Volume I Part 11 (2/2)
The whole operation lasted hardly five minutes; the only inconvenience felt was the weight of the material pulling downward over my sinews and flesh. On my return from the Antiquarian Society that evening, I found _my face_ on the table, an excellent cast.
_January 17 to Sunday, 21st._ John Syme, the artist, asked me if I did not wish to become an a.s.sociate member of the _Scottish Artists_. I answered, ”Yes.” I have promised to paint a picture of Black c.o.c.k for their exhibition, and with that view went to market, where for fifteen s.h.i.+llings I purchased two superb males and one female. I have been painting pretty much all day and every day. Among my visitors I have had the son of Smollett, the great writer, a handsome young gentleman.
Several n.o.blemen came to see my Pheasants, and all promised me a _white_ one. Professor Russell called and read me a letter from Lord ----, _giving me leave_ to see the pictures at his hall, but I, poor Audubon, go nowhere without an _invitation_.
_January 22, Monday._ I was painting diligently when Captain Hall came in, and said: ”Put on your coat, and come with me to Sir Walter Scott; he wishes to see you _now_.” In a moment I was ready, for I really believe my coat and hat came to me instead of my going to them. My heart trembled; I longed for the meeting, yet wished it over. Had not his wondrous pen penetrated my soul with the consciousness that here was a genius from G.o.d's hand? I felt overwhelmed at the thought of meeting Sir Walter, the Great Unknown. We reached the house, and a powdered waiter was asked if Sir Walter were in.[112] We were shown forward at once, and entering a very small room Captain Hall said: ”Sir Walter, I have brought Mr. Audubon.” Sir Walter came forward, pressed my hand warmly, and said he was ”glad to have the honor of meeting me.” His long, loose, silvery locks struck me; he looked like Franklin at his best. He also reminded me of Benjamin West; he had the great benevolence of Wm. Roscoe about him, and a kindness most prepossessing. I could not forbear looking at him, my eyes feasted on his countenance. I watched his movements as I would those of a celestial being; his long, heavy, white eyebrows struck me forcibly.
His little room was tidy, though it partook a good deal of the character of a laboratory. He was wrapped in a quilted morning-gown of light purple silk; he had been at work writing on the ”Life of Napoleon.” He writes close lines, rather curved as they go from left to right, and puts an immense deal on very little paper. After a few minutes had elapsed he begged Captain Hall to ring a bell; a servant came and was asked to bid Miss Scott come to see Mr. Audubon. Miss Scott came, black-haired and black-dressed, not handsome but said to be highly accomplished, and she is the daughter of Sir Walter Scott.
There was much conversation. I talked little, but, believe me, I listened and observed, careful if ignorant. I cannot write more now.--I have just returned from the Royal Society. Knowing that I was a candidate for the electorate of the society, I felt very uncomfortable and would gladly have been hunting on Tawapatee Bottom.
[Ill.u.s.tration: AUDUBON.
From the portrait by Henry Inman. Now in the possession of the family.]
_January 23, Tuesday._ My first visitor was Mr. Hays the antiquarian, who needed my a.s.sistance, or rather my knowledge of French in the translation of a pa.s.sage relating to ”le droit du seigneur.” Dr. Combe called later and begged me to go to Mr. Joseph, the sculptor, with him, and through a great fall of snow we went through Windsor Street, one of the handsomest in this beautiful city. Mr. Joseph was in, and I saw an uncommonly good bust of Sir Walter, one of Lord Morton, and several others. I have powerfully in my mind to give my picture of the ”Trapped Otter” to Mrs. Basil Hall, and, by Was.h.i.+ngton, I will. No one deserves it more, and I cannot receive so many favors without trying to make some return.
_January 24._ My second visit to Sir Walter Scott was much more agreeable than my first. My portfolio and its contents were matters on which I could speak substantially,[113] and I found him so willing to level himself with me for a while that the time spent at his home was agreeable and valuable. His daughter improved in looks the moment she spoke, having both vivacity and good sense.
_January 28._ Yesterday I had so many visitors that I was quite fatigued; my rooms were full all the time, yet I work away as if they were so many cabbages, except for a short time taken to show them a few drawings, give them chairs, and other civil attentions. In the evening I went to the theatre to see the ”Merchant of Venice;” the night was violently stormy, the worst I remember for years. I thought of the poor sailors, what hard lives they have.
_January 30, Tuesday._ The days begin to show a valuable augmentation.
I could this morning begin work at eight, and was still at my easel at four. A man may do a good deal on a painting in eight hours provided he has the power of laying the true tints at once, and does not muddy his colors or need glazing afterwards. Now a query arises. Did the ancient artists and colorists ever glaze their work? I sometimes think they did not, and I am inclined to think thus because their work is of great strength of standing, and extremely solid and confirmed on the canvas--a proof with me that they painted clean and bright at once, but that this _once_ they repeated, perhaps, as often as three times.
Glazing certainly is a beautiful way of effecting transparency, particularly over shadowy parts, but I frequently fear the coating being so thin, and that time preys on these parts more powerfully than on those unglazed, so that the work is sooner destroyed by its application than without it. I am confident Sir Joshua Reynolds'
pictures fade so much in consequence of his constant glazing. Lord Hay, who has only one arm, called this morning, and promised me White Pheasants by Sat.u.r.day morning. So many people have called that I have not put a foot out to-day.
_January 31, Wednesday._ I had the delight of receiving letters from home to-day; how every word carried me to my beloved America. Oh, that I could be with you and see those magnificent forests, and listen to sweet Wood Thrushes and the Mock-Birds so gay!
_February 1._ I have just finished a picture of Black c.o.c.k sunning and dusting themselves, with a view in the background of Loch Lomond, nine feet by six, for which I am offered two hundred guineas. It will be exhibited at the Royal Inst.i.tute rooms next week, and the picture of the Pheasants, the same size, at the Scottish Society of Artists, of which I am now an a.s.sociate member.
_February 5._ None of my promised White Pheasants have come, but I have determined the picture shall be finished if I have to paint in a black Crow instead. Dr. Brewster spoke to me of a camera lucida to enable me to outline birds with great rapidity. I would like such an instrument if merely to save time in hot weather, when outlining correctly is more than half the work. At eight o'clock I entered the rooms of the Royal Society. I opened my large sheets and laid them on the table; the astonishment of every one was great, and I saw with pleasure many eyes look from them to me. The business of the society was then done behind closed doors; but when these were opened and we were called into the great room, Captain Hall, taking my hand, led me to a seat immediately opposite to Sir Walter Scott; then, Lucy, I had a perfect view of that great man, and I studied from Nature Nature's n.o.blest work. After a lecture on the introduction of the Greek language into England, the president, Sir Walter, rose and we all followed his example. Sir Walter came to me, shook my hand cordially, and asked me how the cold weather of Edinburgh agreed with me. This mark of attention was observed by other members, who looked at me as if I had been a distinguished stranger.
_February 9._ I have been, and am yet, greatly depressed, yet why I am so it is impossible for me to conceive, unless it be that slight vexations, trifling in themselves, are trying to me, because, alas! I am only a very, very common man. I dined to-night at Professor Jameson's, and as my note said ”with a few friends,” was surprised to find thirty besides myself. The engineer, Mr. S----, was here, and many other noted men, including the famous Professor Leslie,[114] an enormous ma.s.s of flesh and an extremely agreeable man, who had been in Virginia many years ago, but recollects those days well.
_February 10._ I visited the Royal Inst.i.tution this morning, and saw my Black c.o.c.ks over the first of the first-room doors. I know well that the birds are drawn as well as any birds ever have been; but what a difference exists between drawing one bird or a dozen and amalgamating them with a sky, a landscape, and a well adapted foreground. Who has not felt a sense of fear while trying to combine all this? I looked at my work long, then walked round the room, when my eyes soon reached a picture by Landseer, the death of a stag. I saw much in it of the style of those men who know how to handle a brush and carry a good effect; but Nature was not there, although a Stag, three dogs, and a Highlander were introduced on the canvas. The Stag had his tongue out and his mouth shut! The princ.i.p.al dog, a greyhound, held the Deer by one ear just as if a loving friend; the young hunter has laced the Deer by one horn very prettily, and in the att.i.tude of a ballet-dancer was about to cast the noose over the head of the animal.
To me, or to my friends Dr. Pope or Mr. Bourgeat such a picture is quite a farce; not so here however. Many other pictures drew my attention, and still more so the different artists who came in with brushes and palettes _to tickle their pictures_. I was to read a paper at the Wernerian Society on the Rattlesnake, but had not had time to finish it; nevertheless I went to the society rooms, which were crowded. I was sorry I was not prepared to read to those a.s.sembled that a Rattlesnake rattled his tail, not to give knowledge to man of his presence, but because he never strikes without rattling, and that dest.i.tute of that appendage he cannot strike at all. The wind blows a doleful tune and I feel utterly alone.
_Monday, February 12._ Mr. Lizars insisted on my going to the Antiquarian Society, saying it was usual for a member newly elected to be present on the first occasion possible. I went, of course, but felt very sheepish withal. We had an excellent paper by Mr. Hays respecting a bell found in Argyle, of very ancient date.
_Tuesday, February 13._ This was the grand, long promised, and much wished-for day of the opening of the Exhibition at the rooms of the Royal Inst.i.tution. At one o'clock I went, the doors were just opened, and in a few minutes the rooms were crowded. Sir Walter Scott was present; he came towards me, shook my hand cordially, and pointing to Landseer's picture said: ”Many such scenes, Mr. Audubon, have I witnessed in my younger days.” We talked much of all about us, and I would gladly have joined him in a gla.s.s of wine, but my foolish habits prevented me, and after inquiring of his daughter's health, I left him, and shortly afterwards the rooms; for I had a great appet.i.te, and although there were tables loaded with delicacies, and I saw the ladies particularly eating freely, I must say to my shame _I_ dared not lay my fingers on a single thing. In the evening I went to the theatre where I was much amused by ”The Comedy of Errors,” and afterwards ”The Green Room.” I admire Miss Neville's singing very much; and her manners also; there is none of the actress about her, but much of the lady.
_Tuesday, 20th._ A week has pa.s.sed without writing here because I have done nothing else but write--many letters for Captain Hall, and at his request a paper to be read at the Natural History Society. I pitched on the ”Habits of the Wild Pigeon.” I began on Wednesday, and it took me until half-past three of the morning, and after a few hours' sleep I rose to correct it, which was needed, I can a.s.sure thee. Were it not for the _facts_ it contains, I would not give a cent for it, nor anybody else, I dare say. I positively brought myself so much among the Pigeons and in the woods of America that my ears were as if really filled with the noise of their wings; I was tired and my eyes ached. I dined at a Mr. Tytler's and met among the guests Mr. Cruden, brother of the compiler of the famous concordance. On Sunday I made for the seash.o.r.e, and walked eight miles; the weather was extremely cold, my ears and nose I thought would drop off, yet I went on. Monday Captain Hall called to speak to me about my paper on Pigeons; he complained that I expressed the belief that Pigeons were possessed of affection and tenderest love, and that this raised the brute species to a level with man. O man! misled, self-conceited being, when wilt thou keep within the sphere of humility that, with all thy vices and wickedness about thee, should be thine. At the exhibition rooms I put up my drawing of the Wild Pigeons and Captain Hall read my paper. I was struck with the silence and attention of the audience. The president invited me to supper with him, but I was too excited, so excused myself.
_February 21._ I wrote again nearly all day, and in the evening went to the theatre to see ”The School for Grown Children.”
_February 23._ Young Hutchinson came about the middle of the day, and I proposed we should have an early dinner and a long walk after for the sake of exercise, that I now find much needed. We proceeded towards the village of Portobello, distant three miles, the weather delightful, the sh.o.r.e dotted with gentlemen on horseback galloping over the sand in all directions. The sea calm and smooth, had many fis.h.i.+ng-boats. The village is a summer resort, built handsomely of white stone, and all was quietness. From here we proceeded across country to Duddingston, about a mile and a half, to see the skaters on the _lake_, a mere duck puddle; but the ice was too thin, and no skaters were there. We gradually ascended the hill called Arthur's Seat, and all of a sudden came in full view of the fair city. We entered in the Old Town and reached my lodgings by the North Bridge. I was quite tired, and yet I had not walked more than ten miles. I thought this strange, and wondered if it could be the same body that travelled over one hundred and sixty-five miles in four days without a shade of fatigue. The cities do not tempt me to walk, and so I lose the habit.
_February 24._ To the Wernerian Society at two o'clock, my drawing of the Mocking-Bird with me. The room was completely filled, and a paper on the rhubarb of commerce was read; it was short, and then Professor Jameson called my name. I rose, and read as distinctly as I could my paper on Rattlesnakes, a job of three quarters of an hour. Having finished I was cheered by all, and the thanks of the a.s.sembly unanimously voted. My cheeks burned, and after a few questions had been put me by the president and some of the gentlemen present, I handed my ma.n.u.script to Professor Jameson, and was glad to be gone.
Young Murray, the son of the London publisher, accompanied me to the Scottish Society Exhibition, but I soon left him as so many eyes were directed to me that I was miserable.
_February 27._ It blew and rained tremendously, and this morning I parted from Captain Hall, who goes to London. His leaving Edinburgh affects me considerably; he is a kind, substantial friend, and when we finally shook hands, I doubt not he knew the feeling in my heart. This evening was spent at Mr. Joseph's the sculptor. There were a number of guests, and music and dancing was proposed. My fame as a dancer produced, I am sure, false expectations; nevertheless I found myself on the floor with Mrs. Joseph, a lively, agreeable little lady, much my junior, and about my Lucy's age. After much dancing, during which light refreshments were served, we sat down to supper at twelve o'clock, and we did not leave till three.
<script>