get light, I presently recollected I was in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and
recalled the name of Smollett, no mean man, by the bye, and remembered
his eulogium of the extraordinary fine view he obtained when
travelling on foot from London to this place, looking up the Tyne from
Isbet Hill, and I said, "If Smollett admired the prospect, I can too,"
and leaped from my bed as a hare from his form on newly ploughed
ground at the sound of the sportsman's bugle, or the sight of the
swift greyhound. I ran downstairs, out-of-doors, and over the Tyne, as
if indeed a pack of jackals had been after me. Two miles is nothing to
me, and I ascended the hill where poor Isbet, deluded by a wretched
woman, for her sake robbed the mail, and afterwards suffered death on
a gibbet; and saw--the sea! Far and wide it extended; the Tyne led to
it, with its many boats with their coaly burdens. Up the river the
view was indeed enchanting; the undulating meadows sloped gently to
the water's edge on either side, and the Larks that sprang up before
me, welcoming the sun's rise, animated my thoughts so much that I
felt tears trickling down my cheeks as I gave praise to the God who
gave life to all these in a day. There was a dew on the ground, the
bees were gathering honey from the tiniest flowerets, and here and
there the Blackbird so shy sought for a fibrous root to entwine his
solid nest of clay. Lapwings, like butterflies of a larger size,
passed wheeling and tumbling over me through the air, and had not the
dense smoke from a thousand engines disturbed the peaceful harmony of
Nature, I might have been there still, longing for my Lucy to partake
of the pleasure with me. But the smoke recalled me to my work, and I
turned towards Newcastle. So are all transient pleasures followed by
sorrows, except those emanating from the adoration of the Supreme
Being. It was still far from breakfast time; I recrossed the Tyne and
ascended the east bank for a couple of miles before returning to my
lodgings. The morning afterward was spent as usual. I mean, holding up
drawings to the company that came in good numbers. _Morning_ here is
the time from ten to five, and I am told that in London it sometimes
lengthens to eight of the evening as we term it. Among these visitors
was a Mr. Donkin, who remained alone with me when the others had left,
and we had some conversation; he is an advocate, or, as I would call
it, a chancellor. He asked me to take a bachelor's dinner with him at
five; I accepted, and he then proposed we should drive out and see a
house he was building two miles in the country. I again found myself
among the rolling hills, and we soon reached his place. I found a
beautiful, low house of stone, erected in the simplest style
imaginable, but so well arranged and so convenient that I felt
satisfied he was a man of taste as well as wealth. Garden, grounds,
all was in perfect harmony, and the distant views up and down the
river, the fine woods and castle, all came in place,--not to satiate
the eye, but to induce it to search for further beauties. On returning
to town Mr. Donkin showed me the old mansion where poor Charles the
First was delivered up to be beheaded. He could have escaped through a
conduit to the river, where a boat was waiting, but the conduit was
all darkness and his heart failed him. Now I should say that he had no
heart, and was very unfit for a king. At Mr. Donkin's house I was
presented to his partners, and we had a good dinner; the conversation
ran much on politics, and they supported the King and Mr. Canning. I
left early, as I had promised to take a cup of tea with old Bewick.
The old gentleman was seated as usual with his night-cap on, and his
tobacco pouch in one hand ready to open; his countenance beamed with
pleasure as I shook hands with him. "I could not bear the idea of your
going off without telling you in written words what I think of your
'Birds of America;' here it is in black and white, and make whatever
use you may of it, if it be of use at all," he said, and put an
unsealed letter in my hand. We chatted away on natural-history
subjects, and he would now and then exclaim: "Oh that I was young[122]
again! I would go to America. What a country it will be." "It is now,
Mr. Bewick," I would retort, and then we went on. The young ladies
enjoyed the sight and remarked that for years their father had not had
such a flow of spirits.
_April 19._ This morning I paid a visit of farewell to Mr. Bewick and
his family; as we parted he held my hand closely and repeated three
times, "God preserve you." I looked at him in such a manner that I am
sure he understood I could not speak. I walked slowly down the hilly
lane, and thought of the intrinsic value of this man to the world, and
compared him with Sir Walter Scott. The latter will be forever the
most eminent in station, being undoubtedly the most learned and most
brilliant of the two; but Thomas Bewick is a son of Nature. Nature
alone has reared him under her peaceful care, and he in gratitude of
heart has copied one department of her works that must stand
unrivalled forever; I say "forever" because imitators have only a
share of real merit, compared with inventors, and Thomas Bewick is an
inventor, and _the first wood-cutter in the world_! These words,
"first wood-cutter" would, I dare say, raise the ire of many of our
hearty squatters, who, no doubt, on hearing me express myself so
strongly, would take the axe, and fell down an enormous tree whilst
talking about it; but the moment I would explain to them that each of
their chips would produce under his chisel a mass of beauties, the
good fellows would respect him quite as much as I do. My room was
filled all day with people to see my works and _me_ whom some one had
said resembled in physiognomy Napoleon of France. Strange simile this,
but I care not whom I resemble, if it be only in looks, if my heart
preserves the love of the truth.
_Saturday, April 21._ I am tired out holding up drawings, I may say,
all day; but have been rewarded by an addition of five subscribers to
my work. Am off to-morrow to York. God bless thee, my Lucy.
_York, Sunday, April 22, 1827._ Left Newcastle at eight; the weather
cold and disagreeable, still I preferred a seat on top to view the
country. Passed through Durham, a pretty little town with a handsome
castle and cathedral, planted on an elevated peninsula formed by a
turn of the river Wear, and may be seen for many miles. It is a
rolling country, and the river wound about among the hills; we crossed
it three times on stone bridges. Darlington, where we changed horses,
is a neat, small place, supported by a set of very industrious
Quakers; much table linen is manufactured here. As we approached York
the woods became richer and handsomer, and trees were dispersed all
over the country; it looked once more like England, and the hedges
reminded me of those about "Green Bank." They were larger and less
trimmed than in Scotland. I saw York Minster six or seven miles
before reaching the town, that is entered by old gates. The streets
are disgustingly crooked and narrow, and crossed like the burrows of a
rabbit-warren. I was put down at the Black Swan. Though the coach was
full, not a word had been spoken except an occasional oath at the
weather, which was indeed very cold; and I, with all the other
passengers, went at once to the fires. Anxious to find lodgings _not_
at the Black Swan, I went to Rev. Wm. Turner, son of a gentleman I had
met at Newcastle, for information. His father had prepared him for my
visit at my request, and I was soon installed at Mrs. Pulleyn's in
Blake Street. My present landlady's weight, in ratio with that of her
husband, is as one pound avoirdupois to one ounce apothecary! She
looks like a round of beef, he like a farthing candle. Oh that I were
in Louisiana, strolling about the woods, looking in the gigantic
poplars for new birds and new flowers!
_April 23, Monday._ The weather looked more like approaching winter
than spring; indeed snow fell at short intervals, and it rained, and
was extremely cold and misty. Notwithstanding the disagreeable
temperature, I have walked a good deal. I delivered my letters as
early as propriety would allow, but found no one in; at least I was
told so, for beyond that I cannot say with any degree of accuracy I
fear. The Rev. Mr. Turner called with the curator of the Museum, to
whom I showed some drawings. After my dinner, eaten _solus_, I went
out again; the Minster is undoubtedly the finest piece of ancient
architecture I have seen since I was in France, if my recollection
serves me. I walked round and round it for a long time, examining its
height, form, composition, and details, until my neck ached. The
details are wonderful indeed,--all cut of the same stone that forms
the mass outwardly. Leaving it and going without caring about my
course, I found myself in front of an ancient castle,[123] standing on
a mound, covered with dark ivy, fissured by time and menacing its
neighborhood with an appearance of all tumbling down at no remote
period. I turned east and came to a pretty little stream called the
Ouse, over which I threw several pebbles by way of exercise. On the
west bank I found a fine walk, planted with the only trees of size I
have seen in this country; it extended about half a mile. Looking up
the stream a bridge of fine stone is seen, and on the opposite shores
many steam mills were in operation. I followed down this mighty stream
till the road gave out, and, the grass being very wet and the rain
falling heavily, I returned to my rooms. York is much cleaner than
Newcastle, and I remarked more Quakers; but alas! how far both these
towns are below fair Edinburgh. The houses here are low, covered with
tiles, and sombre-looking. No birds have I seen except Jackdaws and
Rooks. To my surprise my host waited upon me at supper; when he enters
my room I think of Scroggins' ghost. I have spent my evening reading
"Blackwood's Magazine."
_April 24._ How doleful has this day been to me! It pleased to rain,
and to snow, and to blow cold all day. I called on Mr. Phillips, the
curator of the Museum, and he assured me that the society was too poor
to purchase my work. I spent the evening by invitation at the Rev. Wm.
Turner's in company with four other gentlemen. Politics and
emancipation were the chief topics of conversation. How much more good
would the English do by revising their own intricate laws, and
improving the condition of their poor, than by troubling themselves
and their distant friends with what does not concern them. I feel
nearly determined to push off to-morrow, and yet it would not do; I
may be wrong, and to-morrow may be fairer to me in every way; but this
"hope deferred" is a very fatiguing science to study. I could never
make up my mind to live and die in England whilst the sweet-scented
jessamine and the magnolias flourish so purely in my native land, and
the air vibrates with the songs of the sweet birds.
_April 25._ I went out of the house pretty soon this morning; it was
cold and blowing a strong breeze. I pushed towards the river with an
idea of following it downwards two hours by my watch, but as I walked
along I saw a large flock of Starlings, at a time when I thought all
birds were paired, and watched their motions for some time, and
thereby drew the following conclusion, namely: that the bird commonly
called the Meadow Lark with us is more nearly related to the Starling
of this country than to any other bird. I was particularly surprised
that a low note, resembling the noise made by a wheel not well
greased, was precisely the same in both, that the style of their walk
and gait was also precisely alike, and that in _short_ flights the
movement of the wings had the same tremulous action before they
alighted. Later I had visitors to see my pictures, possibly fifty or
more. It has rained and snowed to-day, and I feel as dull as a Martin
surprised by the weather. It will be strange if York gives me no
subscribers, when I had eight at Newcastle. Mr. P---- called and told
me it would be well for me to call personally on the nobility and
gentry in the neighborhood and take some drawings with me. I thanked
him, but told him that my standing in society did not admit of such
conduct, and that although there were lords in England, we of American
blood think ourselves their equals. He laughed, and said I was not as
much of a Frenchman as I looked.
_April 26._ I have just returned from a long walk out of town, on the
road toward Newcastle. The evening was calm, and the sunset clear. At
such an hour how often have I walked with my Lucy along the banks of
the Schuylkill, Perkiomen Creek, the Ohio River, or through the
fragrant woods of Louisiana; how often have we stopped short to admire
the works of the Creator; how often have we been delighted at hearing
the musical notes of the timid Wood Thrush, that appeared to give her
farewell melody to the disappearing day! We have looked at the
glittering fire-fly, heard the Whip-poor-will, and seen the vigilant
Owl preparing to search field and forest! Here the scene was not quite
so pleasing, though its charms brought youth and happiness to my
recollection. One or two Warblers perched on the eglantine, almost
blooming, and gave their little powers full vent. The shrill notes of
Thrushes (not ours) came from afar, and many Rooks with loaded bills
were making fast their way towards the nests that contained their
nearly half-grown offspring. The cattle were treading heavily towards
their pens, and the sheep gathered to the lee of each protecting
hedge. To-day have I had a great number of visitors, and three
subscribers.
_April 27._ A long walk early, and then many visitors, Mr. Vernon[124]
among them, who subscribed for my work. All sorts of people come. If
Matthews the comic were now and then to present himself at my levees,
how he would act the scenes over. I am quite worn out; I think
sometimes my poor arms will give up their functions before I secure
five hundred subscribers.
_Saturday, 28th._ During my early walk along the Ouse I saw a large
butterfly, quite new to me, and attempted to procure it with a stroke
of my cane; but as I whirled it round, off went the scabbard into the
river, more than half across, and I stood with a naked small sword as
if waiting for a duel. I would have swam out for it, but that there
were other pedestrians; so a man in a boat brought it to me for
sixpence. I have had a great deal of company, and five subscribers.
Mr. Wright took me all over the Minster, and also on the roof. We had
a good spy-glass, and I had an astonishing view of the spacious vales
that surround the tile-covered city of York. I could easily follow the
old walls of defence. It made me giddy to look directly down, as a
great height is always unpleasant to me. Now I have packed up, paid
an enormous bill to my landlady.
_Leeds, Sunday, April 28._ The town of Leeds is much superior to
anything I have seen since Edinburgh, and I have been walking till I
feel quite exhausted. I breakfasted in York at five this morning; the
coach did not start till six, so I took my refreshing walk along the
Ouse. The weather was extremely pleasant; I rode outside, but the
scenery was little varied, almost uniformly level, well cultivated,
but poor as to soil. I saw some "game" as every bird is called here. I
was amused to see the great interest which was excited by a covey of
Partridges. What would be said to a gang of Wild Turkeys,--several
hundred trotting along a sand-bar of the Upper Mississippi? I reached
Leeds at half-past nine, distant from York, I believe, twenty-six
miles. I found lodgings at once at 39 Albion Street, and then started
with my letters.
_April 30._ Were I to conclude from first appearances as to the amount
of success I may expect here, compared with York, by the difference of
attention paid me at both places so soon after my arrival, I should
certainly expect much more here; for no sooner was breakfast over than
Mr. Atkinson called, to be followed by Mr. George and many others,
among them a good ornithologist,[125]--not a _closet naturalist_, but
a real true-blue, who goes out at night and watches Owls and
Night-jars and Water-fowl to some purpose, and who knows more about
these things than any other man I have met in Europe. This evening I
took a long walk by a small stream, and as soon as out of sight
undressed and took a dive smack across the creek; the water was so
extremely cold that I performed the same feat back again and dressed
in a hurry; my flesh was already quite purple. Following the stream I
found some gentlemen catching minnows with as much anxiety as if large
trout, playing the little things with beautiful lines and wheels.
Parallel to this stream is a canal; the adjacent country is rolling,
with a number of fine country-seats. I wish I had some one to go to in
the evenings like friend Lizars.
_May 1, 1827._ This is the day on which last year I left my Lucy and
my boys with intention to sail for Europe. How uncertain my hopes at
that time were as to the final results of my voyage,--about to leave a
country where most of my life had been spent devoted to the study of
Nature, to enter one wholly unknown to me, without a friend, nay, not
an acquaintance in it. Until I reached Edinburgh I despaired of
success; the publication of a work of enormous expense, and the length
of time it must necessarily take; to accomplish the whole has been
sufficient to keep my spirits low, I assure thee. Now I feel like
beginning a New Year. My work is about to be known, I have made a
number of valuable and kind friends, I have been received by men of
science on friendly terms, and now I have a hope of success if I
continue to be honest, industrious, and consistent. My pecuniary means
are slender, but I hope to keep afloat, for my tastes are simple; if
only I can succeed in rendering thee and our sons happy, not a moment
of sorrow or discomfort shall I regret.
_May 2._ Mr. George called very early, and said that his colleague,
the Secretary of the Literary and Philosophical Society, would call
and subscribe, and he has done so. I think I must tell thee how every
one stares when they read on the first engraving that I present for
their inspection this name: "The Bonaparte Fly-catcher"--the very bird
I was anxious to name the "Rathbone Fly-catcher" in honor of my
excellent friend "Lady" Rathbone, but who refused to accept this
little mark of my gratitude. I afterwards meant to call it after thee,
but did not, because the world is so strangely composed just now that
I feared it would be thought childish; so I concluded to call it after
my friend Charles Bonaparte. Every one is struck by the name, so
explanations take place, and the good people of England will know him
as a great naturalist, and my friend. I intend to name, one after
another, every one of my new birds, either for some naturalist
deserving this honor, or through a wish to return my thanks for
kindness rendered me. Many persons have called, quite a large party at
one time, led by Lady B----. I am sorry to say I find it generally
more difficult to please this class of persons than others, and I feel
in consequence more reserved in their presence, I can scarcely say
why. I walked out this evening to see Kirkstall Abbey, or better say
the ruins of that ancient edifice. It is about three miles out of
Leeds and is worthy the attention of every traveller. It is situated
on the banks of the little river Ayre, the same I bathed in, and is
extremely romantic in its appearance, covered with ivy, and having
sizable trees about and amongst its walls. The entrance is defended by
a board on which is painted: "Whoever enters these ruins, or damages
them in the least, will be prosecuted with all the rigor of the law."
I did not transgress, and soon became very cautious of my steps, for
immediately after, a second board assured every one that spring-guns
and steel-traps are about the gardens. However, no entreaty having
been expressed to prevent me from sketching the whole, I did so on the
back of one of my cards for thee. From that spot I heard a Cuckoo cry,
for I do not, like the English, call it singing. I attempted to
approach the bird, but in vain; I believe I might be more successful
in holding a large Alligator by the tail. Many people speak in
raptures of the sweet voice of the Cuckoo, and the same people tell me
in cold blood that we have no birds that can sing in America. I wish
they had a chance to judge of the powers of the Mock-bird, the Red
Thrush, the Cat-bird, the Oriole, the Indigo Bunting, and even the
Whip-poor-will. What would they say of a half-million of Robins about
to take their departure for the North, making our woods fairly tremble
with melodious harmony? But these pleasures are not to be enjoyed in
manufacturing towns like Leeds and Manchester; neither can any one
praise a bird who sings by tuition, like a pupil of Mozart, as a few
Linnets and Starlings do, and that no doubt are here taken as the
foundation stone of the singing powers allotted to European birds
generally. Well, is not this a long digression for thee? I dare say
thou art fatigued enough at it, and so am I.
_May 3._ Until two o'clock this day I had only one visitor, Mr. John
Marshall, a member of Parliament to whom I had a letter; he told me he
knew nothing at all about birds, but most generously subscribed,
because, he told me, it was such a work as every one ought to possess,
and to encourage enterprise. This evening I dined with the Messrs.
Davy, my old friends of Mill Grove; the father, who for many months
has not left his bed-chamber, desired to see me. We had not met since
1810, but he looked as fresh as when I last saw him, and is
undoubtedly the handsomest and noblest-looking man I have ever seen in
my life, excepting the Marquis de Dupont de Nemours. I have at Leeds
only five subscribers,--poor indeed compared with the little town of
York.
_May 5._ I breakfasted with young Mr. Davy, who after conducted me to
Mr. Marshall's mills. We crossed the Ayre in a ferry boat for a
half-penny each, and on the west bank stood the great works. The first
thing to see was the great engine, 150 horse-power, a stupendous
structure, and so beautiful in all its parts that no one could, I
conceive, stand and look at it without praising the ingenuity of man.
Twenty-five hundred persons of all ages and both sexes are here, yet
nothing is heard but the _burr_ of machinery. All is wonderfully
arranged; a good head indeed must be at the commander's post in such a
vast establishment.
_Manchester, May 6 1827._ My journey was uneventful and through the
rain. I reached Mr. Bentley's soon after noon, and we were both glad
to meet.
_May 7._ The rooms of the Natural History Society were offered to me,
to show my work, but hearing accidentally that the Royal Institution
of Manchester was holding an exhibition at the Messrs. Jackson's and
thinking that place better suited to me, I saw these gentlemen and was
soon installed there. I have had five subscribers. I searched for
lodgings everywhere, but in vain, and was debating what to do, when
Dr. Harlan's friend, Mr. E. W. Sergeant, met me, and insisted on my
spending my time under his roof. He would take no refusal, so I
accepted. How much kindness do I meet with everywhere. I have had much
running about and calling on different people, and at ten o'clock this
evening was still at Mr. Bentley's, not knowing where Mr. Sergeant
resided. Mr. Surr was so kind as to come with me in search of the
gentleman; we found him at home and he gave me his groom to go for my
portmanteau. Of course I returned to Mr. Bentley's again, and he
returned with me to see me safely lodged. Mr. Sergeant insisted on his
coming in; we had coffee, and sat some time conversing; it is now past
two of the morning.
_May 8._ I saw Mr. Gregg and the fair Helen of Quarry Bank this
morning; they met me with great friendship. I have saved myself much
trouble here by exhibiting no drawings, only the numbers of my work
now ready. Mr. Sergeant has purchased my drawing of the Doves for
twenty pounds.
_May 13, Sunday._ My time has been so completely occupied during each
day procuring subscribers, and all my evenings at the house of one or
another of my friends and acquaintances that my hours have been late,
and I have bidden thee good-night without writing it down.[126]
Manchester has most certainly retrieved its character, for I have had
eighteen subscribers in _one week_, which is more than anywhere else.
_Liverpool, Monday, May 14._ I breakfasted with my good friend
Bentley, and left in his care my box containing 250 drawings, to be
forwarded by the "caravan,"--the name given to covered coaches. I
cannot tell how extremely kind Mr. Sergeant has been to me during all
my stay. He exerted himself to procure subscribers as if the work had
been his own, and made my time at his house as pleasant as I could
desire. I was seated on top of the coach at ten o'clock, and at three
was put down safely at Dale St. I went immediately to the Institution,
where I found Mr. Munro. I did not like to go to Green Bank abruptly,
therefore shall spend the night where I am, but sent word to the
Rathbones I was here. I have called on Dr. Chorley and family, and Dr.
Traill; found all well and as kind as ever. At six Mr. Wm. Rathbone
came, and gave me good tidings of the whole family; I wait impatiently
for the morrow, to see friends all so dear.