Among others the Queen of England, Victoria, preceded by her guide, and attended by her cortége, paused to view me and my property. I uncovered my head and saluted her as respectfully as I could, and she was pleased with perfect grace to return my salutation. “Is he indeed a fugitive slave?” I heard her inquire; and the answer was, “He is indeed, and that is his work.”
But notwithstanding such pleasant occurrences, the time wore heavily away. The immense crowd, kept in as perfect order as a single family, became wearisome to me, and I was not sorry, as related in a preceding chapter, to return to Canada, leaving my boards on exhibition.
On going again to England the exhibition was still in progress. There seemed no diminution of the crowd. Like the waters of the great Mississippi, the channel was still full, though the individuals were changed.
But among all the exhibitors from every nation in Europe, and from Asia, and America, and the Isles of the Sea, there was not a single black man but myself. There were negroes there from Africa, brought to be exhibited, but no exhibitors but myself. Though my condition was wonderfully changed from what it was in my childhood and youth, yet it was a little saddening to reflect that my people were not more largely represented there. The time will yet come, I trust, when such a state of things will no longer exist.
At the close of the exhibition, on my return to Canada, I received from England a large quarto bound volume containing a full description of all the objects presented at the exhibition, the names of officers of all the committees, juries, exhibitors, prizes, etc., etc. Among others I found my own name recorded; and there were in addition awarded to me a bronze medal, a beautiful picture of the Queen and royal family, of the size of life, and several other objects of interest.
These things I greatly prize. After having fully succeeded in my mission to England, having released myself from the voluntarily-assumed debt in behalf of the manual-labor school, and having received these testimonials of honor, I returned home to Canada, contented and happy. While in England I was permitted to enjoy some excellent opportunities to witness its best society, which I propose to relate in the following chapter.
XXII
Visits to the Ragged Schools
Speech at Sunday School Anniversary—Interview with Lord Grey—Interview with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Dinner with Lord John Russell, the Great Events of My Life.
While in England I was frequently called upon to speak at public meetings of various kinds. I was deeply interested in the Ragged School enterprise, and frequently addressed the schools, and also public meetings held in their behalf. I spent two months of May in that country, and attended many of the great anniversaries, and was called upon to speak at many of them. On several occasions I did what I could to make known the true condition of slaves, in Exeter Hall and other places. On one occasion, I recollect, an eminent man from Pennsylvania, was addressing the anniversary of a Sabbath School Union, who boasted of the great benefits of Sunday Schools in the United States, and asserted that all classes indiscriminately enjoyed their blessings. I felt bound to contradict him, and after putting to the speaker a few questions which he stammeringly answered, I told the immense meeting that in the Southern States, the great body of the colored people were almost entirely neglected, and in many places they were excluded altogether; and that even in the most of the Northern States, the great mass of the colored children were not sought out and gathered into Sunday Schools. This created some little storm, but my own personal observation and experience carried conviction to the people.
Being thus introduced to the public, I became well acquainted with many of the leading men of England. Lord Grey made a proposition to me, which, if circumstances had permitted, I should have been glad to attempt. It was to go to India and there superintend some great efforts made by the government to introduce the culture of cotton on the American plan. He promised to me an appointment to an office, and a good salary. Had it not been for my warm interest in my Canadian enterprise, I should have accepted his proposal.
One of the most pleasing incidents for me now to look back upon, was a long interview which I was permitted to enjoy with the Archbishop of Canterbury. The elevated social position of this man, the highest beneath the crown, is well known to all those acquainted with English society. Samuel Gurney, the noted philanthropist, introduced me, by a note and his family card, to his grace, the archbishop. He received me kindly in his palace. I immediately entered upon a conversation with him, upon the condition of my people, and the plans I had in view. He expressed the strongest interest in me, and after about a half hour’s conversation he inquired, “At what university, Sir, did you graduate?” “I graduated, your grace,” said I in reply, “at the university of adversity.” “The university of adversity,” said he, looking up with astonishment; “where is that?” I saw his surprise, and explained. “It was my lot, your grace,” said I, “to be born a slave, and to pass my boyhood and all the former part of my life as a slave. I never entered a school, never read the Bible in my youth, and received all of my training under the most adverse circumstances. This is what I meant by graduating in the university of adversity.” “I understand you, Sir,”
