away my journal for nearly two weeks. My head and heart would not
permit me to write, so I must try to _memorandum_ now all I have
_seen_. What I have _felt_ is too much for me to write down, for when
these attacks of depression overwhelm me life is almost unendurable.
Every day I exhibited my drawings to those who came to see them. I had
many noblemen, among whom I especially liked Sir Patrick Walker and
his lady; but I welcomed all ladies, gentlemen, artists, and, I dare
say, critics. At last the Committee of the Royal Institution invited
me to exhibit publicly in their rooms; I owe this invitation, I know,
to the astonishing perseverance of some unknown friends. When my
pictures were removed there I was no longer "At Home." I painted from
dawn to dark, closely, and perhaps more attentively than I ever have
done before. The picture was large, contained a Turkey Cock, a hen,
and nine young, all the size of life. Mr. Lizars and his amiable wife
visited me often; often I spent the evenings with them. Mr. David
Bridges, Mr. Cameron, and several others had regular admittance, and
they all saw the regular progress of my work; all, apparently,
admired it. I dined at many houses, was always kindly received, and as
far as my isolated condition and unfortunate melancholy permitted,
enjoyed myself. It was settled by Mr. Lizars that he would undertake
the publication of the first number of the "Birds of America," and
that was enough to put all my powers of acting and thinking at fever
heat. The papers also began to be more eulogistic of the merits of
myself and my productions, and I felt bewildered with alternate
uncertainties of hope and fear. I have received many letters from my
dear Liverpool friends, and one, most precious of all, from the
wonderful "Queen Bee" of Green Bank, with a most beautiful seal of the
Wild Turkey and the motto "America, my country."[99] When my drawings
were exhibited to the public, professors, students, artists, spoke
well of them. I forwarded by post seventy-five tickets to the
principal persons who had been kind to me, and to all the artists in
Edinburgh. I sat once for my portrait, but my picture kept me at home
ever since. I saw, and dined, and dined again with Sir William
Jardine, and like him very much. He visited me frequently, and sat and
stood watching me painting during his stay in the city. The famous
phrenologist George Combe visited me also; spoke much of the truth of
his theory as exhibited and verified by my poor skill; begged I would
allow a cast of my head to be taken, etc., etc., and sent me a card of
admission to his lectures this winter. The famous Professor Wilson of
"Blackwood" fame, I might almost say the author of "Blackwood's
Magazine," visited me also, and was very friendly; indeed, every one
is kind, most truly so. How proud I feel that in Edinburgh, the seat
of learning, science, and solidity of judgment, I am liked, and am
received so kindly. How much I wish my Lucy could also enjoy it, that
our sons might have partaken of it, this would have rendered each
moment an age of pleasure. I have now determined to remain here till
my first number is published, when I shall go to Liverpool again, with
proofs in hand. I will forward some of this number to the friends at
home as well as abroad, and will continue painting here the while, and
watch the progress of the engravers and colorists; two drawings are
now under the hand of the engraver, and God grant me success. I am
going to try to find time to spend a week at Jardine Hall, and some
days at Mrs. Fletcher's; it will remove me from the pressure and
excitement to which I am hourly subjected, and be a complete change
for me in every way.
_November 20._ Whilst my breakfast was preparing, and daylight
improving, I sat at my little table to write a notice of descriptive
import about my painting of the Wild Turkeys that now leaned against
the wall of my room, _finished_. My breakfast came in, but my pen
carried me along the Arkansas River, and so much did I long for my
beloved country that not a morsel could I swallow. While writing, Mr.
Bridges, who usually pays me a daily visit, happened to come in. I
read my description and told him it was my intention to have it
printed, or written out in a clear hand, to lay on the table of the
exhibition room, for the use of the public. He advised me to go to
Professor Wilson for criticism; so I went at once to his residence,
and reached "Blackwood's" door about ten o'clock. I did not even ask
if Professor Wilson was in; no, I simply told the man to say Mr.
Audubon from America wished to speak with him. In a moment I was
conducted to a room where I wished that all that had been written in
it was my own to remember, to enjoy, to profit by; but I had not been
here many minutes before a sweet child, a happy daughter of this great
man, asked me to go upstairs, saying, "Papa will be there in a
minute;" and truly, almost at once the Professor came in, with freedom
and kindness of manner, life in his eye, and benevolence in his
heart. My case was soon explained; he took my paper, read it, and said
if I would allow him to keep it, he would make one or two alterations
and return it in good time. Back to my lodgings and hungry by this
time, and cooled off, my mind relieved, my painting finished, I
dressed more carefully and walked to the Royal Institution, and was
pleased at seeing there a good deal of company. But the disagreeable
part of my day is yet to come. I had to dine at Professor
Graham's,[100] it was five o'clock when I reached there, a large
assembly of ladies and gentlemen were there, and I was introduced to
Mrs. Graham only, by some oversight I am sure, but none the less was
my position awkward. There I stood, motionless as a Heron, and when I
dared, gazed about me at my surroundings, but no one came near me.
There I stood and thought of the concert at Manchester; but there was
this difference: _there_ I was looked at rudely, _here_ I was with
polite company; so I waited patiently for a change of situation, and
the change came. A woman, aye, an angel, spoke to me in such a quiet,
easy way that in a few moments my _mal aise_ was gone; then the
ringing of a bell summoned us to the dining-room; I sat near the blue
satin lady (for her name I do not know) who came to my rescue, and a
charming young lady, Miss M----, was my companion. But the sumptuous
dinners of this country are too much for me. They are so long, so
long, that I recall briefer meals that I have had, with much more
enjoyment than I eat the bountiful fare before me. This is not a
_gouter_ with friend Bourgeat on the Flat Lake, roasting the
orange-fleshed Ibis, and a few sun-perch; neither is it on the heated
banks of Thompson's Creek, on the Fourth of July, swallowing the
roasted eggs of a large Soft-shelled Turtle; neither was I at
Henderson, at good Dr. Rankin's, listening to the howlings of the
Wolves, while sitting in security, eating well roasted and jellied
venison,--no, alas! it was far from all these dear spots, in Great
King Street, No. 62, at Dr. Graham's, a distinguished professor of
botany, with a dinner of so many rich dishes that I cannot remember
them.
_November 24._ I have just finished a long letter to Mr. Wm. Rathbone,
telling him of my reception in beautiful Edinburgh, and my present
plans, which are to publish one number at my own expense and risk, and
with it under my arm, make my way. If I can procure three hundred good
substantial names of persons or associations or institutions, I cannot
fail doing well for my family; but, to do this, I must abandon my life
to its success, and undergo many sad perplexities, and perhaps never
again--certainly not for some years--see my beloved America. The work,
from what I have seen of Mr. Lizars' execution, will be equal to
anything in the world at present, and of the rest the world must judge
for itself. I shall superintend both engraving and coloring
personally, and I pray my courage may not fail; my industry I know
will not. It is true the work will be procured only at a great
expense, but then, a number of years must elapse before it is
completed, so that renders payment an easier task. This is what I
shall _try_; if I do not succeed I can return to my woods and there in
peace and quiet live and die. I am sorry that some of my friends,
particularly Dr. Traill, are against the pictures being the size of
life, and I must acknowledge it renders the work rather bulky, but my
heart was always bent on it, and I cannot refrain from attempting it.
I shall publish the letter-press in a separate book, at the same time
with the illustrations, and shall accompany the descriptions of the
birds with many anecdotes and accounts of localities connected with
the birds themselves, and with my travels in search of them. I miss my
"Wild Turkeys," on which I worked steadily and from dawn to dark, a
long time here,--for sixteen days. It would be impossible for me to
write down all my feelings and thoughts about my work, or my life
here; it may be that in time I shall be reconciled or habituated to
the life I now lead, but I can scarce believe this, and often think
the woods the only place in which I truly _live_.
_November 25, 1826._ I have been drawing all day at some Wood Pigeons,
as they are emphatically called here, though woods there are none. The
day was cold, wet, and snowy. Mr. Lizars, however, called with Dr.
Brewster,[101] an eminent and entertaining man. I received a note from
Geo. Combe, Esq., the phrenologist, who wishes to plaster my poor head
to take an impression of the bumps, ordinary and extraordinary; he
also invited me to sup with him on Monday next. I was to dine at Dr.
Monroe's, Craiglockhart, near Slateford, so I dressed and sent for a
coach that took me _two and a half_ miles for _twelve_ shillings, and
I had to pay one shilling toll,--a dear dinner this. I arrived and
entered a house richly furnished, and was presented to three ladies,
and four gentlemen. The ladies were Mrs. Monroe, Miss Maria Monroe,
and Mrs. Murray; amongst the gentlemen I at once recognized the
amiable and learned Staff-Surgeon Lyons. Mrs. Monroe I found a woman
of most extraordinary powers, a brilliant conversationalist, highly
educated, and most attractive. She sat by me, and entertained me most
charmingly, and the rest of her company as well. I need not say the
dinner was sumptuous, for I find no other kind in hospitable
Edinburgh. After dinner we had music from Miss Monroe, a skilled
songstress, and her rich voice, with the pathetic Scotch ballads which
she sang so unaffectedly, brought tears to my eyes. My return to my
lodgings was very cold, for snow lies all about the hills that
surround this enchanting city.
_Sunday, November 26._ I went to a Scotch church this morning, but it
was cold and the services seemed to me cold also, but it may have been
that I was unaccustomed to them. Snow lay thick on the ground and my
lodgings looked cheerless, all but my picture, at which I worked on my
return. I had put my work on the floor, and was standing on a chair to
see the effect at a good distance, when Mrs. Lizars entered with her
husband; they had come to invite me to dine with them on roasted
sheep's-head (a Scotch dish), and I was glad to accept, for I was on
the verge of a fit of depression, one of those severe ones when I am
almost afraid to be alone in my lodgings; alone indeed I am, without
one soul to whom I can open my heart. True, I have been alone before,
but that was in beloved America, where the ocean did not roll between
me and my wife and sons. At four, therefore, I reached James' Square
and dined with these good people without pomp or ostentation; it is
the only true way to live. Found the sheep's-head delicious, and spent
the evening most agreeably. I was shown many beautiful sketches, and
two plates of my birds well advanced. Mr. Lizars walked home with me;
the weather was intensely cold, and the wind blew a gale; on turning a
corner it almost threw me down, and although warmly dressed I felt the
chill keenly. This morning seems a long way off, so many things have I
thought of this day.
_Monday, November 27._ As soon as it dawned I was up and at work, and
quite finished my drawing before breakfast. Mr. Syme came to see me,
and was surprised to find it done. I had also outlined my favorite
subject, the Otter in a trap. At twelve I went to _stand up_ for my
picture, and sick enough I was of it by two; at the request of Mr.
Lizars I wear my wolf-skin coat, and if the head is not a strong
likeness, perhaps the coat may be; but this is discourteous of me,
even to my journal. Mr. Lizars brought a Mr. Key, an artist, to throw
a sky over my drawing, and the gentleman did it in handsome style,
giving me some hints about this kind of work for which I am grateful.
I dined at home on herrings, mutton-chops, cabbage, and fritters. As I
am now going to sup with Mr. George Combe, I will write to-morrow what
I may hear to-night. A kind note from Professor Jameson, whom I have
not seen for some time, for he is a busy man, with a card of
admittance to the Museum.
_Tuesday, 28th._ After writing thus far I left my room and went to
watch the engravers at work on my birds. I was delighted to see how
faithfully copied they were, and scarcely able to conceive the great
"_adroit_" required to form all the lines exactly _contrary_ to the
model before them. I took a cup of coffee with Mr. and Mrs. Lizars,
went home to dress, and at nine was again with Mr. Lizars, who was to
accompany me to Mr. Combe's, and reaching Brower Square we entered the
dwelling of Phrenology! Mr. Scot, the president of that society, Mr.
D. Stewart,[102] Mr. McNalahan, and many others were there, and also a
German named Charles N. Weiss, a great musician. Mr. George Combe
immediately asked this gentleman and myself if we had any objection to
have our heads _looked at_ by the president, who had not yet arrived.
We both signified our willingness, and were seated side by side on a
sofa. When the president entered Mr. Combe said: "I have here two
gentlemen of talent; will you please tell us in what their natural
powers consist?" Mr. Scot came up, bowed, looked at Mr. Weiss, felt
his head carefully all over, and pronounced him possessed of musical
faculty in a great degree; I then underwent the same process, and he
said: "There cannot exist a moment of doubt that this gentleman is a
painter, colorist, and compositor, and I would add an amiable, though
quick-tempered man." Much conversation ensued, we had supper, Miss
Scot and Miss Combe were present, the only ladies. Afterwards Mr.
Weiss played most sweetly on the flute, Mr. Scot sang Scotch airs,
glees and madrigals followed, and it was after one o'clock when "Music
and Painting" left the company arm in arm. I soon reached my lodgings.
Mr. Weiss gave me a ticket to his concert, and Mrs. Dickie, who kindly
sat up for me, gave me a ship letter. I hoped it was from my Lucy, but
no, it was from Governor DeWitt Clinton; it was dated thirty days
previous to my receiving it.
_Tuesday, 28th._ The fog was so dense this morning that at nine
o'clock I could hardly see to write. I put the drawing of the Stock
Pigeons in the Institution, framed superbly, and it looked well, I
thought, even though so dark a day. I again _stood_ for my picture,
two dreadfully long hours, and I am sure I hope it may prove a good
resemblance to my poor self. Whilst yet in my hunting-dress, I
received word that Sir Walter Scott was in the Institution and wished
to see me; you may depend I was not long in measuring the distance,
and reached the building quite out of breath, but to no purpose. Sir
Walter had been compelled to go to preside at a meeting upstairs, and
left an apology for me, and a request that unless too dark for him to
see my work I would wait; but it very soon became quite dark, and I
therefore abandoned all thought of meeting him this time. I dined at
Mr. Lizars', and saw the first-proof impression of one of my drawings.
It looked pretty well, and as I had procured one subscriber, Dr.
Meikleham of Trinidad, I felt well contented.
_Wednesday, 29th._ The day was cloudy, and sitting for my portrait has
become quite an arduous piece of business. I was positively in
"durance vile" for two and a half hours. Just as I was finishing my
dinner, Mrs. F----, the cousin of Mr. Gregg, called; ladies having the
right to command, I went immediately, and found a woman whose features
had more force and character than women generally show in their
lineaments. Her eyes were very penetrating, and I was struck with the
strength of all she said, though nothing seemed to be studied. She
showed the effects of a long, well learned round of general
information. She, of course, praised my work, but I scarce thought her
candid. Her eyes seemed to reach my very soul; I knew that at one
glance she had discovered my inferiority. The group of children she
had with her were all fine-looking, but not so gracefully obedient as
those of the beautiful Mrs. Rathbone of Woodcroft. She invited me to
her home, near Roslyn, and I shall, of course, accept this courtesy,
though I felt, and feel now, that she asked me from politeness more
than because she liked _me_, and I must say the more I realized her
intelligence the more stupid did I become. Afterwards I went to Mr.
Lizars' to meet Dr. Meikleham, who wishes me to go with him to
Trinidad, where I shall draw, so he says, four hundred birds for him,
for a publication of "Birds of the West Indies." On Friday I go to
Mrs. Isabella Murray's, to see her and some fine engravings. I have
omitted to say that the first impression of the beautiful seal sent me
by Mrs. Rathbone was sent to my beloved wife; the seal itself is much
admired, and the workmanship highly praised. Mr. Combe has been to see
me, and says my poor skull is a greater exemplification of the
evidences of the truth of his system than any he has seen, except
those of one or two whose great names only are familiar to me; and
positively I have been so tormented about the shape of my head that my
brains are quite out of sorts. Nor is this all; my eyes will have to
be closed for about one hour, my face and hair oiled over, and plaster
of Paris poured over my nose (a greased quill in each nostril), and a
bust will be made. On the other hand, an artist quite as crazy and
foolishly inclined, has said that my head was a perfect Vandyke's, and
to establish this fact, my portrait is now growing under the pencil of
the ablest artist of the science here. It is a strange-looking
figure, with gun, strap, and buckles, and eyes that to me are more
those of an enraged Eagle than mine. Yet it is to be engraved. Sir
Walter Scott saw my drawings for a few moments yesterday, and I hope
to meet him to-morrow when I dine with the Antiquarian Society at the
Waterloo Hotel, where an annual feast is given. My work is proceeding
in very good style, and in a couple of days colored plates will be at
the exhibition rooms, and at the different booksellers; but with all
this bustle, and my hopes of success, my heart is heavy, for _hopes_
are not _facts_. The weather is dull, moist, and disagreeably cold at
times, and just now the short duration of the daylight here is
shocking; the lamps are lighted in the streets at half-past three
o'clock P. M., and are yet burning at half-past seven A. M.
_November 30._ My portrait was finished to-day. I cannot say that I
think it a very good resemblance, but it is a fine picture, and the
public must judge of the rest. I had a bad headache this morning,
which has now passed; to be ill far from home would be dreadful, away
from my Lucy, who would do more for me in a day than all the doctors
in Christendom in a twelvemonth. I visited the exhibition rooms for a
few minutes; I would like to go there oftener, but really to be gazed
at by a crowd is, of all things, most detestable to me. Mr. Gregg
called about four, also Mr. Bridges and an acquaintance of the famous
"Alligator Rider," and I was told that Mr. Waterton said that Joseph
Bonaparte imitated the manners and habits of his brother Napoleon;
that is much more than I know or saw. But St. Andrew's Day and my
invitation to dine with the Antiquarians was not forgotten. At five I
was at Mr. Lizars', where I found Mr. Moule and we proceeded to the
Waterloo Hotel. The sitting-room was soon filled; I met many that I
knew, and a few minutes after the Earl of Elgin[103] made his
_entree_, I was presented to him by Mr. Innes of Stow; he shook hands
with me and spoke in a very kind and truly complimentary manner about
my pencil's productions. At six we walked in couples to the
dining-room; I had the arm of my good friend Patrick Neill, Mr. Lizars
sat on my other side, and there was a sumptuous dinner indeed. It at
first consisted entirely of Scotch messes of old fashion, such as
marrow-bones, codfish-heads stuffed with oatmeal and garlic, black
puddings, sheep's-heads smelling of singed wool, and I do not know
what else. Then a _second_ dinner was served quite _a l'anglaise_. I
finished with a bit of grouse. Then came on the toasts. Lord Elgin,
being president and provided with an auctioneer's mallet, brought all
the company to order by rapping smartly on the table with the
instrument. He then rose, and simply said: "The King! four times
four!" Every one rose to drink to the monarch's health, and the
president saying, "Ip, ip, ip," sixteen cheers were loudly given. The
Dukes of York, Argyle, and many others had their healths drunk, then
Sir Walter Scott (who, to my great regret, was not able to be
present), and so on and on, one and another, until mine was proposed
by Mr. Skene,[104] the first secretary of the society. Whilst he was
engaged in a handsome panegyric the perspiration poured from me, I
thought I should faint; and I was seated in this wretched condition
when everybody rose, and the Earl called out: "Mr. Audubon." I had
seen each individual when toasted, rise, and deliver a speech; that
being the case, could I remain speechless like a fool? No! I summoned
all my resolution, and for the first time in my life spoke to a large
assembly, saying these few words: "Gentlemen, my command of words in
which to reply to your kindness is almost as humble as that of the
birds hanging on the walls of your institution. I am truly obliged for
your favors. Permit me to say, May God bless you all, and may this
society prosper." I felt my hands wet with perspiration. Mr. Lizars
poured me out a glass of wine and said: "Bravo! take this," which I
gladly did. More toasts were given, and then a delightful old Scotch
song was sung by Mr. Innes; the refrain was "Put on thy cloak about
thee." Then Mr. McDonald sang. Wm. Allan, Esq.,[105] the famous
painter, told a beautiful story, then rose, and imitated the buzzing
of a bumble-bee confined in a room, and followed the bee (apparently)
as if flying from him, beating it down with his handkerchief; a droll
performance most admirably done. At ten, the Earl rose, and bid us
farewell, and at half-past ten I proposed to Mr. Lizars to go, and we
did. I was much pleased at having been a guest at this entertainment,
particularly as Lord Elgin expressed a wish to see me again. I went to
Mr. Lizars', where we sat chatting for an hour, when I returned to my
lodgings and took myself to bed.
_December 1._ My portrait was hung up in the exhibition room; I prefer
it to be gazed at rather than the original from which it was taken.
The day was shockingly bad, wet, slippery, cold. I had to visit Lord
Clancarty and his lady at noon, therefore I went. I met Mrs. M---- and
her children and the eldest daughter of Mr. Monroe. Mrs. M---- began a
long speech, telling me of her father, Lord S----, and his loyalty to
the Stuarts; the details not only of that royal family but all the
kings of England were being poured out, and I should probably be there
yet, merely saying "Yes" from time to time, if a lucky interruption
had not come in the form of a message from Lord Elgin, to say he
desired to see me at the Institution. I soon reached that place, where
I met Lord Elgin, in company with Secretary Skene and Mr. Hall the
advocate, in the art room. Mr. Hall is nephew to Lady Douglas, and
this gave me an opportunity to hand him her letter. But the best thing
to relate is my breakfast with that wonderful man David Bridges. I
was at his house at a quarter before nine; a daughter was practising
the piano, the son reading, his wife, well-dressed, was sewing. I
conversed with her and looked at the pictures till the door opened and
my friend came in, attired in his _robe de chambre_, shook my hand
warmly, and taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he began whisking
and wiping chimney mantel, tables, chairs, desk, etc., to my utter
annoyance, for I felt for the wife whose poor housewifery was thus
exposed. After breakfast we walked to see my portrait and to criticise
it, for both Mr. Lizars and Mr. Bridges are connoisseurs. In the
evening I visited Mr. Howe, the editor of the "Courant" and then to
the theatre with Mr. Bridges to see Wairner (?) perform "Tyke" in "The
School of Reform." We met at the Rainbow Tavern, and soon entered the
theatre, which was thinly attended; but I was delighted with the
piece, and the performance of it, though we left before it was
concluded to attend Mr. Weiss's concert in the Assembly Rooms in
George Street. The flute playing was admirable both in execution and
tone; Mr. Bridges supped with me. It is now again one o'clock, and I
am quite worn out.
_December 2, Saturday._ The weather was a sharp frost till evening,
when it rained. I was busy painting all day, and did not put foot out
of doors till I went to dine with Dr. Brown, the professor of
theology.[106] Mr. Bridges went with me, and told me that Professor
Wilson had prepared a notice for "Blackwood's Magazine" respecting
myself and my work. I think the servant who called out my name at Dr.
Brown's must have received a most capital lesson in pronunciation, for
seldom in my travels did I hear my name so clearly and well
pronounced. Several other guests were present, Professor Jameson among
them, and we passed a most agreeable evening. I must not forget that
Sir James Hall and his brother called to receive information
respecting the comfort that may be expected in travelling through my
dear country.
_Sunday, December 3._ My good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Lizars came in as
usual after church; they like the Otter better than the Turkeys. It
was nearly finished, to the great astonishment of Mr. Syme and Mr.
Cameron, who came to announce that the rooms at the Institution were
mine till the 20th inst. Mr. Cameron looked long at the picture and
said: "No man in either England or Scotland could paint that picture
in so short a time." Now to me this is all truly wonderful; I came to
this Europe fearful, humble, dreading all, scarce able to hold up my
head and meet the glance of the learned, and I am praised so highly!
It is quite unaccountable, and I still fear it will not last; these
good people certainly give me more merit than I am entitled to; it can
only be a glance of astonishment or surprise operating on them because
my style is new, and somewhat different from those who have preceded
me. Mr. Bridges, who knows everybody, and goes everywhere, went with
me to dine with Mr. Witham of Yorkshire. We dined--had coffee--supped
at eleven. At twelve the ladies left us; I wished to leave, but it was
impossible. Dr. Knox said he wished to propose me as an honorary
member of the Wernerian Society; our host said he would second the
motion; my health was drunk, and I finally retired with Dr. Knox,
leaving Mr. Bridges and the other gentlemen making whiskey toddy from
that potent Scotch liquor which as yet I cannot swallow. It was now
half-past two; what hours do I keep! Am I to lead this life long? If I
do I must receive from my Maker a new supply of strength, for even my
strong constitution cannot stand it.