called to see me this afternoon, and we talked much of that
establishment. I was surprised when Mr. Gray told me L200 per annum
was all that was allowed for the purchase of natural curiosities. We
were joined by Captain Basil Hall. I now feel more and more convinced
that he has not remained in America long enough, and that his judgment
of things there must be only superficial. Since these gentlemen left I
have written to Charles Bonaparte a long letter, part of which I copy
for thee: "My _Sylvia roscoe_, is, I assure you, a distinct species
from Vieillot's; my _Turdus aquaticus_ is very different from Wilson's
Water Thrush, as you will see when both birds are published. Mine
never reaches further south than Savannah, its habits are quite
different. _Troglodytes bewickii_ is a new and rather a rare species,
found only in the lowlands of the Mississippi and Louisiana. I have
killed five or six specimens, and it differs greatly from _Troglodytes
ludovicianus_; I wish I had a specimen to send you. I particularly
thank you for your observations, and I hope that you will criticise my
work at all points, as a good friend should do, for how am I to
improve if not instructed by men of superior talents? I cannot
determine at present about '_Stanleii_,' because I never have seen the
_Falco_ you mention. My bird is surely another found in the south and
north, but a very rare species in all my travels; when you see the two
figures, size of life, then you will be able to judge and to inform
me. My journey to the mouth of the Columbia is always uppermost in my
mind, and I look to my return from that country to this as the most
brilliant portion of my life, as I am confident many new birds and
plants must be there, yet unknown to man. You are extremely kind to
speak so favorably of my work, and to compare it with your own; it
would be more worthy of that comparison, perhaps, if I had had the
advantages of a classical education; all I deserve, I think, is the
degree of encouragement due to my exertions and perseverance in
figuring _exactly_ the different birds, and the truth respecting their
habits, which will appear in my text. However, I accept all your kind
sayings as coming from a friend, and one himself devoted to that
beautiful department of science, Ornithology." My subscribers are yet
far from enough to pay my expenses, and my purse suffers severely for
the want of greater patronage. The Zoological Gardens improve daily;
they are now building winter quarters for the animals there. The
specimens of skins from all parts of the world which are presented
there are wonderful, but they have no place for them.
_August 25._ I have had the pleasure of a long letter from our Victor,
dated July 20; this letter has reached me more rapidly than any since
I have been in England. I am becoming impatient to start for Paris. I
do not expect much benefit by this trip, but I shall be glad to see
what may be done. Mr. Parker has nearly finished my portrait, which he
considers a good one, and _so do I_.[159] He has concluded to go to
Paris with us, so we shall be quite a party. Mr. Vigors wrote asking
me to write some papers for the "Zoological Journal," but I have
refused him as all others. No _money_ can pay for abuse. This
afternoon I had a visit from a Mr. Kirkpatrick, who bought my picture
of the Bantams.
_August 29._ I packed up my clothes early this morning and had my
trunk weighed, as only forty pounds are allowed to each person. I also
put my effects to rights, and was ready to start for anywhere by
seven.
_August 30._ While Mr. Swainson was sitting with me, old Bewick and
his daughters called on me. Good old man! how glad I was to see him
again. It was, he said, fifty-one years since he had been in London,
which is no more congenial to him than to me. He is now seventy-eight,
and sees to engrave as well as when he was twenty years of age.
DOVER, _September 1, 1828_. Now, my dear book, prepare yourself for a
good scratching with my pen, for I have entered on a journey that I
hope will be interesting. I had breakfast at six with Mr. Parker; we
were soon joined by Mr. and Mrs. Swainson and proceeded to the office
in Piccadilly, where we took our seats in the coach. At the "Golden
Cross" in Charing Cross we took up the rest of our cargo. Bless me!
what a medley! A little, ill-looking Frenchman--who fastened a gilt
balancing-pole _under_ the coach, and put his wife and little daughter
on top,--four men all foreigners, and a tall, rather good-looking
demoiselle, with a bonnet not wanting in height or breadth or bows of
blue ribbon, so stiff they must have been starched. She took her seat
on top of the coach and soared aloft, like a Frigate Pelican over the
seas. We started at eight and were soon out of London. The pure air of
the country animated my spirits, and all were gay. We passed over
Black Heath, through Hartford and Canterbury, the first a poor,
dirty-looking place, the latter quite the contrary. The majestic
cathedral rose above every other object, like one of God's monuments
made to teach us His glory. The country more hilly, on an average,
than any part of this island I have yet seen, but the land very poor.
We saw the Thames several times, and the sea at a great distance. The
river Medway, which we crossed at Rochester, is influenced by the
tides as far as that town. About six miles from this little seaport we
suddenly saw Dover Castle, which with the sea and the undulating
landscape made a pretty picture. As soon as we arrived we all went to
see the cliffs that rise almost perpendicularly along the shore, the
walks crowded with persons come to see the regatta to-morrow.
_Paris, September 4._ I arrived here this morning at seven o'clock,
and I assure thee, my Lucy, that I and all my companions were pleased
to get rid of the diligence, and the shocking dust that tormented us
during our whole journey. We left Dover at one, on Tuesday, 2d; the
wind blew sharply, and I felt that before long the sea would have evil
effects on me, as it always has. We proceeded towards Calais at a good
rate, going along the shores of England until opposite the French
port, for which we then made direct, and landed after three and a half
hours' beating against wind and water. As soon as we landed we left
our luggage and passports with a Commissionaire, and went to dine at
Hotel Robart, where we had been recommended. Our still sickly bodies
were glad to rest, and there our passports were returned to us. I was
much tickled to read that my complexion was _copper red_; as the
Monsieur at the office had never seen me, I suppose the word American
suggested that all the natives of our country were aborigines. We then
entered the diligence, a vehicle ugly and clumsy in the extreme, but
tolerably comfortable unless over-crowded, and it travelled from six
to seven miles an hour, drawn generally by five horses, two next the
coach, and three abreast before those; the driver rides on the near
wheel-horse dressed precisely like the monkeys in shows of animals.
Calais is a decaying fortified town; the ditches are partly filled
with earth, and I cannot tell why there should exist at this time a
drawbridge. As we proceeded it did not take much time to see already
many differences between France and England. I will draw no parallel
between these countries, I will merely tell thee what I saw. The
country is poorly cultivated, although the land is good. No divisions
exist to the eye, no cleanly trimmed hedges, no gates, no fences; all
appeared to me like one of the old abandoned cotton plantations of the
South. I remarked that there were more and taller trees than in
England, and nearly the whole road was planted like the avenue to a
gentleman's house. The road itself was better than I had expected,
being broad, partly macadamized, and partly paved with square stones;
I found it much alike during the whole journey. Night coming on we
lost the means of observation for a time, and stopped soon after dark
for refreshment, and had some excellent coffee. I assure thee, Lucy,
that coffee in France is certainly better than anywhere else. We
passed through St. Omer, and a little farther on saw the lights of the
fires from an encampment of twelve thousand soldiers. Breakfast was
had at another small village, where we were sadly annoyed by beggars.
The country seems _very poor_; the cottages of the peasants are
wretched mud huts. We passed through the Departments of Artois and
Picardy, the country giving now and then agreeable views. We dined at
Amiens, where the cathedral externally is magnificent. After
travelling all night again, we found ourselves within forty miles of
Paris, and now saw patches of vineyards and found fruit of all kinds
cheap, abundant, and good. We were put down at the Messagerie Royale
rue des Victoires, and I found to my sorrow that my plates were not
among the luggage; so I did what I could about it, and we went to
lodgings to which we had been recommended, with M. Percez. Mrs.
Swainson's brother, Mr. Parkes, came to see us at once, and we all
went to the Jardin des Plantes, or Jardin du Roi, which fronts on a
very bad bridge, built in great haste in the days of Napoleon, then
called Le pont d'Austerlitz, but now Le pont Ste. Genevieve. I thought
the gardens well laid out, large, handsome, but not everywhere well
kept. We saw everything, then walked to the entrance of the famous
Musee; it was closed, but we knocked and asked for Baron Cuvier.[160]
He was in, but, we were told, too busy to be seen. Being determined to
look at the Great Man, we waited, knocked again, and with a certain
degree of _firmness_ sent our names. The messenger returned, bowed,
and led the way upstairs, where in a minute Monsieur le Baron, like an
excellent good man, came to us. He had heard much of my friend
Swainson and greeted him as he deserves to be greeted; he was polite
and kind to me, though my name had never made its way to his ears. I
looked at him, and here follows the result: age about sixty-five; size
corpulent, five feet five, English measure; head large; face wrinkled
and brownish; eyes gray, brilliant and sparkling; nose aquiline, large
and red; mouth large, with good lips; teeth few, blunted by age,
excepting one on the lower jaw, measuring nearly three-quarters of an
inch square. Thus, my Lucy, have I described Cuvier almost as if a
_new species of man_. He has invited us to dine with him next Saturday
at six, and as I hope to have many opportunities of seeing him I will
write more as I become acquainted with him. After dinner Mr. Parker
and I went roving anywhere and everywhere, but as it grew dark, and
Paris is very badly lighted, little can I say, more than that we saw
the famous Palais Royal, and walked along each of its four avenues.
The place was crowded, and filled with small shops, themselves filled
with all sorts of bagatelles.
_September 5._ After breakfast, which was late but good, consisting of
grapes, figs, sardines, and _French_ coffee, Swainson and I proceeded
to Les Jardins des Plantes, by the side of the famous river Seine,
which here, Lucy, is not so large as the Bayou Sara, where I have
often watched the Alligators while bathing. Walking in Paris is
disagreeable in the extreme; the streets are paved, but with scarcely
a sidewalk, and a large gutter filled with dirty black water runs
through the centre of each, and the people go about without any kind
of order, in the centre, or near the houses; the carriages, carts,
etc., do the same, and I have wondered that so few accidents take
place. We saw a very ugly bridge of iron called the Pont Neuf, and the
splendid statue of Henri Quatre. We were, however, more attracted by
the sight of the immense numbers of birds offered for sale along the
quays, and some were rare specimens. A woman took us into her house
and showed us some hundreds from Bengal and Senegal, and I assure thee
that we were surprised. We proceeded to our appointment with Baron
Cuvier, who gave us tickets for the Musee, and promised all we could
wish. At the Musee M. Valenciennes[161] was equally kind. Having a
letter for M. Geoffroy de St. Hilaire,[162] we went to his house in
the Jardins, and with him we were particularly pleased. He proved to
me that he understood the difference in the ideas of the French and
English perfectly. He repeated the words of Cuvier and assured us my
work had not been heard of in France. He promised to take us to the
Academie des Sciences on Monday next. I left Swainson at work in the
Musee, and went to the Louvre. There, entering the first open door, I
was shown into the public part of the King's _Appartement_, a thing I
have never been able to accomplish in England. I saw the room where
the grand councils are held, and many paintings illustrating the
horrors of the French Revolution. Then to the galleries of painting
and sculpture, where I found Parker, and saw a number of artists
copying in oil the best pictures. This evening we went to the Theatre
Francais, where I saw the finest drop curtain I have yet beheld, and a
fine tragedy, Fiesque, which I enjoyed much.
_September 6._ The strange things one sees in this town would make a
mountain of volumes if closely related; but I have not time, and can
only speak to thee of a few. After our breakfast of figs and bread and
butter, Swainson and I went down the Boulevard to the Jardins Royaux.
These boulevards are planted with trees to shade them, and are filled
with shops containing more objects of luxury and of necessity than can
well be imagined. The boulevard we took is a grand promenade, and the
seat of great bargains. I mean to say that a person unacquainted with
the ways of the French _petit marchand_ may be cheated here, with
better grace, probably, than anywhere else in the world; but one used
to their tricks may buy cheap and good articles. In the afternoon we
went again to the Louvre, and admired the paintings in the splendid
gallery, and lunched on chicken, a bottle of good wine, vegetables and
bread, for thirty-five sous each. Evening coming on, we proceeded,
after dressing, to Baron Cuvier's house to dine. We were announced by
a servant in livery, and received by the Baron, who presented us to
his only remaining daughter,--a small, well-made, good-looking lady,
with sparkling black eyes, and extremely amiable. As I seldom go
anywhere without meeting some one who has met me, I found among the
guests a Fellow of the Linnaean Society, who knew me well. The Baroness
now came in--a good-looking, motherly lady, and the company, amounting
to sixteen, went to dinner. The Baroness led the way with a gentleman,
and the Baron took in his daughter, but made friend Swainson and me
precede them; Swainson sat next mademoiselle, who, fortunately for
him, speaks excellent English. I was opposite to her, by the side of
the Baron. There was not the show of opulence at this dinner that is
seen in the same rank of life in England, no, not by far, but it was a
good dinner, served _a la francaise_. All seemed happy, and went on
with more simplicity than in London. The dinner finished, the Baroness
rose, and we all followed her into the library. I liked this much; I
cannot bear the _drinking matches_ of wine at the English tables. We
had coffee, and the company increased rapidly; amongst them all I knew
only Captain Parry, M. de Condolleot (?), and Mr. Lesson,[163] just
returned from a voyage round the world. Cuvier stuck to us, and we
talked ornithology; he asked me the price of my work, and I gave him a
prospectus. The company filled the room, it grew late, and we left
well satisfied with the introductory step among _les savans francais_.
_Sunday, September 7._ The traveller who visits France without seeing
a fete, such as I have seen this day at St. Cloud, leaves the country
unacquainted with that species of knowledge best adapted to show the
manners of a people. St. Cloud is a handsome town on the Seine, about
five miles below Paris, built in horseshoe form on the undulating
hills of this part of the country. These hills are covered with woods,
through which villas, cottages, and chateaux emerge, and give life to
the scene. On the west side of the village, and on its greatest
elevation, stands the Palace of the Kings, the Emperors, and the
people. I say the people, because they are allowed to see the interior
every day. With Parker, I took a cab directly after breakfast to the
_barriere des bons hommes_, and walked the remaining distance, say
three miles. We had the Seine in view most of the way, and crossed it
on a fine iron bridge, one end of which forms the entrance to St.
Cloud, in front of which the river winds. We reached the gates of the
palace, and found they were not opened till twelve o'clock; but a
sergeant offered to show us the King's garden,--an offer we accepted
with pleasure. The entrance is by an avenue of fine trees, their tops
meeting over our heads, and presenting, through the vista they made, a
frame for a beautiful landscape. We passed several pieces of water,
the peaceful abode of numerous fish, basking on the surface; swans
also held their concave wings unfurled to the light breeze--orange
trees of fair size held their golden fruit pendent--flowers of every
hue covered the borders, and a hundred statues embellished all with
their well-modelled forms. So unmolested are the birds that a Green
Woodpecker suffered my inspection as if in the woods of our dear, dear
America. At the right time we found ourselves in the King's
antechamber, and then passed through half a dozen rooms glittering
with richest ornaments, painted ceilings, large pictures, and lighted
by immense windows; all, however, too fine for my taste, and we were
annoyed by the _gens d'armes_ watching us as if we were thieves. It
was near two o'clock when we left, the weather beautiful, and heat
such as is usually felt in Baltimore about this season. The population
of Paris appeared now to flock to St. Cloud; the road was filled with
conveyances of all sorts, and in the principal walk before the Palace
were hundreds of _petits marchands_, opening and arranging their
wares. Music began in different quarters, groups lay on the grass,
enjoying their repasts; every one seemed joyous and happy. One thing
surprised me: we were at St. Cloud ten hours,--they told us fifty
thousand (?) were there, and I saw only three women of noticeable
beauty; yet these short brunettes are animated and apparently
thoughtless, and sing and dance as if no shadow could ever come over
them. At four o'clock all was in full vigor; the sounds of horns and
bugles drew us towards a place where we saw on a platform a party of
musicians, three of whom were Flemish women, and so handsome that they
were surrounded by crowds. We passed through a sort of turnstile, and
in a few minutes an equestrian performance began, in which the riders
showed great skill, jugglers followed with other shows, and then we
left; the same show in London would have cost three shillings; here, a
franc. We saw people shooting at a target with a crossbow. When the
marksman was successful in hitting the centre, a spring was touched,
and an inflated silken goldfish, as large as a barrel, rose fifty
yards in the air,--a pretty sight, I assure thee; the fins of gauze
moved with the breeze, he plunged and rose and turned about, almost as
a real fish would do in his element. Shows of everything were there;
such a medley--such crowds--such seeming pleasure in all around us, I
never remarked anywhere but in France. No word of contention did I
hear; all was peace and joy, and when we left not a disturbance had
taken place. We had an excellent dinner, with a bottle of Chablis, for
three francs each, and returning to the place we had left, found all
the fountains were playing, and dancing was universal; the musicians
were good and numerous, but I was surprised to remark very few fine
dancers. The woods, which were illuminated, looked extremely
beautiful; the people constantly crossing and re-crossing them made
the lights appear and disappear, reminding me of fireflies in our own
woods in a summer night. As we passed out of the gates, we perceived
as many persons coming as going, and were told the merriment would
last till day. With difficulty we secured two seats in a cart, and
returned to Paris along a road with a double line of vehicles of all
sorts going both ways. Every few rods were guards on foot, and _gens
d'armes_ on horseback, to see that all went well; and we at last
reached our hotel, tired and dusty, but pleased with all we had seen,
and at having had such an opportunity to see, to compare, and to judge
of the habits of a people so widely different from either Americans or
English.
_September 8._ We went to pay our respects to Baron Cuvier and
Geoffroy St. Hilaire;[164] we saw only the first, who told us to be at
the Academie Royale des Sciences in an hour. I had _hired_ a
portfolio, and took my work. As soon as we entered, Baron Cuvier very
politely came to us, ordered a porter to put my book on a table, and
gave me a seat of honor. The seance was opened by a tedious lecture on
the vision of the Mole; then Cuvier arose, announcing my friend
Swainson and me and spoke of my work; it was shown and admired as
usual, and Cuvier requested to review it for the "Memoires of the
Academy." Poor Audubon! here thou art, a simple woodsman, among a
crowd of talented men, yet kindly received by all--so are the works of
God as shown in His birds loved by them. I left my book, that the
librarian might show it to all who wished to see it.
_September 9._ Went to the Jardin du Roi, where I met young Geoffroy,
who took me to a man who stuffs birds for the Prince d'Essling, who, I
was told, had a copy of my work, but after much talk could not make
out whether it was Wilson's, Selby's, or mine. I am to call on him
to-morrow. I took a great walk round the Boulevards, looking around me
and thinking how curious my life has been, and how wonderful my
present situation is. I took Mrs. Swainson to the Louvre, and as we
were about to pass one of the gates of the Tuileries, the sentinel
stopped us, saying no one could pass with a _fur cap_; so we went to
another gate, where no such challenge was given, and reached the
Grand Gallery. Here amongst the Raphaels, Correggios, Titians, Davids,
and thousands of others, we feasted our eyes and enlarged our
knowledge. Taking Mrs. Swainson home, I then made for L'Institut de
France by appointment, and gave my prospectus to the secretary of the
library. Young Geoffroy, an amiable and learned young man, paid me
every attention, and gave me a room for Swainson and myself to write
in and for the inspection of specimens. How very different from the
public societies in England, where instead of being bowed to, you have
to bow to every one. Now, my Lucy, I have certainly run the gauntlet
of England and Paris, and may feel proud of two things, that I am
considered the first ornithological painter, and the first practical
naturalist of America; may God grant me life to accomplish my serious
and gigantic work.