Volume I Part 16 (1/2)

_April 3._ I have had many corrections to make to my Prospectus, which have taken much time. I also examined many of my drawings, which I thought had suffered exceedingly from the damp; this quite frightened me. What a misfortune it would be if they should be spoiled, for few men would attempt the severe task I have run through, I think. And as to me, alas! I am growing old, and although my spirits are as active as ever, my body declines, and perhaps I never could renew them all. I shall watch them carefully. Indeed, should I find it necessary, I will remove them to Edinburgh or Paris, where the atmosphere is less dangerous.

_April 6._ I have not written a word for three days, because, in truth, I have little to mention. Whenever I am in this London all is alike indifferent to me, and I in turn indifferent. Ah! my love, on a day like this in America I could stroll in magnificent woods, I could listen to sounds fresh and pure, I could look at a _blue_ sky. Mr.

Loudon called and said he was anxious to have a review of my work in his magazine, and would write to Mr. Wm. Swainson,[155] a naturalist and friend of Dr. Traill's, to do so. He again begged me to write an article for him, for which he would pay eight guineas; but no, I will write no more for publication except, as has been urged, to accompany my own pictures.

_April 10._ I have now only one set on hand; I had fifteen when I went to Cambridge. I hope soon to hear from Liverpool; the silence of a friend sometimes terrifies me; I dread to learn that my venerable, good ”Lady” Rathbone is ill.

_April 14._ I cannot conceive why, but my spirits have been much too low for my own comfort. I thought strongly of returning to America; such a long absence from thee is dreadful. I sometimes fear we shall never meet again _in this world_. I called on Havell, who showed me the White-headed Eagle, a splendid plate indeed, and nearly finished.

_April 17._ I did but little yesterday, I was quite unwell; in the afternoon I walked to Bruton St. and saw Mr. Vigors, who a.s.sisted me in the nomenclature of the Hawk for Lord Stanley. This afternoon I received a letter from Mr. Wm. Swainson, inviting me to go to spend a day with him. My work continues to be well received, and as I have a tolerable list of subscribers I hope it will continue to improve.

_April 21._ The same feelings still exist this year that I felt last, during my whole stay in London. I hate it, yes, I cordially hate London, and yet cannot escape from it. I neither can write my journal when here, nor draw well, and if I walk to the fields around, the very voice of the sweet birds I hear has no longer any charm for me, the pleasure being too much mingled with the idea that in another hour all will again be bustle, filth, and smoke. Last Friday, when about to answer Mr. Swainson's letter, I suddenly thought that it would be best for me to go to see him at once. The weather was shocking; a dog would scarce have turned out to hunt the finest of game. I dined at two, and went to a coach office, when, after waiting a long time, the coachman a.s.sured me that unless I had been to Mr. Swainson's before, it would be madness to go that day, as his house lay off from the main road fully five miles, and it was a difficult place to find; moreover, the country, he said, was _swimming_. This is the first advice I have ever had from a coachman to stop me from paying my fare; I thanked him, and returned home, and wrote to Mr. Swainson; then walked twice round Kensington Gardens, most dull and melancholy. Ah! cannot I return to America?

_April 24._ I have been so hara.s.sed in mind and body, since ten days, that I am glad to feel partially relieved at last. All the colorers abandoned the work because I found _one_ of their number was doing miserable daubing, and wished him dismissed unless he improved; but now they are all replaced.

_May 1._ Mr. Swainson has published a review of my work in Mr.

Loudon's magazine, and how he has raised my talents. Would that I could do as well as he says I do; then indeed would my pencil be eager to portray the delicate and elegant contours of the feathered tribe, the softness of their plumage, and their gay movements. Alas, now I must remain in London overlooking engravers, colorers, and agents. Yet when I close my eyes I hear the birds warbling, nay, every sound; the shriek of the Falcon, the coy Doves cooing; the whistling note of the Grackle seems to fill my ear, again I am in the cornfield amidst millions of these birds, and then, transported afar, I must tread lightly and with care, to avoid the venomous Rattler. I sent the first proof of the White-headed Eagle to the Marquis of Landsdowne; he being the president of the Zoological Society, I thought it courteous to do so.

_Sunday, May 4._ Immediately after breakfast I went out with George Woodley, and walked to the pretty village called Hampstead. The rain that fell last night seemed only sufficient to revive nature's productions; the trees were lightly covered with foliage of a tender hue; the hawthorns dispersed along the thickets had opened their fragrant cups, the rich meadows showed promise of a fair crop. Here and there a shy Blackbird's note burst clearly, yet softly, while the modest Blackcap skipped across our way. I enjoyed it all, but only transiently; I felt as if I must return to the grand beauties of the Western World, so strong is the attachment impressed in man for his own country. I have been summing up the pros and cons respecting a voyage to America, with an absence of twelve months. The difficulties are many, but I am determined to arrange for it, if possible. I should like to renew about fifty of my drawings; I am sure that now I could make better compositions, and select better plants than when I drew merely for amus.e.m.e.nt, and without the thought of ever bringing them to public view. To effect this wish of mine, I must find a true, devoted friend who will superintend my work and see to its delivery--this is no trifle in itself. Then I must arrange for the regular payments of twelve months' work, and _that_ is no trifle; but when I consider the difficulties I have surmounted, the privations of all sorts that I have borne, the many hairbreadth escapes I have had, the times I have been near sinking under the weight of the enterprise--ah! such difficulties as even poor Wilson never experienced--what reasons have I now to suppose, or to make me think for a moment, that the omnipotent G.o.d who gave me a heart to endure and overcome all these difficulties, will abandon me now. No! my faith is the same--my desires are of a pure kind; I only wish to enjoy more of Him by admiring His works still more than I have ever done before.

He will grant me life, He will support me in my journeys, and enable me to meet thee again in America.

_May 6._ I walked early round the Regent's Park, and there purchased four beautiful little Redpolls from a sailor, put them in my pocket, and, when arrived at home, having examined them to satisfy myself of their ident.i.ty with the one found in our country, I gave them all liberty to go. What pleasure they must have felt rising, and going off over London; and I felt pleasure too, to know they had the freedom I so earnestly desired.

_May 10._ I received a long letter from Charles Bonaparte, and perceived it had been dipped in vinegar to prevent it from introducing the plague from Italy to England.

_June 2._ I was at Mr. Swainson's from May 28 till yesterday, and my visit was of the most agreeable nature. Mr. and Mrs. Swainson have a charming home at t.i.ttenhanger Green, near St. Albans. Mrs. Swainson plays well on the piano, is amiable and kind; Mr. Swainson a superior man indeed; and their children blooming with health and full of spirit. Such talks on birds we have had together. Why, Lucy, thou wouldst think that birds were all that we cared for in this world, but thou knowest this is not so. Whilst there I began a drawing for Mrs.

Swainson, and showed Mr. Swainson how to put up birds in my style, which delighted him.

_August 9._ More than two months have pa.s.sed since I have opened my journal--not through idleness, but because, on the contrary, I have been too busy with my plates, and in superintending the coloring of them, and with painting. I wished again to try painting in oil, and set to with close attention, day after day, and have now before me eight pictures begun, but not one entirely finished. I have a great desire to exhibit some of these in this wonderful London. One of these pictures is from my sketch of an Eagle pouncing on a Lamb,[156] dost thou remember it? They are on the top of a dreary mountain; the sky is dark and stormy, and I am sure the positions of the bird and his prey are wholly correct. My drawing is good, but the picture at present shows great coldness and want of strength. Another is a copy of the very group of Black c.o.c.ks, or Grouse, for which Mr. Gaily paid me 100, and I copy it with his permission; if it is better than his, and I think it will be, he must exchange, for a.s.suredly he should own the superior picture. The others are smaller and less important. With the exception of such exercise as has been necessary, and my journeys (often several times a day) to Havell's, I have not left my room, and have labored as if not to be painting was a heinous crime. I have been at work from four every morning till dark; I have kept up my large correspondence, my publication goes on well and regularly, and this very day seventy sets have been distributed; yet the number of my subscribers has not increased; on the contrary, I have lost some.

I have met a Mr. Parker, whom I once knew in Natchez; he asked me to permit him to paint my portrait as a woodsman, and though it is very tiresome to me, I have agreed to his request. The return of Captain Basil Hall to England has rather surprised me; he called on me at once; he had seen our dear Victor, Mr. Sully, Dr. Harlan, and many of my friends, to whom I had given him letters, for which he thanked me heartily. He has seen much of the United States, but says he is too true an Englishman to like things there. Time will show his ideas more fully, as he told me he should publish his voyage, journeys, and a number of anecdotes.

_August 10._ My usual long walk before breakfast, after which meal Mr.

Parker took my first sitting, which consisted merely of the outlines of the head; this was a job of more than three hours, much to my disgust. We then went for a walk and turned into the Zoological Gardens, where we remained over an hour. I remarked two large and beautiful Beavers, seated with the tail as usual under the body, their forelegs hanging like those of a Squirrel.

_August 13._ I wrote to Mr. Swainson asking if he could not accompany me to France, where he said he wished to go when we were talking together at t.i.ttenhanger.

_August 19._ My absence from this dusty place has prevented my writing daily, but I can easily sum up. Thursday afternoon on returning from Havell's, I found Mr. Swainson just arrived. He had come to take me to t.i.ttenhanger Green, where the pure air, the notes of the birds, the company of his wife and children, revived my drooping spirits. How very kind this was of him, especially when I reflect on what a short time I have known him. We procured some powder and shot, and seated ourselves in the coach for the journey. Just as we were leaving London and its smoke, a man begged I would take a paper bag from him, containing a Carrier Pigeon, and turn it out about five miles off. The poor bird could have been put in no better hands, I am sure; when I opened the bag and launched it in the air, I wished from my heart I had its powers of flight; I would have ventured across the ocean to Louisiana. At t.i.ttenhanger Mrs. Swainson and her darling boy came to meet us, and we walked slowly to the house; its happy cheer had great influence on my feelings. Our evening was spent in looking over Levaillant's[157] work. We discovered, to the great satisfaction of my friend, two species of Chatterers, discovered by the famous traveller in Africa; until now our American species stood by itself, in the mind of the naturalist. My time afterwards was spent in shooting, painting, reading, talking, and examining specimens. But, my Lucy, the most agreeable part of all this is that we three have decided to go to Paris about the first of September, from there probably to Brussels, Rotterdam, and possibly Amsterdam.

_August 20._ Messrs. Children and Gray[158] of the British Museum called to see me this afternoon, and we talked much of that establishment. I was surprised when Mr. Gray told me 200 per annum was all that was allowed for the purchase of natural curiosities. We were joined by Captain Basil Hall. I now feel more and more convinced that he has not remained in America long enough, and that his judgment of things there must be only superficial. Since these gentlemen left I have written to Charles Bonaparte a long letter, part of which I copy for thee: ”My _Sylvia roscoe_, is, I a.s.sure you, a distinct species from Vieillot's; my _t.u.r.dus aquaticus_ is very different from Wilson's Water Thrush, as you will see when both birds are published. Mine never reaches further south than Savannah, its habits are quite different. _Troglodytes bewickii_ is a new and rather a rare species, found only in the lowlands of the Mississippi and Louisiana. I have killed five or six specimens, and it differs greatly from _Troglodytes ludovicia.n.u.s_; I wish I had a specimen to send you. I particularly thank you for your observations, and I hope that you will criticise my work at all points, as a good friend should do, for how am I to improve if not instructed by men of superior talents? I cannot determine at present about '_Stanleii_,' because I never have seen the _Falco_ you mention. My bird is surely another found in the south and north, but a very rare species in all my travels; when you see the two figures, size of life, then you will be able to judge and to inform me. My journey to the mouth of the Columbia is always uppermost in my mind, and I look to my return from that country to this as the most brilliant portion of my life, as I am confident many new birds and plants must be there, yet unknown to man. You are extremely kind to speak so favorably of my work, and to compare it with your own; it would be more worthy of that comparison, perhaps, if I had had the advantages of a cla.s.sical education; all I deserve, I think, is the degree of encouragement due to my exertions and perseverance in figuring _exactly_ the different birds, and the truth respecting their habits, which will appear in my text. However, I accept all your kind sayings as coming from a friend, and one himself devoted to that beautiful department of science, Ornithology.” My subscribers are yet far from enough to pay my expenses, and my purse suffers severely for the want of greater patronage. The Zoological Gardens improve daily; they are now building winter quarters for the animals there. The specimens of skins from all parts of the world which are presented there are wonderful, but they have no place for them.

_August 25._ I have had the pleasure of a long letter from our Victor, dated July 20; this letter has reached me more rapidly than any since I have been in England. I am becoming impatient to start for Paris. I do not expect much benefit by this trip, but I shall be glad to see what may be done. Mr. Parker has nearly finished my portrait, which he considers a good one, and _so do I_.[159] He has concluded to go to Paris with us, so we shall be quite a party. Mr. Vigors wrote asking me to write some papers for the ”Zoological Journal,” but I have refused him as all others. No _money_ can pay for abuse. This afternoon I had a visit from a Mr. Kirkpatrick, who bought my picture of the Bantams.

_August 29._ I packed up my clothes early this morning and had my trunk weighed, as only forty pounds are allowed to each person. I also put my effects to rights, and was ready to start for anywhere by seven.

_August 30._ While Mr. Swainson was sitting with me, old Bewick and his daughters called on me. Good old man! how glad I was to see him again. It was, he said, fifty-one years since he had been in London, which is no more congenial to him than to me. He is now seventy-eight, and sees to engrave as well as when he was twenty years of age.

DOVER, _September 1, 1828_. Now, my dear book, prepare yourself for a good scratching with my pen, for I have entered on a journey that I hope will be interesting. I had breakfast at six with Mr. Parker; we were soon joined by Mr. and Mrs. Swainson and proceeded to the office in Piccadilly, where we took our seats in the coach. At the ”Golden Cross” in Charing Cross we took up the rest of our cargo. Bless me!

what a medley! A little, ill-looking Frenchman--who fastened a gilt balancing-pole _under_ the coach, and put his wife and little daughter on top,--four men all foreigners, and a tall, rather good-looking demoiselle, with a bonnet not wanting in height or breadth or bows of blue ribbon, so stiff they must have been starched. She took her seat on top of the coach and soared aloft, like a Frigate Pelican over the seas. We started at eight and were soon out of London. The pure air of the country animated my spirits, and all were gay. We pa.s.sed over Black Heath, through Hartford and Canterbury, the first a poor, dirty-looking place, the latter quite the contrary. The majestic cathedral rose above every other object, like one of G.o.d's monuments made to teach us His glory. The country more hilly, on an average, than any part of this island I have yet seen, but the land very poor.

We saw the Thames several times, and the sea at a great distance. The river Medway, which we crossed at Rochester, is influenced by the tides as far as that town. About six miles from this little seaport we suddenly saw Dover Castle, which with the sea and the undulating landscape made a pretty picture. As soon as we arrived we all went to see the cliffs that rise almost perpendicularly along the sh.o.r.e, the walks crowded with persons come to see the regatta to-morrow.

_Paris, September 4._ I arrived here this morning at seven o'clock, and I a.s.sure thee, my Lucy, that I and all my companions were pleased to get rid of the diligence, and the shocking dust that tormented us during our whole journey. We left Dover at one, on Tuesday, 2d; the wind blew sharply, and I felt that before long the sea would have evil effects on me, as it always has. We proceeded towards Calais at a good rate, going along the sh.o.r.es of England until opposite the French port, for which we then made direct, and landed after three and a half hours' beating against wind and water. As soon as we landed we left our luggage and pa.s.sports with a Commissionaire, and went to dine at Hotel Robart, where we had been recommended. Our still sickly bodies were glad to rest, and there our pa.s.sports were returned to us. I was much tickled to read that my complexion was _copper red_; as the Monsieur at the office had never seen me, I suppose the word American suggested that all the natives of our country were aborigines. We then entered the diligence, a vehicle ugly and clumsy in the extreme, but tolerably comfortable unless over-crowded, and it travelled from six to seven miles an hour, drawn generally by five horses, two next the coach, and three abreast before those; the driver rides on the near wheel-horse dressed precisely like the monkeys in shows of animals.

Calais is a decaying fortified town; the ditches are partly filled with earth, and I cannot tell why there should exist at this time a drawbridge. As we proceeded it did not take much time to see already many differences between France and England. I will draw no parallel between these countries, I will merely tell thee what I saw. The country is poorly cultivated, although the land is good. No divisions exist to the eye, no cleanly trimmed hedges, no gates, no fences; all appeared to me like one of the old abandoned cotton plantations of the South. I remarked that there were more and taller trees than in England, and nearly the whole road was planted like the avenue to a gentleman's house. The road itself was better than I had expected, being broad, partly macadamized, and partly paved with square stones; I found it much alike during the whole journey. Night coming on we lost the means of observation for a time, and stopped soon after dark for refreshment, and had some excellent coffee. I a.s.sure thee, Lucy, that coffee in France is certainly better than anywhere else. We pa.s.sed through St. Omer, and a little farther on saw the lights of the fires from an encampment of twelve thousand soldiers. Breakfast was had at another small village, where we were sadly annoyed by beggars.