Julia Griffiths to Frederick Douglass, November 21, 1857

For Frederick Douglass Paper.

LETTERS FROM THE OLD WORLD.

NUMBER XLVII.

Aberdeen,

Nov. 21st 1857.

MY DEAR FRIEND:—You will perceive that I have reached as far north as 'the Granite City' of Aberdeen; I had a stormy day for my journey from Montrose, and as our team hurried along the tempestuous shores of Aberdeenshire, old ocean angrily frowned upon us, and dashed his foaming breakers, in full fury on the coast. It is always interesting (more or less,) to enter a city for the first time, and to see whether your expectations of it are fulfilled. Through no sun shone on the Granite City when I first beheld it, I was struck with its appearance as we drove up Union street, and have since had reason to confirm my first impression, that Princes street, Edinburgh, excepted, (which has a character peculiarly its own) Union street, Aberdeen is the finest street I have seen in Scotland. One of the warmest of welcomes awaited me; and the kind and dear friends with whom I sojourn made me feel at home at once. Winter has its charms as well as summer; and it is very pleasant at the close of a cold journey, to draw up your chairs round the cheerful blazing fire, had have a cozy chat, feeling all the time, as you listen to the tempests roar, (without) that you are "safely moored," and your perils over for that day at least. You dear friend, who have been "in journeyings often, and in perils of waters," can, I am sure, entirely sympathize with this feeling.

* * * * * *

So actively have some of the ladies been preparing the way here, for the formation of an Anti-Slavery Association, and so well have their efforts been seconded by several gentlemen, that I found no difficulty yesterday, at the close of the second meeting with the ladies in enrolling more than fifty names as members of what may now be pronounced "The Aberdeen Ladies Anti-Slavery Society." I never had greater pleasure in accepting the kind offers of aid and cooperation for the important and too much neglected cause of the American Slave than I have had during this past week, for I felt at once that they were made in all earnestness and sincerity, that the highly intelligent, and

warm hearted ladies who propose now to commence working in this cause feel as I do, that mere expressions of sympathy for the sufferings of the slave are mockery, and nothing worth; that if they cannot do all they would, they can at least, do something to aid the efforts of those friends, who are laboring without cessation, in Rochester, Syracuse, and elsewhere in the United Sates, in circulating anti-slavery information by the press, and by the lecturer, in succoring the poor fugitive, and sending him on to Canada, and in striving for the elevation and amelioration of the condition of the Free Colored people. The Constitution of the New Society, will, without doubt, soon be sent you by one of the Secretaries, and I hope you will publish it. I am desirous that Mr. Webb's new work, ("The Garies,") should be widely circulated in this country. It will give our friends here a better idea of "prejudice against color," (that detestable American disease,) and terrible manner in which its victims are crushed by its effects, than they can get without crossing the Atlantic.

* * * * *

We have had beautiful weather during the last four days, and I have seen the fine buildings of the city to great advantage, with the granite glistening in the sunlight, and a clear blue sky overhead. The Aberdeenians are hospitible [sic] in the extreme, and what with meetings, parties, calls, and introductions, my time for sight-seeing has not been great, but I have—through the considerate kindness of my friends,—been able to make the most of it. Yesterday we visited the market, which is a handsome building; and it being market day, the scene was a busy one; then we went to the College,—Marischals,—a fine edifice badly situated, being completely shut in by the dingy old houses of Broad street, once the fashionable part of the town. It was in one of those now dreary looking dwellings, that, in days long gone by, the little Lord Byron and his mother used to live; I need scarcely say that I felt an especial interest in exploring this antiquated habitational and in standing on the quaint old balcony, so often traversed by the youthful child of genius, ere the dawn of that—to him—eventful morning, when he suddenly awoke, to find his name famous—Poor Byron! How many times, in the midst of his greatness and his fame did he wish himself back to the haunts of his childhood. Here he could indulge all the longings of his fitful and independent nature, and wandering forth to the wild sea coast

listen to the tempests roar, or rambling amidst the Highlands, climber heights of Lochnagar, and tread the summit of the still more lofty Ben-

* * * * * *

You will, doubtless, remember that Aberdeen stands on the river Dee,—a river which rises in the mountainous regions of Bralmar, and after flowing through nearly one hundred miles of country,—now renowned, the world over, not only for the magnificent grandeur of much of its scenery, but because our excellent Queen has her Highland residence on Deeside,—falls into the German ocean at Aberdeen.

The town of old Aberdeen,—two miles distant—stands on the river Don, and today I have been there. We passed through the triumphant arch, erected a few weeks ago, for Queen Victoria to pass under as she came from Balmoral through Aberdeen to Holyrood. The leather, with which this arch was covered had now faded, and, the flowers are all dead, but the effect must have been beautiful when they were green and flourishing. It was under this erection, I am told that the Provost of Aberdeen met the Queen and tendered to her the keys of the city, which, of course, Her Majesty, was graciously pleased to return to the head magistrate of the loyal city of Aberdeen! "What nonsense!" I think I hear some of my Republican friends saying! But my good friends, with all your assumed contempt for monarchy, I am inclined to believe that, not a few among you, could scarcely help joinging in the shout of "God bless the Queen," were you to see the throngs that follow her footsteps, and to listen to the thousands of voices that cheer her. Yes though we have had terrible disasters in India, and a commercial crisis at home our Monarch was never more popular than now, and most deservedly so.

* * * * *

But, I am wandering far away from the "old Bridge of Don, and I intended to take you to it." You know it is a far-famed old Bridge and a most picturesque romantic locality is that in which the river is spanned by this interesting usurious relic of days long past. The story is told that a great great many years ago, the old keeper of this old bridge died, and left £4 to keep the Bridge in repair. That £4 has so largely accummulated [sic], that a grand, new bridge, about half a mile from its auld brother Bridge, has been built; both Bridges are kept in repair; for miles of road leading to the new Bridge, are

made, and still there is not sufficient use for the money!

The walk along the banks of the Don from the new to the old Bridge is very pretty, even at this season of the year. Beautiful green mosses, of great variety, cover the banks, but the trees are nearly leafless; narrower, steeper, and much more winding becomes the river, and just where the wood crowned heights rise in full beauty, and jutting rocks show their shadows in the deep waters; the old Bridge crosses the Don, and completes a picture of exceeding loveliness, rarely excelled.

In other days, the old bridge used to be called the "Brig of Balgowmie," and one of Thomas the Rhymer's prophecies relates to it—

"Brig o' Balgowmie!

Wight is thy wa;

Wi a wife's ae son,

And a man's a foal,

Ringed o'ed whitefooted,

Down shalt thou fa"

Byron was very superstitious, and in after life, he confessed the terror he felt when riding on horseback over this old bridge, as he was "a wife's ae son."

We next visited the Cathedral, a solemn looking edifice; but we had only time to inspect the exterior of that and of King's College, for the i "gloamin" warned us that we were distant from home, so we made a very pleasant visit to the family of one of the Professors, and saw Union street to full advantage, by the light of the bright lamps, we drove this evening.

* * * * * *

CRATTRIK, Nov. 25th.

I resume these hurridly written jottings at the close of a day of more than usual interest. I am in the midst of the Highlands. I have this day, looked on "the steep frowning glories of Lochnagar," and have heard the howling of the tempest, and the roaring of the waters in the "land of the mountain and the flood!" and darkness falling 'from the wings of the night' has just shut out from my gaze the beautiful Castle of Balmoral, the Highland home of our Queen. I cannot give you any adequate idea of what I have seen and heard in the last two days, for to me, high mountains are a feeling, and I can almost think myself into the belief that I lose myself and 'become a portion of that around me' when among their majestic heights.

The banks of the Dee are very lovely, most of the way from Aberdeen to Banchory, and the railway passes near by them; a great many gentlemen's seats, old and new, are pleasantly situated near Banchory; of the ancient edifices, I believe the House of Drum is the most renowned.

it has many curious legends connected with its history. I have not time to give any particulars of the dwellings. Banchory is a pretty little village, delightfully situated on the Dee, which is here crossed by a fine bridge, and I much enjoyed my brief sojourn there. There having been recent heavy rains, I have seen the mountain streams in full perfection. The waters of Finghle fall into the Dee near Banchory; the sight from the 'Bridge of Finghle,' must always be very grand; as the bed of the river is here covered with high rocks, through which the waters rush, raging and roaring, boiling and bubbling, hissing and howling unceasingly. I was told that the river had rarely been known to be so high as on the night previous to my visiting it so I was fortunate. To be weather-wise in these mountain districts, must be very wise indeed; a hard frost and a bright starlight night were followed by a morning of storms and tempests, in which hail, rain, sleet and snow seemed contending for the mastery; or, perhaps, it would be more correct to say, were driven about in all directions by the wild wind. [I never remember anything like this wind, except on that I once encountered in the Valley of Hasli, in Switzerland; but, in the latter case, we all had to dismount from our horses, and brave the tempest on foot, the guides deeming it unsafe to ride.] The drive from Banchory to Ballater is very fine, nearly all the way the river is visible, into which numbers of mountain torrents pour their waters. Passing the latter village of Kincordine O'Neil, the scenery becomes more grand as you near the sweet little village of Aboyne, which stands in the midst of woods of fir and other trees, and looks very inviting for a lengthened sojourn, and now the mountains are rising higher, and as one peak appears, in picturesque outline, above another, each entirely covered with snow, you begin to fancy you are again nearing the Alps; yet it is not until you have reached Dinnat that you are told that you are, really in the Highlands. As we drove over the bleak and dreary moor of Dinna, it was that Mr. Boreas put down all opposition and all umbrellas, the hail, rain, sleet and snow were fairly vanquished—the mists entirely dispersed—the mountains shone out in snowy beauty; and as the noble hill of Craigen darroch greeted our advent in Ballater. I decided that this was just the day for seeing Highland, scenery. Between Dinnat and Ballater, stands Ballatrich, the house where Byron lived when he was a young boy, going to the Aberdeen Grammar