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Page 27
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.
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