Volume I Part 15 (2/2)
_March 5._ Since I left Edinburgh, I have not had a day as brilliant as this in point of being surrounded by learned men. This morning I took a long walk among the Colleges, and watched many birds; while thus employed, a well dressed man handed me a card on which was written in _English_, ”The bearer desires to meet with some one who speaks either French, Italian, or Spanish.” I spoke to him in Spanish and French, both of which he knew well. He showed me a certificate from the consul of Sweden, at Leith, which affirmed his story, that he with three sailors had been s.h.i.+pwrecked, and now wished to return to the Continent, but they had only a few s.h.i.+llings, and none of them spoke English. I gave him a sovereign, just as I saw Professor Sedgwick approaching; he came to my room to see my birds, but could only give me a short time as he had a lecture to deliver. I returned to my rooms, and just as I was finis.h.i.+ng lunch the Vice-Chancellor made his appearance,--a small old man, with hair as white as snow, dressed in a flowing gown, with two little bits of white muslin in lieu of cravat. He remained with me upwards of two hours; he admired my work, and promised to do all he could. I was delighted with his conversation; he is a man of wide knowledge, and it seemed to me of sound judgment. Professor Henslow invited me to dine on Friday, and just as I finished my note of acceptance, came in with three gentlemen. At four I went to Mr. Greenwood's to dine; as I entered I saw with dismay upwards of thirty gentlemen; I was introduced to one after another, and then we went to the ”Hall,” where dinner was set.
This hall resembled the interior of a Gothic church; a short prayer was said, and we sat down to a sumptuous dinner. Eating was not precisely my object, it seldom is; I looked first at the _convives_. A hundred students sat apart from our table, and the ”Fellows,” twelve in number, with twenty guests const.i.tuted our ”mess.” The dinner, as I said, was excellent, and I thought these learned ”Fellows” must have read, among other studies, Dr. Kitchener on the ”Art of Cookery.” The students gradually left in parcels, as vultures leave a carca.s.s; we remained. A fine gilt or gold tankard, containing a very strong sort of nectar, was handed to me; I handed it, after tasting, to the next, and so it went round. Now a young man came, and as we rose, he read a short prayer from a small board (such as butchers use to kill flies with). We then went to the room where we had a.s.sembled, and conversation at once began; perhaps the wines went the rounds for an hour, then tea and coffee, after which the table was cleared, and I was requested to open my portfolio. I am proud _now_ to show them, and I saw with pleasure these gentlemen admired them. I turned over twenty-five, but before I had finished received the subscription of the Librarian for the University, and the a.s.surance of the Secretary of the Philosophical Society that they would take it. It was late before I was allowed to come away.
_Thursday, March 6._ A cold snowy day; I went to the library of the University and the Philosophical Society rooms, and dined again in ”Hall,” with Professor Sedgwick. There were four hundred students, and forty ”Fellows;” quite a different scene from Corpus College. Each one devoured his meal in a hurry; in less than half an hour grace was read again by _two_ students, and Professor Whewell took me to his own rooms with some eight or ten others. My book was inspected as a matter of courtesy. Professor Sedgwick was gay, full of wit and cleverness; the conversation was very animated, and I enjoyed it much. Oh! my Lucy, that I also had received a university education! I listened and admired for a long time, when suddenly Professor Whewell began asking me questions about the woods, the birds, the aborigines of America.
The more I rove about, the more I find how little known the interior of America is; we sat till late. No subscriber to-day, but I must not despair; nothing can be done without patience and industry, and, thank G.o.d, I have both.
_March 7._ The frost was so severe last night that the ground was white when I took my walk; I saw ice an eighth of an inch thick. As most of the fruit trees are in blossom, the gardeners will suffer this year. Inclement though it was, the birds were courting, and some, such as Jackdaws and Rooks, forming nests. After breakfast I went to the library, having received a permit, and looked at three volumes of Le Vaillant's ”Birds of Africa,” which contain very bad figures. I was called from here to show my work to the son of Lord Fitzwilliam, who came with his tutor, Mr. Upton. The latter informed me the young n.o.bleman wished to own the book. I showed my drawings, and he, being full of the ardor of youth, asked where he should write his name. I gave him my list; his youth, his good looks, his courtesy, his refinement attracted me much, and made me wish his name should stand by that of some good friend. There was no room by Mrs. Rathbone's, so I asked that he write immediately above the Countess of Morton, and he wrote in a beautiful hand, which I wish I could equal, ”Hon. W. C.
Wentworth Fitzwilliam.” He is a charming young man, and I wish him _bon voyage_ through life. On returning to my lodgings this evening, my landlord asked me to join him in what he called ”a gla.s.s of home-brewed.” I accepted, not to hurt his feelings, a thing I consider almost criminal; but it is muddy looking stuff, not to my taste.
_Sat.u.r.day, 8th._ The weather bad, but my eyes and ears were greeted by more birds than I have seen yet in this country. I dined at the Vice-Chancellor's, and found myself among men of deep research, learning, and knowledge,--mild in expressions, kind in attentions, and under whom I fervently wished it had been my lot to have received such an education as they possess.
_Sunday, March 9._ Cambridge on a Sunday is a place where I would suppose the basest mind must relax, for the time being, from the error of denying the existence of a Supreme Being; all is calm--silent-- solemn--almost sublime. The beautiful bells fill the air with melody, and the heart with a wish for prayer. I went to church with Mr.
Whewell at Great St. Mary's, and heard an impressive sermon on Hope from Mr. Henslow. After that I went to admire Nature, as the day was beautifully inviting. Professor Heath of King's College wished me to see his splendid chapel, and with a ticket of admission I resorted there at three. We had simple hymns and prayers, the former softly accompanied by the notes of an immense organ, standing nearly in the centre of that astonis.h.i.+ng building; the chanters were all young boys in white surplices. I walked with Mr. Heath to Mr. Whewell's, and with him went to Trinity Chapel. The charm that had held me all day was augmented many fold as I entered an immense interior where were upward of four hundred collegians in their white robes. The small wax tapers, the shadowy distances, the slow footfalls of those still entering, threw my imagination into disorder. A kind of chilliness almost as of fear came to me, my lips quivered, my heart throbbed, I fell on my knees and prayed to be helped and comforted. I shall remember this sensation forever, my Lucy. When at Liverpool, I always go to the church for the blind; did I reside at Cambridge, I would be found each Sunday at Trinity Chapel.
_March 12._ I was introduced to Judge ----, on his way to court,--a monstrously ugly old man, with a wig that might make a capital bed for an Osage Indian during the whole of a cold winter on the Arkansas River.
_London, March 15._ The scene is quite changed, or better say returned, for I am again in London. I found my little Larks as lively as ever, but judge of my pleasure when I found three letters from thee and Victor and Johnny, dated Nov. 10, Dec. 19, and Jan. 20. What comfort would it be to see thee. Havell tells me a hundred sets of No.
6 are in hand for coloring. Mr. David Lyon called to see my work, and said it had been recommended to him by Sir Thos. Lawrence. This seems strange after what I heard before, but like all other men Sir Thomas has probably his enemies, and falsehoods have been told about him.
_March 20._ Called on Havell and saw the plate of the Parroquets nearly finished; I think it is a beautiful piece of work. My landlady received a notice that if she did not pay her rent to-morrow an officer would be put in possession. I perceived she was in distress when I came in, and asking her trouble gave her what a.s.sistance I could by writing a cheque for 20, which she has promised to repay.
This evening I went to Covent Garden to see ”Oth.e.l.lo;” I had an excellent seat. I saw Kean, Young, and Kemble; the play was terrifyingly well performed.
_Sat.u.r.day, March 20._ To-day I was with friend Sergeant most of the time; this evening have paid Havell in full, and now, thank G.o.d, feel free to leave noisy, smoky London.
_Oxford, March 24._ I am now in Oxford _the clean_, and in comfortable lodgings. I arrived at four o'clock, shrunk to about one half my usual size by the coldness of the weather, having ridden on top of the coach, facing the northern blast, that caused a severe frost last night, and has, doubtless, nipped much fruit in the bud. As I travelled I saw Windsor Castle about two miles distant, and also witnessed the turning out of a Stag from a cart, before probably a hundred hounds and as many huntsmen. A curious land, and a curious custom, to catch an animal, and set it free merely to catch again. We crossed the Thames twice, near its head; it does not look like the Ohio, I a.s.sure thee; a Sand-hill Crane could easily wade across it without damping its feathers.
_March 25._ My feet are positively sore battering the pavement; I have walked from one house and College to another all day, but have a new subscriber, and one not likely to die soon, the Anatomical School, through Dr. Kidd.[150] He and I ran after each other all day like the Red-headed Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs in the spring. I took a walk along two little streams, bearing of course the appellation of rivers, the Isis and the Charwell; the former freezes I am told at the bottom, never at the top. Oxford seems larger than Cambridge, but is not on the whole so pleasing to me. I do not think the walks as fine, there are fewer trees, and the population is more mixed. I have had some visitors, and lunched with Dr. Williams, who subscribed for the Radcliffe Library, whither we both went to inspect the first number. When I saw it, it drew a sigh from my heart. Ah! Mr. Lizars! was this the way to use a man who paid you so amply and so punctually? I rolled it up and took it away with me, for it was hardly colored at all, and have sent a fair new set of five numbers. I dined at the Vice-Chancellor's at six; his niece, Miss Jenkins, did the honors of the table most gracefully.
There were ten gentlemen and four ladies, and when the latter left, the conversation became more general. I was spoken to about Wilson and C. Bonaparte, and could heartily praise both.
_March 27._ Breakfasted with Mr. Hawkins, Provost of Oriel College, and went immediately after with him to the Dean of Trinity. The large salon was filled with ladies and gentlemen engaged with my work; my drawings followed, and I showed them, but, oh, Lucy, how tired I am of doing this. The Dean has, I think, the finest family of daughters I have ever seen; eight blooming, interesting young ladies; from here to Dr. Kidd, where was another room full of company to see my drawings.
Among my visitors was Dr. Ed. Burton,[151] who invited me to breakfast to-morrow.
_March 28._ Never since I was at the delightful Green Bank, or at Twizel House have I had so agreeable a breakfast as I enjoyed this morning. I was shown into a neat parlor giving on a garden, and was greeted by a very beautiful and gracious woman; this was Mrs. Burton.
Dr. Burton came in through the window from the garden; in a moment we were at table and I felt at once at home, as if with my good friend ”Lady” Rathbone. Dr. and Mrs. Burton have an astonis.h.i.+ng collection of letters, portraits, etc., and I was asked to write my name and the date of my birth as well as the present date. The former, I could not do, except approximately, and Mrs. Burton was greatly amused that I should not know; what I _do_ know is that I am no longer a young man.
A letter from Mr. Hawkins told me Dr. Buckland[152] was expected to-morrow, and I was asked to meet him at dinner at his own house by Mrs. Buckland. I dined with the Provost of Oriel and nine other gentlemen, among them the son of the renowned Mr. Wilberforce.
_March 29._ To-morrow, probably, I leave here, and much disappointed.
There are here twenty-two colleges intended to promote science in all its branches; I have brought here samples of a work acknowledged to be at least good, and not one of the colleges has subscribed. I have been most hospitably treated, but with so little encouragement for my work there is no reason for me to remain.
_London, March 30._ Left Oxford at eleven this morning, the weather still intensely cold. We had a guard dressed in red with sizable b.u.t.tons, a good artist on the bugle, who played in very good style, especially fugues and anthems, which were harmonious but not cheerful.
I saw a poor man and his wife trudging _barefoot_ this weather, a sight which drew the rings of my purse asunder. Almost as soon as I reached my lodgings a gentleman, Mr. Loudon,[153] called to ask me to write zoological papers for his journal. I declined, for I will never write anything to call down upon me a second volley of abuse. I can only write _facts_, and when I write those the Philadelphians call me a liar.
_April 1, 1828._ I have the honor to be a Fellow of the Linnaean Society of London, quite fresh from the mint, for the news reached me when the election was not much more than over. Mr. Vigors tells me Baron Cuvier is to be here this week. I had some agreeable time with a gentleman from Ceylon, Bennett[154] by name, who has a handsome collection of fish from that place.
_April 2._ Called on Mr. Children, and together we walked to Mr.
Havell's, where he saw the drawings for No. 7. How slowly my immense work progresses; yet it goes on apace, and may G.o.d grant me life to see it accomplished and finished. Then, indeed, will I have left a landmark of my existence.
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