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Three Years in Europe by William Wells Brown

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"O ye who dwell
Around yon ruins, guard the precious charge
From hands profane! O save the sacred pile--
O'er which the wing of centuries has flown
Darkly and silently, deep-shadowing all
Its pristine honours--from the ruthless grasp
Of future violation."


In contemplating these ruins more closely, the mind insensibly reverts
to the period of feudal and regal oppression, when structures like that
of Tintern Abbey necessarily became the scenes of stirring and
highly-important events. How altered is the scene! Where were formerly
magnificence and splendour; the glittering array of priestly prowess;
the crowded halls of haughty bigots, and the prison of religious
offenders; there is now but a heap of mouldering ruins. The oppressed
and the oppressor have long since lain down together in the peaceful
grave. The ruin, generally speaking, is unusually perfect, and the
sculpture still beautifully sharp. The outward walls are nearly entire,
and are thickly clad with ivy. Many of the windows are also in a good
state of preservation; but the roof has long since fallen in. The
feathered songsters were fluttering about, and pouring forth their
artless lays as a tribute of joy; while the lowing of the herds, the
bleating of flocks, and the hum of bees upon the farm near by, all burst
upon the ear, and gave the scene a picturesque sublimity that can be
easier imagined than described. Most assuredly Shakspere had such ruins
in view when he exclaimed--

"The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve--
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a wreck behind."


In the afternoon we returned to Bristol, and I spent the greater part
of the next day in examining the interior of Redcliffe Church. Few
places in the West of England have greater claims upon the topographer
and historian than the church of St. Mary's, Redcliffe. Its antiquity,
the beauty of its architecture, and above all the interesting
circumstances connected with its history, entitle it to peculiar notice.
It is also associated with the enterprise of genius; for its name has
been blended with the reputation of Rowley, of Canynge, and of
Chatterton; and no lover of poetry and admirer of art can visit it
without a degree of enthusiasm. And when the old building shall have
mouldered into ruins, even these will be trodden with veneration as
sacred to the recollection of genius of the highest order. Ascending a
winding stair, we were shown into the Treasury Room. The room forms an
irregular octagon, admitting light through narrow unglazed apertures
upon the broken and scattered fragments of the famous Rowleian chests,
that with the rubble and dust of centuries cover the floor. It is here
creative fancy pictures forth the sad image of the spirit of the
spot--the ardent boy, flushed and fed by hope, musing on the brilliant
deception he had conceived--whose daring attempt has left his name unto
the intellectual world as a marvel and a mystery.

That a boy under twelve years of age should write a series of poems,
imitating the style of the fifteenth century, and palm these poems off
upon the world as the work of a monk, is indeed strange; and that these
should become the object of interesting contemplation to the literary
world, and should awaken inquiries, and exercise the talents of a
Southey, a Bryant, a Miller, a Mathias, and others, savours more of
romance than reality. I had visited the room in a garret in High
Holborn, where this poor boy died. I had stood over a grave in the
burial-ground of the Lane Workhouse, which was pointed out to me as the
last resting-place of Chatterton; and now I was in the room where it was
alleged he obtained the manuscripts that gave him such notoriety. We
descended and viewed other portions of the church. The effect of the
chancel, as seen behind the pictures, is very singular, and suggestive
of many swelling thoughts. We look at the great east window, it is
unadorned with its wonted painted glass; we look at the altar-screen
beneath, on which the light of day again falls, and behold the injuries
it has received at the hands of time. There is a dreary mournfulness in
the scene which fastens on the mind, and is in unison with the time-worn
mouldering fragments that are seen all around us. And this dreariness is
not removed by our tracing the destiny of man on the storied pavements
or on the graven brass, that still bears upon its surface the names of
those who obtained the world's regard years back. This old pile is not
only an ornament to the city, but it stands a living monument to the
genius of its founder. Bristol has long sustained a high position as a
place from which the American Abolitionists have received substantial
encouragement in their arduous labours for the emancipation of the
slaves of that land; and the writer of this received the best evidence
that in this respect the character of the people had not been
exaggerated, especially as regards the "Clifton Ladies' Anti-Slavery
Society."




LETTER XXIII.[A]

[A] This letter is rather out of its proper place here. I had mislaid
the MS., and my distance from the printer prevented the matter being
rectified. In another edition, the transposition can be effected.

_Aberdeen--Passage by Steamer--Edinburgh--Visit to the College--William
and Ellen Craft._


I have visited few places where I found more warm friends than in
Aberdeen. This is the Granite City of Scotland.

Aberdeen reminds one of Boston, especially in a walk down Union Street,
which is said to be one of the finest promenades in Europe.

The town is situated on a neck of land between the rivers Dee and Don,
and is the most important place in the north of Scotland. During our
third day in the city, we visited among other places the Old Bridge of
Don, which is not only resorted to on account of its antique celebrity
and peculiar appearance, but also because of the notoriety that it has
gained by Lord Byron's poem of the "Bridge of Don."

An engagement to be in Edinburgh and vicinity, cut short our stay in the
north. The very mild state of the weather, and a wish to see something
of the coast between Aberdeen and Edinburgh, induced us to make the
journey by water.

On Friday evening, the 14th, after delivering a lecture before the Total
Abstinence Society, in company with William and Ellen Craft, I went on
board the steamer bound for Edinburgh. On reaching the vessel, we found
the drawing-room almost entirely at our service, and prejudice against
colour being unknown, we had no difficulty in getting the best
accommodation which the steamer could furnish. This is so unlike the
pro-slavery, negro-hating spirit of America, that the Crafts seemed
almost bewildered by the transition. I had been in the saloon but a
short time, when, looking at the newspapers on the table, I discovered
the _North Star_. It was like meeting with a friend in a strange land. I
looked in vain on the margin for the name of its owner, but as I did not
feel at liberty to take it, and as it appeared to be alone, I laid the
_Liberator_ by its side to keep it company.

The night was a glorious one. The sky was without a speck; and the
clear, piercing air had a brilliancy I have seldom seen. The moon was in
its zenith--the steamer and surrounding objects were beautiful in the
extreme. The boat got under weigh at a little past twelve, and we were
soon out at sea. The "Queen" is a splendid craft, and without the aid of
sails, was able to make fifteen miles within the hour. I was up the next
morning before the sun, and found the sea as on the previous night--as
calm and smooth as a mirror. It was a delightful morning, more like
April than February; and the sun, as it rose, seemed to fire every peak
of the surrounding hills. On our left, lay the Island of May, while to
the right was to be seen the small fishing town of Anstruther, twenty
miles distant from Edinburgh. Beyond these, on either side, was a range
of undulating blue mountains, swelling as they retired, into a bolder
outline and a loftier altitude, until they terminated some twenty-five
or thirty miles in the dim distance. A friend at my side pointed out a
place on the right, where the remains of an old castle or look-out
house, used in the time of the border wars, once stood, and which
reminded us of the barbarism of the past.

But these signs are fast disappearing. The plough and roller have passed
over many of these foundations, and the time will soon come, when the
antiquarian will look in vain for those places that history has pointed
out to him, as connected with the political and religious struggles of
the past. The steward of the vessel came round to see who of the
passengers wished for breakfast, and as the keen air of the morning had
given me an appetite, and there being no prejudice on the score of
colour, I took my seat at the table and gave ample evidence that I was
not an invalid. On returning to the deck again, I found we had entered
the Forth, and that "Modern Athens" was in sight; and, far above every
other object, with its turrets almost lost in the clouds, could be seen
Edinburgh Castle. After landing, a pleasant ride over one of the finest
roads in Scotland, with a sprinkling of beautiful villas on either side,
brought us once more to Cannon's Hotel.

In a city like Edinburgh, there is always something to keep the public
alive, but during our three days' stay in the town, on this occasion,
there were topics under discussion which seemed to excite the people,
although I had been told that the Scotch were not excitable. Indeed all
Edinburgh seemed to have gone mad about the Pope. If his Holiness should
think fit to pay a visit to his new dominions, I would advise him to
keep out of reach of the Scotch.

In company with the Crafts, I visited the Calton Hill, from which we had
a delightful view of the city and surrounding country. I had an
opportunity during my stay in the city, of visiting the Infirmary, and
was pleased to see among the two or three hundred students, three
coloured young men, seated upon the same benches with those of a fairer
complexion, and yet there appeared no feeling on the part of the whites
towards their coloured associates, except of companionship and respect.
One of the cardinal truths, both of religion and freedom, is the
equality and brotherhood of man. In the sight of God and all just
institutions, the whites can claim no precedence or privilege, on
account of their being white; and if coloured men are not treated as
they should be in the educational institutions in America, it is a
pleasure to know that all distinction ceases by crossing the broad
Atlantic. I had scarcely left the lecture room of the Institute and
reached the street, when I met a large number of the students on their
way to the college, and here again were seen coloured men arm in arm
with whites. The proud American who finds himself in the splendid
streets of Edinburgh, and witnesses such scenes as these, can but behold
in them the degradation of his own country, whose laws would make slaves
of these same young men, should they appear in the streets of
Charleston or New Orleans.

After all, our country is the most despotic in the wide world, and to
expose and hold it up to the scorn and contempt of other nations, is the
duty of every coloured man who would be true to himself and his race.


During my stay in Edinburgh, I accepted an invitation to breakfast with
the great champion of Philosophical Phrenology. Few foreigners are more
admired in America, than the author of "The Constitution of Man."[B]
Although not far from 70 years of age, I found him apparently as active
and as energetic as many men of half that age. He was much pleased with
Mr. and Mrs. Craft, who formed a part of the breakfast party. It may be
a pleasure to the friends of these two fugitive slaves, to know that
they are now the inmates of a good school where they are now being
educated. For this, they are mainly indebted to that untiring friend of
the Slave, John B. Estlin, Esq., of Bristol, whose zeal and co-operation
with the American Abolitionists, have gained for him an undying name
with the friends of freedom in the New World.

[B] George Combe, Esq.




LETTER XIII.

_Edinburgh--The Royal Institute--Scott's Monument--John Knox's
Pulpit--Temperance Meeting--Glasgow--Great Meeting in the City Hall._


EDINBURGH, _January 1, 1851_.

You will see by the date of this that I am spending my
New-Year's-Day in the Scottish Capital, in company with our friend,
William Craft. I came by invitation to attend a meeting of the Edinburgh
Ladies' Emancipation Society.

The meeting was held on Monday evening last, at which William Craft
gave, for the first time, since his arrival in this country, a history
of his escape from Georgia, two years ago, together with his recent
flight from Boston.

Craft's reception was one of deep enthusiasm, and his story was well
told, and made a powerful impression on the audience. I would that the
slaveholders, Hughes and Knight, could have been present and heard the
thundering applause with which our friend was received on the following
evening. Craft attended a meeting of the Edinburgh Total Abstinence
Society, before which I lectured, and his appearance here was also
hailed with much enthusiasm. Our friend bids fair to become a favourite
with the Scotch.

Much regret was expressed that Ellen was not present. She was detained
in Liverpool by indisposition. But Mrs. Craft has so far recovered, that
we expect her here to-morrow.

The appearance of these two fugitives in Great Britain, at this time,
and under the circumstances, will aid our cause, and create a renewed
hatred to the abominable institution of American slavery. I have
received letters from a number of the friends of the slave, in which
they express a wish to aid the Crafts; and among the first of these,
were our good friends, John B. Estlin, Esq., of Bristol, and Harriet
Martineau.

But I must give you my impression of this fine city. Edinburgh is the
most picturesque of all the towns which I have visited since my arrival
in the father-land. Its situation has been compared to that of Athens,
but it is said that the modern Athens is superior to the ancient. I was
deeply impressed with the idea that I had seen the most beautiful of
cities, after beholding those fashionable resorts, Paris and Versailles.
I have seen nothing in the way of public grounds to compare with the
gardens of Versailles, or the _Champs Elysees_ at Paris; and as for
statuary, the latter place is said to take the lead of the rest of the
world.

The general appearance of Edinburgh prepossesses one in its favour. The
town being built upon the brows of a large terrace, presents the most
wonderful perspective. Its first appearance to a stranger, and the first
impression, can scarcely be but favourable. In my first walk through the
town, I was struck with the difference in the appearance of the people
from the English. But the difference between the Scotch and the
Americans, is very great. The cheerfulness depicted in the countenances
of the people here, and their free and easy appearance, is very striking
to a stranger. He who taught the sun to shine, the flowers to bloom, the
birds to sing, and blesses us with rain, never intended that his
creatures should look sad. There is a wide difference between the
Americans and any other people which I have seen. The Scotch are healthy
and robust, unlike the long-faced, sickly-looking Americans.

While on our journey from London to Paris, to attend the Peace Congress,
I could not but observe the marked difference between the English and
American delegates. The former looked as if their pockets had been
filled with sandwiches, made of good bread and roast beef, while the
latter appeared as if their pockets had been filled with Holloway's
Pills, and Mrs. Kidder's Cordial.

I breakfasted this morning in a room in which the Poet Burns, as I was
informed, had often sat. The conversation here turned upon Burns. The
lady of the house pointed to a scrap of poetry which was in a frame
hanging on the wall, written, as she said, by the Poet, on hearing the
people rejoicing in a church over the intelligence of a victory. I
copied it and will give it to you:--

"Ye hypocrites! are these your pranks,
To murder men and give God thanks?
For shame! give o'er, proceed no further,
God won't accept your thanks for murder."


The fact that I was in the room where Scotland's great national poet had
been a visitor, caused me to feel that I was on classic, if not hallowed
ground. On returning from our morning visit, we met a gentleman with a
coloured lady on each arm. Craft remarked in a very dry manner, "If they
were in Georgia, the slaveholders would make them walk in a more hurried
gait than they do." I said to my friend, that if he meant the
pro-slavery prejudice would not suffer them to walk peaceably through
the streets, they need go no further than the pro-slavery cities of New
York and Philadelphia. When walking through the streets, I amused
myself, by watching Craft's countenance; and in doing so, imagined I saw
the changes experienced by every fugitive slave in his first month's
residence in this country. A sixteen months' residence has not yet
familiarized me with the change.

* * * * *


LAUREL BANK, _Jan. 18, 1851_.

Dear Douglass,--I remained in Edinburgh a day or two after the
date of my last letter, which gave me an opportunity of seeing some of
the lions in the way of public buildings, &c., in company with our
friend Wm. Craft. I paid a visit to the Royal Institute, and inspected
the very fine collection of paintings, statues, and other productions of
art. The collection in the Institute is not to be compared to the
British Museum at London, or the Louvre at Paris, but is probably the
best in Scotland. Paintings from the hands of many of the masters, such
as Sir A. Vandyke, Tiziano, Vercellio and Van Dellen, were hanging on
the wall, and even the names of Reubens, and Titian, were attached to
some of the finer specimens. Many of these represent some of the nobles,
and distinguished families of Rome, Athens, Greece, &c. A beautiful one
representing a group of the Lomellini family of Genoa, seemed to attract
the attention of most of the visitors.

In visiting this place, we passed close by the monument of Sir Walter
Scott. This is the most exquisite thing of the kind that I have seen
since coming to this country. It is said to be the finest monument in
Europe. There sits the author of "Waverley," with a book and pencil in
hand, taking notes. A beautiful dog is seated by his side. Whether this
is meant to represent his favourite dog, Camp, at whose death the Poet
shed so many tears, we were not informed; but I was of opinion that it
might be the faithful Percy, whose monument stands in the grounds at
Abbotsford. Scott was an admirer of the canine tribe. One may form a
good idea of the appearance of this distinguished writer, when living,
by viewing this remarkable statue. The statue is very beautiful, but not
equal to the one of Lord Byron, which was executed to be placed by the
side of Johnson, Milton, and Addison, in Poets' Corner, Westminster
Abbey; but the Parliament not allowing it a place there, it now stands
in one of the Colleges at Cambridge. While viewing the statue of Byron,
I thought he, too, should have been represented with a dog by his side,
for he, like Scott, was remarkably fond of dogs, so much so that he
intended to have his favourite, Boatswain, interred by his side.

We paid a short visit to the monuments of Burns and Allan Ramsay, and
the renowned old Edinburgh Castle. The Castle is now used as a barrack
for Infantry. It is accessible only from the High Street, and must have
been impregnable before the discovery of gunpowder. In the wars with the
English, it was twice taken by stratagem; once in a very daring manner,
by climbing up the most inaccessible part of the rock upon which it
stands, and where a foe was least expected, and putting the guard to
death; and another time, by a party of soldiers disguising themselves as
merchants, and obtaining admission inside the Castle gates. They
succeeded in preventing the gates from being closed, until reinforced by
a party of men under Sir Wm. Douglas, who soon overpowered the occupants
of the Castle.

We could not resist the temptation held out to see the Palace of
Holyrood. It was in this place that the beautiful, but unfortunate Mary,
Queen of Scots, resided for a number of years. On reaching the palace,
we were met at the door by an elderly looking woman, with a red face,
garnished with a pair of second-hand curls, the whole covered with a cap
having the widest border that I had seen for years. She was very kind in
showing us about the premises, especially as we were foreigners, no
doubt expecting an extra fee for politeness. The most interesting of the
many rooms in this ancient castle, is the one which was occupied by the
Queen, and where her Italian favourite, Rizzio, was murdered.

But by far the most interesting object which we visited while in
Edinburgh, was the house where the celebrated Reformer, John Knox,
re-resided. It is a queer-looking old building, with a pulpit on the
outside, and above the door are the nearly obliterated remains of the
following inscription:--"Lufe. God. Above. Al. And. your. Nichbour. As
you. Self." This was probably traced under the immediate direction of
the great Reformer. Such an inscription put upon a house of worship at
the present day, would be laughed at. I have given it to you,
punctuation and all, just as it stands.

The general architecture of Edinburgh is very imposing, whether we
regard the picturesque disorder of the buildings, in the Old Town, or
the symmetrical proportions of the streets and squares in the New. But
on viewing this city which has the reputation of being the finest in
Europe, I was surprised to find that it had none of those sumptuous
structures, which like St. Paul's, or Westminster Abbey, York Minster,
and some other of the English provincial Cathedrals, astonish the
beholder alike by their magnitude and their architectural splendour. But
in no city which I have visited in the kingdom, is the general standard
of excellence better maintained than in Edinburgh.

I am not sure, my dear friend, whether or not I mentioned in my last
letter the attendance of Wm. Craft and myself at a splendid Soiree of
the Edinburgh Temperance Society, and our being voted in life members,
in the most enthusiastic manner, by the whole audience. I will here give
you a part of the speech of the President, as reported in the _Christian
News_. This should cause the pro-slavery whites, and especially
negro-hating Sons of Temperance, who refuse the coloured man a place in
their midst, to feel ashamed of their unchristian conduct. Here it is,
let them judge for themselves:--

"A great feature in our meeting to-night, is that we have beside us two
individuals, who, according to the immaculate laws of immaculate
Yankeedom, have been guilty of the tremendous crime of stealing
themselves. (Applause.) Mr. Craft, who sits beside me, has stolen his
good wife, and Mrs. Craft has stolen her worthy husband; and our
respected friend, Mr. Brown, has cast a covetous eye on his own person.
In the name of the Temperance reformers of Edinburgh--in the name of
universal Scotland, I would welcome these two victims of the white man's
pride, ambition, selfishness, and cupidity. I welcome them as our equals
in every respect. (Great applause.) What a humiliating thought it will
be, surely, for our American friends on the other side of the water,
when they hear (and we shall endeavour to let them hear) that the very
man whom they consider not worthy to sit in a third class carriage along
with a white man, and that too in a district of country where the very
aristocracy deal in cheap cheese--(great applause) traffic in tallow
candles, and spend their nights and days among raw hides and train
oil--(applause)--what a humbling thought it will be for them to know
that these very men in the centre of educated Scotland, in the midst of
educated Edinburgh, are thought fit to hold even the first rank upon our
aristocratic platform. Let us, then, my friends, lift our voices this
evening in one swelling chorus for the down-trodden slave. Let us
publish abroad the fact to the world, that the sympathies of Scotland
are with the bondsman everywhere. Let us unite our voices to cry, Down
with the iniquitous Slave Bill!--Down with the aristocracy of the
skin!--Perish forever the deepest-dyed, the hardest-hearted system of
abomination under heaven!--Perish the sum of all villanies! Perish
American slavery. (Great applause.)"

But I must leave the good and hospitable people of the Scottish Capital
for the present. I have taken an elaborate stock of notes, and may speak
of Edinburgh again.

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