Three Years in Europe Part 7

We crossed the channel and soon entered the mouth of that most picturesque of rivers, the Wye. As we neared the town of Chepstow the old Castle made its appearance, and a fine old ruin it is. Being previously provided with a letter of introduction to a gentleman in Chepstow, I lost no time in finding him out. This gentleman gave me a cordial reception, and did what Englishmen seldom ever do, lent me his saddle horse to ride to the Abbey. While lunch was in preparation I took a stroll through the Castle which stood near by. We entered the Castle through the great door-way and were soon treading the walls that had once sustained the cannon and the sentinel, but were now covered with weeds and wild flowers. The drum and fife had once been heard within these walls--the only music now is the cawing of the rook and daw. We paid a hasty visit to the various apartments, remaining longest in those of most interest. The room in which Martin the Regicide was imprisoned nearly twenty years, was pointed out to us. The Castle of Chepstow is still a magnificent pile, towering upon the brink of a stupendous cliff, on reaching the top of which, we had a splendid view of the surrounding country. Time, however, compelled us to retrace our steps, and after partaking of a lunch, we mounted a horse for the first time in ten years, and started for Tintern Abbey. The distance from Chepstow to the Abbey is about five miles, and the road lies along the banks of the river. The river is walled in on either side by hills of much beauty, clothed from base to summit with the richest verdure. I can conceive of nothing more striking than the first appearance of the Abbey. As we rounded a hill, all at once we saw the old ruin standing before us in all its splendour. This celebrated ecclesiastical relic of the olden time is doubtless the finest ruin of its kind in Europe. Embosomed amongst hills, and situated on the banks of the most fairy-like river in the world, its beauty can scarcely be surpa.s.sed. We halted at the "Beaufort Arms," left our horse, and sallied forth to view the Abbey.

The sun was pouring a flood of light upon the old grey walls, lighting up its dark recesses, as if to give us a better opportunity of viewing it. I gazed with astonishment and admiration at its many beauties, and especially at the superb gothic windows over the entrance door. The beautiful gothic pillars, with here and there a representation of a praying priest, and mailed knights, with saints and Christian martyrs, and the hundreds of Scriptural representations, all indicate that this was a place of considerable importance in its palmy days. The once stone floor had disappeared, and we found ourselves standing on a floor of unbroken green gra.s.s, swelling back to the old walls, and looking so verdant and silken that it seemed the very floor of fancy. There are more romantic and wilder places than this in the world, but none more beautiful. The preservation of these old abbeys should claim the attention of those under whose charge they are, and we felt like joining with the poet and saying:--

"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 a.s.suredly 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 circ.u.mstances connected with its history, ent.i.tle it to peculiar notice.

It is also a.s.sociated 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 ma.n.u.scripts 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 gla.s.s; 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 bra.s.s, 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 emanc.i.p.ation 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--Pa.s.sage 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 fis.h.i.+ng 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 alt.i.tude, 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sengers wished for breakfast, and as the keen air of the morning had given me an appet.i.te, 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 a.s.sociates, except of companions.h.i.+p and respect.

One of the cardinal truths, both of religion and freedom, is the equality and brotherhood of man. In the sight of G.o.d and all just inst.i.tutions, 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 inst.i.tutions 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 Inst.i.tute 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 Const.i.tution 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 Inst.i.tute--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' Emanc.i.p.ation 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 circ.u.mstances, will aid our cause, and create a renewed hatred to the abominable inst.i.tution 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 s.h.i.+ne, 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 sc.r.a.p 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 G.o.d thanks?

For shame! give o'er, proceed no further, G.o.d 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 cla.s.sic, 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 Dougla.s.s,--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 Inst.i.tute, and inspected the very fine collection of paintings, statues, and other productions of art. The collection in the Inst.i.tute 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. Vand.y.k.e, Tiziano, Vercellio and Van Dellen, were hanging on the wall, and even the names of Reubens, and t.i.tian, were attached to some of the finer specimens. Many of these represent some of the n.o.bles, 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 pa.s.sed 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.