In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again,
in this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing
voice. I had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a
tender mother. Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother’s
relatives in England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of
her. The little motherless one was accustomed to me, and attached to
me, and I thought she would be happier in my care than in that of a
stranger. I could also earn more in this way than I could by my needle.
So I put Benny to a trade, and left Ellen to remain in the house with
my friend and go to school.
We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant
voyage of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took
lodgings at the Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious
than those I had seen in American hotels; but my situation was
indescribably more pleasant. For the first time in my life I was in a
place where I was treated according to my deportment, without reference
to my complexion. I felt as if a great millstone had been lifted from
my breast. Ensconced in a pleasant room, with my dear little charge,
I laid my head on my pillow, for the first time, with the delightful
consciousness of pure, unadulterated freedom.
As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see
the wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that
flowed through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the
stagnation in our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to
spend some days with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was
necessary for me to accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic
method of English education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary
should steer straight in the midst of so much propriety. I closely
observed her little playmates and their nurses, being ready to take any
lessons in the science of good management. The children were more rosy
than American children, but I did not see that they differed materially
in other respects. They were like all children—sometimes docile and
sometimes wayward.
We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to
be the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six
shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and
sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they
lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where
a woman’s wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound
of meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the
cheapest fabrics, though much better than could have been procured
in the United States for the same money. I had heard much about the
oppression of the poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were,
many of them, among the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their
little thatched cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest
and most ignorant among them was vastly superior to the condition of
the most favored slaves in America. They labored hard; but they were
not ordered out to toil while the stars were in the sky, and driven and
slashed by an overseer, through heat and cold, till the stars shone out
again. Their homes were very humble; but they were protected by law.
No insolent patrols could come, in the dead of night, and flog them at
their pleasure. The father, when he closed his cottage door, felt safe
with his family around him. No master or overseer could come and take
from him his wife, or his daughter. They must separate to earn their
living; but the parents knew where their children were going, and could
communicate with them by letters. The relations of husband and wife,
parent and child, were too sacred for the richest noble in the land
to violate with impunity. Much was being done to enlighten these poor
people. Schools were established among them, and benevolent societies
were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. There was no law
forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they helped each
other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of thirty-nine
lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle Fred. I
repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these peasants
was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American slave.
I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed
to paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints
the condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of
_my_ experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed
eyes. If she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting
among the fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on
some plantation in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things
that would make her tell quite a different story.
My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of
my having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous
manner in which the communion had been administered to colored people,
in my native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others
like him; and the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers
of the gospel, had given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church.
The whole service seemed to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in
Steventon was in the family of a clergyman, who was a true disciple
of Jesus. The beauty of his daily life inspired me with faith in the
genuineness of Christian professions. Grace entered my heart, and I
knelt at the communion table, I trust, in true humility of soul.
I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had
anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of
prejudice against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time
came for us to return to America.