three companions; I slept well after we stopped for supper at nine
o'clock, but not long enough. I cannot sleep in the morning, and was
awake four long hours before day. The moon, that had shone brightly,
sunk in the west as day dawned, the frost appeared thickly strewn over
the earth, and not a cloud was in sight. I saw a few flocks of
Partridges on their roost, which thou knowest well is on the ground,
with their heads all turned to east, from which a gentle waft of air
was felt; the cattle were lying here and there; a few large flocks of
Starlings were all that interested me. The dawn was clear, but before
we left Northampton it rained, snowed, and blew as if the elements had
gone mad; strange country, to be sure. The three gentlemen in the
coach with me suggested cards, and asked me to take a hand; of course
I said yes, but only on condition that they did not play for money, a
thing I have never done. They agreed very courteously, though
expressing their surprise, and we played whist all day, till I was
weary. I know little about cards, and never play unless obliged to by
circumstances; I feel no pleasure in the game, and long for other
occupation. Twenty-four hours after leaving Manchester, we stopped at
the Angel Inn, Islington Road. I missed my snuff all day; whenever my
hands went into my pockets in search of my box, and I discovered the
strength of habit, thus acting without thought, I blessed myself that
my mind was stronger than my body. I am again in London, but not
dejected and low of spirits and disheartened as I was when I came in
May last; no, indeed! I have now _friends_ in London, and hope to keep
them.
_95 Great Russell St., January 6._ I took a famous walk before day, up
to Primrose Hill, and was back before anyone in the house was up. I
have spent the whole day going over my drawings, and decided on the
twenty-five that are to form the numbers for 1828. The new birds I
have named as follows: Children,[138] Vigors,[139] Temminck,
Cuvier.[140] Havell came and saw the drawings; it gave him an idea of
the work to be performed between now and next January.
_January 8._ I have ordered one set of my birds to be colored by
Havell _himself_, for Congress, and the numbers already out will soon
be _en route_. My frame maker came in, and the poor man took it for
granted that I was _an artist_, but, dear me! what a mistake; I can
draw, but I shall never paint well. The weather is extremely dull and
gloomy; during the morning the light was of a deep yellow cast.
_January 9._ Had a long letter from John Chorley, and after some talk
with my good friend J. G. Children, have decided to write nothing more
except the biographies of my birds. It takes too much time to write to
this one and that one, to assure them that what I have written is
_fact_. When Nature as it is found in my beloved America is better
understood, these things will be known generally, and when I have been
dead twenty years, more or less, my statements will be accepted
everywhere; till then they may wait.[141] I have a violent cough and
sore throat that renders me heavy and stupid; twenty-five years ago I
would not have paid it the least attention; now I am told that at my
age and in this climate (which, God knows, is indeed a very bad one),
I may have trouble if I do not take some remedy. I walked out at four
this morning, but the air was thick and I did not enjoy it.
_January 10_. I am going to surprise thee. I had a dentist inspect my
teeth, as they ached; he thought it was the effect of my cold, as all
are quite perfect and I have never lost one. My throat continuing very
sore, I remained in my rooms, and have had Havell, Robert Sully, and
Mr. Children for companions.
_January 14._ I feel now much better, after several feverish days, but
have not moved from the house; every one of my friends show me much
kindness.
_January 17._ A long morning with Havell settling accounts; it is
difficult work for a man like me to see that I am neither cheating nor
cheated. All is paid for 1827, and I am well ahead in funds. Had I
made such regular settlements all my life, I should never have been
as poor a man as I have been; but on the other hand I should never
have published the "Birds of America." America! my country! Oh, to be
there!
_January 18._ Spent the morning with Dr. Lambert and Mr. Don,[142] the
famous botanist; we talked much of the plants and trees of America and
of Mr. Nuttall[143] while opening and arranging a great parcel of
dried plants from the Indies. This afternoon I took a cab and with my
portfolio went to Mr. Children's. I cannot, he tells me, take my
portfolio on my shoulder in London as I would in New York, or even
_tenacious_ Philadelphia.
_January 20._ Oh! how dull I feel; how long am I to be confined in
this immense jail? In London, amidst all the pleasures, I feel unhappy
and dull; the days are heavy, the nights worse. Shall I ever again see
and enjoy the vast forests in their calm purity, the beauties of
America? I wish myself anywhere but in London. _Why_ do I dislike
London? Is it because the constant evidence of the contrast between
the rich and the poor is a torment to me, or is it because of its size
and crowd? I know not, but I long for sights and sounds of a different
nature. Young Green came to ask me to go with him to see Regent's
Park, and we went accordingly, I rather an indifferent companion, I
fear, till we reached the bridge that crosses the waters there, where
I looked in vain for water-fowl. Failing to find any I raised my eyes
towards the peaceful new moon, and to my astonishment saw a large
flock of Wild Ducks passing over me; after a few minutes a second
flock passed, which I showed my young friend. Two flocks of Wild
Ducks, of upwards of twenty each! Wonderful indeed! I thought of the
many I have seen when bent on studying their habits, and grew more
homesick than ever.
_January 21._ Notwithstanding this constant darkness of mood, my
business must be attended to; therefore soon after dawn I joined
Havell and for many hours superintended his coloring of the plates for
Congress. While I am not a colorist, and Havell is a very superior
one, I _know_ the birds; would to God I was among them. From here I
went to find a bookseller named Wright, but I passed the place twice
because I looked too high for his sign; the same occurs to young
hunters, who, when first they tread the woods in search of a Deer,
keep looking high, and far in the distance, and so pass many a one of
these cunning animals, that, squatted in a parcel of dry brush-wood,
sees his enemy quite well, and suffers him to pass without bouncing
from his couch. The same instinct that leads me through woods struck
me in the Haymarket, and now I found Mr. Wright. Our interview over, I
made for Piccadilly, the weather as mild as summer, and the crowd
innumerable. Piccadilly was filled with carriages of all sorts, men on
horseback, and people everywhere; what a bustle!
_January 22._ I was so comfortless last night that I scarcely closed
my eyes, and at last dressed and walked off in the dark to Regent's
Park, led there because _there_ are some objects in the shape of
trees, the grass is green, and from time to time the sweet notes of a
Blackbird strike my ear and revive my poor heart, as it carries my
mind to the woods around thee, my Lucy. As daylight came a flock of
Starlings swept over my head, and I watched their motions on the green
turf where they had alighted, until I thought it time to return to
breakfast, and I entered my lodgings quite ready for my usual bowl of
bread and milk, which I still keep to for my morning meal; how often
have I partaken of it in simple cabins, much more to my taste than all
the pomp of London. Drawing all day long.
_January 23._ How delighted and pleased I have been this day at the
receiving of thy letter of the 1st of November last. My Lucy, thou art
so good to me, and thy advices are so substantial, that, rest assured,
I will follow them closely.
_January 24._ To my delight friend Bentley appeared this evening. I
was glad I could give him a room while he is in London. He brought
news of some fresh subscribers, and a letter from the Rev. D---- to
ask to be excused from continuing the work. Query: how many amongst my
now long list of subscribers will continue the work throughout?
_January 25._ I usually leave the house two hours before day for a
long walk; this morning it was again to Regent's Park; this gives me a
long day for my work. After breakfast Bentley and I paid a long visit
to Mr. Leadbeater, the great stuffer of birds. He was very cordial,
and showed us many beautiful and rare specimens; but they were all
_stuffed_, and I cannot bear them, no matter how well mounted they may
be. I received to-day a perpetual ticket of admission to Mr. Cross's
exhibition of quadrupeds, live birds, etc., which pleased me very
much, for there I can look upon Nature, even if confined in iron
cages. Bentley made me a present of a curiosity,--a "double penny"
containing a single one, a half-penny within that, a farthing in that,
and a silver penny within all. Now, my Lucy, who could have thought to
make a thing like that?
_January 26._ Of course my early walk. After breakfast, Bentley being
desirous to see Regent's Park, I accompanied him thither and we walked
all round it; I think it is rather more than a mile in diameter. We
saw a squadron of horse, and as I am fond of military manoeuvres,
and as the horses were all handsome, with full tails, well mounted and
managed, it was a fine sight, and we both admired it. We then went to
Mr. Cross, and I had the honor of riding on a very fine and gentle
elephant; I say "honor," because the immense animal was so well
trained and so obedient as to be an example to many human beings who
are neither. The Duchess of A---- came in while I was there,--a large,
very fat, red-faced woman, but with a sweet voice, who departed in a
coach drawn by four horses with two riders, and two footmen behind;
almost as much attendance as when she was a queen on the boards of
---- theatre, thirty years ago.
_January 28._ I received a letter from D. Lizars to-day announcing to
me the loss of four subscribers; but these things do not damp my
spirits half so much as the smoke of London. I am as dull as a beetle.
_January 31._ I have been in my room most of this day, and very dull
in this dark town.
_February 1, 1828._ Another Journal! It has now twenty-six
brothers;[144] some are of French manufacture, some from Gilpin's
"Mills on the Brandywine," some from other parts of America, but you
are positively a Londoner. I bought you yesterday from a man across
the street for fourteen shillings; and what I write in you is for my
wife, Lucy Audubon, a matchless woman, and for my two Kentucky lads,
whom I do fervently long to press to my heart again.
It has rained all day. Bentley and I paid a visit to the great
anatomist, Dr. J. Brookes,[145] to see his collection of skeletons of
divers objects. He received us with extreme kindness. I saw in his
yard some few rare birds. He was called away on sudden and important
business before we saw his museum, so we are to go on Monday. Mr.
Cross, of the Exeter Exchange, had invited Bentley and me to dinner
with his quadrupeds and bipeds, and at three o'clock we took a coach,
for the rain was too heavy for Bentley, and drove to the Menagerie.
Mr. Cross by no means deserves his name, for he is a pleasant man,
and we dined with his wife and himself and the keepers of the BEASTS
(name given by _men_ to quadrupeds). None of the company were very
polished, but all behaved with propriety and good humor, and I liked
it on many accounts. Mr. Cross conversed very entertainingly. Bentley
had two tickets for Drury Lane Theatre. It was "The Critic" again;
immediately after, as if in spite of that good lesson, "The Haunted
Inn" was performed, and the two gentlemen called _Matthews_ and
_Litton_ so annoyed me with their low wit that I often thought that,
could Shakespeare or Garrick be raised from their peaceful places of
rest, tears of sorrow would have run down their cheeks to see how
abused their darling theatre was this night. Bentley was more
fortunate than I, he went to sleep. At my rooms I found a little
circular piece of ivory with my name, followed by "and friends," and a
letter stating it was a perpetual ticket of admission to the
Zoological Gardens. This was sent at the request of Mr. Brookes.
_February 2._ Bentley and I went to the Gardens of the Zoological
Society, which are at the opposite end of Regent's Park from my
lodgings. The Gardens are quite in a state of infancy; I have seen
more curiosities in a swamp in America in one morning than is
collected here since eighteen months; all, however, is well planned,
clean, and what specimens they have are fine and in good condition. As
we were leaving I heard my name called, and turning saw Mr. Vigors
with a companion to whom he introduced me; it was the famous Captain
Sabine,[146] a tall, thin man, who at once asked me if among the
Eagles they had, any were the young of the White-headed Eagle, or as
he called the bird, the _Falco leucocephalus_. Strange that such great
men should ask a woodsman questions like that, which I thought could
be solved by either of them at a glance. I answered in the
affirmative, for I have seen enough of them to know.
_February 4._ I made a present to Bentley of the first number of my
work, and some loose prints for his brothers. Then we went to Mr.
Brookes, the surgeon, and saw his immense and wonderful collection of
anatomical subjects. The man has spent about the same number of years
at this work as I have at my own, and now offers it for sale at
L10,000. I then called on Vigors and told him I wished to name my new
bird in No. 6 after him, and he expressed himself well pleased. This
evening I took my portfolio to Soho Square and entered the rooms of
the Linnaean Society, where I found I was the first arrival. I examined
the various specimens till others came in. The meeting was called to
order, and I was shortly after elected a member; my drawings were
examined, and more than one told me it was a sad thing they were so
little known in London.
_February 7._ Havell brought me the sets he owed me for 1827, and I
paid him in full. Either through him or Mr. Lizars I have met with a
loss of nearly L100, for I am charged for fifty numbers more than can
be accounted for by my agents or myself. This seems strange always to
me, that people cannot be honest, but I must bring myself to believe
many are not, from my own experiences. My evening was spent in Bruton
Street, at the Zoological Society rooms, where Lord Stanley
accompanied me, with Lord Auckland and good old General Hardwicke, and
my portfolio was again opened and my work discussed.
_February 10._ This morning I took one of my drawings from my
portfolio and began to copy it, and intend to finish it in better
style. It is the White-headed Eagle which I drew on the Mississippi
some years ago, feeding on a Wild Goose; now I shall make it breakfast
on a Catfish, the drawing of which is also with me, with the marks of
the talons of another Eagle, which I disturbed on the banks of that
same river, driving him from his prey. I worked from seven this
morning till dark.
_February 11._ Precisely the same as yesterday, neither cross nor
dull, therefore, but perfectly happy.
_February 12._ Still hard at it, and this evening the objects on my
paper look more like a bird and a fish than like a windmill, as they
have done. Three more days and the drawing will be finished if I have
no interruptions.
_February 14._ No drawing to-day; no, indeed! At nine this morning I
was at the house of friend Hays, No. 21 Queen Street, to meet the
Secretary of the Colonial Department. Mr. Hays showed me a superb
figure of a Hercules in brass, found in France by a peasant while
ploughing, and for which L300 has been refused.
_February 16._ Yesterday I worked at my drawing all day, and began
this morning at seven, and worked till half-past four, only ceasing my
work to take a glass of milk brought me by my landlady. I have looked
carefully at the effect and the finishing. Ah! my Lucy, that I could
paint in oils as I can in my own style! How proud I should be, and
what handsome pictures I should soon have on hand.
_February 24._ I heard to-day of the death of Mrs. Gregg of Quarry
Bank. I was grieved to know that kind lady, who had showed me much
hospitality, should have died; I have hesitated to write to her
son-in-law, Mr. Rathbone, fearing to disturb the solemnity of his
sorrow. At the Linnaean Society this evening, my friend Selby's work
lay on the table by mine, and very unfair comparisons were drawn
between the two; I am quite sure that had he had the same
opportunities that my curious life has granted me, his work would have
been far superior to mine; I supported him to the best of my power.
The fact is, _I_ think, that no man yet has done anything in the way
of illustrating the birds of England comparable to his great work;
then besides, he is an excellent man, devoted to his science, and if
he has committed slight errors, it becomes men of science not to dwell
upon these to the exclusion of all else. I was to-day elected an
original member of the Zoological Society. I also learned that it was
Sir Thomas Lawrence who prevented the British Museum from subscribing
to my work; he considered the drawing so-so, and the engraving and
coloring bad; when I remember how he praised these same drawings _in
my presence_, I wonder--that is all.
_February 25._ A most gloomy day; had I no work what a miserable life
I should lead in London. I receive constantly many invitations, but
all is so formal, so ceremonious, I care not to go. Thy piano sailed
to-day; with a favorable voyage it may reach New Orleans in sixty
days. I have read the Grand Turk's proclamation and sighed at the
awful thought of a war all over Europe; but there, thou knowest I am
no politician. A fine young man, Mr. J. F. Ward, a bird-stuffer to the
King, came to me this afternoon to study some of the positions of my
birds. I told him I would lend him anything I had.
_February 28._ To-day I called by appointment on the Earl of Kinnoul,
a small man, with a face like the caricature of an owl; he said he had
sent for me to tell me all my birds _were alike_, and he considered my
work a swindle. He may really think this, his knowledge is probably
small; but it is not the custom to send for a gentleman to abuse him
in one's own house. I heard his words, bowed, and without speaking,
left the rudest man I have met in this land; but he is only thirty,
and let us hope may yet learn how to behave to a perfect stranger
under his roof.
_February 29._ A man entered my room this afternoon, and said: "Sir, I
have some prisoners to deliver to you from the town of York."
"Prisoners!" I exclaimed, "why, who are they?" The good man produced a
very small cage, and I saw two sweet little Wood Larks, full of
vivacity, and as shy as prisoners in custody. Their eyes sparkled
with fear, their little bodies were agitated, the motions of their
breasts showed how their hearts palpitated; their plumage was shabby,
but they were Wood Larks, and I saw them with a pleasure bordering on
frenzy. Wood Larks! The very word carried me from this land into woods
indeed. These sweet birds were sent to me from York, by my friend John
Backhouse, an ornithologist of real merit, and with them came a cake
of bread made of a peculiar mixture, for their food. I so admired the
dear captives that for a while I had a strong desire to open their
prison, and suffer them to soar over London towards the woodlands
dearest to them; and yet the selfishness belonging to man alone made
me long to keep them. Ah! man! _what a brute thou art!_--so often
senseless of those sweetest feelings that ought to ornament our
species, if indeed we are the "lords of creation."
_Cambridge, March 3._ I arrived at this famous University town at
half-past four this afternoon, after a tedious ride of eight and a
half hours from London, in a heavy coach in which I entered at the
White Horse, Fetter Lane, and I am now at the Blue Boar, and blue
enough am I. But never mind, I was up _truly early_, took a good walk
in Regent's Park, and was back before any one in the house was up.
Sully took breakfast with me, and took charge of my Larks, and saw me
off. I thought we never would get rid of London, it took just one hour
to get clear of the city. What a place! Yet many persons live there
solely because they like it. At last the refreshing country air filled
my lungs; I saw with pleasure many tender flowers peeping out of the
earth, anxious to welcome the approaching spring. The driver held
confidences with every grog shop between London and Cambridge, and his
purple face gave powerful evidences that malt liquor is more enticing
to him than water. The country is flat, but it was country, and I saw
a few lambs gambolling by their timorous dams, a few Rooks digging
the new-ploughed ground for worms, a few Finches on the budding
hedges. On entering Cambridge I was struck with its cleanliness, the
regular shape of the colleges, and the number of students with
floating mantles, flat caps, and long tassels of silk, hanging
sideways. I had a letter for a lodging house where I expected to stay,
but no numbers are affixed to any doors in Cambridge. I do not know if
it is so in order to teach the students to better remember things, but
I found it very inconvenient; I hunted and searched in vain, and as
the students in their gay moods have been in the habit of destroying
all the door-bells, I had to knock loudly at any door where I wished
to make inquiries, but not finding the good lady to whom my letter was
addressed, I am still at the inn.
_March 4._ One of my travelling-companions, Mr. ----, an architect,
offered to show me some of the Colleges, and put me in the way of
delivering some of my letters; so we walked through the different
courts of Trinity, and I was amazed at the exquisite arrangement of
the buildings, and when we arrived at the walks I was still more
pleased. I saw beautiful grass-plats, fine trees, around which the
evergreen, dark, creeping ivy, was entwined, and heard among the birds
that enlivened these the shrill notes of the Variegated Woodpecker,
quite enchanting. As I passed under these trees I tried to recollect
how many illustrious learned men have studied within the compass of
their shade. A little confined, but pure streamlet, called the Cam,
moved slowly on, and the air was delicious. We went to St. John's,
where my companion was engaged in some work, and here I left him, and
continued on my way alone, to deliver my letters. I called on the Rev.
H. Greenwood, Professor Sedgwick,[147] and Professor Whewell;[148] all
were most kind, as were the Rev. Thos. Catton, Mr. G. A. Brown, Mr.
George Heath, and Professor Henslow,[149] and I have made several
engagements to dine, etc.
_March 5._ Since I left Edinburgh, I have not had a day as brilliant
as this in point of being surrounded by learned men. This morning I
took a long walk among the Colleges, and watched many birds; while
thus employed, a well dressed man handed me a card on which was
written in _English_, "The bearer desires to meet with some one who
speaks either French, Italian, or Spanish." I spoke to him in Spanish
and French, both of which he knew well. He showed me a certificate
from the consul of Sweden, at Leith, which affirmed his story, that he
with three sailors had been shipwrecked, and now wished to return to
the Continent, but they had only a few shillings, and none of them
spoke English. I gave him a sovereign, just as I saw Professor
Sedgwick approaching; he came to my room to see my birds, but could
only give me a short time as he had a lecture to deliver. I returned
to my rooms, and just as I was finishing lunch the Vice-Chancellor
made his appearance,--a small old man, with hair as white as snow,
dressed in a flowing gown, with two little bits of white muslin in
lieu of cravat. He remained with me upwards of two hours; he admired
my work, and promised to do all he could. I was delighted with his
conversation; he is a man of wide knowledge, and it seemed to me of
sound judgment. Professor Henslow invited me to dine on Friday, and
just as I finished my note of acceptance, came in with three
gentlemen. At four I went to Mr. Greenwood's to dine; as I entered I
saw with dismay upwards of thirty gentlemen; I was introduced to one
after another, and then we went to the "Hall," where dinner was set.
This hall resembled the interior of a Gothic church; a short prayer
was said, and we sat down to a sumptuous dinner. Eating was not
precisely my object, it seldom is; I looked first at the _convives_. A
hundred students sat apart from our table, and the "Fellows," twelve
in number, with twenty guests constituted our "mess." The dinner, as I
said, was excellent, and I thought these learned "Fellows" must have
read, among other studies, Dr. Kitchener on the "Art of Cookery." The
students gradually left in parcels, as vultures leave a carcass; we
remained. A fine gilt or gold tankard, containing a very strong sort
of nectar, was handed to me; I handed it, after tasting, to the next,
and so it went round. Now a young man came, and as we rose, he read a
short prayer from a small board (such as butchers use to kill flies
with). We then went to the room where we had assembled, and
conversation at once began; perhaps the wines went the rounds for an
hour, then tea and coffee, after which the table was cleared, and I
was requested to open my portfolio. I am proud _now_ to show them, and
I saw with pleasure these gentlemen admired them. I turned over
twenty-five, but before I had finished received the subscription of
the Librarian for the University, and the assurance of the Secretary
of the Philosophical Society that they would take it. It was late
before I was allowed to come away.