Volume I Part 10 (2/2)

_December 10, Sunday._ My situation in Edinburgh borders almost on the miraculous. With scarce one of those qualities necessary to render a man able to pa.s.s through the throng of the learned people here, I am positively looked on by all the professors and many of the princ.i.p.al persons here as a very extraordinary man. I cannot comprehend this in the least. Indeed I have received here so much kindness and attention that I look forward with regret to my removal to Glasgow, fifty miles hence, where I expect to go the last of this month. Sir William Jardine has been spending a few days here purposely to see me, and I am to meet Mr. Selby, and with these two gentlemen discuss the question of a joint publication, which may possibly be arranged. It is now a month since my work was begun by Mr. Lizars; the paper is of unusual size, called ”double elephant,” and the plates are to be finished in such superb style as to eclipse all of the same kind in existence. The price of each number, which will contain five prints, is two guineas, and all individuals have the privilege of subscribing for the whole, or any portion of it. The two plates now finished are truly beautiful. This number consists of the Turkey-c.o.c.k, the Cuckoos on the pawpaws, and three small drawings, which in the centre of the large sheet have a fine effect, and an air of richness, that I think must ensure success, though I do not yet feel a.s.sured that all will go well. Yet on the other hand, all things bear a better aspect than I expected to see for many months, if ever. I think that if my work takes in Edinburgh, it will anywhere. I have strong friends here who interest themselves in me, but I must wait patiently till the first number is finished. Mr. Jameson, the first professor of this place, and the conductor of the ”Philosophical Journal,” gives a beautiful announcement of my work in the present number, with an account, by me, of the Turkey Buzzard. Dr. Brewster also announces it, with the introductory letter to my work, and Professor Wilson also, in ”Blackwood's Magazine.” These three journals print upwards of thirty thousand copies, so that my name will spread quickly enough. I am to deliver lectures on Natural History at the Wernerian Society at each of the meetings while I am here, and Professor Jameson told me I should soon be made a member of all the other societies here, and that would give my work a good standing throughout Europe. Much as I find here to enjoy, the great round of company I am thrown in has become fatiguing to me in the extreme, nor does it agree with my early habits. I go out to dine at six, seven, or even eight o'clock in the evening, and it is often one or two when the party breaks up; then painting all day, with my immense correspondence which increases daily, makes my head feel like an immense hornet's-nest, and my body wearied beyond all calculation; yet it has to be done; those who have my interests at heart tell me I must not refuse a single invitation.

_December 11, Monday._ Though I awoke feeling much depressed, my dull feelings were soon dissipated by letters from my sweet wife and sons.

What joy to know them well and happy on the 14th and 27th of September. My day was a busy one, and at seven I went to Mr. Lizars', having engaged to go with him to the Antiquarian Society, where I met many of my friends, saw a gun-barrel and other things that had belonged to the Spanish Armada, and heard a curious and interesting account of that vast fleet read by Dr. Hibbert, and saw the Scottish antiquities belonging to the society.

_Tuesday, December 12._ This morning at ten I went to the house of Dr.

Brewster, whom I found writing in a large room with several fine pictures on the walls. He received me very kindly, and in a few minutes I began reading my paper on the habits of the Carrion Crow, _Vultur atratus_. About midway my nervousness affected my respiration; I paused a moment, and he was good enough to say it was highly interesting. I resumed, and went on to the end, much to my relief. He who has been brought up an auctioneer, or on the boards of some theatre, with all the knowledge of the proper usage of the voice, and all the _aplomb_ such a life would give, knows nothing of the feelings of bashfulness which agitated me, a man who never looked into an English grammar and who has forgotten most of what he learned in French and Spanish ones--a man who has always felt awkward and shy in the presence of a stranger--a man habituated to ramble alone, with his thoughts usually bent on the beauties of Nature herself--this man, _me_, to be seated opposite Dr. Brewster in Edinburgh, reading one of my puny efforts at describing habits of birds that none but an Almighty Creator can ever know, was ridiculously absurd in my estimation, during all the time; besides, I also felt the penetrating looks and keen observation of the learned man before me, so that the cold sweat started from me. As I wiped my forehead on finis.h.i.+ng my paper, a large black dog came in, caressed his master, and made a merciful diversion, and as my agitation gradually subsided I was able to talk with Dr. Brewster and was afterwards introduced to his lady, who put me soon at my ease, and told me I was to be introduced to Sir Walter Scott on Monday next at the Royal Academy. Poor me!--far from Sir Walter I could talk to him; hundreds of times have I spoken to him quite loudly in the woods, as I looked on the silvery streamlets, or the dense swamps, or the n.o.ble Ohio, or on mountains losing their peaks in gray mists. How many times have I longed for him to come to my beloved country, that he might describe, as no one else ever can, the stream, the swamp, the river, the mountain, for the sake of future ages. A century hence they will not be here as I see them, Nature will have been robbed of many brilliant charms, the rivers will be tormented and turned astray from their primitive courses, the hills will be levelled with the swamps, and perhaps the swamps will have become a mound surmounted by a fortress of a thousand guns. Scarce a magnolia will Louisiana possess, the timid Deer will exist nowhere, fish will no longer abound in the rivers, the Eagle scarce ever alight, and these millions of lovely songsters be driven away or slain by man. Without Sir Walter Scott these beauties must perish unknown to the world. To the great and good man himself I can never say this, therefore he can never know it, or my feelings towards him--but if he did? What have I to say more than a world of others who all admire him, perhaps are better able to do so, because more enlightened. Ah!

Walter Scott! when I am presented to thee my head will droop, my heart will swell, my limbs will tremble, my lips will quiver, my tongue congeal; nevertheless I shall feel elevated if I am permitted to touch the hand to which the world owes so much.

_December 13, Wednesday._ I have spent the greater portion of this day in the company of Mr. Selby the ornithologist, who, in appearance is well formed, and in manners clever and polite, yet plain and una.s.suming. We were together some hours at the Inst.i.tution,--he was greatly pleased with my drawings,--and we then dined at Mr. Lizars' in company with Dr. Lizars, and we all talked ornithology. I wish I possessed the scientific knowledge of the subject that Mr. Selby does.

He wished to hear my paper on the ”Buzzard,” and after doing so, took it with him to read to Sir Wm. Jardine, to whom he goes to-morrow, but will return on Monday. Later Dr. Brewster came to my room with the proof of the paper on the ”Carrion Crow.” He read it, and we both corrected. He told me it was a question whether or no I could be made a member of the Royal Academy, for only _thirty_ foreigners were allowed by law, and the number was already complete; still he hoped an exception would be made in my case. He thanked me very cordially for my paper, and said Sir Walter Scott wished to meet me, and would do so on Monday at the Royal Academy. Mr. Bridges gave me a very fine notice in the _Scotsman_, and has again invited me to dine with him to meet some distinguished Germans, and before that I must call at Lord Clancarty's to see Mrs. Murray.

_Thursday, December 14._ I paid my visit to Mrs. Murray this forenoon, but the lady was out; so I handed my card to the slender youth who had opened the door and who stood before me looking at my hair like an a.s.s at a fine thistle, and then made off quickly to Dr. Brewster. My business was before him in an instant; I wished not to be introduced to Sir Walter in a crowd, and he promised me not to do so. Much relieved I went to the University to see Dr. Andrew Brown, Professor of Rhetoric. I found him a very polished man, and after some conversation he asked me to write him a paper on the manners and customs of Indians. But I must promise less writing of this kind, for I am too busy otherwise; however, immediately on my return home I sat down to write a long list of memoranda for a journey in America which I had promised Captain Basil Hall, and I wrote till my head ached. Mr.

Daniel Lizars has invited me to dine with him on Friday at three, and has procured two cats, which he wishes me to paint. Now this suits me to a ”T”--a long morning's work, a short meal, and some hours more of work; very different from to-day, for it was five minutes of seven when I reached Captain Hall's. We dined delightfully with just the company he had promised me, and I was not compelled to ask any one to take wine with me, a thing in my opinion detestable quite, a foppish art I cannot bear. I wish everybody was permitted to drink when he is thirsty, or at least only when he likes, and not when he dislikes it.

The ladies having left us, the map of my native land was put on the table; I read my notes, the Captain followed the course with his pencil from New York to New Orleans, visiting besides Niagara, St.

Louis, and a hundred other places. We talked of nothing but his journey in my dear country, and Mrs. Hall is delighted at the prospect. The Captain wishes to write a book, and he spoke of it with as little concern as I should say, ”I will draw a duck;” is it not surprising? He said to me, ”Why do not you write a little book telling what you have seen?” I cannot write at all, but if I could how could I make a _little_ book, when I have seen enough to make a dozen _large_ books? I will not write at all.

_Friday, December 15._ I have just returned from the theatre, where I saw for the first time ”The Beggars' Opera” and ”The Lord of the Manor.” They were both badly represented, most certainly. Only one lady could sing, or act her part at all well. It was most truly a Beggars' Opera; I went with Mr. Daniel Lizars and his wife and brother-in-law. They were all desirous to see a certain Mr. St. Clair perform; but I truly think that the gentleman in question had drank too much brandy this day, or was it of the smoky whiskey which these Scots relish? I did little work this day, but walked much to refresh myself after all the hard work and constant writing I have lately done. The weather was most inviting, and as pleasant as Louisiana at this season. Upwards of two hundred people were at my exhibition, and to-morrow it closes. Baron Stokoe called whilst I was absent and left word he wished to see me, that he had heard from a friend of mine, whom I suppose to be Charles Bonaparte. Baron Stokoe was formerly a physician of eminence in the British service; when Dr. O'Meara was taken away from St. Helena, where he was physician to Napoleon, this gentleman was put in his place, but did not suit the peculiar ideas of his barbarous governor, and was also dismissed, not only from the island, but from the service, with a trifling pension. He had become acceptable to Napoleon even in the short time they were together, and when he returned from that lonely rock was employed by Joseph Bonaparte to attend his daughters from Rome to Philadelphia. I met him with Charles Bonaparte during his stay in America. So pleased was Joseph Bonaparte with his conduct that he is now one of his _pensionnaires_, and his general agent in Europe.

_Sat.u.r.day, December 16._ I have really done much to-day. At half-past nine I faced the inclement weather, crossed the bridge, pa.s.sed the college regretting such a curious and valuable monument was quite buried among the antiquated, narrow streets, and dismal houses that surround it, then rang the bell, and was admitted to Baron S----'s parlor. He was still snug asleep; so that I had enjoyed four and a half hours of life while he slept. He saw me at once in his bedroom and told me that if I wrote to the Prince of Musignano at London this morning, the letter would probably reach him. I returned home, wrote my letter, or rather began it, when I received several pages from my good friend Mr. Rathbone which quite depressed me. He feared my work would not succeed on account of the unusual size; and Mrs. Rathbone, Senior, refused me the pleasure of naming a bird after her, on account of the publicity, she said; yet I longed to do so, for what greater compliment could I pay any lady than to give her name to one of the most exquisite creations of the Almighty? The whole made me most dismal, but yet not in the least discouraged or disheartened about my work. If Napoleon by perseverance and energy rose from the ranks to be an emperor, why should not Audubon with perseverance and energy be able to leave the woods of America for a time and publish and sell a book?--always supposing that Audubon has _some_ knowledge of his work, as Napoleon had _great_ knowledge of his. No, no, I shall not cease to work for this end till old age incapacitates me. I thought long over Mr. Rathbone's letter, then finished mine to Charles and put it in the post-office. I then purchased a Pigeon, killed it, packed up my wires and hammer, and at one o'clock took these things with my ”position board,” called a coach, and went to the meeting of the Wernerian Society at the University. Lady Morton had joined me, hence my need for the coach. Mr. Skene met me at the door, where I parted from Lady Morton, who made me promise to visit her at Dalmahoy. She is a small, handsome woman, who speaks most excellent French. Mr. Lizars joined me, and we all entered the room of the Wernerian Society of Edinburgh!

The room is a plain one; two tables, one fireplace, many long benches or seats, and a chair for the president were all the furniture I saw, except a stuffed sword-fish, which lay on one of the tables for examination that day. Many persons were already present, and I unrolled the drawing of the Buzzard for them to see. Professor Jameson came in, and the meeting began. My paper on the Buzzard was the first thing, read by Patrick Neill,--not very well, as my writing was not easy reading for him. Professor Jameson then rose, and gave quite a eulogy upon it, my works, and lastly--myself. I then had the thanks of the society, and showed them my manner of putting up my specimens for drawing birds, etc.; this they thought uncommonly ingenious. Professor Jameson then offered me as an honorary member, when arose a great clapping of hands and stamping of feet, as a mark of approbation. Then Professor Jameson desired that the usual law requiring a delay of some months between the nomination and the election be laid aside on this occasion; and again the same acclamations took place, and it was decided I should be elected at the next meeting; after which the meeting was ended, I having promised to read a paper on the habits of the Alligator at the following a.s.sembly of the society. Then came my dinner at Lady Hunter's.

At precisely six I found myself at No. 16 Hope St. I was shown upstairs, and presented to Lady Mary Clark, who knew both General Wolfe and General Montgomery, a most amiable English lady eighty-two years of age. Many other interesting people were present, and I had the pleasure of taking Mrs. Basil Hall to dinner, and was seated next her mother, Lady Hunter, and almost opposite Lady Mary Clark. I did not feel so uncomfortable as usual; all were so kind, affable, and _truly_ well-bred. At nine the ladies left us, and Captain Basil Hall again attacked me about America, and hundreds of questions were put to me by all, which I answered as plainly and briefly as I could.

At eleven we joined the ladies, and tea and coffee were handed round; other guests had come in, card-tables were prepared, and we had some music. Portfolios of prints were ready for those interested in them. I sat watching all, but listening to Mrs. Hall's sweet music. This bustle does not suit me, I am not fitted for it, I prefer more solitude in the woods. I left at last with young Gregg, but I was the first to go, and we stepped out into the rainy Sunday morning, for it was long, long past midnight, and I hastened to my lodgings to commit murder,--yes, to commit murder; for the cats Mr. Daniel Lizars wished me to paint had been sent, and good Mrs. d.i.c.kie much objected to them in my rooms; her son helped me, and in two minutes the poor animals were painlessly killed. I at once put them up in fighting att.i.tude, ready for painting when daylight appeared, which would not be long.

Good-night, or good-morning; it is now nearly three o'clock.

_Sunday, December 17._ I painted all day, that is, during all the time I could see, and I was up at six this morning writing by candle-light, which I was compelled to use till nearly nine. Mr. Bridges called, and I dined at home on fried oysters and stewed Scotch herrings, then went to Mr. Lizars', where I nearly fell asleep; but a cup of coffee thoroughly awakened me, and I looked at some drawings of birds, which I thought miserable, by Mr. Pelletier. Mr. Lizars walked home with me to see my cats.

_Monday, December 18._ My painting of two cats fighting like two devils over a dead Squirrel was finished at three o'clock. I had been ten hours at it, but should not call it by the dignified t.i.tle of ”painting,” for it is too rapidly done for the more finished work I prefer; but I cannot give more time to it now, and the drawing is good. I dressed, and took the painting--so I continue to call it--to Mrs. Lizars', who wished to see it, and it had rained so hard all day she had not been able to come to my rooms. At five I dined with George Combe, the conversation chiefly phrenology. George Combe is a delightful host, and had gathered a most agreeable company. At seven Mr. Lizars called for me, and we went to the meeting of the Royal Academy. Two of my plates were laid on the table. Dr. Brewster and Mr. Allan wished the Academy to subscribe for my work, and the committee retired to act on this and other business. The meeting was very numerous and no doubt very learned; Sir William Jardine and Mr.

Selby arrived a little before the society was seated. The door of the hall was thrown open and we all marched in and seated ourselves on most slippery hair-cloth seats. The room is rich and beautiful; it is a large oblong, the walls covered with brilliant scarlet paper in imitation of morocco. The ceiling is painted to represent oak panels.

The windows are immensely large, framed to correspond with the ceiling, and with green jalousies; large chandeliers, with gas, light every corner brilliantly. The president sat in a large arm-chair lined with red morocco, and after the minutes of the last meeting had been read, Professor ---- gave us a long, tedious, and labored lecture on the origin of languages, their formation, etc. It seemed a very poor mess to me, though that was probably because I did not understand it.

My friend Ord would have doubtless swallowed it whole, but I could make neither head nor tail of it. A few fossil bones were then exhibited, and then, thank heaven! it was over. Sir William Jardine brought some birds with him from Jardine Hall, and to-morrow will see my style of posing them for painting. As I had promised to go to supper with Dr. Russell, I left soon after ten, without knowing what decision the committee had reached as to subscribing to my work. I met several of the Academicians at Dr. Russell's, as well as others whom I knew; but I am more and more surprised to find how little these men, learned as they are, know of America beyond the situation of her princ.i.p.al cities. We sat down to supper at eleven,--everything magnificent; but I was greatly fatigued, for I had been at work since before five this morning, either painting or writing or thinking hard.

We left the table about one, and I was glad to come home and shall now soon be asleep.

_Tuesday, December 19._ My writing takes me full two hours every morning, and soon as finished to-day, I dressed to go to breakfast with Sir William Jardine and Mr. Selby at Barry's Hotel. It was just nine, the morning fine and beautiful, the sun just above the line of the Old Town, the horizon like burnished gold, the walls of the Castle white in the light and almost black in the shade. All this made a beautiful scene, and I dwelt on the power of the great Creator who formed all, with a thought of all man had done and was doing, when a child, barefooted, ragged, and apparently on the verge of starvation, altered my whole train of ideas. The poor child complained of want, and, had I dared, I would have taken him to Sir William Jardine, and given him breakfast at the hotel; but the world is so strange I feared this might appear odd, so I gave the lad a s.h.i.+lling, and then bid him return with me to my lodgings. I looked over all my garments, gave him a large bundle of all that were at all worn, added five s.h.i.+llings, and went my way feeling as if G.o.d smiled on me through the face of the poor boy. The hotel was soon reached, and I was with my friends; they had brought Ducks, Hawks, and small birds for me to draw. After breakfast we all went to my room, and I showed these gentlemen how I set up my specimens, squared my paper, and soon had them both at work drawing a Squirrel. They called this a lesson. It was to me like a dream, that I, merely a woodsman, should teach men so much my superiors. They worked very well indeed, although I perceived at once that Mr. Selby was more enthusiastic, and therefore worked faster than Sir William; but he finished more closely, so that it was hard to give either the supremacy. They were delighted, especially Mr. Selby, who exclaimed, ”I will paint all our quadrupeds for my own house.” They both remained with me till we could see no more. At their request I read them my letter on the ”Carrion Crow;” but Dr. Brewster had altered it so much that I was quite shocked at it, it made me quite sick. He had, beyond question, greatly improved the style (for I have none), but he had destroyed the matter.

I dined at Major Dodd's with a complete set of military gentry, generals, colonels, captains, majors, and, to my surprise, young Pattison, my companion in the coach from Manchester; he was Mrs.

Dodd's cousin. I retired rather early, for I did not care for the bl.u.s.tering talk of all these warriors. Sir William Jardine and Mr.

Lizars came to my lodgings and announced that I was elected by universal acclamation a member of the Society of Arts of the city of Edinburgh.

_Wednesday, December 20._ Phrenology was the order of the morning. I was at Brown Square, at the house of George Combe by nine o'clock, and breakfasted most heartily on mutton, ham, and good coffee, after which we walked upstairs to his _sanctum sanctorum_. A beautiful silver box containing the instruments for measuring the cranium, was now opened,--the box and contents were a present from the ladies who have attended Mr. Combe's lectures during the past two years,--and I was seated fronting the light. Dr. Combe acted as secretary and George Combe, thrusting his fingers under my hair, began searching for miraculous b.u.mps. My skull was measured as minutely and accurately as I measure the bill or legs of a new bird, and all was duly noted by the scribe. Then with most exquisite touch each protuberance was found as numbered by phrenologists, and also put down according to the respective size. I was astounded when they both gave me the results of their labors in writing, and agreed in saying I was a strong and constant lover, an affectionate father, had great veneration for talent, would have made a brave general, that music did not equal painting in my estimation, that I was generous, quick-tempered, forgiving, and much else which I know to be true, though how they discovered these facts is quite a puzzle to me. They asked my permission to read the notes at their next meeting, to which I consented. I then went to court to meet Mr. Simpson the advocate, who was to introduce me to Francis Jeffrey. I found Mr. Simpson and a hundred others in their raven gowns, and powdered, curled wigs, but Mr. Jeffrey was not there. After doing many things and writing much, I went this evening to Mr. Lizars', and with him to Dr. Greville, the botanist.[109] He rarely leaves his house in winter and suffers much from asthma; I found him wearing a green silk night-cap, and we sat and talked of plants till 2 A. M. When I entered my rooms I found Mr.

Selby had sent me three most beautiful Pheasants, and to-morrow I begin a painting of these birds attacked by a Fox for the Exhibition in London next March. Also I had a note from the Earl of Morton to spend a day and night at his home at Dalmahoy, saying he would send his carriage for me next Wednesday, one week hence.

_Thursday, December 21._ To-day I received letters from De Witt Clinton and Thomas Sully in answer to mine in forty-two days; it seems absolutely impossible the distance should have been covered so rapidly; yet it is so, as I see by my memorandum book. I have written already in reply to Thomas Sully, promising him a copy of my first number when finished, say a month hence, with the request that he forward it, in my name, to that Inst.i.tution which thought me unworthy to be a member. There is no malice in my heart, and I wish no return or acknowledgment from them. I am now _determined_ never to be a member of that Philadelphia Society, but I still think talents, no matter how humble, should be fostered in one's own country. The weather is clear, with a sharp frost. What a number of Wild Ducks could I shoot on a morning like this, with a little powder and plenty of shot; but I had other fish to fry. I put up a beautiful male Pheasant, and outlined it on coa.r.s.e gray paper to _pounce_ it in proper position on my canvas. Sir Wm. Jardine and Mr. Selby were here drawing under my direction most of the day. My time is so taken up, and daylight so short, that though four hours is all I allow for sleep, I am behind-hand, and have engaged an amanuensis. I go out so much that I frequently dress three times a day, the greatest bore in the world to me; why I cannot dine in my blue coat as well as a black one, I cannot say, but so it seems. Mrs. Lizars came with a friend, Mr. Simpson, to invite me to a phrenological supper, Dr. Charles Fox, looking very ill, and two friends of Mr. Selby; the whole morning pa.s.sed away, no canvas came for me, and I could not have left my guests to work, if it had. I looked often at the beautiful Pheasant, with longing eyes, but when the canvas came and my guests had gone, daylight went with them, so I had lost a most precious day; that is a vast deal in a man's life-gla.s.s. The supper was really a phrenological party; my head and Mr. Selby's were compared, and at twelve o'clock he and I went home together. I was glad to feel the frosty air and to see the stars. I think Mr. Selby one of those rare men that are seldom met with, and when one is found it proves how good some of our species may be. Never before did I so long for a glimpse of our rich magnolia woods; I never before felt the want of a glance at our forests as I do now; could I be there but a moment, hear the mellow Mock-bird, or the Wood-thrush, to me always so pleasing, how happy should I be; but alas! I am far from those scenes. I seem, in a measure, to have gone back to my early days of society and fine dressing, silk stockings and pumps, and all the finery with which I made a popinjay of myself in my youth.

_December 22, Friday._ I painted a good portion to-day though it was quite dark by three of the afternoon; how I long for the fair days of summer. My room to-day was a perfect levee; it is Mr. Audubon here, and Mr. Audubon there; I only hope they will not make a conceited fool of Mr. Audubon at last. I received every one as politely as I could, palette and brushes in hand, and conducted each in his turn to the door. I was called from my work twenty-five times, but I was nevertheless glad to see one and all. I supped with Sir William Jardine, Mr. Lizars, and Mr. Moule, Sir William's uncle, at Barry's Hotel; we talked much of fish and fis.h.i.+ng, for we were all sportsmen.

I left at midnight and found at my room a long letter from Charles Bonaparte.

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