CHAPTER XXII

TO EUROPE AND SUCCESS

Audubon sails from New Orleans—Life at Sea—Liverpool—The Rathbones—Exhibition of drawings an immediate success—Personal appearance—Painting habits resumed—His pictures and methods—Manchester visited—Plans for publication—_The Birds of America_—Welcome at Edinburgh—Lizars engraves the Turkey Cock—In the _rôle_ of society's lion—His exhibition described by a French critic—Honors of science and the arts—Contributions to journals excite criticism—Aristocratic patrons—Visit to Scott—The Wild Pigeon and the rattlesnake—Letter to his wife—Prospectus—Journey to London.

When Audubon had reached the age of forty-one, his fortunes were destined to undergo still further kaleidoscopic changes, but the patterns and hue were now of a more agreeable character. He had failed repeatedly in business ventures of various kinds; he had failed also to find either encouragement or support for his ambitious schemes of publishing his drawings in the United States. But there was still a chance for success in the Old World, and thither he was determined to go to try the hazard of fortune in either England or France. Accordingly, he left his family at St. Francisville and went to New Orleans, where he engaged passage on a cotton schooner bound for Liverpool, named the _Delos_, Captain Joseph E. Hatch. With his drawings, a few books, and a purse, if not ample, at least sufficient for his immediate needs, and fortified with numerous letters, he finally set sail on the 17th of May, 1826.

This voyage, like every other which the naturalist ever made, was turned to good account; the log book or journal kept on this occasion abounds in interesting observations upon the life of the sea, particularly on the fishes and birds which were encountered in the Gulf. The first page of this journal,[320] reproduced with orthographic exactness, reads as follows:

26 April 1826—

I Left My Beloved Wife Lucy Audubon and My Son John Woodhouse on Tuesday afternoon the 26th April, bound to England, remained at Doctr Pope at St Francisville untill Wednesday 4 o'clock P. M.: in the Steam Boat Red River Cape Kimble—having for Compagnons Messrs D. Hall & John Haliday—reached New Orleans Thursday 27th at 12—Visited Many Vessels for My Passage and concluded to go in the Ship Delos of Kennebunk Cape Joseph Hatch bound to Liverpool, Loaded with Cotton entirely—

The Red River Steam Boat left on her return on Sunday and I Wrote by her to Thee My Dearest Friend and forwardd Thee 2 Small Boxes of Flowering Plants—

saw, spoke to & walked with Charles Briggs, much altered young man—

Lived at New Orleans at G. L. Sapinot in Company with Costé—

During My Stay at New Orleans, I saw my old and friendly acquaintances the familly Pamar; but the whole time spent in that City was heavy & dull—a few Gentlemen Calld to see My Drawings—I Generally Walked from Morning untill Dusk My hands behind me, paying but very partial attention, to all I saw—New Orleans to a Man who does not trade in Dollars or any other Such Stuffs is a miserable Spot ==

fatigued and discovering that the Ship could not be ready for Sea for several days, I ascended the Mississipy again in the Red River and once more found Myself with my Wife and Child. I arrived at Mrs Percy at 3 o'clock in the morning, having had a Dark ride through the Magnolia Woods but the Moments spent afterwards full repaid me—I remained 2 days and 3 Nights, was a Wedding—of Miss Virginia Chisholm with Mr. D. Hall &c. I Left in Company With Lucy Mrs Percy house at Sun rise and went to Breakfast at My good [friend's, Augustin Bourgeat].

The captain and mates of the _Delos_ were friendly, and whenever their vessel was becalmed, they would let down a boat so that Audubon could procure the stormy Petrel and numerous other birds which he was anxious to examine in the flesh or depict for his "Ornithology."

During his long voyage of sixty-five days our adventurous traveler was alternately elated or depressed by hopes or fears for the future, until land was at last reached on Friday, July 21, 1826. The appearance of Liverpool, said Audubon, "was agreeable, but no sooner had I entered it than the smoke became so oppressive to my lungs that I could hardly breathe." At the customs he was charged two pence on each of his drawings, "as they were water-colored," but on his American books he had to pay "four pence per pound," a circumstance in which he was possibly favored by the following letter which he had brought with him from a friend in New Orleans:

_Edward Holden to George Ramsden_

NEW ORLEANS, _May 26th., 1826_.

GEORGE RAMSDEN, ESQ.

DEAR SIR.

The present will be handed to you by Mr. J. J. Audubon of this city, whom most respectfully I beg to introduce to you.

The principal object of Mr. Audubon's visit to England is to make arrangements for the publication of an extensive and very valuable collection of his drawings in Natural History, chiefly if not wholly of American Birds, and he takes them with him for that purpose. Can you be of any assistance to him by letters to Manchester and London? If you can I have no doubt that my introduction of him will insure your best attention and services.—Mr. Audubon is afraid of having to pay heavy duties upon his drawings. He will describe them to you, and if in getting them entered Low at the Custom House, or if in any other respect you can further his views, I shall consider your aid as an obligation conferred upon myself. Pray introduce him particularly to Mr. Booth, who I am sure will feel great interest in being acquainted with him, were it only on account of the desire he has always expressed to be of service to the new Manchester Institution, to which Mr. Audubon's drawings would be an invaluable acquisition.

I am Dr. Sir

Yours truly,

EDWARD HOLDEN.

Among the letters which Audubon carried on this occasion, but which apparently he did not deliver, was the following, addressed by a friend in New Orleans to General Lafayette:[321]

_Louis P. Caire to General Lafayette_

NEW ORLEANS, _15 May, 1826_.

MY DEAR GENERAL,

Monsieur Audubon, after having spent twenty-two years in the United States, is returning to Europe in order to publish a work to which he has devoted his entire life. This distinguished ornithologist, who bears letters from the most eminent citizens of the Union, will find, I trust, the encouragement to which his talents and his perseverance so fully entitle him, and however flattering may be the recommendations which his friends are eager to give him, these are yet, my dear General, beneath his merits. I have presumed to assure him of your patronage, and in introducing him to you I am convinced that it will be agreeable to you both.

Adieu my General: give my kind regards to all your family, and permit me to embrace you as I love you.

LOUIS P. CAIRE.

Before Audubon left New Orleans, an old acquaintance, Mr. Vincent Nolte[322] of that city, had also furnished him with credentials, in which it was stated that the naturalist was carrying with him four hundred original drawings, and that his object was "to find a purchaser or a publisher." "He has a crowd of letters," continued Nolte, "from Mr. Clay, De Witt Clinton, and others for England, which will do much for him; but your introduction to Mr. Roscoe and others will do more." This judgment was sound, but the most valuable letter which Audubon carried proved to be that of Nolte himself addressed to Richard Rathbone, Esq., of Liverpool, for it brought him into immediate friendly relations with an influential family of merchants which also included William Rathbone, a brother, as well as their father, William Rathbone, Senior, whose interest in birds had made him in his younger days an amateur collector and student. Seldom has the _rôle_ of Mæcenas been played more effectively and with less ostentation than by those intelligent men of affairs, to whom Audubon, with his fine enthusiasm and bold literary plans, seemed to embody all the romance of the New World. They stood sponsor for his work and worth, and did all in their power to make their new discovery known. At the home of the senior Rathbone, called "Greenbank," three miles out of Liverpool, the naturalist was warmly welcomed, and his excellent hostess, Mrs. William Rathbone, the "Queen bee," as he called her, received from him lessons in drawing and became his first subscriber.

At this period Audubon often complained of shyness felt in meeting strangers, but his "observatory nerves," as he said, never gave way. He studied his English friends as closely as he had the birds of America, and the results of his shrewd observations were often turned to practical account. That he was as diffident as he declared himself to be may be doubted, for he seems to have met nearly everyone of prominence wherever he went, and a list of his acquaintance at the end of his sojourn abroad would read much like a "Blue Book" of the British Isles.

At Liverpool Audubon received much assistance also from Edward Roscoe, botanist and writer, Dr. Thomas S. Traill[323] and Adam Hodgson, who introduced him to Lord Stanley. When he came to write his _Ornithological Biography_, these early friends were all publicly called by name, and we thus had (though, as it afterwards appeared, in name only) the "Rathbone Warbler,"[324] "Stanley Hawk," "Children's Warbler," "Cuvier's Regulus," "Roscoe's Yellow-throat," "Selby's Flycatcher," and still possess "Bewick's Wren," "Traill's Flycatcher," "Henslow's Bunting,"[325] "MacGillivray's Finch," and "Harlan's Hawk," to cite a few instances of this form of acknowledgment.

Within barely a week after landing at Liverpool a total stranger, Audubon was invited to show his drawings at the Royal Institution. The exhibition, which lasted a month, was a surprising success; 413 persons, as he recorded, were admitted on the second day, and it netted him one hundred pounds although no charge for admission was made during the first week.

Everyone, said the naturalist, was surprised at his appearance, for he wore his hair long, dressed in unfashionable clothes, rose early, worked late, and was abstemious in food and drink. Shortly after his arrival, his sister-in-law, Mrs. Alexander Gordon, urged him to have his hair cut and to buy a fashionable coat, but he could not then bear to sacrifice his ambrosial locks, which continued to wave over his shoulders until the following March. If we can accept Sir Walter Besant's characterization of the period, the "long-haired Achæan" was no stranger to the streets of London as late as 1837: "brave is the exhibition of flowing locks; they flow over the ears and over the coat-collars; you can smell the bear's grease across the street; and if these amaranthine locks were to be raised you would see the shiny coating of bear's grease upon the velvet collar below."

Audubon had not been in England three weeks before he resumed his drawing and painting habits, at first in order to repay his friends for their kindness, and later as a means of support; at times he would devote every spare moment to this work, and he was then able to paint fourteen hours at a stretch without fatigue. On October 2 he recorded that he had made in less than twenty minutes a diminutive sketch of the Turkey Cock from his large twenty-three hour picture. This was for Mrs. William Rathbone, Senior, who later presented it to him in the form of a handsome gold-mounted seal, inscribed with his favorite motto, "America, my country."[326] The facility which Audubon displayed in producing his pictures of animal life—American wild turkeys, trapped otters, fighting cats, English game pieces, and the like, in a style both novel and individual, added much to his immediate popularity in England, as it later did to his purse. His painting devices are thus referred to in a journal entry for January, 1827:

No one, I think, paints in my method; I, who have never studied but by piece-meal, form my pictures according to my ways of study. For instance, I am now working on a Fox; I take one neatly killed, put him up with wires and when satisfied with the truth of the position, I take my palette and work as rapidly as possible; the same with my birds; if practicable I finish the bird at one sitting,—often, it is true, of fourteen hours,—so that I think they are correct, both in detail and composition.

When he was painting pheasants and needed a white one as "a keystone of light" to his picture, a nobleman sent word that he would be given "leave to see the pictures" in his hall, but this Audubon characteristically refused, being determined to pay no such visits without invitation.

On the 10th of September, 1826, Audubon left Liverpool, in a hopeful mood, for Manchester, with the intention of visiting the chief cities of England and Scotland. He was fortified with a bundle of letters to a long list of distinguished people, including Baron von Humboldt, General Lafayette, Sir Walter Scott, Sir Humphry Davy and Sir Thomas Lawrence. His first step proved a disappointment, and when he finally left the City of Spindles six weeks later, he found himself poorer than when he had entered it. At Manchester, however, he added to his list of interested friends and possible patrons, and acting upon their suggestion, opened a subscription book for the publication of his long meditated work, to be called _The Birds of America_. The Rathbones, as well as other friends whose advice he esteemed, tried to dissuade him from the plan of publishing his drawings in their full size, which was that of life, on account of the great expense involved and the enormous bulk such a work would assume; but he could not bring himself to give up the idea, in which he received the support of the London bookseller, Mr. Bohn, who, after seeing Audubon's drawings reversed his opinion, saying that they must be brought out in their full size, and that they would certainly pay.

After coming to England Audubon often thought of the shifting scenes and strange contrasts his life had brought. One day he felt the pinch of poverty, but on the next fared sumptuously at the tables of the rich; now a rambler in the wilds of America, glad to accept the hospitality of the humblest prairie squatter, now the guest of some metropolitan aristocrat. "The squatter," he said, when writing in England, "is rough, true, and hospitable; my friends here polished, true, and generous. Both give freely, and he who during the tough storms of life can be in such spots may well say that he has tasted happiness."

While at Manchester Audubon was driven to the town of Bakewell, "the spot," he wrote in deference to his wife, "which has been honored with thy ancestor's name." Shortly after, on October 23, he started by stage for Edinburgh, and the distance of 212 miles was covered in three days; the fare was £5 5s. 5d., which he regarded as exorbitant, but he complained not so much of the charge as of the beggarly manner of the drivers, who never hesitated to open the door of their coach and ask for a shilling at the slightest provocation.

At Edinburgh Audubon was welcomed so warmly that he began to feel that ultimate success was at last within his reach. Professor Robert Jameson of the University did much to make his work known, and invited him to coöperate in an enterprise upon which he was then engaged;[327] this was pronounced by Dr. Knox of the Medical School to be a "job book," but whatever its merits may have been, Audubon decided after due reflection to stand on his own feet.

Not long after reaching the Scottish capital, Audubon made the acquaintance of Mr. W. Home Lizars, styled "a Mr. Lizard" by a snapshot biographer of a later day, a well known, expert engraver and painter, who engaged in various publishing enterprises. When Audubon had held up a few of his drawings for his inspection, Lizars rose, exclaiming: "My God! I never saw anything like this before." The picture of the Mockingbirds attacked by a rattlesnake particularly struck his fancy, but when he came to the drawing of the Great-footed Hawks, "with bloody rags at their beaks' ends, and cruel delight in their daring eyes," Lizars declared that he would both engrave and publish it. "Mr. Audubon," said he, "the people here don't know who you are at all, but depend upon it, they _shall_ know." Lizars eventually agreed to engrave and bring out the first specimen number of _The Birds of America_, and about the 10th of November made a beginning with the first plate. On November 28, 1826, he handed Audubon a first proof of the Wild Turkey Cock, a subject chosen to justify the great size of the work, which was to be in double elephant folio, and which in point of size is perhaps to this day the largest extended publication in existence.[328] This and the second plate, which represented the Yellow-billed Cuckoo[329] in the act of seizing a tiger swallowtail butterfly on a branch of the paw-paw tree, were finished by December 10; the first number of five plates was ready some weeks later. Lizars engraved at Edinburgh the first ten of Audubon's plates, but most of these were subsequently retouched, colored and reissued by his successor in London, as will presently appear.

When Audubon's pictures were exhibited at the Royal Institution of Edinburgh, their success was immediate, and like the appearance of a new Waverley novel, they became the talk of the town; the American woodsman had provided a new thrill for the leaders of fashion, as well as for the literati and the scientific men. The "noblest Roman of them all," Sir Walter Scott, refused to attend, but after having met the naturalist he wrote this in his journal: "I wish I had gone to see his drawings; but I had heard so much about them that I resolved not to see them—'a crazy way of mine, your honor.'"

Philarète-Chasles, a well known French critic of the period, has left the following record[330] of the effect which this exhibition made on his impressionable mind:

We have admired in the rooms of the Royal Society of Edinburgh the public exhibition of [Audubon's] original watercolor drawings. A magic power transported us into the forests which for so many years this man of genius has trod. Learned and ignorant alike were astonished at the spectacle, which we will not attempt to reproduce.

Imagine a landscape wholly American, trees, flowers, grass, even the tints of the sky and the waters, quickened with a life that is real, peculiar, trans-Atlantic. On twigs, branches, bits of shore, copied by the brush with the strictest fidelity, sport the feathered races of the New World, in the size of life, each in its particular attitude, its individuality and peculiarities. Their plumages sparkle with nature's own tints; you see them in motion or at rest, in their plays and their combats, in their anger fits and their caresses, singing, running, asleep, just awakened, beating the air, skimming the waves, or rending one another in their battles. It is a real and palpable vision of the New World, with its atmosphere, its imposing vegetation, and its tribes which know not the yoke of man. The sun shines athwart the clearing in the woods; the swan floats suspended between a cloudless sky and a glittering wave; strange and majestic figures keep pace with the sun, which gleams from the mica sown broadcast on the shores of the Atlantic; and this realization of an entire hemisphere, this picture of a nature so lusty and strong, is due to the brush of a single man; such an unheard of triumph of patience and genius!—the resultant rather of a thousand triumphs won in the face of innumerable obstacles!"

Another French writer[331] remarked that Audubon produced the same sensation among the savants of England that Franklin had made at the close of the eighteenth century among the politicians of the Old World; his works, he added, should be translated into his native tongue, and produced in a form which would enable them to reach the library of every naturalist in France.

One after another the scientific, literary, and arts societies of the modern Athens elected Audubon to honorary membership; Combe, the phrenologist and author of _The Constitution of Man_, examined the naturalist's head and modeled it in plaster, for of course it proved to be a perfect exemplification of his system; Syme, the artist, did his portrait for Lizars to engrave. Meanwhile the press was giving such flattering accounts of the man and his work that Audubon confessed that he was quite ashamed to walk the street. At the annual banquet of the Royal Institution, held at the Waterloo Hotel and presided over by Lord Elgin, Audubon was toasted, and it required all his resolution to rise and, for the first time in his life, address a large assembly; this, however, he managed to do in the following words: "Gentlemen; my command of words in which to reply to your kindness is almost as limited as that of the birds hanging on the walls of your Institution. I am truly obliged for your favors. Permit me to say; may God bless you all, and may this society prosper." On the 10th of December he wrote: "My situation in Edinburgh borders on the miraculous," and he felt that his reception in that city was a good augury for the future. But the life that he was compelled to lead was extremely fatiguing, and he often longed to return to his family and to his favorite magnolia woods in Louisiana. "I go to dine," he wrote, "at six, seven, or even eight o'clock in the evening, and it is often one or two when the party breaks up; then painting all day, with my correspondence, which increases daily, makes my head feel like an immense hornet's nest, and my body wearied beyond all calculation; yet it has to be done; those who have my best interests at heart tell me I must _not refuse_ a single invitation." But notwithstanding the tax which society always levies upon the lion's strength, he wrote almost daily in his journal or diary,[332] and its pages, from which we have been quoting, became a mirror of all that he saw, heard, or did. Audubon was generous with his time, as with everything else, and would never hesitate to lay aside his own work for the sake of a friend who was eager to acquire his method of drawing. But when his entertainment commenced with an invitation to breakfast, he began to be alarmed at the large share of his working hours which had to be surrendered to his friends. "I seem, in a measure," he said, "to have gone back to my early days of society and fine dressing, silk stockings and pumps, and all the finery with which I made a popinjay of myself in my youth.... It is Mr. Audubon here, and Mr. Audubon there, and I can only hope they will not make a conceited fool of Mr. Audubon at last."

In response to urgent appeals he began at this time to contribute to the scientific journals of the Scottish capital, a step which only served to remind him that the rose was more prolific in thorns than flowers. Dr. Brewster, however, in his _Journal of Science_, and John Wilson in _Blackwoods_, sang pæans in his praise, and there is no doubt that "Christopher North," so like and yet so unlike the American woodsman, did much to smooth his path in his own country as well as in Europe. Though keenly feeling the need of literary advice in those early contributions, Audubon was quite shocked at the alterations which Dr. Brewster had made in one of these articles, for though the editor had "greatly improved the style," he had quite "destroyed the matter."

On December 21, 1826, Audubon wrote to Thomas Sully that he would send him a copy of the first number of his _Birds_, with the request that he forward it in his name "to that Institution which thought me unworthy to be a member.... There is no malice in my heart," he continued, "and I wish no return or acknowledgment from them. I am now _determined_ never to be a member of that Philadelphia Society." Let it be noted, however, that Audubon was elected to membership in the American Philosophical Society, when their recognition could no longer be withheld and when mutual animosities had died down. Three days later he recorded that all of his drawings had been taken from the walls of the Royal Institution, where they had been on exhibition a month, and that he was intending to present to the Society his large canvas of the Wild Turkeys, for which Galley, the picture dealer, had offered him a hundred guineas on the previous day.[333]

Among Audubon's early patrons were Lord and Lady Morton, and more than once he was invited to visit them in their beautiful country seat of "Dalmahoy," where a large, square, half-Gothic building, crowned with turrets and adorned with all the signs of heraldry, overlooked a beautiful landscape to Edinburgh, marked by its famous castle, seen in miniature on the horizon, eight miles away. Being somewhat apprehensive of meeting the former Chamberlain to the late Queen Charlotte, Audubon had imagined the Earl to be "a man of great physical strength and size"; instead, however, he saw

a small, slender man, tottering on his feet, weaker than a newly hatched partridge; he welcomed me with tears in his eyes, held one of my hands, and attempted speaking, which was difficult to him, the Countess meanwhile rubbing his other hand. I saw at a glance the situation, and begged he would be seated ... and I took a seat on a sofa that I thought would swallow me up, so much down swelled around me. It was a vast room, at least sixty feet long, and wide in proportion, let me say thirty feet, all hung with immense paintings on a rich purple ground; all was purple about me. The large tables were covered with books, instruments, drawing apparatus, a telescope, with hundreds of ornaments.

After luncheon Audubon's "Book of Nature" was produced, and his drawings spread out and admired. Next day the Countess, who was "a woman of superior intellect and conversation," was given "a most unnecessary lesson" in drawing, for, said the naturalist, "she drew much better than I did; but I taught her to rub with cork, and prepare for water-color." Before he left the Countess wrote her name in his subscription book, and arranged that he should return and resume his instruction.

One of Audubon's early friends at Edinburgh was Captain Basil Hall,[334] traveler and writer, who was then about to start on a journey through the United States; he told the naturalist that he was a midshipman on board the _Leander_ "when Pierce was killed off New York," at the time of Audubon's return with Rozier to America in 1806, when Captain Sammis, upon seeing the British frigate, "wore around Long Island Sound, and reached New York by Hell Gate." It was at Captain Hall's home that Audubon met Francis Jeffrey. The indomitable critic and reviewer was described as "a small (not to say tiny) man," who entered the room "with a woman under one arm, and a hat under the other." "His looks were shrewd," said the naturalist, his eyes "almost cunning" and though he talked much, he appeared unsympathetic. Their meeting was productive of no friendly feelings on either side.

Three months after reaching Edinburgh, the long awaited opportunity of meeting the greatest literary figure of the day came to Audubon unexpectedly, for he did not wish to be introduced in a crowd. Under date of January 22, 1827, he wrote that Captain Hall came to his rooms and said: "Put on your coat, and come with me to Sir Walter Scott: he wishes to see you now." "In a moment," said Audubon, "I was ready.... My heart trembled; I longed for the meeting, yet wished it over." When they were ushered into Sir Walter's study, the great Scot came forward, and warmly pressing the hand of his visitor, said he was glad to have the honor of meeting him. Audubon's record of the meeting continues:

His long, loose, silvery locks struck me; he looked like Franklin at his best. He also reminded me of Benjamin West; he had the great benevolence of William Roscoe about him, and a kindness most prepossessing. I could not forbear looking at him; my eyes feasted on his countenance. I watched his movements as I would those of a celestial being; his long, heavy, white eyebrows struck me forcibly. His little room was tidy, though it partook a good deal of the character of a laboratory. He was wrapped in a quilted morning-gown of light purple silk; he had been at work writing on the "Life of Napoleon." He writes close lines, rather curved as they go from left to right, and puts an immense deal on very little paper.... I talked little, but, believe me, I listened and observed.

Two days later Audubon paid Scott a second visit, this time with his portfolio, but little was recorded of this interview other than that it was more agreeable than the first, and that he greatly admired the accomplished Miss Scott, to whom he later sent as a gift the first number of his plates. Audubon's drawings were exhibited at a meeting of the Royal Society over which Sir Walter presided, and Scott was also in attendance at the Royal Institution when Audubon's large painting of the Black Cocks was shown. "We talked much" on this occasion, said the naturalist, "and I would have gladly joined him in a glass of wine, but my foolish habits prevented me." This restriction on wine was soon removed, as was that on whisky, whether of the Scotch or Kentucky brand, and during his later life in America Audubon was never a teetotaler by any means. While at the Exhibition Sir Walter pointed to Landseer's picture of the dying stag, saying, "many such scenes, Mr. Audubon, have I witnessed in my younger days." Audubon was doubtless too polite to express an opinion of that popular artist, though of that very picture he had written in his journal three days before that there was no nature in it, and that he considered it a farce; "the stag," he said, "had his tongue out, and his mouth shut! The principal dog, a greyhound, held the deer by one ear, just as if a loving friend; the young hunter had laced the deer by one horn very prettily, and in the attitude of a ballet-dancer was about to cast the noose over the head of the animal."

Scott and Audubon were kindred spirits in their love of sport, of wild and untameable nature, as well as of man in his Homeric relation to it. Shortly after their first interview the great Scotsman wrote this handsome tribute in his journal:

January 22 [1827].—A visit from Basil Hall with Mr. Audubon, the ornithologist, who has followed that pursuit by many a long wandering in the American forests. He is an American by naturalization, a Frenchman by birth; but less of a Frenchman than I have ever seen—no dash, or glimmer, or shine about him, but great simplicity of manners and behaviour; slight in person, and plainly dressed; wears long hair, which time has not yet tinged; his countenance acute, handsome and interesting, but still simplicity is the predominant characteristic.

Of the later visit of which we just spoke we find this account:

January 24.—Visit from Mr. Audubon, who brings some of his birds. The drawings are of the first order—the attitudes of the birds of the most animated character, and the situations appropriate; one of a snake attacking a bird's nest, while the birds (the parents) peck at the reptile's eyes—they usually, in the long-run, destroy him, says the naturalist. The feathers of these gay little sylphs, most of them from the Southern States, are most brilliant, and are represented with what, were it [not] connected with so much spirit in the attitude, I would call a laborious degree of execution. This extreme correctness is of the utmost consequence to the naturalist, [but] as I think (having no knowledge of _vertu_), rather gives a stiffness to the drawings. This sojourner in the desert has been in the woods for months together. He preferred associating with the Indians to the company of the Back Settlers; very justly, I daresay, for a civilized man of the lower order—that is, the dregs of civilization—when thrust back on the savage state becomes worse than a savage....

The Indians, he says, are dying fast; they seem to pine and die whenever the white population approaches them. The Shawanese, who amounted, Mr. Audubon says, to some thousands within his memory, are almost extinct, and so are various other tribes. Mr. Audubon could never hear any tradition about the mammoth, though he made anxious inquiries. He gives no countenance to the idea that the red Indians were ever a more civilized people than at this day, or that a more civilized people had preceded them in North America. He refers the bricks, etc., occasionally found, and appealed to in support of this opinion, to the earlier settlers,—or, where kettles and other utensils may have been found, to the early trade between the Indians and the Spaniards.

Audubon was anxious to receive a written recommendation from the great "Wizard of the North" touching the merits of his work, the publication of which had just begun, but Sir Walter Scott sensibly demurred, on the ground that his knowledge of natural history was insufficient to qualify him to pass expert judgment. "But," he added, "I can easily and truly say, that what I have had the pleasure of seeing, touching your talents and manners, corresponds with all I have heard in your favor; and I am a sincere believer in the extent of your scientific attainments."

While Audubon was playing the _rôle_ of society's pet lion at Edinburgh in the winter of 1827, he was painting to meet the expense of engraving his first plates, and writing at odd times of the day or night. On February 20 he recorded that his paper on the "Habits of the Wild Pigeon of America" was begun on the previous Wednesday, and finished at half past three in the morning; so completely, said he, was he transported to the woods of America and to the pigeons, that his ears "were as if really filled with the noise of their wings"; yet he added that were it not for the facts it contained, he would not give a cent for it, "nor anybody else, I dare say." Four days later, at the Wernerian Society, he read his paper on the rattlesnake, but the torrent of abuse which soon rewarded his efforts in this direction finally led him to reserve all literary efforts for a future and more propitious time.[335]

A large painting begun in January of this year, called "Pheasants attacked by a Fox," was probably a variant of the "Pheasants attacked by a Dog" (illustrated at page 394), the original of which is now in the American Museum of Natural History, New York City. This canvas, which was exhibited by the Scottish Society of Artists in February, 1827, measured nine by six feet, and was the largest piece he had ever attempted. "Sometimes I like the picture," he said, and "then a heat rises in my face and I think it a miserable daub." "As to the birds," he added, "so far as _they_ are concerned I am quite satisfied, but the ground, the foliage, the sky, the distance, are dreadful."[336]

In the spring of 1827 Audubon enjoyed the novel sensation of going to church in a sedan chair, and of hearing Sidney Smith preach. "He pleased me at times," he said, "by painting my foibles with care, and again I felt the color come to my cheeks as he portrayed my sins." Later there was an opportunity to meet the famous preacher with his fair daughter, and to show them his drawings of American birds.

The following letter[337] was sent at this time to his wife in America:

_Audubon to his Wife_

EDINBURGH _March 12th, 1827_.

MY DEAREST FRIEND

I am now proud that I can announce thee the result of the last meeting of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. I was unanimously elected a Foreign Member of that Institution on the 5t.h. Instant and am at last an F. R. S..—Wilt thou not think it wonderful; to me it is like a dream, and quite as much so when I see the particular attentions paid me by all ranks of the best Society. On the 6t.h. I received the official Letter from the Secretary with the seal of the Society and the arms of Scotland—this along with my other diplomas and Letters, I assure thee enable me to be respected and well received in any portion of the Civilized World. Sir Walter Scott has also been so kind as to give me a Letter that I may exhibit wherever I may go==I have Two Letters from him very kind==all this I think will afford thee great Pleasure.

I am now preparing to leave Edinburgh and will do so in a few days, I am _now_ anxious to visit London as soon as I possibly can, and yet want to spend a few days at New Castle, York, Liverpool, Dublin, then back again to England, go by Cambridge and Oxford.—If I meet the success that I expect in that Tour it is very probable that soon after my reaching London, I will write for thee to Come, and when I do so, my Lucy may come without the _least Hesitation_ for I will then be ready to receive her!

Since my last of the 22d of February, I have received thine of the 31t of December, 3d of January and 8th of Do. this last mostly John's, I am particularly glad that thou hast left the Beech Woods, yet thou might as well have given me at once _thy good reasons for doing so_. I hope that at this Instant that I am writing, thou art snug and comfortably settled afresh.

The Trees and Segments have not yet arrived, but I hope to hear soon that they have—I have not a word about the Seeds reaching yet. do my Love always say by what vessel any thing comes, as John as concluded to take Lessons of Music I have no wish to sell my Gun but wish to give it him as his ow[n] in Fee Simple, _as soon as he deserves it from thy own Hands_. May God bless him!—if all continues well with me Victor and him may rise to eminence and therefore try _Johny's Spunk_. do beg or make him draw all kinds of Limbs of Trees or Flowers for me and whenever he kills a bird of any kind tell him to measure the Guts _particularly_ and make a regular list of the names of the Birds, length and thickness of those Guts and their contents==[338]

I wrote a long letter to each Victor and N. Berthoud on the 27 February, but not a word from either of them as yet reached me. I was quite shocked to see thy last letter of the 8th of January without the print of thy new Seals, I am quite frightened at thy watch not having reachd thee, yet I hope every new Letter will bring me better tidings. I now collecting Letters from all my Friends here and will have God knows enough of them. I only hope I may soon be in a _regular way_ of making a _comfortable living for ourselves all_:

All the papers and books I send thee mention my name. My work is lookd upon as unrivalled in any Country, I will soon know how it will pay.—I can only add that I will write to thee from all the places I visit==Let Victor have a copy of this==Collect all kinds of Curiosities whatever==try to send or bring with thee but send first if Possible Live Birds of hardy kinds such as _Blue Jays_ by THEMSELVES. Red Birds Do. red wingd Starling Do, Partridges &c &c.—present my humble respects to Mr & Mrs Johnsons and remembrances to good Friend bourgeat—try to send me an account of the growing of Cotton from A to Z, written by an able Planter—I wish thee to make regular memorandums thyself respecting all about Habits & Localities &c &c.==thou wilst scarce believe that this day there [are] in many places 16 feet of snow. the weather has been tremendous—yet with all this no Invitation is ever laid aside and the other _evening_ I went to _Diner_ in a Hackny Coach drawn by 4 Horses, and to church on Sunday last in a Sedan chair to hear the famous Sidney Smith, curious diferences of manners here I assure thee.

I have seen and know personally all the great men of Scotland and many of England.

What a curious interesting book a Biographer—well acquainted with my Life could write, it is still more wonderfull and extraordinary than that of my Father!

Fear not my connecting myself in any way with Charles M. he is a mere worm on the hearth, and since he has abandoned his _Grand Flora_ is out of my books—it has perhaps been an error in our Lives that thou didst not come with me. So much indeed do I now think so that I have advised Capn Hall to take his Lady and child with him. be sure to pave the way for them to Judge Mathews and N. Berthoud to whom I have given him letters to.—I send thee his Travels, read his interview with Napoleon; I write my Journal every day, it seems that that portion of it forwardd thee long ago as never reachd thee as thou dost not mention it. I am sorry for all these little misfortunes and can hardly a/c for them. I have not heard from H. Clay but will refresh his memory, I hope at the same time to receive a Letter from the President==I hope this day the last beautiful broach I sent thee as a new Years gift is shining on thy bosom, as I have witnessed the brightness of thy own sweet Eyes, oh my Lucy what would I give now in my possession for a kiss on thy Lips and——God for ever bless thee thine Husband and Friend for ever—

JOHN J. AUDUBON

F.R.S.E. Fellow Royal Society Edinburgh—

F.A.S.— Fellow Royal Society antiquarians—

M.W.S.N.H.—Member Wernerian Society of Natural History

M.S.A.— Member Society of Arts of Scotland—

M.P.L.S.— Member Philosophical & Literary Society Liverpool

M.L.N.Y.— Member Lyceum of New York.

MY DEAR JOHN—

I am very thankfull to you for your Letters continue to write from time to time, draw, and study music closely, there is time for all things—I give you my Gun with all my Heart best wishes, but earn it at your Dear Mamma's will—God bless You—

Your Father and Friend— JOHN J. AUDUBON

At Edinburgh Audubon met a young landscape painter, Joseph B. Kidd, and the two worked together for some time, Kidd receiving instruction in animal painting and Audubon hints on the treatment of his landscapes, which had always been a source of trouble to him. Kidd was Audubon's Edinburgh agent for a time, and later entered upon the ambitious project of reproducing all of his birds in oils, as will be noticed later.[339]

On March 17, 1827, when the second number of his _Birds_ was in preparation, Audubon boldly issued his "Prospectus," contrary to the advice of some of his friends, who could see only egregious folly in such an undertaking and regarded it as foredoomed to failure. As everybody knows, it is easier to say things than to do them, but all these friendly critics sang a different tune later on, when they had seen more of the indomitable will and self-reliance of the man, who was to carry steadily forward to a successful issue a work which was in press nearly twelve years and which cost over $100,000 to produce. In Audubon's original prospectus of _The Birds of America_ the specifications as to the form, size, and cost of the work, which had been determined for some months, underwent little change in subsequent editions of this printed statement.[340]

Audubon left Edinburgh for London on April 5, 1827, with locks shorn but energy unabated. He followed a roundabout course, visiting Belford, "Mitford Castle," Newcastle-upon-Tyne, York, Leeds, Liverpool, and Shrewsbury, at every point extending his acquaintance, showing his drawings to many, and adding appreciably to his growing list of subscribers. Several days were spent in hunting and drawing birds with the Selbys, at their beautiful country place called "Twizel House," at Belford, in Northumberland, where he was soon made to feel as much at home as with his older Liverpool friends, the Rathbones, at "Green Bank."

P. J. Selby, after whom Audubon named a Flycatcher which appeared in his second number, was an amateur artist and ornithologist, and at that time was engaged upon an extensive publication to which Audubon was invited to contribute, a single volume of plates and text having then been published.[341]

At Newcastle, where Audubon spent a week, he saw much of its grand old man, Thomas Bewick, "the first wood cutter in the world," and conceived a deep regard for him, which he afterwards expressed in one of his "Episodes." As they parted, this great son of nature held him closely by the hand, and for the third time repeated, "God preserve you!" "I looked at him in such a manner," said Audubon, "that I am sure he understood I could not speak."

As he proceeded southward, his subscription list augmented apace, Manchester alone giving him eighteen new names, and he began to feel more sanguine of success, if, he added, "I continue to be honest, industrious, and consistent."