunteer Infantry, the first unit of what became the United States Colored Troops. He appointed a fellow Unitarian Abolitionist, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, to command this regiment. Grimke writes of the regard the African Americans held for Saxby; “General Saxton is truly worthy of the gratitude and admiration with which the people regard him. His unfailing kindness and consideration for them—so different from the treatment they hare some- times received at the hands of other officers—have caused them to have unbounded confidence in General “Saxby,” as they call him.”
On January 1, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. The former slaves had been looking forward to this day for over a month, and on the New Year’s Day they assembled. Grimke writes about the celebration:
“New-Year’s-Day—Emancipation-Day—was a glorious one to us. The morning was quite cold, the coldest we had experienced; but we were determined to go to the celebration at Camp Saxton, — the camp of the First Regiment South-Carolina Volunteers, — whither the General and Colonel Higginson had bidden us, on this, “the greatest day in the nation’s history.” We enjoyed perfectly the exciting scene on board the Flora. There was an eager, wondering crowd of the freed people in their holiday-attire, with the gayest of head-handkerchiefs, the whitest of aprons, and the happiest of faces. The band was playing, the flags streaming, everybody talking merrily and feeling strangely happy. The sun shone brightly, the very waves seemed to partake of the universal gayety, and danced and sparkled more joyously than ever before. Long before we reached Camp Saxton we could see the beautiful grove, and the ruins of the old Huguenot fort near it. Some companies of the First Regiment were drawn up in line under the trees, near the landing, to receive us. A fine, soldierly-looking set of men; their brilliant dress against the trees (they were then wearing red pantaloons) invested them with a semi-barbaric splendor. It was my good fortune to find among the officers an old friend, — and what it was to meet a friend from the North, in our isolated Southern life, no one can imagine who has not experienced the pleasure. Letters were an unspeakable luxury, — we hungered for them, we could never get enough; but to meet old friends, — that was “too much, too much,” as the people here say, when they are very much in earnest. Our friend took us over the camp, and showed us all the arrangements. Everything looked clean and comfortable, much neater, we were told, than in most of the white camps. An officer told us that he had never seen a regiment in which the men were so honest. “In many other camps,” said he, “the colonel and the rest of us would find it necessary to place a guard before our tents. We never do it here. They are left entirely unguarded. Yet nothing has ever been touched.” We were glad to know that. It is a remarkable fact, when we consider that these men have all their lives been slaves; and we know what the teachings of Slavery are.
The celebration took place in the beautiful grove of live-oaks adjoining the camp. It was the largest grove we had seen. I wish it were possible to describe fitly the scene which met our eyes as we sat upon the stand, and looked down on the crowd before us. There were the black soldiers in their blue coats and scarlet pantaloons, the officers of this and other regiments in their handsome uniforms, and crowds of lookers-on, — men, women, and children, of every complexion, grouped in various attitudes under the moss-hung trees. The faces of all wore a happy, interested look. The exercises commenced with a prayer by the chaplain of the regiment. An ode, written for the occasion by Professor Zachos, was read by him, and then sung. Colonel Higginson then introduced Dr. Brisbane, who read the President’s Proclamation, which was enthusiastically cheered. Rev. Mr. French presented to the Colonel two very elegant flags, a gift to the regiment from the Church of the Puritans, accompanying them by an appropriate and enthusiastic speech. At its conclusion, before Colonel Higginson could reply, and while he still stood holding the flags in his hand, some of the colored people, of their own accord, commenced singing, “My Country, ’tis of thee.” It was a touching and beautiful incident, and sent a thrill through all our hearts. The Colonel was deeply moved by it. He said that that reply was far more effective than any speech he could make. But he did make one of those stirring speeches which are “half battles.” All hearts swelled with emotion as we listened to his glorious words, — “stirring the soul like the sound of a trumpet.”
His soldiers are warmly attached to him, and he evidently feels towards them all as if they were his children. The people speak of him as “the officer who never leaves his regiment for pleasure,” but devotes himself, with all his rich gifts of mind and heart, to their interests. It is not strange that his judicious kindness, ready sympathy, and rare fascination of manner should attach them to him strongly. He is one’s ideal of an officer. There is in him much of the grand, knightly spirit of the olden time, — scorn of all that is mean and ignoble, pity for the weak, chivalrous devotion to the cause of the oppressed.
General Saxton spoke also, and was received with great enthusiasm. Throughout the morning, repeated cheers were given for him by the regiment, and joined in heartily by all the people. They know him to be one of the best and noblest men in the world. His Proclamation for Emancipation-Day we thought, if possible, even more beautiful than the Thanksgiving Proclamation.
At the close of Colonel Higginson’s speech he presented the flags to the color-bearers, Sergeant Rivers and Sergeant Sutton, with an earnest charge, to which they made appropriate replies. We were particularly pleased with Robert Sutton, who is a man of great natural intelligence, and whose remarks were simple, eloquent, and forcible.
Mrs. Gage also uttered some earnest words; and then the regiment sang “John Brown” with much spirit. After the meeting we saw the dress-parade, a brilliant and beautiful sight. An officer told us that the men went through the drill remarkably well, — that the ease and rapidity with which they learned the movements were wonderful. To us it seemed strange as a miracle, — this black regiment, the first mustered into the service of the United States, doing itself honor in the sight of the officers of other regiments, many of whom, doubtless, “came to scoff.” The men afterwards had a great feast, ten oxen having been roasted whole for their especial benefit.”
I went on a rainy day and tried to take photos showing the words from Charlotte’s writing on her “clothes”.
After the war ended, Charlotte Grimke taught at a number of schools for newly-freed Blacks. For example, in 1871 she moved to Charleston to teach children at the Shaw Memorial School. The school was created by the friends and family of Col. Robert Gould Shaw, the commander of the Black 54th Massachusetts Regiment who had fallen in his unit’s attack on Battery Wagner guarding the harbor at Charleston. After he died supporter of the regiment wanted to build a statue, but his mother thought it would be better to build a school for young Black Americans. While most of the money came from the North, the enlisted men and officers contributed the equivalent of $20,000 in today’s money.
In 1870, Charlotte met Francis Grimke, a Black Presbyterian minister in Washington, D.C. His father, a white slaveowner, was the brother of Southern Abolitionist sisters, Sarah Grimké and Angelina Grimké. The sisters only found out about their mixed race nephew after the Civil War. They took Francis and his brother in and educated them. Francis graduated from Princeton Theological Seminary, now called Princeton University, and his brother graduated from Harvard Law School. In 1878, the 26 year old Francis married the 41 year old Charlotte Forten. They had a daughter, but she died six months after she was born. In 1884, Francis officiated at Frederick Douglass’s wedding to a white woman.
After the war, Charlotte continued to advocate for African American and women’s rights, as well as for greater access to education for all children. In 1896 she was one of several founders of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). She died in 1914.
Next to the statue is a panel describing the contribution Grimke made.
There is also a brief biography of the artist who created the statue.
There is also a timeline on the erection of the statue.
After you have viewed the sculpture, you may want to try a baked good and a hundred varieties of coffee at Lulu’s Bakery right next to the statue.
Sources:
Life on the Sea Islands by Charlotte Forten Grimke found in the May and June 1864 issues of The Atlantic Magazine
The Shaw Community Center: A Living Memorial to Civil Rights Progress provided by the Charleston County Public Library.
Charlotte Forten Grimké: Anti-Enslavement Activist, Poet, Essayist, and Teacher by
Note: All color photos of buildings in this post were taken by Patrick Young except as noted.
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