the shores of England, indeed Wales is abreast of our ship, and we can
plainly distinguish the hedges that divide the fields of grain; but
what nakedness the country exhibits, scarce a patch of timber to be
seen; our fine forests of pine, of oak, of heavy walnut-trees, of
magnificent magnolias, of hickories or ash or maple, are represented
here by a diminutive growth called "furze." But I must not criticise
so soon! I have not seen the country, I have not visited any of the
historic castles, or the renowned parks, for never have I been in
England nor Scotland, that land made famous by the entrancing works of
Walter Scott. We passed yesterday morning the Tuskar, a handsome light
on a bare rock. This morning we saw Holyhead, and we are now not more
than twenty-five miles from Liverpool; but I feel no pleasure, and
were it not for the sake of my Lucy and my children, I would readily
embark to-morrow to return to America's shores and all they hold for
me.... The pilot boat that came to us this morning contained several
men all dressed in blue, with overcoats of oiled linen,--all good,
hearty, healthy-looking men.... I have been on deck, and from the bow
the land of England is plainly distinguishable; the sight around us is
a beautiful one, I have counted fifty-six vessels with spreading
sails, and on our right are mountains fading into the horizon; my dull
thoughts have all abandoned me, I am elated, my heart is filled with
hope. To-morrow we shall land at the city of Liverpool, but when I
think of Custom House officials, acceptancy of Bills, hunting up
lodgings,--again my heart fails me; I must on deck.
_Mersey River opposite Liverpool_, 9.30 P. M. The night is cloudy, and
we are at anchor! The lights of the city show brightly, for we are not
more than two hundred yards distant from them.
_Liverpool, July 21._ This morning when I landed it was raining, yet
the appearance of the city was agreeable; but no sooner had I entered
it than the smoke became so oppressive to my lungs that I could hardly
breathe; it affected my eyes also. All was new to me. After a
breakfast at an inn with Mr. Swift for 2/6, we went to the Exchange
Buildings, to the counting-house of Gordon and Forstall, as I was
anxious to deliver my letters to Mr. Gordon from Mr. Briggs. I also
presented during the morning my bill of exchange. The rest of the day
was spent in going to the Museum, gazing about, and clearing my brains
as much as possible; but how lonely I feel,--not a soul to speak to
freely when Mr. Swift leaves me for Ireland. We took lodgings at the
Commercial Inn not far from the Exchange Buildings; we are well fed,
and well attended to, although, to my surprise, altogether by women,
neatly dressed and modest. I found the persons of whom I enquired for
different directions, remarkably kind and polite; I had been told this
would not be the case, but I have met with only real politeness from
all.
_Liverpool, July 22._ The Lark that sings so sweetly, and that now
awakened me from happy dreams, is nearly opposite my table, prisoner
in a cage hanging by a window where from time to time a young person
comes to look on the world below; I think of the world of the West
and--but the Lark, delightful creature, sings sweetly, yet in a cage!
The Custom House suddenly entered my head, and after considerable
delay there, my drawings went through a regular, strict, and complete
examination. The officers were all of opinion that they were free of
duty, but the law was looked at and I was obliged to pay two pence on
each drawing, as they were water-colored. My books being American, I
paid four pence _per pound_, and when all was settled, I took my
baggage and drawings, and went to my lodgings. The noise of pattens on
the sidewalk startles me very frequently; if the sound is behind me I
often turn my head expecting to see a horse, but instead I observe a
neat, plump-looking maid, tripping as briskly as a Killdeer. I
received a polite note from Mr. Rathbone[66] this morning, inviting me
to dine next Wednesday with him and Mr. Roscoe.[67] I shall not forget
the appointment.
_Sunday, July 23._ Being Sunday I must expect a long and lonely day; I
woke at dawn and lay for a few moments only, listening to the
sweet-voiced Lark; the day was beautiful; thermometer in the sun 65 deg.,
in the shade 41 deg.; I might say 40 deg., but I love odd numbers,--it is a
foolish superstition with me. I spent my forenoon with Mr. Swift and a
friend of his, Mr. R. Lyons, who was afterwards kind enough to
introduce us to the Commercial Reading Room at the Exchange Buildings.
In the afternoon we went across the Mersey. The country is somewhat
dull; we returned to supper, sat chatting in the coffee room, and the
day ended.
_July 24, Monday._ As early as I thought proper I turned my steps to
No. 87 Duke Street, where the polite English gentleman, Mr. Richard
Rathbone,[68] resides. My locks blew freely from under my hat in the
breeze, and nearly every lady I met looked at them with curiosity. Mr.
Rathbone was not in, but was at his counting-house, where I soon found
myself. A full dozen of clerks were at their separate desks, work was
going on apace, letters were being thrown into an immense bag
belonging to a packet that sailed this day for the shores where I hope
my Lucy is happy--dearest friend! My name was taken to the special
room of Mr. Rathbone, and in a moment I was met by one who acted
towards me as a brother. He did not give _his card_ to poor Audubon,
he gave his hand, and a most cordial invitation to be at his house at
two o'clock, which hour found me there. I was ushered into a handsome
dining-room, and Mr. Rathbone almost immediately entered the same,
with a most hearty greeting. I dined with this hospitable man, his
charming wife and children. Mrs. Rathbone is not only an amiable
woman, but a most intelligent and highly educated one. Mr. Rathbone
took me to the Exchange Buildings in order to see the American consul,
Mr. Maury, and others. Introduction followed introduction; then I was
taken through the entire building, the mayor's public dining-hall,
etc. I gazed on pictures of royalty by Sir Thomas Lawrence and others,
mounted to the dome and looked over Liverpool and the harbor that
Nature formed for her. It was past five when I went to keep my
appointment with Mr. Swift.
_July 25._ The day has passed quickly. In the morning I made a crayon
portrait of Mr. Swift--or rather began it--for his father, then took a
walk, and on my return found a note from Mr. Richard Rathbone awaiting
me. He desired me to come at once with one of my portfolios to Duke
Street. I immediately took a hackney coach and found Mr. and Mrs.
Rathbone with Mr. James Pyke awaiting me, to take me to the home of
Mr. Rathbone, Sr., who lives some miles out of Liverpool.[69] Their
youngest boy, Basil, a sweet child, took a fancy to me and I to him,
and we made friends during our drive. The country opened gradually to
our view, and presently passing up an avenue of trees we entered the
abode of the venerable pair, and I was heartily made welcome. I felt
painfully awkward, as I always do in new company, but so much kindness
and simplicity soon made me more at ease. I saw as I entered the house
a full and beautiful collection of the birds of England, well prepared
and arranged. What sensations I had whilst I helped to untie the
fastenings of my portfolio! I knew by all around me that these good
friends were possessed of both taste and judgment, and I did not know
that I should please. I was panting like the winged Pheasant, but ah!
these kind people praised _my Birds_, and I felt the praise to be
honest; once more I breathed freely. My portfolio thoroughly
examined, we returned to Liverpool, and later the Rev. Wm. Goddard,
rector of Liverpool, and several ladies called on me, and saw some
drawings; _all_ praised them. Oh! what can I hope, my Lucy, for thee
and for us all?
_July 26._ It is very late, and I am tired, but I will not omit
writing on that account. The morning was beautiful, but for some
reason I was greatly depressed, and it appeared to me as if I could
not go on with the work before me. However, I recollected that the
venerable Mr. Maury must not be forgotten. I saw him; Mr. Swift left
for Dublin with his crayon portrait; I called at the post-office for
news from America, but in vain. I wrote for some time, and then
received a call from Mr. Rathbone with his brother William; the latter
invited me to dine on Friday at his house, which I promised to do, and
this evening I dined with Mr. Rd. Rathbone. I went at half-past six,
my heart rather failing me, entered the corridor, my hat was taken,
and going upstairs I entered Mr. Rathbone's drawing-room. I have
frequently thought it strange that my _observatory nerves_ never give
way, no matter how much I am overcome by _mauvaise honte_, nor did
they now. Many pictures embellished the walls, and helped, with Mr.
Rathbone's lively mien, to remove the misery of the moment. Mr. Edward
Roscoe came in immediately,--tall, with a good eye under a well marked
brow. Dinner announced, we descended to the room I had entered on my
first acquaintance with this charming home, and I was conducted to the
place of honor. Mr. Roscoe sat next, Mr. Barclay of London, and Mr.
Melly opposite with Consul Maury; the dinner was enlivened with mirth
and _bon mots_, and I found in such good company infinite pleasure.
After we left the table Mrs. Rathbone joined us in the parlor, and I
had now again to show my drawings. Mr. Roscoe, who had been talking to
me about them at dinner, would not give me any hopes, and I felt
unusually gloomy as one by one I slipped them from their case; but
after looking at a few only, the great man said heartily: "Mr.
Audubon, I am filled with surprise and admiration." On bidding me
adieu he invited me to dine with him to-morrow, and to visit the
Botanical Gardens. Later Mrs. Rathbone showed me some of her drawings,
where talent has put an undeniable stamp on each touch.
_July 27._ I reached Mr. Roscoe's place, about one and a half miles
distant from Liverpool, about three o'clock, and was at once shown
into a little drawing-room where all was nature. Mr. Roscoe was
drawing a very handsome plant most beautifully. The room was
ornamented with many flowers, receiving from his hands the care and
treatment they required; they were principally exotics from many
distant and different climes. His three daughters were introduced to
me, and we then started for the Gardens. Mr. Roscoe and I rode there
in what he called his little car, drawn by a pony so small that I was
amazed to see it pull us both with apparent ease. Mr. Roscoe is a
_come-at-able_ person, who makes me feel at home immediately, and we
have much in common. I was shown the whole of the Gardens, which with
the hot-house were in fine order. The ground is level, well laid out,
and beautifully kept; but the season was, so Mr. Roscoe said, a little
advanced for me to see the place to the best advantage. On our return
to the charming _laboratoire_ of Mr. Roscoe the large portfolio is
again in sight. I will not weary you with the details of this. One of
the daughters draws well, and I saw her look closely at me very often,
and she finally made known her wish to take a sketch of my head, to
which I gave reluctant consent for some future time. Mr. Roscoe is
very anxious I should do well, and says he will try to introduce me to
Lord Stanley, and assured me nothing should be left undone to meet my
wishes; he told me that the honorable gentleman "is rather shy." It
was nine o'clock when I said good-night, leaving my drawings with him
at his request. On my return to Dale Street I found the following
note: "Mr. Martin, of the Royal Institution of Liverpool, will do
himself the pleasure to wait upon Mr. Ambro to-morrow at eleven
o'clock." Why do people make such errors with my simple name?
_July 28._ A _full grown man_ with a scarlet vest and breeches, black
stockings and shoes for the coloring of his front, and a long blue
coat covering his shoulders and back reminds me somewhat of our summer
red bird (_Tanagra rubra_). Both man and bird attract the eye, but the
scientific appellation of the _man_ is unknown to me. At eleven Mr.
Martin (who I expect is secretary to the Royal Institution) called,
and arranged with me a notice to the members of the Institution,
announcing that I would exhibit my drawings for two hours on the
mornings of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday following, at the
Institution. Later, feeling lonely and sad, I called on Mrs. R.
Rathbone, whom I found putting away in a little box, a dissected map,
with which, _Edgeworth-like_, she had been transmitting knowledge with
pleasure. She is so truly delightful a companion that had it been
possible I should have made my call long instead of short, but I
walked home by a roundabout way, and found a note from Mr. Wm.
Rathbone reminding me of my promise to dine with him, and adding that
he wished me to meet a brother-in-law of his from London who may be of
use to me, so will I bring a few drawings? At the hour named I found
myself in Abercrombie Street and in the parlor with two little
daughters of my host, the elder about thirteen, extremely handsome.
Mrs. Rathbone soon entered and greeted me as if she had known me all
my life; her husband followed, and the guests, all gentlemen,
collected. Mr. Hodgson, to whom I had a letter from Mr. Nolte[70] was
particularly kind to me, but every one seemed desirous I should
succeed in England. A Swiss gentleman urged me not to waste time here,
but proceed at once to Paris, but he was not allowed to continue his
argument, and at ten I left with Mr. Pyke for my lodgings.
_July 29._ To-day I visited Mr. Hunt,[71] the best landscape painter
of this city. I examined much of his work and found some beautiful
representations of the scenery of Wales. I went to the Royal
Institution to judge of the light, for naturally I wish my work to
have every possible advantage. I have not found the population of
Liverpool as dense as I expected, and except during the evenings (that
do not at this season commence before eight o'clock) I have not been
at all annoyed by the elbowings of the crowd, as I remember to have
been in my youth, in the large cities of France. Some shops here are
beautifully supplied, and have many customers. The new market is in my
opinion an object worth the attention of all travelers. It is the
finest I have ever seen--it is a large, high and long building,
divided into five spacious avenues, each containing its specific
commodities. I saw here viands of all descriptions, fish, vegetables,
game, fruits,--both indigenous and imported from all quarters of the
globe,--bird sellers, with even little collections of stuffed
specimens, cheeses of enormous size, butter in great abundance,
immense crates of hen's-eggs packed in layers of oats imported from
Ireland, twenty-five for one shilling. This market is so well lighted
with gas that this evening at ten o'clock I could plainly see the
colors of the irids of living pigeons in cages. The whole city is
lighted with gas; each shop has many of these illuminating fires, and
fine cambric can be looked at by good judges. Mr. A. Hodgson called on
me, and I am to dine with him on Monday; he has written to Lord
Stanley about me. He very kindly asked if my time passed heavily, gave
me a note of admittance for the Athenaeum, and told me he would do all
in his power for me. I dined at the inn to-day for the second time
only since my arrival.
_July 30._ It is Sunday again, but not a dull one; I have become
better acquainted, and do not feel such an utter stranger. I went to
the church of the Asylum for the Blind. A few steps of cut stone lead
to an iron gate, and under a colonnade; at the inner gate you pay
whatever you please _over_ sixpence. Near the entrance is a large
picture of Christ healing the blind. The general structure is a well
proportioned oblong; ten light columns support the flat ceiling. A
fine organ is placed over the entrance in a kind of upper lobby, which
contains also the musicians, who are blind. All is silent, and the
mind is filled with heavenly thoughts, when suddenly the sublime music
glides into one's whole being, and the service has begun. Nowhere have
I ever seen such devotion in a church. In the afternoon the Rev. Wm.
Goddard took me to some institutions for children on the Lancastrian
system; all appeared well dressed, clean, and contented. I dined with
Mr. and Mrs. Gordon;[72] Anne advised me to have my hair cut, and to
buy a fashionable coat.
_July 31._ This day has been one of trial to me. At nine of the
morning I was quite busy, arranging and disposing in sets my drawings,
that they might be inspected by the public. The doors were thrown open
at noon, and the ladies flocked in. I knew but one, Mrs. Richard
Rathbone, but I had many glances to meet and questions to answer. The
time passed, however, and at two the doors were closed. At half-past
four I drove with Mr. Adam Hodgson to his cottage, where I was
introduced to Mrs. Hodgson, a tall young woman with the freshness of
spring, who greeted me most kindly; there were three other guests, and
we passed a quiet evening after the usual excellent dinner. Soon after
ten we retired to our rooms.
_August 1._ I arose to listen to the voice of an English Blackbird
just as the day broke. It was a little after three, I dressed; and as
silently as in my power moved downstairs carrying my boots in my
hand, gently opened the door, and was off to the fields and meadows. I
walked a good deal, went to the seashore, saw a Hare, and returned to
breakfast, after which and many invitations to make my kind hosts
frequent visits, I was driven back to town, and went immediately to
the Institution, where I met Dr. Traill[73] and many other persons of
distinction. Several gentlemen attached to the Institution, wished me
to be remunerated for exhibiting my pictures, but though I am poor
enough, God knows, I do not think I should do that, as the room has
been given to me gratis. Four hundred and thirteen persons were
admitted to see my drawings.
_August 2._ I put up this day two hundred and twenty-five of my
drawings; the _coup d'oeil_ was not bad, and the room was crowded.
Old Mr. Roscoe did me the honor to present me to Mr. Jean
Sismondi,[74] of Geneva. Mr. and Mrs. Rathbone had gone to their
country home, "Green Bank," but I sent a note telling them how many
pictures I had added to the first day's exhibition. I have decided to
collect what letters I can for London, and go there as soon as
possible. I was introduced to Mr. Booth of Manchester, who promised me
whatever aid he could in that city. After a call at Mr. Roscoe's, I
went, with a gentleman from Charleston, S.C., to the theatre, as I was
anxious to see the renowned Miss Foote. Miss Foote has been pretty,
nay, handsome, nay, beautiful, but--she _has been_. The play was good,
the playhouse bad, and the audience numerous and fashionable.
_August 4._ I had no time to write yesterday; my morning was spent at
the Institution, the room was again crowded, I was wearied with bowing
to the many to whom I was introduced. Some one was found copying one
of the pictures, but the doorkeeper, an alert Scotchman, saw his
attempt, turned him out, and tore his sketch. Mr. A. Hodgson invited
me to dine with Lord Stanley to-morrow in company with Mr. Wm. Roscoe,
Sr. Mr. Sismondi gave me a letter to Baron von Humboldt, and showed me
a valuable collection of insects from Thibet, and after this I took
tea with Mr. Roscoe.
This morning I breakfasted with Mr. Hodgson, and met Mrs. Wm. Rathbone
somewhat later at the Institution; never was a woman better able to
please, and more disposed to do so; a woman possessed of beauty, good
sense, great intelligence, and rare manners, with a candor and
sweetness not to be surpassed. Mr. William Roscoe sent his carriage
for me, and I again went to his house, where quite a large company had
assembled, among others two botanists who knew every plant and flower,
and were most obliging in giving me much delightful information.
Having to walk to "Green Bank," the home of Mr. William Rathbone, Sr.,
I left Mr. Roscoe's at sunset (which by the way was beautiful). The
evening was calm and lovely, and I soon reached the avenue of trees
leading to the house I sought. Almost immediately I found myself on
the lawn with a group of archers, and was interested in the sport;
some of the ladies shot very well. Mr. Rathbone, Sr., asked me much
about Indians, and American trees, the latter quite unknown here, and
as yet I have seen none larger than the saplings of Louisiana. When
the other guests had left, I was shown the new work on the Birds of
England; I did not like it as well as I had hoped; I much prefer
Thomas Bewick. Bewick is the Wilson of England.
_August 5._ Miss Hannah Rathbone[75] drove me into Liverpool with
great speed. Two little Welsh ponies, well matched, drew us
beautifully in a carriage which is the young lady's special property.
After she left me my head was full of Lord Stanley. I am a very poor
fool, to be sure, to be troubled at the idea of meeting an English
_gentleman_, when those I have met have been in kindness, manners,
talents, all I could desire, far more than I expected. The Misses
Roscoe were at the Institution, where they have been every day since
my pictures were exhibited. Mrs. Wm. Rathbone, with her daughter--her
younger self--at her side, was also there, and gave me a packet of
letters from her husband. On opening this packet later I found the
letters were contained in a handsome case, suitable for my pocket, and
a card from Mr. Rathbone asking me to use it as a token of his
affectionate regard. In the afternoon I drove with Mr. Hodgson to his
cottage, and while chatting with his amiable wife the door opened to
admit Lord Stanley.[76] I have not the least doubt that if my head had
been looked at, it would have been thought to be the body, globularly
closed, of one of our largest porcupines; all my hair--and I have
enough--stood straight on end, I am sure. He is tall, well formed,
made for activity, simply but well dressed; he came to me at once,
bowing to Mrs. Hodgson as he did so, and taking my hand in his, said:
"Sir, I am glad to see you." Not the words only, but his manner put me
at once at my ease. My drawings were soon brought out. Lord Stanley is
a great naturalist, and in an instant he was exclaiming over my work,
"Fine!" "Beautiful!" and when I saw him on his knees, having spread my
drawings on the floor, the better to compare them, I forgot he was
Lord Stanley, I knew only he too loved Nature. At dinner I looked at
him closely; his manner reminded me of Thomas Sully, his forehead
would have suited Dr. Harlan, his brow would have assured that same
old friend of his great mental powers. He cordially invited me to call
on him in Grosvenor Street in _town_ (thus he called London), shook
hands with me again, and mounting a splendid hunter rode off. I called
to thank Mr. Rathbone for his letters and gift, but did so, I know,
most awkwardly. Oh! that I had been flogged out of this miserable
shyness and _mauvaise honte_ when I was a youth.