nine I faced the inclement weather, crossed the bridge, passed the
college regretting such a curious and valuable monument was quite
buried among the antiquated, narrow streets, and dismal houses that
surround it, then rang the bell, and was admitted to Baron S----'s
parlor. He was still snug asleep; so that I had enjoyed four and a
half hours of life while he slept. He saw me at once in his bedroom
and told me that if I wrote to the Prince of Musignano at London this
morning, the letter would probably reach him. I returned home, wrote
my letter, or rather began it, when I received several pages from my
good friend Mr. Rathbone which quite depressed me. He feared my work
would not succeed on account of the unusual size; and Mrs. Rathbone,
Senior, refused me the pleasure of naming a bird after her, on account
of the publicity, she said; yet I longed to do so, for what greater
compliment could I pay any lady than to give her name to one of the
most exquisite creations of the Almighty? The whole made me most
dismal, but yet not in the least discouraged or disheartened about my
work. If Napoleon by perseverance and energy rose from the ranks to be
an emperor, why should not Audubon with perseverance and energy be
able to leave the woods of America for a time and publish and sell a
book?--always supposing that Audubon has _some_ knowledge of his work,
as Napoleon had _great_ knowledge of his. No, no, I shall not cease to
work for this end till old age incapacitates me. I thought long over
Mr. Rathbone's letter, then finished mine to Charles and put it in the
post-office. I then purchased a Pigeon, killed it, packed up my wires
and hammer, and at one o'clock took these things with my "position
board," called a coach, and went to the meeting of the Wernerian
Society at the University. Lady Morton had joined me, hence my need
for the coach. Mr. Skene met me at the door, where I parted from Lady
Morton, who made me promise to visit her at Dalmahoy. She is a small,
handsome woman, who speaks most excellent French. Mr. Lizars joined
me, and we all entered the room of the Wernerian Society of Edinburgh!
The room is a plain one; two tables, one fireplace, many long benches
or seats, and a chair for the president were all the furniture I saw,
except a stuffed sword-fish, which lay on one of the tables for
examination that day. Many persons were already present, and I
unrolled the drawing of the Buzzard for them to see. Professor Jameson
came in, and the meeting began. My paper on the Buzzard was the first
thing, read by Patrick Neill,--not very well, as my writing was not
easy reading for him. Professor Jameson then rose, and gave quite a
eulogy upon it, my works, and lastly--myself. I then had the thanks of
the society, and showed them my manner of putting up my specimens for
drawing birds, etc.; this they thought uncommonly ingenious. Professor
Jameson then offered me as an honorary member, when arose a great
clapping of hands and stamping of feet, as a mark of approbation. Then
Professor Jameson desired that the usual law requiring a delay of some
months between the nomination and the election be laid aside on this
occasion; and again the same acclamations took place, and it was
decided I should be elected at the next meeting; after which the
meeting was ended, I having promised to read a paper on the habits of
the Alligator at the following assembly of the society. Then came my
dinner at Lady Hunter's.
At precisely six I found myself at No. 16 Hope St. I was shown
upstairs, and presented to Lady Mary Clark, who knew both General
Wolfe and General Montgomery, a most amiable English lady eighty-two
years of age. Many other interesting people were present, and I had
the pleasure of taking Mrs. Basil Hall to dinner, and was seated next
her mother, Lady Hunter, and almost opposite Lady Mary Clark. I did
not feel so uncomfortable as usual; all were so kind, affable, and
_truly_ well-bred. At nine the ladies left us, and Captain Basil Hall
again attacked me about America, and hundreds of questions were put to
me by all, which I answered as plainly and briefly as I could.
At eleven we joined the ladies, and tea and coffee were handed round;
other guests had come in, card-tables were prepared, and we had some
music. Portfolios of prints were ready for those interested in them. I
sat watching all, but listening to Mrs. Hall's sweet music. This
bustle does not suit me, I am not fitted for it, I prefer more
solitude in the woods. I left at last with young Gregg, but I was the
first to go, and we stepped out into the rainy Sunday morning, for it
was long, long past midnight, and I hastened to my lodgings to commit
murder,--yes, to commit murder; for the cats Mr. Daniel Lizars wished
me to paint had been sent, and good Mrs. Dickie much objected to them
in my rooms; her son helped me, and in two minutes the poor animals
were painlessly killed. I at once put them up in fighting attitude,
ready for painting when daylight appeared, which would not be long.
Good-night, or good-morning; it is now nearly three o'clock.
_Sunday, December 17._ I painted all day, that is, during all the time
I could see, and I was up at six this morning writing by candle-light,
which I was compelled to use till nearly nine. Mr. Bridges called, and
I dined at home on fried oysters and stewed Scotch herrings, then went
to Mr. Lizars', where I nearly fell asleep; but a cup of coffee
thoroughly awakened me, and I looked at some drawings of birds, which
I thought miserable, by Mr. Pelletier. Mr. Lizars walked home with me
to see my cats.
_Monday, December 18._ My painting of two cats fighting like two
devils over a dead Squirrel was finished at three o'clock. I had been
ten hours at it, but should not call it by the dignified title of
"painting," for it is too rapidly done for the more finished work I
prefer; but I cannot give more time to it now, and the drawing is
good. I dressed, and took the painting--so I continue to call it--to
Mrs. Lizars', who wished to see it, and it had rained so hard all day
she had not been able to come to my rooms. At five I dined with George
Combe, the conversation chiefly phrenology. George Combe is a
delightful host, and had gathered a most agreeable company. At seven
Mr. Lizars called for me, and we went to the meeting of the Royal
Academy. Two of my plates were laid on the table. Dr. Brewster and
Mr. Allan wished the Academy to subscribe for my work, and the
committee retired to act on this and other business. The meeting was
very numerous and no doubt very learned; Sir William Jardine and Mr.
Selby arrived a little before the society was seated. The door of the
hall was thrown open and we all marched in and seated ourselves on
most slippery hair-cloth seats. The room is rich and beautiful; it is
a large oblong, the walls covered with brilliant scarlet paper in
imitation of morocco. The ceiling is painted to represent oak panels.
The windows are immensely large, framed to correspond with the
ceiling, and with green jalousies; large chandeliers, with gas, light
every corner brilliantly. The president sat in a large arm-chair lined
with red morocco, and after the minutes of the last meeting had been
read, Professor ---- gave us a long, tedious, and labored lecture on
the origin of languages, their formation, etc. It seemed a very poor
mess to me, though that was probably because I did not understand it.
My friend Ord would have doubtless swallowed it whole, but I could
make neither head nor tail of it. A few fossil bones were then
exhibited, and then, thank heaven! it was over. Sir William Jardine
brought some birds with him from Jardine Hall, and to-morrow will see
my style of posing them for painting. As I had promised to go to
supper with Dr. Russell, I left soon after ten, without knowing what
decision the committee had reached as to subscribing to my work. I met
several of the Academicians at Dr. Russell's, as well as others whom I
knew; but I am more and more surprised to find how little these men,
learned as they are, know of America beyond the situation of her
principal cities. We sat down to supper at eleven,--everything
magnificent; but I was greatly fatigued, for I had been at work since
before five this morning, either painting or writing or thinking hard.
We left the table about one, and I was glad to come home and shall now
soon be asleep.
_Tuesday, December 19._ My writing takes me full two hours every
morning, and soon as finished to-day, I dressed to go to breakfast
with Sir William Jardine and Mr. Selby at Barry's Hotel. It was just
nine, the morning fine and beautiful, the sun just above the line of
the Old Town, the horizon like burnished gold, the walls of the Castle
white in the light and almost black in the shade. All this made a
beautiful scene, and I dwelt on the power of the great Creator who
formed all, with a thought of all man had done and was doing, when a
child, barefooted, ragged, and apparently on the verge of starvation,
altered my whole train of ideas. The poor child complained of want,
and, had I dared, I would have taken him to Sir William Jardine, and
given him breakfast at the hotel; but the world is so strange I feared
this might appear odd, so I gave the lad a shilling, and then bid him
return with me to my lodgings. I looked over all my garments, gave him
a large bundle of all that were at all worn, added five shillings, and
went my way feeling as if God smiled on me through the face of the
poor boy. The hotel was soon reached, and I was with my friends; they
had brought Ducks, Hawks, and small birds for me to draw. After
breakfast we all went to my room, and I showed these gentlemen how I
set up my specimens, squared my paper, and soon had them both at work
drawing a Squirrel. They called this a lesson. It was to me like a
dream, that I, merely a woodsman, should teach men so much my
superiors. They worked very well indeed, although I perceived at once
that Mr. Selby was more enthusiastic, and therefore worked faster than
Sir William; but he finished more closely, so that it was hard to give
either the supremacy. They were delighted, especially Mr. Selby, who
exclaimed, "I will paint all our quadrupeds for my own house." They
both remained with me till we could see no more. At their request I
read them my letter on the "Carrion Crow;" but Dr. Brewster had
altered it so much that I was quite shocked at it, it made me quite
sick. He had, beyond question, greatly improved the style (for I have
none), but he had destroyed the matter.
I dined at Major Dodd's with a complete set of military gentry,
generals, colonels, captains, majors, and, to my surprise, young
Pattison, my companion in the coach from Manchester; he was Mrs.
Dodd's cousin. I retired rather early, for I did not care for the
blustering talk of all these warriors. Sir William Jardine and Mr.
Lizars came to my lodgings and announced that I was elected by
universal acclamation a member of the Society of Arts of the city of
Edinburgh.
_Wednesday, December 20._ Phrenology was the order of the morning. I
was at Brown Square, at the house of George Combe by nine o'clock, and
breakfasted most heartily on mutton, ham, and good coffee, after which
we walked upstairs to his _sanctum sanctorum_. A beautiful silver box
containing the instruments for measuring the cranium, was now
opened,--the box and contents were a present from the ladies who have
attended Mr. Combe's lectures during the past two years,--and I was
seated fronting the light. Dr. Combe acted as secretary and George
Combe, thrusting his fingers under my hair, began searching for
miraculous bumps. My skull was measured as minutely and accurately as
I measure the bill or legs of a new bird, and all was duly noted by
the scribe. Then with most exquisite touch each protuberance was found
as numbered by phrenologists, and also put down according to the
respective size. I was astounded when they both gave me the results of
their labors in writing, and agreed in saying I was a strong and
constant lover, an affectionate father, had great veneration for
talent, would have made a brave general, that music did not equal
painting in my estimation, that I was generous, quick-tempered,
forgiving, and much else which I know to be true, though how they
discovered these facts is quite a puzzle to me. They asked my
permission to read the notes at their next meeting, to which I
consented. I then went to court to meet Mr. Simpson the advocate, who
was to introduce me to Francis Jeffrey. I found Mr. Simpson and a
hundred others in their raven gowns, and powdered, curled wigs, but
Mr. Jeffrey was not there. After doing many things and writing much, I
went this evening to Mr. Lizars', and with him to Dr. Greville, the
botanist.[109] He rarely leaves his house in winter and suffers much
from asthma; I found him wearing a green silk night-cap, and we sat
and talked of plants till 2 A. M. When I entered my rooms I found Mr.
Selby had sent me three most beautiful Pheasants, and to-morrow I
begin a painting of these birds attacked by a Fox for the Exhibition
in London next March. Also I had a note from the Earl of Morton to
spend a day and night at his home at Dalmahoy, saying he would send
his carriage for me next Wednesday, one week hence.
_Thursday, December 21._ To-day I received letters from De Witt
Clinton and Thomas Sully in answer to mine in forty-two days; it seems
absolutely impossible the distance should have been covered so
rapidly; yet it is so, as I see by my memorandum book. I have written
already in reply to Thomas Sully, promising him a copy of my first
number when finished, say a month hence, with the request that he
forward it, in my name, to that Institution which thought me unworthy
to be a member. There is no malice in my heart, and I wish no return
or acknowledgment from them. I am now _determined_ never to be a
member of that Philadelphia Society, but I still think talents, no
matter how humble, should be fostered in one's own country. The
weather is clear, with a sharp frost. What a number of Wild Ducks
could I shoot on a morning like this, with a little powder and plenty
of shot; but I had other fish to fry. I put up a beautiful male
Pheasant, and outlined it on coarse gray paper to _pounce_ it in
proper position on my canvas. Sir Wm. Jardine and Mr. Selby were here
drawing under my direction most of the day. My time is so taken up,
and daylight so short, that though four hours is all I allow for
sleep, I am behind-hand, and have engaged an amanuensis. I go out so
much that I frequently dress three times a day, the greatest bore in
the world to me; why I cannot dine in my blue coat as well as a black
one, I cannot say, but so it seems. Mrs. Lizars came with a friend,
Mr. Simpson, to invite me to a phrenological supper, Dr. Charles Fox,
looking very ill, and two friends of Mr. Selby; the whole morning
passed away, no canvas came for me, and I could not have left my
guests to work, if it had. I looked often at the beautiful Pheasant,
with longing eyes, but when the canvas came and my guests had gone,
daylight went with them, so I had lost a most precious day; that is a
vast deal in a man's life-glass. The supper was really a phrenological
party; my head and Mr. Selby's were compared, and at twelve o'clock he
and I went home together. I was glad to feel the frosty air and to see
the stars. I think Mr. Selby one of those rare men that are seldom met
with, and when one is found it proves how good some of our species may
be. Never before did I so long for a glimpse of our rich magnolia
woods; I never before felt the want of a glance at our forests as I do
now; could I be there but a moment, hear the mellow Mock-bird, or the
Wood-thrush, to me always so pleasing, how happy should I be; but
alas! I am far from those scenes. I seem, in a measure, to have gone
back to my early days of society and fine dressing, silk stockings and
pumps, and all the finery with which I made a popinjay of myself in my
youth.
_December 22, Friday._ I painted a good portion to-day though it was
quite dark by three of the afternoon; how I long for the fair days of
summer. My room to-day was a perfect levee; it is Mr. Audubon here,
and Mr. Audubon there; I only hope they will not make a conceited fool
of Mr. Audubon at last. I received every one as politely as I could,
palette and brushes in hand, and conducted each in his turn to the
door. I was called from my work twenty-five times, but I was
nevertheless glad to see one and all. I supped with Sir William
Jardine, Mr. Lizars, and Mr. Moule, Sir William's uncle, at Barry's
Hotel; we talked much of fish and fishing, for we were all sportsmen.
I left at midnight and found at my room a long letter from Charles
Bonaparte.
_Saturday, December 23._ I had to grind up my own colors this morning;
I detest it, it makes me hot, fretful, moody, and I am convinced has a
bad effect on my mind. However, I worked closely, but the day was
shockingly short; I cannot see before half-past nine, and am forced to
stop at three....
The 24th and 25th I remained closely at my work painting; on the 24th
my drawings were all taken down and my paintings also. I wrote to the
president of the Royal Institution and presented that society with my
large painting of the "Wild Turkeys." I should have hesitated about
offering it had I not been assured it had some value, as Gally, the
picture dealer, offered me a hundred guineas for it the previous day;
and I was glad to return some acknowledgment of the politeness of the
Institution in a handsome manner. My steady work brought on a bad
headache, but I rose early, took a walk of many miles, and it has
gone.
_December 26._ My steady painting, my many thoughts, and my brief
nights, bring on me now every evening a weariness that I cannot
surmount on command. This is, I think, the first time in my life when,
_if needed_, I could not rouse myself from sleepiness, shake myself
and be ready for action in an instant; but now I cannot do that, and I
have difficulty often in keeping awake as evening comes on; this
evening I had to excuse myself from a gathering at Lady Hunter's, and
came home intending to go at once to bed; but I lay down on my sofa
for a moment, fell asleep, and did not wake till after midnight, when
I found myself both cold and hungry. I have taken some food and now
will rest, though no longer sleepy, for to-morrow I go to Earl
Morton's, where I wish, at least, to keep awake.
_Dalmahoy, eight miles from Edinburgh, December 27, Wednesday._ I am
now seated at a little table in the _Yellow Bedchamber_ at Earl
Morton's, and will give an account of my day. After my breakfast, not
anxious to begin another Pheasant, I did some writing and paid some
visits, returned to my lodgings and packed a box for America with
various gifts, some mementos I had received, and several newspapers,
when Lord Morton's carriage was announced. My _porte-feuille_ and
valise were carried down, and I followed them and entered a large
carriage lined with purple morocco; never was I in so comfortable a
conveyance before; the ship that under easy sail glides slowly on an
even sea has a more fatiguing motion; I might have been in a swinging
hammock. We passed the castle, through Charlotte Square, and out on
the Glasgow road for eight miles, all so swiftly that my watch had
barely changed the time from one hour to another when the porter
pushed open the gate of Dalmahoy. I now began to think of my meeting
with the man who had been great Chamberlain to the late Queen
Charlotte. I did not so much mind meeting the Countess, for I had
become assured of her sweetness of disposition when we had met on
previous occasions, but the Chamberlain I could not help dreading to
encounter. This, however, did not prevent the carriage from proceeding
smoothly round a great circle, neither did it prevent me from seeing a
large, square, half Gothic building with two turrets, ornamented with
great lions, and all the signs of heraldry belonging to Lord Morton.
The carriage stopped, a man in livery opened the door, and I walked
in, giving him my hat and gloves and my American stick (that, by the
bye, never leaves me unless I leave it). Upstairs I went and into the
drawing-room. The Countess rose at once and came to greet me, and then
presented Lord Morton to me--yes, really not me to him; for the moment
I was taken aback, I had expected something so different. I had formed
an idea that the Earl was a man of great physical strength and size;
instead I saw a small, slender man, tottering on his feet, weaker than
a newly hatched Partridge; he welcomed me with tears in his eyes, held
one of my hands and attempted speaking, which was difficult to him,
the Countess meanwhile rubbing his other hand. I saw at a glance his
situation and begged he would be seated, after which I was introduced
to the mother of the Countess, Lady Boulcar, and I took a seat on a
sofa that I thought would swallow me up, so much down swelled around
me. It was a vast room, at least sixty feet long, and wide in
proportion, let me say thirty feet, all hung with immense paintings on
a rich purple ground; all was purple about me. The large tables were
covered with books, instruments, drawing apparatus, and a telescope,
with hundreds of ornaments. As I glanced at the pictures I could see
the Queen of England fronting Mary of Scotland, a chamberlain here, a
duke there, and in another place a beautiful head by Rembrandt. Van
Dyke had not been forgotten; Claude Lorraine had some landscapes here
also; while the celebrated Titian gave a lustre to the whole. I rose
to take a closer view, the Countess explaining all to me, but conceive
my surprise when, looking from the middle window, I saw at the horizon
the castle and city of Edinburgh, a complete miniature eight miles
off, a landscape of fields, water, and country between us and it.
Luncheon was announced; I am sure if my friends complain that I eat
but little, they must allow that I eat often; never were such lands
for constant meals as England and Scotland. The Countess of Boulcar
rolled Lord Morton in his castored chair, I gave my arm to Lady
Morton, we crossed a large antechamber, into a dining-room quite rich
in paintings, and at present with a sumptuous repast. Three gentlemen,
also visitors, entered by another door,--Messrs. Hays, Ramsay, and a
young clergyman whose name I forget. After luncheon my drawings were
produced, the Earl was rolled into a good position for light, and my
"Book of Nature" was unbuckled. I am not going to repeat praises
again. The drawings seen, we adjourned to the drawing-room and the
Countess begged me to give her a lesson to-morrow, which I shall most
gladly do. The Countess is not exactly beautiful, but she is
good-looking, with fine eyes, a brilliant complexion, and a good
figure; she is a woman of superior intellect and conversation, and I
should think about forty years of age; she was dressed in a rich
crimson gown, and her mother in black satin. At six I re-entered the
house, having taken a short walk with the gentlemen, and was shown to
my room. "The yellow room," I heard the Countess say to the lackey who
showed me the way. My valise had been unpacked, and all was most
comfortable, and truly yellow in this superb apartment. The bed was
hung with yellow of some rich material, and ornamented with yellow
crowns, and was big enough for four of my size; a large sofa and large
arm-chairs, all yellow, the curtains, dressing-table, all indeed was
yellow, intensified by the glow of a bright wood fire. My evening
toilet is never a very lengthy matter,--for in my opinion it is a vile
loss of time to spend as many minutes in arranging a cravat as a
hangman does in tying his knot,--and I was ready long before seven,
when I again gave the Countess my arm, and Lord Morton was again
rolled in, in his chair. The waiters, I think there were four, were
powdered and dressed in deep red, almost maroon liveries, except the
butler, who was in black, and who appeared to me to hand fresh plates
continuously. After a dinner of somewhat more than an hour, the ladies
retired with the Earl, and I remained with the three gentlemen to talk
and drink wine. The conversation was entirely of antiquities. Mr. Hays
is a deeply learned and interesting man, besides being quite an
original. At the hour of ten we joined the Countess, the Earl having
retired, and I have been much interested looking at the signatures of
the kings of old, as well as that of Marie, Queen of Scots, and those
of many other celebrated men and women, while two of the gentlemen
were examining a cabinet of antique coins. The Countess looked very
brilliant, being attired in white satin with a crimson turban. At
midnight (coffee having been served about eleven), the ladies bid us
good-night, and we sat down to talk, and drink, if we wished to,
Madeira wine. What a life! I could not stand this ceremony daily, I
long for the woods; but I hope this life will enable me to enjoy them
more than ever at a future period, so I must bear it patiently. After
a few moments I left the gentlemen, and came to my yellow room.