been honored with thy ancestor's name. Though dark and rainy I have
just returned from a walk in the churchyard of the village, where I
went with Miss Hannah Rathbone, she and her mother having most kindly
accompanied me hither. It was perhaps a strange place to go first,
but we were attracted by the ancient Gothic edifice. It seemed to me a
sort of illusion that made me doubt whether I lived or dreamed. When I
think how frequently our plans have been laid to come here, and how
frequently defeated, it is no great wonder that I find it hard to
believe I am here at last. This morning at breakfast, Lady Rathbone
spoke of coming to Matlock, and in a few moments all was arranged.
She, with her niece, Mrs. Dockray, and Miss Hannah, with several of
the children and myself, should leave in two chaises at noon. I spent
the time till then in going over Mr. Dockray's wool mill. He procures
the wool rough from the sheep, and it is cloth when he disposes of it;
he employs about seventy weavers, and many other people in the various
departments. I was much interested in the dyeing apparatus. I packed
up a few of my drawings to take with me. We started, seven of us, in
two chaises; all was new, and therefore interesting. We reached
Stockport, a manufacturing town lying between two elongated hillsides,
where we changed horses, and again at Chapel En-La-Frith, thirty miles
from the point of departure. I saw a good deal of England that I
admired very much. The railways were new to me, but the approach of
the mountains dampened my spirits; the aridity of the soil, the want
of hedges, and of course of birds, the scarcity of cattle, and the
superabundance of stone walls cutting the hills in all sorts of
distorted ways, made me a very unsocial companion, but the comfortable
inn, and our lively evening has quite restored my cheerfulness.
_Matlock, October 12._ This morning I was out soon after sunrise;
again I walked round the church, remarked its decaying state, and that
of all the thatched roofs of the humble cottages. I ascended the
summit of the hill, crossing a bridge which spanned a winding stream,
and had a lovely view of the country just lighted by the sun's first
beams, and returned to the inn, the Rutland Arms, in time for the
hour of departure, seven. The weather was now somewhat fitful, but the
road good, and the valley charming. We passed the seat of the Duke of
Devonshire, and Matlock opened to our eyes in all its beauty, the
hills dotted with cottages and gentlemen's seats, the autumnal tints
diversifying the landscape and enriching beautiful nature; the scenery
reminds me of that part of America on the river called the Clear
Juniata. All is remarkably clean; we rise slowly to more elevated
ground, leave the river and approach the New Baths Hotel, where our
host, Mr. Saxton, has breakfast ready. After this we took a long walk,
turning many times to view the delightful scenery, though the weather
had become quite rainy. We visited the celebrated cave, each carrying
a lighted candle, and saw the different chambers containing rich
minerals and spars; the walls in many places shone like burnished
steel. On our return, which was down-hill, I heard with much pleasure
the repeated note of the Jackdaws that constantly flew from hole to
hole along the rocky declivities about us. After dinner,
notwithstanding the rain, we rowed in a boat down the stream, to a dam
and a waterfall, where we landed, walked through the woods, gathered
some beautiful mosses, and saw some Hares, heard a Kestrell just as if
in America, returned to our boat and again rowed, but this time
up-stream, and so left the Derwent River.
_Matlock, October 13._ Still rainy, but I found a sheltered spot, and
made this sketch. We entered part of the grounds of Sir Thomas
Arkwright, saw his castle, his church, and his meadows. The Rooks and
Jackdaws were over our heads by hundreds. The steep banks of the
Derwent were pleasantly covered with shrubby trees; the castle on the
left bank, on a fine elevation, is too regular to be called (by me)
well adapted to the rich natural scenery about it. We passed along a
canal, by a large manufactory, and a coal-yard to the inn, the
Crumford, and the rest of the day was employed in drawing. The sketch
I took was from "The Heights of Abraham," and I copied it for Miss
Hannah. About sunset we visited the Rutland Cave, which surpassed all
my expectations; the natural chambers sparkled with brilliancy, and
lights were placed everywhere. I saw there some little fishes which
had not seen the daylight for three years, and yet were quite
sprightly. A certain portion of the roof represented a very good head
of a large tiger. I imitated, at Mrs. Rathbone's request, the Owl's
cry, and the Indian yell. This latter music never pleased my fancy
much, and I well know the effects it produces previous to and during
an attack whilst the scalping knife is at work. We had a pleasant walk
back to the inn, for the evening was calm and clear, and the moon
shone brightly; so after a hasty tea we all made for the river, took a
boat, and seated ourselves to contemplate the peace around us. I
rowed, and sung many of the river songs which I learned in scenes far
from quiet Matlock.
_Manchester, October 14, Mr. Dockray's House, Hardwick._ By five
o'clock this morning I was running by the Derwent; everything was
covered with sparkling congealed dew. The fog arising from the little
stream only permitted us to see its waters when they made a ripple
against some rock. The vale was all mist, and had I not known where I
was, and heard the notes of the Jackdaws above my head, I might have
conceived myself walking through a subterraneous passage. But the sun
soon began to dispel the mist, and gradually the tops of the trees,
the turrets of the castle, and the church pierced through, and stood
as if suspended above all objects below. All was calm till a bell
struck my ear, when I soon saw the long files of women and little
girls moving towards Arkwright's Mills. Almost immediately we started
for Bakewell, and breakfasted at the Rutland Arms. Proceeding we
changed our route, and made for the well known watering place,
Buxton, still in Derbyshire. The country here is barren, rocky, but so
picturesque that the want of trees is almost atoned for. The road
winds along a very narrow valley for several miles, bringing a vast
variety of detached views before us, all extremely agreeable to the
sight. The scantiness of vegetable growth forces the cattle to risk
much to obtain food, and now and then when seeing a bull, on bent knee
with outstretched neck, putting out his tongue to seize the few
grasses hanging over the precipices, I was alarmed for his safety. The
Hawk here soars in vain; after repeated rounds he is forced to abandon
the dreary steep, having espied only a swift Kingfisher. Suddenly the
view was closed, a high wall of rock seemed to put an end to our
journey, yet the chaise ran swiftly down-hill, and turning a sharp
angle afforded delight to our eyes. Here we alighted and walked to
view the beauties around at our leisure, and we reached the large inn,
the Crescent, where I met the American consul, my friend Mr. Maury,
who has visited this place regularly for twenty-five years. We had
what my friends called a luncheon; I considered it an excellent
dinner, but the English eat heartily. On our resuming our journey a
fine drizzle set in, and as we neared Manchester the air became thick
with coal smoke, the carts, coaches, and horsemen gradually filled the
road, faces became less clean and rosy, and the children had none of
the liveliness found amongst those in the Derbyshire Hills. I dreaded
returning to the town, yet these days among the beauties of England in
such delightful society are enough to refresh one after years of
labor.
_Manchester, October 15, Sunday._ I went to the Unitarian Chapel to
hear a sermon from the Rev. John Taylor, but to my regret he had gone
to preach elsewhere, and I was obliged to content myself with
another,--not quite so practical a sermon as I care for. I dined and
spent the night at Mr. Bentley's; after retiring to my room I was
surprised at a knock; I opened my door and there stood Mr. Bentley,
who said he thought he heard me asking for something as he passed by.
I told him I prayed aloud every night, as had been my habit from a
child at my mother's knees in Nantes. He said nothing for a moment,
then again wished me good-night, and was gone.
_October 18._ This evening I was to dine with Dr. Hulme and (as he
said) "_a few friends_;" so when at four o'clock I entered his
sitting-room, I was surprised to find it filled with ladies and
gentlemen, and felt awkward for a moment. Some of my drawings were
asked for, and at five we went to dinner; after the ladies had
retired, wine and wit flowed till a late hour.
_Quarry Bank, 12 miles from Manchester, October 19._ At five, my cane
in hand, I made my way from Manchester, bound on foot for Quarry Bank;
the morning was pleasant and I enjoyed my walk very much, but found
myself quite out of the right road; therefore, instead of twelve
miles, I measured sixteen, and was hungry enough when I reached my
destination. I was soon put at my drawing, and drew the whole day; in
the afternoon I began a sketch of Mr. Gregg, and felt quite satisfied
with my work, but not so everybody else. Faults were found,
suggestions made, and I enjoyed the criticisms very much, especially
those of an Irish nephew of Mr. Gregg's, who, after several comments,
drew me confidentially aside, and asked who it was intended to
represent; after this, amid hearty laughter, I concluded to finish it
next day. Later we took a walk and I entered a cottage where dwelt a
silk weaver; all was clean and well arranged, and I saw the weaving
going on for the first time since I left France.
_October 20._ Drawing again all morning, and a walk later. I was taken
to a cottage, where to my great surprise I saw two cases of well
stuffed birds, the work of the weaver who lived in the cottage. I was
taken to the dairy, where I saw the finest cattle I have yet met with
in England.
_October 21._ This has been a busy day. On my return from Quarry Bank
I saw Mr. Bentley, Mr. Heywood, and other friends. Mr. H. gave me a
letter to Professor Jameson, of Edinburgh. Called on Dr. Hulme; paid,
in all, twenty visits, and dined with Mr. Bentley,[85] and with his
assistance packed up my birds safe and snug, though much fatigued; it
was late when we parted; he is a brother Mason and has been most kind
to me. I wrote down for Mrs. Rathbone a brief memorandum of the flight
of birds, with a few little pencil sketches to make my figures more
interesting: Swallows, two and a half miles a minute; Wild Pigeons,
when travelling, two miles per minute; Swans, ditto two miles, Wild
Turkeys, one mile and three quarters.
_Manchester, October 23, 1826, Monday._ This day was absolutely all
spent packing and making ready for my start for Edinburgh; my seat in
the coach taken and paid for,--three pounds fifteen shillings. I spent
my last evening with Mr. Bentley and his family. As the coach leaves
at 5 A. M., I am sleeping at the inn to be ready when called. I am
leaving Manchester much poorer than I was when I entered it.
_Carlisle, Tuesday, October 24._ The morning was clear and beautiful,
and at five I left Manchester; but as no dependence can be placed on
the weather in this country, I prepared for rain later. I was alone in
the coach, and had been regretting I had no companion, when a very
tall gentleman entered, but after a few words, he said he was much
fatigued and wished to sleep; he composed himself therefore and soon
slept soundly. How I envied him! We rolled on, however, and arrived at
the village of Preston, where we breakfasted as quickly as if we had
been Kentuckians. The coaches were exchanged, packages transferred,
and I entered the conveyance and met two new gentlemen whose
appearance I liked; we soon commenced to chat, and before long were
wandering all over America, part of India, and the Atlantic Ocean. We
discussed the emancipation of the slaves, and the starvation of the
poor in England, the Corn Law, and many other topics, the while I
looked frequently from the windows. The approach to Lancaster is
beautiful; the view of the well placed castle is commanding, and the
sea view bounded by picturesque shores. We dined at Kendal, having
passed through Bolton and Burton, but before this my two interesting
companions had been left behind at a place where we stopped to change
horses, and only caught up with the coach by running across some
fields. This caused much altercation between them, the driver, and the
guard; one of the proprietors of the coach who was on board
interfered, and being very drunk made matters worse, and a complaint
was lodged against driver and guard. The tall gentleman was now wide
awake; he introduced himself as a Mr. Walton, and knew the other
gentlemen, who were father and son, the Messrs. Patison from Cornwall;
all were extremely polite to me, a stranger in their land, but so have
I ever found the _true English gentleman_.
We now entered a most dreary country, poor beyond description, immense
rolling hills in constant succession, dotted here and there with
miserable cots, the residences of poor shepherds. No game was seen,
the weather was bleak and rainy, and I cannot say that I now enjoyed
the ride beyond the society of my companions. We passed through
Penrith and arrived at Carlisle at half-past nine, having ridden one
hundred and twenty-two miles. I was told that in hard winters the road
became impassable, so choked with snow, and that when not entirely
obstructed it was customary to see posts painted black at the top,
every hundred yards or so, to point out the road surely. We had a
miserable supper, but good beds, and I enjoyed mine, for I felt very
wearied, my cold and cough having been much increased from my having
ridden outside the coach some thirty miles, to see the country.
_Edinburgh, Scotland, October 25, Wednesday._ We breakfasted at
Carlisle, left there at eight, but I was sadly vexed at having to pay
twelve shillings for my trunk and portfolio, as I had been positively
assured at Manchester that no further charge would be made. For
perhaps ten miles we passed through an uncommonly flat country,
meandering awhile along a river, passed through a village called
Longtown, and entered _Scotland_ at ten minutes before ten. I was then
just six miles from the spot where runaway matches are rendered
lawful. The country changed its aspect, and became suddenly quite
woody; we ran along, and four times crossed a beautiful little stream
like a miniature Mohawk; many little rapids were seen in its windings.
The foliage was about to fall, and looked much as it does with us
about our majestic western streams, only much less brilliant. This
scenery, however, lasted only one stage of perhaps twelve miles, and
again we entered country of the same dreariness as yesterday, mere
burnt mountains, which were not interesting. The number of sheep
grazing on these hills was very great, and they all looked well,
though of a very small species; many of them had black heads and legs,
the body white, with no horns; others with horns, and still others
very small, called here "Cheviots." The shepherds were poor, wrapped
up in a thin piece of plaid, and did not seem of that noble race so
well painted by Sir Walter Scott. I saw the sea again to-day. We dined
at Hawick on excellent sea fish, and for the first time in my life, I
tasted Scotch whiskey. It appeared very potent, so after a few sips I
put it down, and told Mr. Patison I suspected his son of wishing to
make me tipsy; to which he replied that probably it was to try if I
would in such a case be as good-natured as I was before. I took this
as quite a compliment and forgave the son. The conversation at dinner
was very agreeable, several Scotch gentlemen having joined us; some of
them drank their native whiskey pure, as if water, but I found it both
smoky and fiery; so much for habit. We passed through Selkirk, having
driven nearly the whole day through the estates of the young Duke of
----, a young fellow of twenty who passes his days just now shooting
Black-cock; he has something like two hundred thousand pounds per
annum. Some of the shepherds on this astonishing estate have not
probably more than two hundred pounds of oatmeal, a terrible contrast.
We passed so near Sir Walter Scott's seat that I stood up and
stretched my neck some inches to see it, but in vain, and who knows if
I shall ever see the home of the man to whom I am indebted for so much
pleasure? We passed a few miles from Melrose; I had a great wish to
see the old abbey, and the gentleman to whom Dr. Rutter had given me a
letter, but the coach rolled on, and at ten o'clock I entered this
splendid city. I have seen yet but a very small portion of it, and
that by gaslight, yet I call it a splendid city! The coach stopped at
the Black Bull Hotel, but it was so full no room could be procured, so
we had our baggage taken to the Star. The clerk, the guard, the
driver, all swore at my baggage, and said that had I not paid at
Carlisle, I would have been charged more here. Now it is true that my
trunk is large and heavy, and so is the portfolio I carry with me, but
to give an idea of the charges and impositions connected with these
coaches (or their owners) and the attendants, remark the price I paid;
to begin with,--
at Manchester, L3 15 00,
at Carlisle, 12 00, and during the
two days to drivers and guards, 18 06,
---------
L5 5 06,
nearly twenty-seven dollars in our money for two days' travelling from
Manchester to Edinburgh. It is not so much the general amount,
although I am sure it is quite enough for two hundred and twelve
miles, but the beggarly manners used to obtain about one half of it;
to see a fellow with a decent coat on, who calls himself an
independent free-born Englishman, open the door of the coach every ten
or twelve miles, and beg for a shilling each time, is detestable, and
quite an abuse; but this is not all: they never are satisfied, and if
you have the appearance of wealth about you, they hang on and ask for
more. The porters here were porters indeed, carrying all on their
backs, the first I have seen in this island. At the Star we had a good
supper, and chatted a long time, and it was near one before the
Messrs. Patison and I parted; Mr. Walton had gone on another course. I
thought so much of the multitude of learned men that abound in this
place, that I dreaded the delivery of my letters to-morrow.
_George St., Edinburgh, October 26._ It was ten o'clock when I
breakfasted, because I wished to do so with the Patisons, being so
much pleased with their company. I was much interested in the
different people in the room, which was quite full, and the waiters
were kept skipping about with the nimbleness of Squirrels. My
companions, who knew Edinburgh well, offered to accompany me in search
of lodgings, and we soon entered the second door in George Street, and
in a few minutes made an arrangement with Mrs. Dickie for a fine
bedroom and a well furnished sitting-room. I am to pay her one guinea
per week, which I considered low, as the situation is fine, and the
rooms clean and comfortable. I can see, from where I am now writing,
the Frith, and the boats plying on it. I had my baggage brought by a
man with a tremendous beard, who imposed on me most impudently by
bringing a brass shilling, which he said he would swear I had given
him. I gave him another, threw the counterfeit in the fire, and
promised to myself to pay some little attention hereafter to what kind
of money I give or receive. I walked to Professor Jameson's[86] in
the Circus,--not at home; to James Hall, Advocate, 128 George
St.,--absent in the country. Dr. Charles Henry of the Royal Infirmary
was sought in vain, Dr. Thompson was out also, and Professor
Duncan[87] could not be seen until six o'clock. I only saw Dr. Knox in
Surgeon's Square, and Professor Jameson at the college. This latter
received me, I thought, rather coolly; said that Sir Walter Scott was
now quite a recluse, and was busy with a novel and the Life of Napoleon,
and that probably I should not see him. "_Not see Walter Scott?_"
thought I; "I SHALL, if I have to crawl on all-fours for a mile!" But
I was a good deal surprised when he added it would be several days
before _he_ could pay me a visit, that his business was large, and
must be attended to; but I could not complain, as I am bent on doing
the same towards myself; and besides, why should I expect any other
line of conduct? I have been spoiled by the ever-to-be-remembered
families of Roscoes and Rathbones. Dr. Knox came at once to see me,
dressed in an overgown and with bloody fingers. He bowed, washed his
hands, read Dr. Traill's letter, and promised me at once to do all in
his power for me and my drawings, and said he would bring some
scientific friends to meet me, and to examine my drawings. Dr. Knox is
a distinguished anatomist, and a great student; Professor Jameson's
special science is mineralogy. I walked a good deal and admired the
city very much, the great breadth of the streets, the good pavements
and footways, the beautiful buildings, their natural gray coloring,
and wonderful cleanliness; perhaps all was more powerfully felt,
coming direct from dirty Manchester, but the picturesqueness of the
_toute ensemble_ is wonderful. A high castle here, another there, on
to a bridge whence one looks at a second city below, here a rugged
mountain, and there beautiful public grounds, monuments, the sea, the
landscape around, all wonderfully put together indeed; it would
require fifty different views at least to give a true idea, but I will
try from day to day to describe what I may see, either in the old or
new part of the town. I unpacked my birds and looked at them with
pleasure, and yet with a considerable degree of fear that they would
never be published. I felt very much alone, and many dark thoughts
came across my mind; I felt one of those terrible attacks of
depression to which I so often fall a prey overtaking me, and I forced
myself to go out to destroy the painful gloom that I dread at all
times, and of which I am sometimes absolutely afraid. After a good
walk I returned more at ease, and looked at a pair of stuffed
pheasants on a large buffet in my present sitting-room, at the sweetly
scented geraniums opposite to them, the black hair-cloth sofa and
chairs, the little cherubs on the mantelpiece, the painted landscape
on my right hand, and the mirror on my left, in which I saw not only
my own face, but such strong resemblance to that of my venerated
father that I almost imagined it was he that I saw; the thoughts of my
mother came to me, my sister, my young days,--all was at hand, yet how
far away. Ah! how far is even the last moment, that is never to return
again.