curtains, and explored my room by daylight; and I have forgotten to
tell thee that the dressing-room, with its large porcelain tub and
abundance of clear water, opened from it, and was warm with crimson of
the color of the Countess's turban. The chimney-piece was decorated
with choice shells, and above it a painting representing Queen Mary in
her youth. The house seemed very still, but after dressing I decided
to go down, for the morning was clear and the air delightful. As I
entered the drawing-room I saw two housemaids busily cleaning; the
younger saw me first, and I heard her say, "The American gentleman is
down already," when they both vanished. I went out to look about the
grounds, and in about an hour was joined by the young clergyman, and a
walk was immediately undertaken. The Hares started before our dogs,
and passing through various woods, we came by a turn to the stables,
where I saw four superbly formed Abyssinian horses, with tails
reaching to the earth, and the legs of one no larger than those of an
Elk. The riding-room was yet lighted, and the animals had been
exercised that morning. The game-keeper was unkennelling his dogs; he
showed me a large tame Fox.
Then through other woods we proceeded to the Manor, now the habitat of
the great falconer _John Anderson_ and his Hawks. He had already
received orders to come to the Hall at eleven to show me these birds
in their full dress. We visited next the hot-houses, where roses were
blooming most sweetly, and then following a brook reached the Hall
about ten. The ladies were in the drawing-room, and the Earl came in,
when we went to breakfast. Neither at this meal nor at luncheon are
seen any waiters. The meal over, all was bustle in the drawing-room;
chalks, crayons, papers, all required was before me in a few minutes,
and I began to give the Countess a most unnecessary lesson, for she
drew much better than I did; but I taught her how to rub with cork,
and prepare for water-color. The Earl sat by watching us, and then
asked to see my drawings again. The falconer came, and I saw the
Falcons ready for the chase. He held the birds on his gloved hands,
with bells and hoods and crests; but the morning was not fit for a
flight, so I lost that pleasure. The Countess asked for my
subscription book and wrote with a steel pen, "The Countess of
Morton;" she wished to pay for the first number now, but this I
declined. She promised me letters for England, with which offer I was
much pleased. Desiring some fresh Pheasants for my work, she
immediately ordered some killed for me. After luncheon I walked out to
see a herd of over a hundred brown Deer, that like sheep were feeding
within a few hundred paces of the Hall. I approached quite close to
them, and saw that many had shed their horns; they scampered off when
they sighted me, knowing perhaps what a hunter I was! Lady Morton
wished me to remain longer, but as I had promised to dine with Captain
Hall I could not do so; it was therefore decided that I should return
next week to spend another night and give another lesson. My ride to
Edinburgh was soon over, and a letter and a book from Charles
Bonaparte were at my lodgings. Captain Hall told me at dinner that he
was a midshipman on board the Leander when Pierce was killed off New
York, and when I was on my way from France, when our captain, seeing
the British vessel, wore about round Long Island and reached New York
by Hell Gate. There is a curious notice about me by Professor Wilson
in "Blackwood's Magazine."
_Friday, December 29._ I painted all day, and did this most happily
and cheerfully, for I had received two long letters from my Lucy, of
October 14 and 23. The evening was spent with Captain Hall, Mr.
Lizars, and his brother.
_Saturday, December 30._ So stormy a day that I have not been
disturbed by visitors, nor have I been out, but painted all day.
_Sunday, December 31._ This evening I dined at Captain Hall's,
especially for the purpose of being introduced to Francis Jeffrey, the
principal writer in the "Edinburgh Review." Following the advice given
me I did not take my watch, lest it should be stolen from me on my
return, for I am told this is always a turbulent night in Edinburgh.
Captain Hall and his wife received me with their usual cordiality, and
we were soon joined by Mr. McCulloch, a writer on Political Economy
and a plain, agreeable man. Then Francis Jeffrey and his wife entered;
he is a small (not to say tiny) being, with a woman under one arm and
a hat under the other. He bowed very seriously indeed, so much so
that I conceived him to be fully aware of his weight in society. His
looks were shrewd, but I thought his eyes almost cunning. He talked a
great deal and very well, yet I did not like him; but he may prove
better than I think, for this is only my first impression. Mrs.
Jeffrey was nervous and very much dressed. If I mistake not Jeffrey
was shy of me, and I of him, for he has used me very cavalierly. When
I came I brought a letter of introduction to him; I called on him,
and, as he was absent, left the letter and my card. When my exhibition
opened I enclosed a card of admittance to him, with another of my own
cards. He never came near me, and I never went near him; for if _he_
was Jeffrey, _I_ was Audubon, and felt quite independent of all the
tribe of Jeffreys in England, Scotland, and Ireland, put together.
This evening, however, he thanked me for my card politely. At dinner
he sat opposite to me and the conversation was on various topics.
America, however, was hardly alluded to, as whenever Captain Hall
tried to bring that country into our talk, Mr. Jeffrey most skilfully
brought up something else. After coffee had been served Mr. Jeffrey
made some inquiries about my work, and at ten I took my leave, having
positively seen the little man whose fame is so great both in Scotland
and abroad. I walked home briskly; this was the eve of a New Year, and
in Edinburgh they tell me it is rather a dangerous thing to be late in
the streets, for many vagabonds are abroad at this time, and murders
and other fearful deeds take place. To prevent these as far as
possible, the watch is doubled, and an unusual quantity of gas-lights
are afforded. I reached my room, sat down and outlined a Pheasant, to
save daylight to-morrow, and was about going to bed, when Mrs. Dickie
came in and begged I would wait till twelve o'clock to take some toddy
with her and Miss Campbell, my American boarding companion, to wish
all a happy New Year. I did so, of course, and had I sat up all night,
and written, or drawn, or sat thinking by my fire, I should have done
as well, for the noise kept increasing in the streets, and the
confusion was such that until morning I never closed my eyes. At early
morning this first day of January, 1827, I received from Captain Hall
three volumes of his voyages, and from the Countess of Morton four
beautiful Pheasants and a basket of rare hot-house flowers.
* * * * *
_Edinburgh, January 1, 1827, Monday._[110] A Happy New Year to you, my
book. Bless me! how fair you look this very cold day. Which way, pray,
are you travelling? Travelling wherever chance or circumstance may
lead you? Well, I will take you for my companion, and we will talk
together on all kinds of subjects, and you will help me to remember,
for my memory is bad, very bad. I never can recollect the name of an
enemy, for instance; it is only my friends whom I can remember, and to
write down somewhat of their kind treatment of me is a delight I love
to enjoy.
_January 6, Saturday._ Ever since the first day of this month I have
been most closely engaged at my painting of the "Pheasants Attacked by
a Fox." I have, however, spent another day and night at Dalmahoy. I
have written a long paper for the Wernerian Society on the habits of
Alligators, and am always very weary at night.
_January 7._ I keep at my painting closely, and for a wonder was
visited by Dr. Bridges. I have labored hard, but my work is bad; some
inward feeling tells me when it is good. No one, I think, paints in my
method; I, who have never studied but by piecemeal, form my pictures
according to my ways of study. For instance, I am now working on a
Fox; I take one neatly killed, put him up with wires, and when
satisfied of the truth of the position, I take my palette and work as
rapidly as possible; the same with my birds. If practicable, I finish
the bird at one sitting,--often, it is true, of fourteen hours,--so
that I think they are correct, both in detail and composition.
_Monday, 8th._ I rose this morning two and a half hours before day,
and wrote much before breakfast. Thanks to my good spirit not a soul
called upon me this day, and I brushed away without losing a moment of
the precious light of these short days. This evening I saw my plate of
the Wild Turkey, and went to hear Captain Basil Hall lecture at the
Royal Society on the Trade Winds. The practical as well as theoretical
knowledge of this learned man rendered this a most valuable evening to
me. I was introduced to Mr. Perceval, the son of the King of England's
Secretary of State,[111] who was shamefully and barbarously murdered
some years since.
_Tuesday, 9th._ Mr. Hays, the Dalmahoy antiquarian, called on me, and
brought me a copy of Bewick's "Quadrupeds." At eight this evening I
went to the Society of Arts, of which I have been elected a member.
Here I saw a capital air-gun, and a steam-carriage in full motion; but
_I_ had to operate, and showed my manner of putting up my birds with
wires, and I positively shook so that I feared I should not be able to
proceed to the termination; this bashfulness is dreadful, how am I
ever to overcome it?
_January 10._ The weather has been most strange, at times so dark that
I could not see to paint, and suddenly the sun shone so brightly that
I was dazzled. It rained, it blew, it snowed; we have had all seasons.
A Mr. Buchanan from London came to see my work, and Professor Wilson
at the same time; both liked my painting, and strangely enough the two
had known each other twenty years ago. I went to the theatre to see
Miss Foote and Mr. Murray; both were much applauded, and the house was
crowded. I am very fond of the theatre; I think it the best of all
ways to spend an evening for _delassement_. I often find myself when
there laughing or crying like a child.
_January 11._ Scarce daylight at half-past seven, but I was up and
away with a coal porter and his cart into the country. I wanted some
large, rough stones for my foreground; this was my reason for my
excursion. I passed a small, dirty, and almost lost building, where
the union between Scotland and England was ratified. At one o'clock
Professor Russell called in his carriage with Mr. Lizars, then we went
to see a picture of the famous Hondekoeter. To me the picture was
destitute of _life_; the animals seemed to me to be drawn from poorly
stuffed specimens, but the coloring, the finish, the manner, the
effect, was most beautiful, and but for the lack of Nature in the
animals was a picture which commanded admiration and attention. Would
that I could _paint_ like Hondekoeter! At eight I went to the
Phrenological Society, and may safely say that never before was I in
such company; the deepest philosophers in this city of learning were
there, and George Combe read an essay on the mental powers of man, as
illustrated by phrenological researches, that astounded me; it lasted
one and a half hours, and will remain in my mind all my life.
_January 12._ My painting has now arrived at the difficult point. To
finish highly without destroying the general effect, or to give the
general effect and care not about the finishing? I am quite puzzled.
Sometimes I like the picture, then a heat rises to my face and I think
it a miserable daub. This is the largest piece I have ever done; as to
the birds, as far as _they_ are concerned I am quite satisfied, but
the ground, the foliage, the sky, the distance are dreadful. To-day I
was so troubled about this that at two o'clock, when yet a good hour
of daylight remained, I left it in disgust, and walked off to Dr.
Bridges. I passed on my way the place where a man was murdered the
night before last; a great multitude of people were looking at the
spot, gazing like fools, for there was nothing to be seen. How is it
that our sages tell us our species is much improved? If we murder now
in cool blood, and in a most terrifying way, our brother, we are not a
jot forward since the time of Cain.
_January 13._ Painted five hours, and at two o'clock accompanied by
Mr. Lizars, reached the University and entered the rooms of the
Wernerian Society with a paper on the habits of Alligators in my
pocket, to be read to the members and visitors present. This I read
after the business of the meeting had been transacted, and, thank God,
after the effort of once beginning, I went on unfalteringly to the
end. In the evening I went with Mr. Lizars to see "As You Like It."
Miss Foote performed and also Mr. Murray, but the house was so crowded
that I could scarce see.
_January 14._ Could not work on my picture, for I have no white
Pheasant for a key-stone of light, but Professor Jameson called and
said he would write for one for me to the Duke of Buccleugh. After
receiving many callers I went to Mr. O'Neill's to have a cast taken of
my head. My coat and neckcloth were taken off, my shirt collar turned
down, I was told to close my eyes; Mr. O'Neill took a large brush and
oiled my whole face, the almost liquid plaster of Paris was poured
over it, as I sat uprightly till the whole was covered; my nostrils
only were exempt. In a few moments the plaster had acquired the
needful consistency, when it was taken off by pulling it down gently.
The whole operation lasted hardly five minutes; the only inconvenience
felt was the weight of the material pulling downward over my sinews
and flesh. On my return from the Antiquarian Society that evening, I
found _my face_ on the table, an excellent cast.
_January 17 to Sunday, 21st._ John Syme, the artist, asked me if I did
not wish to become an associate member of the _Scottish Artists_. I
answered, "Yes." I have promised to paint a picture of Black Cock for
their exhibition, and with that view went to market, where for fifteen
shillings I purchased two superb males and one female. I have been
painting pretty much all day and every day. Among my visitors I have
had the son of Smollett, the great writer, a handsome young gentleman.
Several noblemen came to see my Pheasants, and all promised me a
_white_ one. Professor Russell called and read me a letter from Lord
----, _giving me leave_ to see the pictures at his hall, but I, poor
Audubon, go nowhere without an _invitation_.
_January 22, Monday._ I was painting diligently when Captain Hall came
in, and said: "Put on your coat, and come with me to Sir Walter Scott;
he wishes to see you _now_." In a moment I was ready, for I really
believe my coat and hat came to me instead of my going to them. My
heart trembled; I longed for the meeting, yet wished it over. Had not
his wondrous pen penetrated my soul with the consciousness that here
was a genius from God's hand? I felt overwhelmed at the thought of
meeting Sir Walter, the Great Unknown. We reached the house, and a
powdered waiter was asked if Sir Walter were in.[112] We were shown
forward at once, and entering a very small room Captain Hall said:
"Sir Walter, I have brought Mr. Audubon." Sir Walter came forward,
pressed my hand warmly, and said he was "glad to have the honor of
meeting me." His long, loose, silvery locks struck me; he looked like
Franklin at his best. He also reminded me of Benjamin West; he had
the great benevolence of Wm. Roscoe about him, and a kindness most
prepossessing. I could not forbear looking at him, my eyes feasted on
his countenance. I watched his movements as I would those of a
celestial being; his long, heavy, white eyebrows struck me forcibly.
His little room was tidy, though it partook a good deal of the
character of a laboratory. He was wrapped in a quilted morning-gown of
light purple silk; he had been at work writing on the "Life of
Napoleon." He writes close lines, rather curved as they go from left
to right, and puts an immense deal on very little paper. After a few
minutes had elapsed he begged Captain Hall to ring a bell; a servant
came and was asked to bid Miss Scott come to see Mr. Audubon. Miss
Scott came, black-haired and black-dressed, not handsome but said to
be highly accomplished, and she is the daughter of Sir Walter Scott.
There was much conversation. I talked little, but, believe me, I
listened and observed, careful if ignorant. I cannot write more
now.--I have just returned from the Royal Society. Knowing that I was
a candidate for the electorate of the society, I felt very
uncomfortable and would gladly have been hunting on Tawapatee Bottom.
[Illustration: AUDUBON.
From the portrait by Henry Inman. Now in the possession of the
family.]
_January 23, Tuesday._ My first visitor was Mr. Hays the antiquarian,
who needed my assistance, or rather my knowledge of French in the
translation of a passage relating to "le droit du seigneur." Dr. Combe
called later and begged me to go to Mr. Joseph, the sculptor, with
him, and through a great fall of snow we went through Windsor Street,
one of the handsomest in this beautiful city. Mr. Joseph was in, and I
saw an uncommonly good bust of Sir Walter, one of Lord Morton, and
several others. I have powerfully in my mind to give my picture of the
"Trapped Otter" to Mrs. Basil Hall, and, by Washington, I will. No one
deserves it more, and I cannot receive so many favors without trying
to make some return.
_January 24._ My second visit to Sir Walter Scott was much more
agreeable than my first. My portfolio and its contents were matters on
which I could speak substantially,[113] and I found him so willing to
level himself with me for a while that the time spent at his home was
agreeable and valuable. His daughter improved in looks the moment she
spoke, having both vivacity and good sense.
_January 28._ Yesterday I had so many visitors that I was quite
fatigued; my rooms were full all the time, yet I work away as if they
were so many cabbages, except for a short time taken to show them a
few drawings, give them chairs, and other civil attentions. In the
evening I went to the theatre to see the "Merchant of Venice;" the
night was violently stormy, the worst I remember for years. I thought
of the poor sailors, what hard lives they have.
_January 30, Tuesday._ The days begin to show a valuable augmentation.
I could this morning begin work at eight, and was still at my easel at
four. A man may do a good deal on a painting in eight hours provided
he has the power of laying the true tints at once, and does not muddy
his colors or need glazing afterwards. Now a query arises. Did the
ancient artists and colorists ever glaze their work? I sometimes think
they did not, and I am inclined to think thus because their work is of
great strength of standing, and extremely solid and confirmed on the
canvas--a proof with me that they painted clean and bright at once,
but that this _once_ they repeated, perhaps, as often as three times.
Glazing certainly is a beautiful way of effecting transparency,
particularly over shadowy parts, but I frequently fear the coating
being so thin, and that time preys on these parts more powerfully than
on those unglazed, so that the work is sooner destroyed by its
application than without it. I am confident Sir Joshua Reynolds'
pictures fade so much in consequence of his constant glazing. Lord
Hay, who has only one arm, called this morning, and promised me White
Pheasants by Saturday morning. So many people have called that I have
not put a foot out to-day.
_January 31, Wednesday._ I had the delight of receiving letters from
home to-day; how every word carried me to my beloved America. Oh, that
I could be with you and see those magnificent forests, and listen to
sweet Wood Thrushes and the Mock-Birds so gay!
_February 1._ I have just finished a picture of Black Cock sunning and
dusting themselves, with a view in the background of Loch Lomond, nine
feet by six, for which I am offered two hundred guineas. It will be
exhibited at the Royal Institute rooms next week, and the picture of
the Pheasants, the same size, at the Scottish Society of Artists, of
which I am now an associate member.
_February 5._ None of my promised White Pheasants have come, but I
have determined the picture shall be finished if I have to paint in a
black Crow instead. Dr. Brewster spoke to me of a camera lucida to
enable me to outline birds with great rapidity. I would like such an
instrument if merely to save time in hot weather, when outlining
correctly is more than half the work. At eight o'clock I entered the
rooms of the Royal Society. I opened my large sheets and laid them on
the table; the astonishment of every one was great, and I saw with
pleasure many eyes look from them to me. The business of the society
was then done behind closed doors; but when these were opened and we
were called into the great room, Captain Hall, taking my hand, led me
to a seat immediately opposite to Sir Walter Scott; then, Lucy, I had
a perfect view of that great man, and I studied from Nature Nature's
noblest work. After a lecture on the introduction of the Greek
language into England, the president, Sir Walter, rose and we all
followed his example. Sir Walter came to me, shook my hand cordially,
and asked me how the cold weather of Edinburgh agreed with me. This
mark of attention was observed by other members, who looked at me as
if I had been a distinguished stranger.
_February 9._ I have been, and am yet, greatly depressed, yet why I am
so it is impossible for me to conceive, unless it be that slight
vexations, trifling in themselves, are trying to me, because, alas! I
am only a very, very common man. I dined to-night at Professor
Jameson's, and as my note said "with a few friends," was surprised to
find thirty besides myself. The engineer, Mr. S----, was here, and
many other noted men, including the famous Professor Leslie,[114] an
enormous mass of flesh and an extremely agreeable man, who had been in
Virginia many years ago, but recollects those days well.
_February 10._ I visited the Royal Institution this morning, and saw
my Black Cocks over the first of the first-room doors. I know well
that the birds are drawn as well as any birds ever have been; but what
a difference exists between drawing one bird or a dozen and
amalgamating them with a sky, a landscape, and a well adapted
foreground. Who has not felt a sense of fear while trying to combine
all this? I looked at my work long, then walked round the room, when
my eyes soon reached a picture by Landseer, the death of a stag. I saw
much in it of the style of those men who know how to handle a brush
and carry a good effect; but Nature was not there, although a Stag,
three dogs, and a Highlander were introduced on the canvas. The Stag
had his tongue out and his mouth shut! The principal dog, a greyhound,
held the Deer by one ear just as if a loving friend; the young hunter
has laced the Deer by one horn very prettily, and in the attitude of a
ballet-dancer was about to cast the noose over the head of the animal.
To me, or to my friends Dr. Pope or Mr. Bourgeat such a picture is
quite a farce; not so here however. Many other pictures drew my
attention, and still more so the different artists who came in with
brushes and palettes _to tickle their pictures_. I was to read a paper
at the Wernerian Society on the Rattlesnake, but had not had time to
finish it; nevertheless I went to the society rooms, which were
crowded. I was sorry I was not prepared to read to those assembled
that a Rattlesnake rattled his tail, not to give knowledge to man of
his presence, but because he never strikes without rattling, and that
destitute of that appendage he cannot strike at all. The wind blows a
doleful tune and I feel utterly alone.
_Monday, February 12._ Mr. Lizars insisted on my going to the
Antiquarian Society, saying it was usual for a member newly elected to
be present on the first occasion possible. I went, of course, but felt
very sheepish withal. We had an excellent paper by Mr. Hays respecting
a bell found in Argyle, of very ancient date.