Three Years in Europe by William Wells Brown

W >> William Wells Brown >> Three Years in Europe

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

* * * * *

After spending a day in looking about through this great thoroughfare,
the Strand, I sallied forth with letters of introduction, with which I
had been provided by my friends before leaving America; and following
the direction of one, I was soon at No. 6, A, Waterloo Place. A moment
more, and I was in the presence of one of whom I had heard much, and
whose name is as familiar to the friends of the slave in the United
States, as household words. Although I had never seen him before, yet I
felt a feeling akin to love for the man who had proclaimed to the
oppressors of my race in America, the doctrine of _immediate
emancipation_ for the slaves of the great Republic. On reaching the
door, I sent in my letter; and it being fresh from the hands of William
Lloyd Garrison, the champion of freedom in the New World, was calculated
to insure me a warm reception at the hands of the distinguished M.P. for
the Tower Hamlets. Mr. Thompson did not wait for the servant to show me
in; but met me at the door himself, and gave me a hearty shake of the
hand, at the same time saying, "Welcome to England. How did you leave
Garrison." I need not add, that Mr. T. gave me the best advice, as to my
course in Great Britain; and how I could best serve the cause of my
enslaved countrymen. I never enjoyed three hours more agreeably than
those I spent with Mr. T. on the occasion of my first visit. George
Thompson's love of freedom, his labours in behalf of the American slave,
the negroes of the West Indies, and the wronged millions of India, are
too well known to the people of both hemispheres, to need a word of
comment from me. With the single exception of the illustrious Garrison,
no individual is more loved and honoured by the coloured people of
America, and their friends than Mr. Thompson.

A few days after my arrival in London, I received an invitation from
John Lee, Esq., LL.D., whom I had met at the Peace Congress in Paris, to
pay him a visit at his seat, near Aylesbury; and as the time was "fixed"
by the Dr., I took the train on the appointed day, on my way to Hartwell
House.

I had heard much of the aristocracy of England, and must confess that I
was not a little prejudiced against them. On a bright sunshine day,
between the hours of twelve and two, I found myself seated in a
carriage, my back turned upon Aylesbury, the vehicle whirling rapidly
over the smooth macadamised road, and I on my first visit to an English
gentleman. Twenty minutes' ride, and a turn to the right, and we were
amid the fine old trees of Hartwell Park; one having suspended from its
branches, the national banners of several different countries; among
them, the "Stars and Stripes. I felt glad that my own country's flag had
a place there, although Campbell's lines"--

"United States, your banner wears,
Two emblems,--one of fame;
Alas, the other that it bears,
Reminds us of your shame.
The white man's liberty in types,
Stands blazoned by your stars;
But what's the meaning of your stripes,
They mean your Negro-scars"--

were at the time continually running through my mind. Arrived at the
door, and we received what every one does who visits Dr. Lee--a hearty
welcome. I was immediately shown into a room with a lofty ceiling, hung
round with fine specimens of the Italian masters, and told that this was
my apartment. Hartwell House stands in an extensive park, shaded with
trees, that made me think of the oaks and elms in an American forest,
and many of whose limbs had been trimmed and nursed with the best of
care. This was for seven years the residence of John Hampden the
patriot, and more recently that of Louis XVIII., during his exile in
this country. The house is built on a very extensive scale, and is
ornamented in the interior with carvings in wood of many of the kings
and princes of bygone centuries. A room some 60 feet by 25 contains a
variety of articles that the Dr. has collected together--the whole
forming a museum that would be considered a sight in the Western States
of America.

The morning after my arrival at Hartwell I was up at an early hour--in
fact, before any of the servants--wandering about through the vast
halls, and trying to find my way out, in which I eventually succeeded,
but not, however, without aid. It had rained the previous night, and the
sun was peeping through a misty cloud as I strolled through the park,
listening to the sweet voices of the birds that were fluttering in the
tops of the trees, and trimming their wings for a morning flight. The
silence of the night had not yet been broken by the voice of man; and I
wandered about the vast park unannoyed, except by the dew from the grass
that wet my slippers. Not far from the house I came abruptly upon a
beautiful little pond of water, where the gold fish were flouncing
about, and the gentle ripples glittering in the sunshine looked like so
many silver minnows playing on the surface.

While strolling about with pleasure, and only regretting that my dear
daughters were not with me to enjoy the morning's walk, I saw the
gardener on his way to the garden. I followed him, and was soon feasting
my eyes upon the richest specimens of garden scenery. There were the
peaches hanging upon the trees that were fastened to the wall;
vegetables, fruit, and flowers were there in all their bloom and beauty;
and even the variegated geranium of a warmer clime, was there in its
hothouse home, and seemed to have forgotten that it was in a different
country from its own. Dr. Lee shows great taste in the management of his
garden. I have seldom seen a more splendid variety of fruits and flowers
in the southern States of America, than I saw at Hartwell House.

I should, however, state that I was not the only guest at Hartwell
during my stay. Dr. Lee had invited several others of the American
delegation to the Peace Congress, and two or three of the French
delegates who were on a visit to England, were enjoying the Doctor's
hospitality. Dr. Lee is a staunch friend of Temperance, as well as of
the cause of universal freedom. Every year he treats his tenantry to a
dinner, and I need not add that these are always conducted on the
principle of total abstinence.

During the second day we visited several of the cottages of the work
people, and in these I took no little interest. The people of the United
States know nothing of the real condition of the labouring classes of
England. The peasants of Great Britain are always spoken of as belonging
to the soil. I was taught in America that the English labourer was no
better off than the slave upon a Carolina rice-field. I had seen the
slaves in Missouri huddled together, three, four, and even five families
in a single room not more than 15 by 25 feet square, and I expected to
see the same in England. But in this I was disappointed. After visiting
a new house that the Doctor was building, he took us into one of the
cottages that stood near the road, and gave us an opportunity, of
seeing, for the first time, an English peasant's cot. We entered a low
whitewashed room, with a stone floor that showed an admirable degree of
cleanness. Before us was a row of shelves filled with earthen dishes and
pewter spoons, glittering as if they had just come from under the hand
of a woman of taste. A Cobden loaf of bread, that had just been left by
the baker's boy, lay upon an oaken table which had been much worn away
with the scrubbing brush; while just above lay the old family bible that
had been handed down from father to son, until its possession was
considered of almost as great value as its contents. A half-open door,
leading into another room, showed us a clean bed; the whole presenting
as fine a picture of neatness, order, and comfort, as the most
fastidious taste could wish to see. No occupant was present, and
therefore I inspected everything with a greater degree of freedom. In
front of the cottage was a small grass plot, with here and there a bed
of flowers, cheated out of its share of sunshine by the tall holly that
had been planted near it. As I looked upon the home of the labourer, my
thoughts were with my enslaved countrymen. What a difference, thought I,
there is between the tillers of the soil in England and America. There
could not be a more complete refutation of the assertion that the
English labourer is no better off than the American slave, than the
scenes that were then before me. I called the attention of one of my
American friends to a beautiful rose near the door of the cot, and said
to him, "The law that will protect that flower will also guard and
protect the hand that planted it." He knew that I had drank deep of the
cup of slavery, was aware of what I meant, and merely nodded his head in
reply. I never experienced hospitality more genuine, and yet more
unpretending, than was meted out to me while at Hartwell. And the
favourable impression made on my own mind, of the distinguished
proprietor of Hartwell Park, was nearly as indelible as my humble name
that the Doctor had engraven in a brick, in the vault beneath the
Observatory in Hartwell House.

On my return to London I accepted an invitation to join a party on a
visit to Windsor Castle; and taking the train at the Waterloo Bridge
Station, we were soon passing through a pleasant part of the country.
Arrived at the castle, we committed ourselves into the hands of the
servants, and were introduced into Her Majesty's State apartments,
Audience Chamber, Vandyck Room, Waterloo Chambers, St. George's Hall,
Gold Pantry, and many others whose names I have forgotten. In wandering
about the different apartments I lost my company, and in trying to find
them, passed through a room in which hung a magnificent portrait of
Charles I., by Vandyck. The hum and noise of my companions had ceased,
and I had the scene and silence to myself. I looked in vain for the
king's evil genius (Cromwell), but he was not in the same room. The
pencil of Sir Peter Lely has left a splendid full-length likeness of
James II. George IV. is suspended from a peg in the wall, looking as if
it was fresh from the hands of Sir Thomas Lawrence, its admirable
painter. I was now in St. George's Hall, and I gazed upward to view the
beautiful figures on the ceiling, until my neck was nearly out of joint.
Leaving this room, I inspected with interest the ancient _keep_ of the
castle. In past centuries this part of the palace was used as a prison.
Here James the First of Scotland was detained a prisoner for eighteen
years. I viewed the window through which the young prince had often
looked to catch a glimpse of the young and beautiful Lady Jane,
daughter of the Earl of Somerset, with whom he was enamoured.

From the top of the Round Tower I had a fine view of the surrounding
country. Stoke Park, once the residence of that great friend of humanity
and civilization, William Penn, was among the scenes that I viewed with
pleasure from Windsor Castle. Four years ago, when in the city of
Philadelphia, and hunting up the places associated with the name of this
distinguished man, and more recently when walking over the farm once
occupied by him on the banks of the Delaware, examining the old malt
house which is now left standing, because of the veneration with which
the name of the man who built it is held, I had no idea that I should
ever see the dwelling which he had occupied in the Old World. Stoke Park
is about four miles from Windsor, and is now owned by the Right Hon.
Henry Labouchere.

The castle, standing as it does on an eminence, and surrounded by a
beautiful valley covered with splendid villas, has the appearance of
Gulliver looking down upon the Lilliputians. It rears its massive
towers and irregular walls over and above every other object; it stands
like a mountain in the desert. How full this old palace is of material
for thought! How one could ramble here alone, or with one or two
congenial companions, and enjoy a recapitulation of its history! But an
engagement to be at Croydon in the evening cut short my stay at Windsor,
and compelled me to return to town in advance of my party.

* * * * *

Having met with John Morland, Esq., of Heath Lodge, at Paris, he gave me
an invitation to visit Croydon, and deliver a lecture on American
Slavery; and last evening, at eight o'clock, I found myself in a fine
old building in the town, and facing the first English audience that I
had seen in the sea-girt isle. It was my first welcome in England. The
assembly was an enthusiastic one, and made still more so by the
appearance of George Thompson, Esq., M.P., upon the platform. It is not
my intention to give accounts of my lectures or meetings in these pages.
I therefore merely say, that I left Croydon with a good impression of
the English, and Heath Lodge with a feeling that its occupant was one
of the most benevolent of men.

The same party with whom I visited Windsor being supplied with a card of
admission to the Bank of England, I accepted an invitation to be one of
the company. We entered the vast building at a little past twelve
o'clock to-day. The sun threw into the large halls a brilliancy that
seemed to light up the countenances of the almost countless number of
clerks, who were at their desks, or serving persons at the counters. As
nearly all my countrymen who visit London pay their respects to this
noted institution, I shall sum up my visit to it, by saying that it
surpassed my highest idea of a bank. But a stroll through this monster
building of gold and silver brought to my mind an incident that occurred
to me a year after my escape from slavery.

In the autumn of 1835, having been cheated out of the previous summer's
earnings, by the captain of the steamer in which I had been employed
running away with the money, I was, like the rest of the men, left
without any means of support during the winter, and therefore had to
seek employment in the neighbouring towns. I went to the town of
Monroe, in the state of Michigan, and while going through the principal
streets looking for work, I passed the door of the only barber in the
town, whose shop appeared to be filled with persons waiting to be
shaved. As there was but one man at work, and as I had, while employed
in the steamer, occasionally shaved a gentleman who could not perform
that office himself, it occurred to me that I might get employment here
as a journeyman barber. I therefore made immediate application for work,
but the barber told me he did not need a hand. But I was not to be put
off so easily, and after making several offers to work cheap, I frankly
told him, that if he would not employ me I would get a room near to him,
and set up an opposition establishment. This threat, however, made no
impression on the barber; and as I was leaving, one of the men who were
waiting to be shaved said, "If you want a room in which to commence
business, I have one on the opposite side of the street." This man
followed me out; we went over, and I looked at the room. He strongly
urged me to set up, at the same time promising to give me his
influence. I took the room, purchased an old table, two chairs, got a
pole with a red stripe painted around it, and the next day opened, with
a sign over the door, "Fashionable Hair-dresser from New York, Emperor
of the West." I need not add that my enterprise was very annoying to the
"shop over the way"--especially my sign, which happened to be the most
expensive part of the concern. Of course, I had to tell all who came in
that my neighbour on the opposite side did not keep clean towels, that
his razors were dull, and, above all, he had never been to New York to
see the fashions. Neither had I. In a few weeks I had the entire
business of the town, to the great discomfiture of the other barber.

At this time, money matters in the Western States were in a sad
condition. Any person who could raise a small amount of money was
permitted to establish a bank, and allowed to issue notes for four times
the sum raised. This being the case, many persons borrowed money merely
long enough to exhibit to the bank inspectors, and the borrowed money
was returned, and the bank left without a dollar in its vaults, if,
indeed, it had a vault about its premises. The result was, that banks
were started all over the Western States, and the country flooded with
worthless paper. These were known as the "Wild Cat Banks." Silver coin
being very scarce, and the banks not being allowed to issue notes for a
smaller amount than one dollar, several persons put out notes from 6 to
75 cents in value; these were called "Shinplasters." The Shinplaster was
in the shape of a promissory note, made payable on demand. I have often
seen persons with large rolls of these bills, the whole not amounting to
more than five dollars. Some weeks after I had commenced business on my
"own hook," I was one evening very much crowded with customers; and
while they were talking over the events of the day, one of them said to
me, "Emperor, you seem to be doing a thriving business. You should do as
other business men, issue your Shinplasters." This, of course, as it was
intended, created a laugh; but with me it was no laughing matter, for
from that moment I began to think seriously of becoming a banker. I
accordingly went a few days after to a printer, and he, wishing to get
the job of printing, urged me to put out my notes, and showed me some
specimens of engravings that he had just received from Detroit. My head
being already filled with the idea of a bank, I needed but little
persuasion to set the thing finally afloat. Before I left the printer
the notes were partly in type, and I studying how I should keep the
public from counterfeiting them. The next day my Shinplasters were
handed to me, the whole amount being twenty dollars, and after being
duly signed were ready for circulation. At first my notes did not take
well; they were too new, and viewed with a suspicious eye. But through
the assistance of my customers, and a good deal of exertion on my own
part, my bills were soon in circulation; and nearly all the money
received in return for my notes was spent in fitting up and decorating
my shop.

Few bankers get through this world without their difficulties, and I was
not to be an exception. A short time after my money had been out, a
party of young men, either wishing to pull down my vanity, or to try
the soundness of my bank, determined to give it "a run." After
collecting together a number of my bills, they came one at a time to
demand other money for them, and I, not being aware of what was going
on, was taken by surprise. One day as I was sitting at my table,
strapping some new razors I had just got with the avails of my
"Shinplasters," one of the men entered and said, "Emperor, you will
oblige me if you will give me some other money for these notes of
yours." I immediately cashed the notes with the most worthless of the
Wild Cat money that I had on hand, but which was a lawful tender. The
young man had scarcely left when a second appeared with a similar
amount, and demanded payment. These were cashed, and soon a third came
with his roll of notes. I paid these with an air of triumph, although I
had but half a dollar left. I began now to think seriously what I should
do, or how to act, provided another demand should be made. While I was
thus engaged in thought, I saw the fourth man crossing the street, with
a handful of notes, evidently my "Shinplasters." I instantaneously shut
the door, and looking out of the window, said, "I have closed business
for the day: come to-morrow and I will see you." In looking across the
street, I saw my rival standing in his shop-door, grinning and clapping
his hands at my apparent downfall. I was completely "done _Brown_" for
the day. However, I was not to be "used up" in this way; so I escaped by
the back door, and went in search of my friend who had first suggested
to me the idea of issuing notes. I found him, told him of the difficulty
I was in, and wished him to point out a way by which I might extricate
myself. He laughed heartily, and then said, "You must act as all bankers
do in this part of the country." I inquired how they did, and he said,
"When your notes are brought to you, you must redeem them, and then send
them out and get other money for them; and, with the latter, you can
keep cashing your own Shinplasters." This was indeed a new job to me. I
immediately commenced putting in circulation the notes which I had just
redeemed, and my efforts were crowned with so much success, that before
I slept that night my "Shinplasters" were again in circulation, and my
bank once more on a sound basis.

As I saw the clerks shovelling out the yellow coin upon the counters of
the Bank of England, and men coming in and going out with weighty bags
of the precious metal in their hands, or on their shoulders, I could not
but think of the great contrast between the monster Institution, within
whose walls I was then standing, and the Wild Cat Banks of America!

LETTER IX.

_The British Museum--A Portrait--Night Reading--A Dark Day--A Fugitive
Slave on the Streets of London,--A Friend in the time of need._

LONDON, _Sept. 24_.

I have devoted the past ten days to sight-seeing in the Metropolis--the
first two of which were spent in the British Museum. After procuring a
guide-book at the door as I entered, I seated myself on the first seat
that caught my eye, arranged as well as I could in my mind the different
rooms, and then commenced in good earnest. The first part I visited was
the Gallery of Antiquities, through to the north gallery, and thence
to the Lycian Room. This place is filled with tombs, bas-reliefs,
statues, and other productions of the same art. Venus, seated, and
smelling a lotus flower which she held in her hand, and attended by
three graces, put a stop to the rapid strides that I was making through
this part of the hall. This is really one of the most precious
productions of the art that I have ever seen. Many of the figures in
this room are very much mutilated, yet one can linger here for hours
with interest. A good number of the statues are of uncertain date; they
are of great value as works of art, and more so as a means of
enlightening much that has been obscure with respect to Lycia, an
ancient and celebrated country of Asia Minor.

In passing through the eastern Zoological Gallery, I was surrounded on
every side by an army of portraits suspended upon the walls; and among
these was the Protector. The people of one century kicks his bones
through the streets of London, another puts his portrait in the British
Museum, and a future generation may possibly give him a place in
Westminster Abbey. Such is the uncertainty of the human character.
Yesterday, a common soldier--to-day, the ruler of an empire--to-morrow,
suspended upon the gallows. In an adjoining room I saw a portrait of
Baxter, which gives one a pretty good idea of the great Nonconformist.
In the same room hung a splendid modern portrait, without any intimation
in the guide-book of who it represented, or when it was painted. It was
so much like one whom I had seen, and on whom my affections were placed
in my younger days, that I obtained a seat from an adjoining room and
rested myself before it. After sitting half an hour or more, I wandered
to another part of the building, but only to return again to my "first
love," where I remained till the throng had disappeared one after
another, and the officer reminding me that it was time to close.

It was eight o'clock before I reached my lodgings. Although fatigued by
the day's exertions, I again resumed the reading of Roscoe's "Leo X.,"
and had nearly finished seventy-three pages, when the clock on St.
Martin's Church apprised me that it was two. He who escapes from slavery
at the age of twenty years, without any education, as did the writer of
this letter, must read when others are asleep, if he would catch up with
the rest of the world. "To be wise," says Pope, "is but to know how
little can be known." The true searcher after truth and knowledge is
always like a child; although gaining strength from year to year, he
still "learns to labour and to wait." The field of labour is ever
expanding before him, reminding him that he has yet more to learn;
teaching him that he is nothing more than a child in knowledge, and
inviting him onward with a thousand varied charms. The son may take
possession of the father's goods at his death, but he cannot inherit
with the property the father's cultivated mind. He may put on the
father's old coat, but that is all: the immortal mind of the first
wearer has gone to the tomb.

Property may be bequeathed, but knowledge cannot. Then let him who
would be useful in his day and generation be up and doing. Like the
Chinese student who learned perseverance from the woman whom he saw
trying to rub a crow-bar into a needle, so should we take the experience
of the past to lighten our feet through the paths of the future.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15