University and the Philosophical Society rooms, and dined again in
"Hall," with Professor Sedgwick. There were four hundred students, and
forty "Fellows;" quite a different scene from Corpus College. Each one
devoured his meal in a hurry; in less than half an hour grace was read
again by _two_ students, and Professor Whewell took me to his own
rooms with some eight or ten others. My book was inspected as a matter
of courtesy. Professor Sedgwick was gay, full of wit and cleverness;
the conversation was very animated, and I enjoyed it much. Oh! my
Lucy, that I also had received a university education! I listened and
admired for a long time, when suddenly Professor Whewell began asking
me questions about the woods, the birds, the aborigines of America.
The more I rove about, the more I find how little known the interior
of America is; we sat till late. No subscriber to-day, but I must not
despair; nothing can be done without patience and industry, and, thank
God, I have both.
_March 7._ The frost was so severe last night that the ground was
white when I took my walk; I saw ice an eighth of an inch thick. As
most of the fruit trees are in blossom, the gardeners will suffer this
year. Inclement though it was, the birds were courting, and some, such
as Jackdaws and Rooks, forming nests. After breakfast I went to the
library, having received a permit, and looked at three volumes of Le
Vaillant's "Birds of Africa," which contain very bad figures. I was
called from here to show my work to the son of Lord Fitzwilliam, who
came with his tutor, Mr. Upton. The latter informed me the young
nobleman wished to own the book. I showed my drawings, and he, being
full of the ardor of youth, asked where he should write his name. I
gave him my list; his youth, his good looks, his courtesy, his
refinement attracted me much, and made me wish his name should stand
by that of some good friend. There was no room by Mrs. Rathbone's, so
I asked that he write immediately above the Countess of Morton, and he
wrote in a beautiful hand, which I wish I could equal, "Hon. W. C.
Wentworth Fitzwilliam." He is a charming young man, and I wish him
_bon voyage_ through life. On returning to my lodgings this evening,
my landlord asked me to join him in what he called "a glass of
home-brewed." I accepted, not to hurt his feelings, a thing I consider
almost criminal; but it is muddy looking stuff, not to my taste.
_Saturday, 8th._ The weather bad, but my eyes and ears were greeted by
more birds than I have seen yet in this country. I dined at the
Vice-Chancellor's, and found myself among men of deep research,
learning, and knowledge,--mild in expressions, kind in attentions, and
under whom I fervently wished it had been my lot to have received such
an education as they possess.
_Sunday, March 9._ Cambridge on a Sunday is a place where I would
suppose the basest mind must relax, for the time being, from the error
of denying the existence of a Supreme Being; all is calm--silent--
solemn--almost sublime. The beautiful bells fill the air with melody,
and the heart with a wish for prayer. I went to church with Mr.
Whewell at Great St. Mary's, and heard an impressive sermon on Hope
from Mr. Henslow. After that I went to admire Nature, as the day was
beautifully inviting. Professor Heath of King's College wished me to
see his splendid chapel, and with a ticket of admission I resorted
there at three. We had simple hymns and prayers, the former softly
accompanied by the notes of an immense organ, standing nearly in the
centre of that astonishing building; the chanters were all young boys
in white surplices. I walked with Mr. Heath to Mr. Whewell's, and with
him went to Trinity Chapel. The charm that had held me all day was
augmented many fold as I entered an immense interior where were upward
of four hundred collegians in their white robes. The small wax tapers,
the shadowy distances, the slow footfalls of those still entering,
threw my imagination into disorder. A kind of chilliness almost as of
fear came to me, my lips quivered, my heart throbbed, I fell on my
knees and prayed to be helped and comforted. I shall remember this
sensation forever, my Lucy. When at Liverpool, I always go to the
church for the blind; did I reside at Cambridge, I would be found each
Sunday at Trinity Chapel.
_March 12._ I was introduced to Judge ----, on his way to court,--a
monstrously ugly old man, with a wig that might make a capital bed
for an Osage Indian during the whole of a cold winter on the Arkansas
River.
_London, March 15._ The scene is quite changed, or better say
returned, for I am again in London. I found my little Larks as lively
as ever, but judge of my pleasure when I found three letters from thee
and Victor and Johnny, dated Nov. 10, Dec. 19, and Jan. 20. What
comfort would it be to see thee. Havell tells me a hundred sets of No.
6 are in hand for coloring. Mr. David Lyon called to see my work, and
said it had been recommended to him by Sir Thos. Lawrence. This seems
strange after what I heard before, but like all other men Sir Thomas
has probably his enemies, and falsehoods have been told about him.
_March 20._ Called on Havell and saw the plate of the Parroquets
nearly finished; I think it is a beautiful piece of work. My landlady
received a notice that if she did not pay her rent to-morrow an
officer would be put in possession. I perceived she was in distress
when I came in, and asking her trouble gave her what assistance I
could by writing a cheque for L20, which she has promised to repay.
This evening I went to Covent Garden to see "Othello;" I had an
excellent seat. I saw Kean, Young, and Kemble; the play was
terrifyingly well performed.
_Saturday, March 20._ To-day I was with friend Sergeant most of the
time; this evening have paid Havell in full, and now, thank God, feel
free to leave noisy, smoky London.
_Oxford, March 24._ I am now in Oxford _the clean_, and in comfortable
lodgings. I arrived at four o'clock, shrunk to about one half my usual
size by the coldness of the weather, having ridden on top of the
coach, facing the northern blast, that caused a severe frost last
night, and has, doubtless, nipped much fruit in the bud. As I
travelled I saw Windsor Castle about two miles distant, and also
witnessed the turning out of a Stag from a cart, before probably a
hundred hounds and as many huntsmen. A curious land, and a curious
custom, to catch an animal, and set it free merely to catch again. We
crossed the Thames twice, near its head; it does not look like the
Ohio, I assure thee; a Sand-hill Crane could easily wade across it
without damping its feathers.
_March 25._ My feet are positively sore battering the pavement; I have
walked from one house and College to another all day, but have a new
subscriber, and one not likely to die soon, the Anatomical School,
through Dr. Kidd.[150] He and I ran after each other all day like the
Red-headed Woodpeckers in the spring. I took a walk along two little
streams, bearing of course the appellation of rivers, the Isis and the
Charwell; the former freezes I am told at the bottom, never at the
top. Oxford seems larger than Cambridge, but is not on the whole so
pleasing to me. I do not think the walks as fine, there are fewer
trees, and the population is more mixed. I have had some visitors, and
lunched with Dr. Williams, who subscribed for the Radcliffe Library,
whither we both went to inspect the first number. When I saw it, it
drew a sigh from my heart. Ah! Mr. Lizars! was this the way to use a
man who paid you so amply and so punctually? I rolled it up and took
it away with me, for it was hardly colored at all, and have sent a
fair new set of five numbers. I dined at the Vice-Chancellor's at six;
his niece, Miss Jenkins, did the honors of the table most gracefully.
There were ten gentlemen and four ladies, and when the latter left,
the conversation became more general. I was spoken to about Wilson and
C. Bonaparte, and could heartily praise both.
_March 27._ Breakfasted with Mr. Hawkins, Provost of Oriel College,
and went immediately after with him to the Dean of Trinity. The large
salon was filled with ladies and gentlemen engaged with my work; my
drawings followed, and I showed them, but, oh, Lucy, how tired I am of
doing this. The Dean has, I think, the finest family of daughters I
have ever seen; eight blooming, interesting young ladies; from here to
Dr. Kidd, where was another room full of company to see my drawings.
Among my visitors was Dr. Ed. Burton,[151] who invited me to breakfast
to-morrow.
_March 28._ Never since I was at the delightful Green Bank, or at
Twizel House have I had so agreeable a breakfast as I enjoyed this
morning. I was shown into a neat parlor giving on a garden, and was
greeted by a very beautiful and gracious woman; this was Mrs. Burton.
Dr. Burton came in through the window from the garden; in a moment we
were at table and I felt at once at home, as if with my good friend
"Lady" Rathbone. Dr. and Mrs. Burton have an astonishing collection of
letters, portraits, etc., and I was asked to write my name and the
date of my birth as well as the present date. The former, I could not
do, except approximately, and Mrs. Burton was greatly amused that I
should not know; what I _do_ know is that I am no longer a young man.
A letter from Mr. Hawkins told me Dr. Buckland[152] was expected
to-morrow, and I was asked to meet him at dinner at his own house by
Mrs. Buckland. I dined with the Provost of Oriel and nine other
gentlemen, among them the son of the renowned Mr. Wilberforce.
_March 29._ To-morrow, probably, I leave here, and much disappointed.
There are here twenty-two colleges intended to promote science in all
its branches; I have brought here samples of a work acknowledged to be
at least good, and not one of the colleges has subscribed. I have been
most hospitably treated, but with so little encouragement for my work
there is no reason for me to remain.
_London, March 30._ Left Oxford at eleven this morning, the weather
still intensely cold. We had a guard dressed in red with sizable
buttons, a good artist on the bugle, who played in very good style,
especially fugues and anthems, which were harmonious but not cheerful.
I saw a poor man and his wife trudging _barefoot_ this weather, a
sight which drew the rings of my purse asunder. Almost as soon as I
reached my lodgings a gentleman, Mr. Loudon,[153] called to ask me to
write zoological papers for his journal. I declined, for I will never
write anything to call down upon me a second volley of abuse. I can
only write _facts_, and when I write those the Philadelphians call me
a liar.
_April 1, 1828._ I have the honor to be a Fellow of the Linnaean
Society of London, quite fresh from the mint, for the news reached me
when the election was not much more than over. Mr. Vigors tells me
Baron Cuvier is to be here this week. I had some agreeable time with a
gentleman from Ceylon, Bennett[154] by name, who has a handsome
collection of fish from that place.
_April 2._ Called on Mr. Children, and together we walked to Mr.
Havell's, where he saw the drawings for No. 7. How slowly my immense
work progresses; yet it goes on apace, and may God grant me life to
see it accomplished and finished. Then, indeed, will I have left a
landmark of my existence.
_April 3._ I have had many corrections to make to my Prospectus, which
have taken much time. I also examined many of my drawings, which I
thought had suffered exceedingly from the damp; this quite frightened
me. What a misfortune it would be if they should be spoiled, for few
men would attempt the severe task I have run through, I think. And as
to me, alas! I am growing old, and although my spirits are as active
as ever, my body declines, and perhaps I never could renew them all. I
shall watch them carefully. Indeed, should I find it necessary, I will
remove them to Edinburgh or Paris, where the atmosphere is less
dangerous.
_April 6._ I have not written a word for three days, because, in
truth, I have little to mention. Whenever I am in this London all is
alike indifferent to me, and I in turn indifferent. Ah! my love, on a
day like this in America I could stroll in magnificent woods, I could
listen to sounds fresh and pure, I could look at a _blue_ sky. Mr.
Loudon called and said he was anxious to have a review of my work in
his magazine, and would write to Mr. Wm. Swainson,[155] a naturalist
and friend of Dr. Traill's, to do so. He again begged me to write an
article for him, for which he would pay eight guineas; but no, I will
write no more for publication except, as has been urged, to accompany
my own pictures.
_April 10._ I have now only one set on hand; I had fifteen when I went
to Cambridge. I hope soon to hear from Liverpool; the silence of a
friend sometimes terrifies me; I dread to learn that my venerable,
good "Lady" Rathbone is ill.
_April 14._ I cannot conceive why, but my spirits have been much too
low for my own comfort. I thought strongly of returning to America;
such a long absence from thee is dreadful. I sometimes fear we shall
never meet again _in this world_. I called on Havell, who showed me
the White-headed Eagle, a splendid plate indeed, and nearly finished.
_April 17._ I did but little yesterday, I was quite unwell; in the
afternoon I walked to Bruton St. and saw Mr. Vigors, who assisted me
in the nomenclature of the Hawk for Lord Stanley. This afternoon I
received a letter from Mr. Wm. Swainson, inviting me to go to spend a
day with him. My work continues to be well received, and as I have a
tolerable list of subscribers I hope it will continue to improve.
_April 21._ The same feelings still exist this year that I felt last,
during my whole stay in London. I hate it, yes, I cordially hate
London, and yet cannot escape from it. I neither can write my journal
when here, nor draw well, and if I walk to the fields around, the very
voice of the sweet birds I hear has no longer any charm for me, the
pleasure being too much mingled with the idea that in another hour all
will again be bustle, filth, and smoke. Last Friday, when about to
answer Mr. Swainson's letter, I suddenly thought that it would be best
for me to go to see him at once. The weather was shocking; a dog would
scarce have turned out to hunt the finest of game. I dined at two, and
went to a coach office, when, after waiting a long time, the coachman
assured me that unless I had been to Mr. Swainson's before, it would
be madness to go that day, as his house lay off from the main road
fully five miles, and it was a difficult place to find; moreover, the
country, he said, was _swimming_. This is the first advice I have ever
had from a coachman to stop me from paying my fare; I thanked him, and
returned home, and wrote to Mr. Swainson; then walked twice round
Kensington Gardens, most dull and melancholy. Ah! cannot I return to
America?
_April 24._ I have been so harassed in mind and body, since ten days,
that I am glad to feel partially relieved at last. All the colorers
abandoned the work because I found _one_ of their number was doing
miserable daubing, and wished him dismissed unless he improved; but
now they are all replaced.
_May 1._ Mr. Swainson has published a review of my work in Mr.
Loudon's magazine, and how he has raised my talents. Would that I
could do as well as he says I do; then indeed would my pencil be eager
to portray the delicate and elegant contours of the feathered tribe,
the softness of their plumage, and their gay movements. Alas, now I
must remain in London overlooking engravers, colorers, and agents. Yet
when I close my eyes I hear the birds warbling, nay, every sound; the
shriek of the Falcon, the coy Doves cooing; the whistling note of the
Grackle seems to fill my ear, again I am in the cornfield amidst
millions of these birds, and then, transported afar, I must tread
lightly and with care, to avoid the venomous Rattler. I sent the first
proof of the White-headed Eagle to the Marquis of Landsdowne; he being
the president of the Zoological Society, I thought it courteous to do
so.
_Sunday, May 4._ Immediately after breakfast I went out with George
Woodley, and walked to the pretty village called Hampstead. The rain
that fell last night seemed only sufficient to revive nature's
productions; the trees were lightly covered with foliage of a tender
hue; the hawthorns dispersed along the thickets had opened their
fragrant cups, the rich meadows showed promise of a fair crop. Here
and there a shy Blackbird's note burst clearly, yet softly, while the
modest Blackcap skipped across our way. I enjoyed it all, but only
transiently; I felt as if I must return to the grand beauties of the
Western World, so strong is the attachment impressed in man for his
own country. I have been summing up the pros and cons respecting a
voyage to America, with an absence of twelve months. The difficulties
are many, but I am determined to arrange for it, if possible. I should
like to renew about fifty of my drawings; I am sure that now I could
make better compositions, and select better plants than when I drew
merely for amusement, and without the thought of ever bringing them
to public view. To effect this wish of mine, I must find a true,
devoted friend who will superintend my work and see to its
delivery--this is no trifle in itself. Then I must arrange for the
regular payments of twelve months' work, and _that_ is no trifle; but
when I consider the difficulties I have surmounted, the privations of
all sorts that I have borne, the many hairbreadth escapes I have had,
the times I have been near sinking under the weight of the
enterprise--ah! such difficulties as even poor Wilson never
experienced--what reasons have I now to suppose, or to make me think
for a moment, that the omnipotent God who gave me a heart to endure
and overcome all these difficulties, will abandon me now. No! my faith
is the same--my desires are of a pure kind; I only wish to enjoy more
of Him by admiring His works still more than I have ever done before.
He will grant me life, He will support me in my journeys, and enable
me to meet thee again in America.
_May 6._ I walked early round the Regent's Park, and there purchased
four beautiful little Redpolls from a sailor, put them in my pocket,
and, when arrived at home, having examined them to satisfy myself of
their identity with the one found in our country, I gave them all
liberty to go. What pleasure they must have felt rising, and going off
over London; and I felt pleasure too, to know they had the freedom I
so earnestly desired.
_May 10._ I received a long letter from Charles Bonaparte, and
perceived it had been dipped in vinegar to prevent it from introducing
the plague from Italy to England.
_June 2._ I was at Mr. Swainson's from May 28 till yesterday, and my
visit was of the most agreeable nature. Mr. and Mrs. Swainson have a
charming home at Tittenhanger Green, near St. Albans. Mrs. Swainson
plays well on the piano, is amiable and kind; Mr. Swainson a superior
man indeed; and their children blooming with health and full of
spirit. Such talks on birds we have had together. Why, Lucy, thou
wouldst think that birds were all that we cared for in this world, but
thou knowest this is not so. Whilst there I began a drawing for Mrs.
Swainson, and showed Mr. Swainson how to put up birds in my style,
which delighted him.
_August 9._ More than two months have passed since I have opened my
journal--not through idleness, but because, on the contrary, I have
been too busy with my plates, and in superintending the coloring of
them, and with painting. I wished again to try painting in oil, and
set to with close attention, day after day, and have now before me
eight pictures begun, but not one entirely finished. I have a great
desire to exhibit some of these in this wonderful London. One of these
pictures is from my sketch of an Eagle pouncing on a Lamb,[156] dost
thou remember it? They are on the top of a dreary mountain; the sky is
dark and stormy, and I am sure the positions of the bird and his prey
are wholly correct. My drawing is good, but the picture at present
shows great coldness and want of strength. Another is a copy of the
very group of Black Cocks, or Grouse, for which Mr. Gaily paid me
L100, and I copy it with his permission; if it is better than his, and
I think it will be, he must exchange, for assuredly he should own the
superior picture. The others are smaller and less important. With the
exception of such exercise as has been necessary, and my journeys
(often several times a day) to Havell's, I have not left my room, and
have labored as if not to be painting was a heinous crime. I have been
at work from four every morning till dark; I have kept up my large
correspondence, my publication goes on well and regularly, and this
very day seventy sets have been distributed; yet the number of my
subscribers has not increased; on the contrary, I have lost some.
I have met a Mr. Parker, whom I once knew in Natchez; he asked me to
permit him to paint my portrait as a woodsman, and though it is very
tiresome to me, I have agreed to his request. The return of Captain
Basil Hall to England has rather surprised me; he called on me at
once; he had seen our dear Victor, Mr. Sully, Dr. Harlan, and many of
my friends, to whom I had given him letters, for which he thanked me
heartily. He has seen much of the United States, but says he is too
true an Englishman to like things there. Time will show his ideas more
fully, as he told me he should publish his voyage, journeys, and a
number of anecdotes.
_August 10._ My usual long walk before breakfast, after which meal Mr.
Parker took my first sitting, which consisted merely of the outlines
of the head; this was a job of more than three hours, much to my
disgust. We then went for a walk and turned into the Zoological
Gardens, where we remained over an hour. I remarked two large and
beautiful Beavers, seated with the tail as usual under the body, their
forelegs hanging like those of a Squirrel.
_August 13._ I wrote to Mr. Swainson asking if he could not accompany
me to France, where he said he wished to go when we were talking
together at Tittenhanger.
_August 19._ My absence from this dusty place has prevented my writing
daily, but I can easily sum up. Thursday afternoon on returning from
Havell's, I found Mr. Swainson just arrived. He had come to take me to
Tittenhanger Green, where the pure air, the notes of the birds, the
company of his wife and children, revived my drooping spirits. How
very kind this was of him, especially when I reflect on what a short
time I have known him. We procured some powder and shot, and seated
ourselves in the coach for the journey. Just as we were leaving London
and its smoke, a man begged I would take a paper bag from him,
containing a Carrier Pigeon, and turn it out about five miles off. The
poor bird could have been put in no better hands, I am sure; when I
opened the bag and launched it in the air, I wished from my heart I
had its powers of flight; I would have ventured across the ocean to
Louisiana. At Tittenhanger Mrs. Swainson and her darling boy came to
meet us, and we walked slowly to the house; its happy cheer had great
influence on my feelings. Our evening was spent in looking over
Levaillant's[157] work. We discovered, to the great satisfaction of my
friend, two species of Chatterers, discovered by the famous traveller
in Africa; until now our American species stood by itself, in the mind
of the naturalist. My time afterwards was spent in shooting, painting,
reading, talking, and examining specimens. But, my Lucy, the most
agreeable part of all this is that we three have decided to go to
Paris about the first of September, from there probably to Brussels,
Rotterdam, and possibly Amsterdam.