CHAPTER XXIII

AUDUBON IN LONDON

Impressions of the metropolis—A trunk full of letters—Friendship of Children—Sir Thomas Lawrence—Lizars stops work—A family of artists—Robert Havell, Junior—_The Birds of America_ fly to London—The Zoölogical Gallery—Crisis in the naturalist's affairs—Royal patronage—Interview with Gallatin—Interesting the Queen—Desertion of patrons—Painting to independence—Personal habits and tastes—Enters the Linnæan Society—The White-headed Eagle—Visit to the great universities—Declines to write for magazines—Audubon-Swainson correspondence—"Highfield Hall" near Tyttenhanger—In Paris with Swainson—Glimpses of Cuvier—His report on _The Birds of America_—Patronage of the French Government and the Duke of Orleans—Bonaparte the naturalist.

Audubon reached London on May 21, 1827, and put up at the "Bull and Mouth" tavern, but soon moved into more permanent lodgings at number 55 Great Russell Street, near the British Museum. Though for a long time eager to see the capital, no sooner had he reached it than he was anxious to be away and more homesick than ever for his family and his beloved America. London then seemed to him "like the mouth of an immense monster, guarded by millions of sharp-edged teeth," from which he could escape only by miracle.

He had brought with him a formidable array of letters addressed to the _élite_ of the capital,[342] and he bore besides nearly a trunkful for the Continent, as well as general letters from Henry Clay, Andrew Jackson and others in America for our consular and diplomatic representatives in Europe. His epistolary basis for the acquisition of useful acquaintances could hardly have been better, and further testimonials were gathered at every stage of his progress to the city of his hopes, but Audubon's best letter of credit, which could be read by all the world, was an open, winning countenance. After he had wandered over London for the greater part of three days without finding a single individual at home, he was tempted to consign his valuable documents to the post, an error which he did not repeat, as it deprived him of the acquaintance of fully one-half of the people to whom they were addressed. One of these London letters which follows, written by Captain Basil Hall to John Murray, the noted publisher and founder of the _Quarterly Review_, is particularly interesting in showing that Audubon was far from pleased with the progress of his work in Edinburgh, and that he was then contemplating a change which was later effected.

_Basil Hall to John Murray_

EDINB _23rd Feby. 1827_

MY DEAR SIR

This will be delivered to you by my friend Mr John Audubon, an American Gentleman who has been residing here this winter, & I beg in the most particular manner to introduce him to your acquaintance and to ask for him the advantage of your good offices.

Mr Audubon has spent [a] great part of his life in making a collection of drawings of the Birds of North America, & in studying their Habits, with the intention of publishing a Complete Ornithology of America. For such a work his materials, both in the shape of drawings and of written notes, are immense and he is now going to London in order to set this gigantic work in motion.

Mr Audubon, however, is not very well versed in the details of such matters, & therefore I beg of you to have the goodness to aid him with your advice on the occasion—to introduce engravers printers & so forth to him, and generally speaking to put him in the way of bringing out his work in an advantageous manner to himself.

I trust all this will give you no more trouble than you will be willing to take at my earnest solicitation.

I remain Ever, My Dear Sir, Most Sincerely Yrs

BASIL HALL. JOHN MURRAY Esqr

Audubon carried also a long letter from "Mr. Hay,"[343] dated at "16 Athol Crescent, Edinburgh, 15 March, 1827," and addressed to the care of his brother, Robert William Hay, of Downing Street, West, in which this curious statement occurs: "Mr. A. is son of the late French Admiral Audubon, but has himself lived from the cradle in the United States, having been born in one of the French colonies."

The document which was to prove of greatest service to him, however, was addressed to John George Children,[344] then in charge of the Department of Zoölogy in the British Museum and secretary of the Royal Society. Children assumed the management of Audubon's work when he returned to America in 1829 and again in 1831; to him and Lord Stanley, in 1830, the naturalist probably owed his nomination to membership in the Royal Society.

Soon after reaching London Audubon paid his respects to Sir Thomas Lawrence, for whom he had two letters, and made an appointment for showing his work to this famous artist. He was also gratified to receive the subscription of Lord Stanley and of Charles Lucien Bonaparte, who was then in London.

Audubon had not been in London a month before word was received from Lizars that all his colorers had struck work and that everything was at a stand. Accordingly, he began to search London for skilled workmen, and on June 18 wrote: "I went five times to see Mr. Havell, the colorer, but he was out of town. I am full of anxiety and greatly depressed. Oh! how sick I am of London!" Three days later another discouraging letter came from Lizars, who shortly after threw up his contract and left his patron in a sad predicament—with an enormously expensive work, still-born, on his hands, without adequate funds, and, in short, with all his cherished plans suspended in mid-air. Audubon no doubt realized that if his grand undertaking were to succeed at all, it must experience a new birth in London, where an expert engraver of the requisite enterprise and zeal must be found without delay. He closed his journal on the second day of July with the remark that he was too dull and mournful to write a line, and it was not opened again for nearly three months.

This gap in Audubon's record can now be filled in reference to some important particulars, for in the interval he made his greatest discovery in England, in Robert Havell, Junior, then a young and unknown artist of thirty-four, who through eleven years of the closest association with his new patron was to become one of the greatest engravers in aquatint the world has ever seen. Until recently the intimate story of Audubon's relation to the Havells has been much obscured.[345] The reference in the journal record of June 19, just given, was undoubtedly to Robert Havell, Senior, who for many years was associated with his father, Daniel Havell, the first of five generations of artists of that name, in the engraving and publishing business, but who at this time was established independently at 79 Newman Street, London; he also conducted a shop called the "Zoölogical Gallery," at which were sold engravings, books, artists' materials, naturalists' supplies, and specimens of natural history of every sort. His three sons, Robert, George, and Henry Augustus, all became artists, but the eldest, who bore his father's name, was educated for a learned profession. Contrary to his father's injunctions and advice, Robert, who was bent on becoming an artist, abruptly left his home in 1825, determined to shift for himself. He began with an extensive sketching tour on the River Wye, in Monmouthshire, and produced numerous paintings which, as his biographer remarks, display all the charm found in the work of his distinguished cousin, William Havell. These won immediate recognition in London, where he received commissions from various publishers, including the house of Messrs. Colnaghi & Company.

Robert Havell, Senior, then in his fifty-eighth year, though deeply interested in Audubon's adventurous plans, felt himself too old to embark on so extended a work, which it was then believed would require from fourteen to sixteen years for completion; he volunteered, however, to do his best to find a substitute. With this in view, he applied to Mr. Colnaghi, the publisher, and was immediately shown the unsigned proof of a beautiful landscape, exquisitely drawn and engraved by one of the youthful retainers of his establishment. The elder Havell, after scrutinizing it carefully, exclaimed, "That's just the man for me!" "Then," replied the publisher, "send for your own son!" Through this singular coincidence, father and son became reconciled and a partnership between them was soon announced.

As a test of young Havell's skill, to follow the story of his biographer, Audubon gave him his drawing of the Prothonotary Warbler, which had already been engraved and issued by Lizars as Plate iii of _The Birds of America_ earlier in that year. Havell finished the engraving in two weeks, when a proof was struck and the naturalist summoned. Audubon examined the print with the utmost keenness and deliberation; then he seized the sheet, and holding it up, danced about the room, calling out in his French accent: "Ze jig is up, ze jig is up!" The Havells, who at first thought this might signify disapproval, were quickly disabused when Audubon approached young Robert and, throwing his arms about his neck, assured him that his long-sought engraver had been found at last. Having given this story, I wish it were possible to confirm it, but a close examination of this plate proves either that the story is a fiction, or that some other drawing was used as a test of Havell's skill.[346]

The part which this interesting family played in Audubon's success will be unfolded later.[347] Suffice it now to say that Messrs. Robert Havell & Son, in London, undertook afresh the production of _The Birds of America_ in the summer of 1827. The partnership was divided or dissolved in 1828, when Robert, junior, who from the first did all of the engraving, took entire charge of that part of the business, and moved his engraving establishment around the corner to 77 Oxford Street; there it remained until broken up in 1838. Robert Havell, Senior, continued in charge of the printing and coloring until 1830, when he seems to have permanently retired, two years before his death in 1832, events which, as will be seen, are indirectly registered in the legends of some of Audubon's plates.[348]

Under the younger Havell's guiding hand, Audubon found that his illustrations could be produced in better style, more expeditiously, and at far less cost than in Edinburgh. When Lizars was later shown the third number which the Havells had produced, he called his assistants and observed how completely the London workmen had beaten them; he even offered to resume work on the engraving and at Havell's price, but Audubon was averse to further experimenting. "If he can fall," said he, "twenty-seven pounds in the engraving of each number, and do them in a superior style to his previous work, how enormous must his profits have been; a good lesson to me in the time to come, though I must remember Havell is more reasonable owing to what has passed between us in our business arrangements, and the fact that he owes so much to me."

This characteristic note was sent from Liverpool, December 6, 1827, to his agent, Daniel Lizars, father to W. H. Lizars, at Edinburgh:

I will not ask if you have any new name for me, as I _might_ be disappointed were I to expect an affirmative answer.

If you see Sir Wm. Jardine tell him that Charles Bonaparte has left the U. S. for ever, and has gone to reside in Florence, Italy.

I have wrote to Mr. Havell to send you a No. 5, which I wish you to send to Professor Wilson, or indeed a whole set, to enable him to write the notice he has promised for me the 1st. of next month.

Audubon sent another letter to this agent, from London, January 21, 1828, when he was still waiting for an answer to his last: "When I write to any one I expect an answer, but when I write to a man I esteem, and to whom I entrust a portion of my business, I feel miserable until I hear from him.... I am extremely anxious to close my business for 1827, and cannot do so without receiving your a/c, and the money due by my subscribers."

The summer of 1827 was probably Audubon's most critical period in England. His work was then in the air and ruin of all his hopes seemed inevitable, but with palette and brush he again extricated himself from financial difficulties. At this time, he said, "I painted all day, and sold my work during the dusky hours of the evening as I walked through the Strand and other streets where the Jews reigned; popping in and out of Jew-shops or any others, and never refusing the offer made me for the pictures I carried fresh from the easel." He sold seven copies of the "Entrapped Otter" in London, Manchester, and Liverpool, and from seven to ten copies of some of his other favorite subjects; once when he inadvertently called at a shop where he had just disposed of a picture, the dealer promptly bought the duplicate and at the same price that he had paid for the first.

In the autumn of this year, when it was found that his agents were neglecting their business, Audubon determined to make a sortie to collect his dues and further augment his subscription list. He left London on September 16, and visited in succession Manchester, Leeds, York, Newcastle-on-Tyne, Alnwick Castle and Belford, to see the Selbys, finally reaching Edinburgh on the 22nd of October.

Audubon had set his mark at obtaining 200 subscribers by May, 1828, but he fell far short of realizing it. On August 9 he wrote: "This day seventy sets have been distributed; yet the number of my subscribers has not increased; on the contrary, I have lost some." At York he found that a number of his _Birds_, which had been forwarded from Edinburgh before he had taken his departure, "was miserably poor, scarcely colored at all"; and a copy of his first number which was later examined at the Radcliffe Library in Oxford was so unsatisfactory that he rolled it up and took it away, with the reflection that Lizars, whom he had paid "so amply and so punctually," could have made him a better return. The colorists gave no end of trouble, but he never hesitated to reject their work when it did not meet his requirements, and the defective plates were invariably sent back to Havell's shop to be washed, hot-pressed, and done over again. To such watchful care must be ascribed, in large measure, the high degree of perfection which his big work eventually attained. When it is remembered that upwards of one hundred thousand of his large plates had to be colored laboriously by hand, and that at one time fifty persons were engaged at the Havell establishment, we can understand the difficulties involved in maintaining a uniform standard of excellence in a work that was issued piecemeal and spread over a long period of time.

In August, 1827, Audubon wrote to Mrs. Thomas Sully of Philadelphia to announce the removal of his business to London. By this change he expected to save "upwards of an hundred pounds per annum, a large sum," as he remarked, "for a man like me." His third number had then been issued, and he expressed the hope that all would go smoothly after "this first year of hard trials and times," and that he would be able to send for his wife and one of his sons in the coming autumn or winter. He was then painting "a flock of Wild Turkeys for the king, who had honored him with his particular patronage and protection." When writing to his young son, John W. Audubon, on the 10th of the same month, he charged him to devote two hours daily to the preparation of bird skins, and to send him not only the skins but live birds and mussel shells, for which he would be duly paid. Said the father:

I would give you 500 dollars per annum, were you able to make for me such drawings as I will want. I wish you would draw one bird only, on a twig, and send it [to me] to look at, as soon as you can after receiving this letter.... I should like to have a large box filled with branches of the trees, covered with mosses &c., such as Mama knows I want; now recollect, _all sorts_ of Birds, males and females, ugly or handsome.

Audubon had come to London with the idea of having his work published under the patronage of King George IV; in order to gain a personal interview with the Sovereign he had brought a letter to Robert Peel, who was then the Home Secretary, but a change in the Cabinet had upset his plans and the letter was returned. He then applied to the American Ambassador, Mr. Albert Gallatin, who upon their first meeting addressed him in French and showed "the ease and charm of manner of a perfect gentleman"; but when the question of an audience with the King was broached, Gallatin laughed at the idea as preposterous. "The king," he declared, "sees nobody; he has the gout, is peevish, and spends his time playing whist at a shilling a rubber. I had to wait six weeks before I was presented to him in my position of ambassador, and then I merely saw him six or seven minutes." When Audubon then suggested that the Duke of Northumberland might interest himself in his behalf, Gallatin, who disliked the English heartily, replied: "I have called hundreds of times on like men in England, and have been assured that his grace, or lordship, or [her] ladyship was not at home, until I have grown wiser, and stay at home myself, and merely attend to my political business, and God knows when I will have done with that."

As the American Ambassador had predicted, King George evinced no ardent desire to meet the American woodsman, though he consented to take the work under his patronage and to become a subscriber on the usual terms; this plan, however, fell through, for the King, who was reported to have taken his copy, failed to pay for it. With Queen Adelaide, on the other hand, the naturalist was more successful, and in his "Prospectus" of 1831 she was announced as his special patron, with her name heading his list. Negotiations to interest the Queen were going on when the following note was sent to Audubon by Sir J. W. Waller, who occupied some position in the king's household and was spoken of as "oculist to his majesty":

_Sir J. W. Waller to Audubon_

Saturday 9 o clock [1830].

I have scarce an Instant as I am going to Town to breakfast with the Dk. of Gloucester, but yr. Letter is _urgent_ & therefore I can only desire Mr. A. to _send_ his Number _immediately_ to the Stable Yard, directed to her Majesty, & the first moment I can see _her_, I will speak on the subject, but at this Moment I will not promise to mention it to the King for reasons I cannot put on paper.

Yrs. ever,

J. W. WALLER

At Edinburgh Audubon was alarmed to find that subscribers were rapidly deserting him, six having cancelled their names without the formality of giving reasons. He hoped to supply their places at Glasgow, then a rich city of one hundred and fifty thousand people, but after a visit there of four days in November, 1827, he was obliged to return to Edinburgh with but one new name on his list.

On October 22 he expressed the resolve for the coming year "to _positively keep_ a cash account" with himself and others, "a thing" he had "never yet done." The wisdom of that decision was apparent upon settling his accounts for 1827 with both Lizars and Havell, as appears from this note, written in his journal on January 17, 1828: "It is difficult work for a man like me to see that he is 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." Again, for February 7 we find this record: "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 _£_100, for I am charged with 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."

Shortly after reaching London, as we have seen, Audubon had made the acquaintance of Sir Thomas Lawrence, then at the head of the Royal Academy and favorite painter of the Court and fashionable society. The friendship of this influential artist at a critical moment proved most fortunate, for Sir Thomas called repeatedly at his lodgings, and at each visit brought patrons who went away with some of his pictures but not without leaving a handsome toll of sovereigns in his lap; the "Entrapped Otter" again did duty by bringing him twenty-five pounds, while others returned from seven to thirty-five pounds. At a later time the artist visited the "Zoölogical Gallery," as the Havell establishment in Newman Street was then known, and saw Audubon's large paintings called "The Eagle and the Lamb," and "English Pheasants Surprised by a Spanish Dog" or "_Sauve qui peut_." Audubon, who on this occasion missed seeing his distinguished visitor, had written in his journal three days before (December 23, 1828) that the paintings were what he called "finished," but that, as usual, he could not bear to look at either. Sir Thomas praised the "Eagle," admired an "Otter," which was later exhibited in London, but gave no opinion on the "Pheasants." Afterwards, however, when Audubon proposed to present this canvas to King George, the artist assured him that this picture was worth 300 guineas and that it was too good to be given away; if offered to the King, no doubt, said he, "it would be accepted and placed in his collections, but you would receive no benefit from the gift." According to a later record, this canvas was sold to Mr. John Heppenstall of Sheffield; whether it was ever delivered, or not, I do not know, but either the original or a copy, here reproduced, now forms the central figure in the large Audubon collection in the American Museum of Natural History in New York, and is an excellent illustration of the elaborate and ambitious character of Audubon's larger compositions. These fortunate windfalls came none too soon, for to follow the journal:

Mr. Havell had already called to say that on Saturday I must pay him sixty pounds. I was then not only not worth a penny, but had actually borrowed five pounds a few days before to purchase materials for my pictures. But these pictures which Sir Thomas sold for me enabled me to pay my borrowed money, and to appear full-handed when Mr. Havell called. Thus I passed the Rubicon.

This was before the reform of the penal laws in England, when it seems to have been hard for a man to escape hanging, not to speak of being sent to prison for debt, the chief terror of life in certain circles. There were 223 capital offenses, and in 1829 in the city of London alone 7,114 persons were sent to the debtors' prison.[349]

Without the sale of his pictures in the summer of 1827, Audubon felt that he must certainly have become a bankrupt, yet he was periodically displeased with the results of his efforts in oil colors, and resolved to "spoil no more canvas" but to draw "in my usual old untaught way, which is what God meant me to do"; "I can draw," he continues, "but I shall never paint well." In the fall of 1828, however, he was again working in oils, and produced four large pieces, one of which was called "The Eagle and the Lamb," and two others which were doubtless variations of his "Pheasant" and "Otter" pictures. "It is charity," said the artist, "to speak the truth to a man who knows the poverty of his talents, and wishes to improve; it is villainous to mislead him, by praising him to his face, and laughing at his work as they go down the stairs of his house." Sir Thomas Lawrence had praised some of these pictures and had promised to select one for exhibition at Somerset House. As regards "The Eagle and the Lamb," which Audubon hoped would go to Windsor Castle, William Swainson would give no opinion; the same canvas, or else a replica, was in possession of the Audubon family in 1898.[350]

On December 14, 1827, Audubon wrote that, acting upon the advice of Mr. Maury, the American consul at London, he had presented a copy of his _Birds_ to John Quincy Adams, the President of the United States, and another, through Henry Clay, to the American Congress; in order that the latter should be as perfect as possible, Havell was asked to do the coloring himself, but these proposed gifts do not appear to have been executed.[351]

New Year's, 1828, found the naturalist in Manchester, where but a few days before he had received the fifth and last number of his plates for 1827 and expressed himself well pleased with it. While returning to London by coach, he consented to take a hand at cards to accommodate his fellow passengers, but declined to play for money; "I never play," he confessed, "unless obliged to by circumstances; I feel no pleasure in the game, and long for other occupation." "I missed my snuff," he added, and whenever his hands went into his pockets in search of the box, he "discovered the strength of habit thus acting without thought"; but he remembered a resolution he had formed to give up the habit and stuck to it for a time at least; doubtless, like his later friend, John Bachman, he reformed more than once, for in a letter to Victor Audubon, of November 5, 1846, Bachman added this postscript: "To Audubon: The snuff—the snuff, it is here! I have just taken a pinch, and the ladies have blown _you_ up—sky-high, for teaching me such a bad practice; I say, however, that you beat me all to pieces in that art."

The first winter in London dragged heavily for the naturalist, who exclaimed in January, 1828: "How long am I to be confined in this immense jail"; when Daniel Lizars reported from Edinburgh the loss of four of his subscribers, he writes, "I am dull as a beetle. Why do I dislike London? Is it because the constant evidence of the contrast between the rich and the poor is a constant 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," such, we might add, as the flocks of wild duck which were occasionally seen from Regent's Park as they passed over the city and made him more homesick than ever. Audubon hated the city quite as cordially as Charles Lamb ever affected to detest the country, and when leaving it, afoot or by stage, it seemed as if he could never be rid of it. "What a place is London," he would say, but naïvely add: "many persons live there solely because they like it."

On February 4, 1828, Audubon was elected to membership in the Linnæan Society, and in November he presented it with a copy of his work, which was then well under way. This was noticed in a letter to Swainson, written on November 7, when no acknowledgment of the gift had then been received; and he mentioned also the sale of his picture of "Blue Jays" for ten guineas. At a meeting of the Linnæan Society not long after his election, copies of Selby's _Illustrations of British Ornithology_ and of his own work were placed side by side for inspection, and "very unfair comparisons were drawn between the two"; had Selby, Audubon reflected, been given "the same opportunities that my curious life has granted me, his work would have been far superior to mine"; "I supported him," he added, "to the best of my power."

Revision of his older drawings demanded much of Audubon's attention during these years. On February 10, 1828, he began the Whiteheaded Eagle (No. 7, Plate xxxi), the original of which had been procured on the Mississippi, where the bird was represented as dining on a wild goose; now, he said, "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 the same river, driving him from his prey." On the 16th of that month he was engaged with this drawing from seven in the morning until half after four, stopping only to take the glass of milk which his landlady would bring to him. This plate was engraved in the following April, and on May 1, 1828, a first proof was sent to the Marquis of Landsdowne, president of the Zoölogical Society, as a mark of appreciation by its author, who had become a member of that body in the preceding winter.

A striking characteristic of Audubon's work was its diversity, produced not only by attractive embellishments of many kinds, but by the moving force and action with which he ever sought to vitalize his subjects. It is therefore not surprising that he was nettled by an incident like this:

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 house. I heard his words, bowed, and without speaking, left the rudest man I have met in this land.

Audubon had not yet visited the great university towns of England, the support of which he knew would be a valuable asset, and on March 3, 1828, he set out by stage for Cambridge. His driver, he remarked, "held confidances with every grog-shop between London and Cambridge, and his purple face gave powerful evidences that malt liquor [was] more enticing to him than water." His reception at Cambridge was hearty; he was entertained by Professors Sedgwick, Whewell, and Henslow, dined repeatedly "in Hall" with the dons, and received the subscription of the librarian of the University. It is interesting to recall that young Charles Darwin, "the man who walks with Henslow," as some of the dons called him, was then an undergraduate at King's College, and that thirty-one years were to pass before modern biology was born in 1859, the year of the appearance of the epoch-making _Origin of Species_.

By the 15th of March Audubon was again in London, and on the 24th he started for Oxford. Dr. Williams, as he noted in his journal, subscribed for his _Birds_ in favor of the Radcliffe Library, as did also Dr. Kidd for the Anatomical School; but, though hospitably treated by all, not one of the twenty-four colleges of that great University emulated their example, and the naturalist went away disappointed.

Upon his return to London in early April, Audubon received a call from John C. Loudon, editor of the _Magazine of Natural History_, and was invited to contribute to that journal. "I declined," he said, "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 these, the Philadelphians call me a liar." He was then chafing under the criticism which his rattlesnake stories had produced.[352] On April 6 the persistent Mr. Loudon called again and offered Audubon eight guineas for an article, only to be again refused. Still unwilling to admit defeat, the editor proposed to engage William Swainson to prepare an extended review of the naturalist's work, and in this he succeeded so well that Audubon immediately relented and sent him a paper.[353] Swainson offered to write the review for a copy of the work at its cost price, and Audubon replied in the following letter:[354]

_Audubon to William Swainson_

LONDON, _April 9th 1828_.

MY DEAR SIR,

Mr. Loudon called on me yesterday and showed me a letter from you to him, in which many very flattering expressions respecting myself and my works you are so kind as to offer to review the latter so as to have your opinion in writting in time for the first no. of the magazine that will appear next month.—you also desire that I should send you a sett of the works as far as publishing which you wish to keep provided I will let you have it at the price _it costs me._ I assure you my Dear Sir, that was I to take you at your word it would be a sore bargain for you as the a/m would be very nearly double that for which it is sold to my subscribers.—therefore you will permit me to alter your offer and to say that if it suits you to pay 35 shillings per number I will be contented; I would be still more so was I rich enough to present it to you.—

It is the only set on hand at present except one which I must have to exhibit.—

The answer respecting the Shrieke [Shrike] has I hope met with your wishes.—

Ever since I became acquainted with our mutual friend Dr. Fraill [Traill] I have had a great desire to see and speak to you & I regret that I never have had an opportunity. My time is so completely taken up that it is with difficulty that I can enjoy a day's rest—Should you come to town pray call on me when I may have the pleasure of shaking your hand and to assure you verbally that I am truly and sincerely

yours obe st

JOHN J. AUDUBON

95 Great Russell St. Bedford Sq.

Thus began an intimate friendship between William Swainson and John James Audubon which lasted until 1830, and their intercourse did not wholly cease before 1838. In his use of English at this time Audubon was not far behind Swainson, whose mother tongue it was. Swainson, according to Dr. Günther, was "extremely careless in orthography and loose in his style of writing: he persistently misspelt not only technical terms, but also the names of foreign authors, and even of some of his familiar friends and correspondents; he knew no other language but his own, and the application of Latin and Greek for the purpose of systematic nomenclature was a constant source of error."

At this time Swainson was living in semi-retirement at a farmstead of considerable size, called "Highfield Hall,"[355] near Tyttenhanger Green, a small settlement, off the highroad, two miles southeast of the historic town of St. Albans, in Hertfordshire; though his letters were always dated from "The Green" at Tyttenhanger, his associations were with the more considerable village of London Colney, but a mile to the south, on the road to Barnet. Audubon had brought a letter of introduction from Dr. Traill, a valiant champion of Swainson at Edinburgh, but was unable to go to the country to deliver it. Swainson, however, attended promptly to the review, and on April 11, 1828, sent it to Mr. Loudon, who published it in the May number of his _Magazine_.[356]

Swainson's review was extremely laudatory, and Audubon reproduced extracts from it in later editions of his "Prospectus." To quote a characteristic paragraph, he said that the naturalist's ornithological papers printed in one of the Scotch journals, are as valuable to the scientific world, as they are delightful to the general reader. They give us a rich foretaste of what we may hope and expect from such a man. There is a freshness and an originality about these essays, which can only be compared to the animated biographies of Wilson.... To represent the passions and the feelings of birds, might, until now, have been well deemed chimerical. Rarely, indeed, do we see their outward forms represented with any thing like nature. In my estimation, not more than three painters ever lived who could draw a bird. Of these the lamented Barrabaud [Barraband], of whom France may be justly proud, was the chief. He has long passed away; but his mantle has at length been recovered in the forests of America.

Audubon spent four days with Swainson and his family at Tyttenhanger, from May 28 to June 1, 1828, when they talked birds and made drawings; Audubon also showed Swainson "how to put up birds in _his_ style, which delighted him." The friendship between these men, though very intimate while it lasted, received a sudden check two years later, when Audubon was about to publish the letterpress to his plates, as will be related farther on.[357]

Though his hands were already more than full at this time, Audubon seems to have played with the idea of publishing a work on the birds of Great Britain, but on May 1 he wrote to Swainson that the plan did not meet with favor, and later he relinquished all claims in such a project to his assistant, William MacGillivray.[358]

In the spring of 1828 Audubon began to think of returning to the United States, to renew or revise his drawings and extend his researches. "I am sure," he said, "that now I could make better compositions, and select better plants than when I drew mainly for amusement." In order to raise the necessary funds, he resorted again to picture painting, his never failing resource, and worked in oil colors daily from morning light until dusk, unless called to Havell's to decide some question of necessary detail. The following letters to Swainson shed further light on this work and on the progress of _The Birds of America_, the eighth number of which was published early in July:

_Audubon to William Swainson_

LONDON, _July 1st 1828_.

MY DEAR SIR.—

I have been expecting to have the pleasure of seeing you for upwards of a week, having mentioned in your last note that you intended spending a couple of days in London before the end of June.—When are you coming?—the beautifull lamb came quite safe and is now on the canvas (in efigy) for ages to come—I bought a superb Golden Eagle from Mr. Cross that also has helped to fill it —— [_Here apparently some words have been deleted, and it is impossible to read them._] I long to shew them to you.—I have finished the picture of the Turkeys, and painted a white headed eagle—in fact I have worked from 4 every morning untill dark—but the best news I have to tell is; that I have received 4 letters from my wife, one dated 2nd of May, all well—but not quite settled about coming before the end of summer. I have changed quarters and am now at 79 Newman Street Oxford Street, in Mr. Havell's house where I have taken 3 rooms and feel more comfortable although I have not the little piece of ground to walk on.—I imagine the country to be now quite beautifull and had I time to spare would walk out to see you Mrs S & the dear little folks at Tittenhanger Green.—I received a visit on Saturday last of the whole of Lord Milton's family who after complimenting the author of the "Birds of America" very kindly subscribed for two copies of the work.—I have mended my pen—I should have sent the Blackwood magazine to you, but I so much expected to see you here that it is yet on my table, and will keep it untill you come.—All my exertions to procure live grouses have been abortive here—I have written to Scotland to a friend and perhaps will have some soon.—The 8th number is now printing and colouring and will be out this month—the 9th is began.—If you are hungry or thirsty when you come to town please make for my [_here a word is omitted_], and I will try to manage matters in this way.—May I ask what you are doing?—I saw Dr Fraill's [Traill's] son a few days ago—he inquired after your son and family.—I expect a copy of Loudon's magazine this evening. I feel anxious to see what sort of a cut the Doves make, as well as the birds of Washington.—

With sincerest regards & esteem to yourself and Lady—

I am yours most truly

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

79 Newman Street, Oxford Street.

_Audubon to William Swainson_

LONDON _Thursday July 1828_.

MY DEAR MR SWAINSON,

Although your last note said that you knew not when I should have the pleasure of seeing you in town, I have hoped every morning to see you that day.—When will you come?—_There is a talk_ of my picture of the Eagle and the Lamb going to her Majesty, Sir Walter Waller has been written to on the subject and every thing is in train to lead _poor I_ like a lamb to Windsor Castle!—I am told the picture is a _grand one_ but _you_, my dear Sir, have not said so! When you come I will show you 13 grouses pretty fairly grouped on one canvas, with seven pheasants with a Fox on another, etc. etc. I have worked hard this month from 4 p.m. untill 7 a.m. [_sic_] every day—I regretted that your brother did not come to see me—I have a great desire to see you but I cannot at present leave town.—My 8th No. is just out.—The 9th & 10th are engraving.—I have sent word to my son to land [?] & bring some skins for you & perhaps you may have a rare assortment bye and bye.—I hope your Lady and dear Children are all quite well Pray remember me kindly to them.——I wish to name a bird after you in the 1st No. of 1829 & wish you to choose a name.

Believe yours ever and truly obliged

J. J. AUDUBON

79 Newman Street, Oxford Street.

By the 9th of August eight pictures had been begun, but none was finished, and the number of his subscribers had fallen to seventy. At about this time Captain Basil Hall[359] returned from his journey through the United States, and brought direct news from Victor Audubon, who was then at Louisville, from Dr. Richard Harlan and Thomas Sully, to all of whom the naturalist's letters had been delivered the previous year. Towards the end of the month Audubon received the following note from the secretary of the Zoölogical Society, N. A. Vigors, who was also anxious to obtain from him an article for his _Journal_:

_N. A. Vigors to Audubon_

BRUTER CT _Aug. 23, 1828._

MY DEAR SIR:—

I hope you do not forget your promise of giving us a paper for the Zoölogical Journal. We should be much gratified by having your name with us: and, if possible, should wish to have whatever you may favour us with within the next ten days. I have been but a few hours in town, and shall leave town again tomorrow for a few days, or I should have called upon you to speak personally upon the subject. I believe I have already mentioned, that we are in the habit of remunerating those of our correspondents who wish for payment for their labours, at a rate not exceeding £10.10.0 per sheet.

A letter from you in answer will reach me, if sent to Bruter Ct: before Wednesday on which day a parcel will be forwarded to me from thence.

Believe me my dear Sir,

Yours faithfully,

N: A: VIGORS.

[Addressed] J. J. AUDUBON Esq., 69 Great Russell St.; Bloomsbury.

[Readdressed] Newman Street, Oxford Street

Audubon refused this request, saying that "no money can pay for abuse," and this time he did not retract.

Without immediate prospect of seeing his family, for neither Mrs. Audubon nor her sons were enthusiastic over the proposal that they should go to England, the naturalist was momentarily depressed; he turned to Swainson for advice, at the same time suggesting that they visit Paris together. Audubon wrote in his journal for August 16, 1828, that he had invited Swainson to accompany him to France, whither his friend had expressed a desire to go when the subject had been broached at Tyttenhanger; on the 25th of that month he added: "I do not expect much benefit by this trip, but I shall be glad to see what may be done." The letter just referred to follows:

_Audubon to William Swainson_

LONDON, _Wednesday Augt. 13, 1828_.

MY DEAR MR. SWAINSON,

I reached my lodging in great comfort by the side of your amiable Docr Davie two hours and a half after we shook hands—I wish I might say as much of my _Journey through Life_.—I have had sad news from my dear wife this morning, she has positively abandoned her coming to England for some indefinite time, indeed she says that she looks anxiously for the day when tired myself of this country I will return to mine and live although a humbler (Public) Life, a much happier one—her letter has not raised my already despondent spirits in _somethings_ and at the very instant I am writing to you it may perhaps be well that no instrument is at hand with which a woeful sin might be committed—I have laid aside brushes, thoughts of painting and all except the ties of friendship—I am miserable just now and you must excuse so unpleasant a letter—Would you go to _Paris_ with me? I could go with you any day that you would be please to mention, I will remain there as long and no longer than may suit your callings—I will go with you to Rome or anywhere, where something may be done for either of our advantage and to drive off my very great uncomfortableness of thoughts—My two sons are also very much against coming to England, a land they say where neither freedom or simplicity of habits exist and altogether uncongenial to their mode of life.—What am I to do? As a man of _the World_ and a man possessed of strong unprejudiced understanding I wish that you would advise me.—But now on your account I will change the subject—I called on Newman two days ago & to the following enquiries he gave me yesterday the following answers

What the price of

½ doz best Pure Lake dowards [?] _answer_ 12/— ½ " " Carmin " " 20/— ½ " " UltraMarine " " 84/— ½ " " Vermillion " " 6/— ½ " " Terra di Verona " " 4/—

As I thought the above prices enormous I have declined advising chalks for you & will await your advent.—

Should you not feel inclined to go to France at present which by the bye is the very best season on account of seeing the vintage etc. etc.—please write to me so or come to town which would be still more agreeable & talk the matter over as I think I would persuade you to absent yourself for a month or so—I hope your kind lady continues quite well & your Dear Little ones—

Believe me yours most sincerely

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

Please write by return of Post— 79 Newman Street Oxford Street.

On this journey to Paris Audubon was accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Swainson and an American artist, named Parker, who had been at work on a portrait of the naturalist in oils. For Audubon it was mainly a canvassing tour; Parker hoped to obtain orders for portraits, and Swainson, new ornithological material at the great museum in the Jardin des Plantes, for a work upon which he was then engaged.[360]

The party set out on the 1st of September, traveling by way of Dover and Boulogne, and reached Paris on Thursday, September 4. They alighted at the Messagerie Royale, Rue des Victoires, and, after looking up lodgings, went at once to the Jardin des Plantes to pay their respects to Cuvier. The Museum of Natural History was closed, but they knocked and asked for the Baron. "He was in," said Audubon, in the journal of his Paris experience,

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 in our names. The messenger returned, bowed, and led the way up stairs, where in a minute Monsieur the Baron, like an excellent good man, came to us; he had heard 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.[361]

They were immediately invited to dine on the following Saturday at six o'clock, and later saw Cuvier at his home, at his Museum, and at the Academy of Sciences, over which he presided.

Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire pleased Audubon greatly and proved to him by his conversation that he understood perfectly the difference between the French and the English. The Duke of Orleans, who then occupied the Palais Royal, seemed to him the finest physical type of man he had ever met. "He had my book brought up," said the naturalist, "and helped me untie the strings and arrange the table, and began by saying that he felt great pleasure in subscribing to the work of an American, for he had been most kindly received in the United States and should never forget it." When the plate of the Baltimore Orioles was held up to view, the Duke exclaimed: "This surpasses all I have seen, and I am not astonished now at the eulogiums of M. Redouté." He conversed in both English and French, had much to say of American cities and rivers, and added: "You are a great nation, a wonderful nation." The Duke wrote his name in Audubon's subscription book, promised to try to enlist a number of the crowned heads of Europe in his behalf, and gave him besides a number of orders for pictures of animals.

Audubon had already made friends with the veteran painter of flowers, Pierre Joseph Redouté, and when it was proposed that they should exchange works, the "Raphael of Flowers" consented, gave Audubon at once nine numbers of his _Belles Fleurs_, and promised to send "_Les Roses_."

During this visit of eight weeks Parker painted portraits of both Cuvier and Redouté; Swainson worked steadily at the Museum, where Isidore Geoffrey Saint-Hilaire gave him the use of his private study; while Audubon, for the most part, was driving from post to pillar in his not altogether successful efforts to extend his subscription list. As already intimated, his greatest success in Paris was in winning the friendship and endorsement of Cuvier, who reported upon his work at a meeting of the Royal Academy of Sciences held on September 22.[362] Audubon has related how on this occasion he had an appointment to meet the Baron in the library of the Institute at precisely half past one o'clock; he waited; the hall filled, and the clock ticked on, but the great savant did not appear. Finally, said Audubon, after an hour had passed, "all at once I heard his voice, and saw him advancing, very warm and apparently fatigued. He met me with many apologies, and said, 'Come with me'; and as we walked along, he explaining all the time why he had been late, while his hand drove a pencil with great rapidity, and he told me that he was actually now writing the report on my work!"[363] Cuvier's published report, which was extremely laudatory, showed little signs of haste. After speaking of Audubon's talents and accomplishments he said:

The execution of these plates, so remarkable for their size, seems to us equally successful in the drawing, the engraving, and coloring, and though it may be difficult to represent relief in a colored print with as much effect as in painting proper, this is no disadvantage in works on natural history; naturalists prefer the true color of objects to those accidental shades which result from the diverse inflections of light; necessary though these be for completing the truth of a picture, they are foreign as well as prejudicial to scientific accuracy.[364]

By November Audubon was once more in London, busy at painting to fill his orders and his purse. On the 11th of the month, we find Swainson, whose own exchequer was empty, writing to Audubon for a loan; this letter, and one soon to follow, illustrate some of the characteristics to which we have referred:

_William Swainson to Audubon_

_Tuesday 11 Nov. 1828._

I had written the enclosed, my dear Mr. Audubon, before your letter of Monday reached me. It has come this instant, Dreams, you know, must always be interpreted _contrawise_, we might have lifted up our arms, as you saw in your dream but, if you had not awoke, it was no doubt to have shaken hands! But that my regard for you may be evinced, I will bring myself to lay under an obligation, which I would only ask for one of my own family. I was that moment thinking to which I should write, to ask the loan of 80 £ for a few months, and now I will ask it of _you_. If you was aware of the peculiar feelings which we Englishmen have on such occasions, perhaps you would smile, but so it is that we never ask any one, from whom we have the least idea of a refusal. Now, did I not believe you to be a sincere friend, do you imagine I should have told you I was in want of Money much less have asked you to lend me some. The fact is, I have suffered a severe loss during my being in Paris, what little I had _on hand_ has been spent there and in making preparations for the publication of my Zool. Illustrations. Two or three months however, hard work will bring me round again & repay you.

Let me see your letter to the President of the Zool. Soc. before it goes, and you shall see mine.

I shall be most thankful for the Grouse. I send 2 drawings to Havell to be engraved _spur him on_ for I want to have every thing ready before the new year.

Yours most sincerely,

W. SWAINSON.

JOHN J. AUDUBON, Esq. 79 Newman St.

In December the Swainsons invited Audubon to dine with them at Christmas; in his letter Swainson said:

Why are you so sad? I would lay ten shillings that old Havell has been disappointing you as he has done me. He is in matters of business a complete _daudle_—an old woman, and I have done with him. His son I think better of he has a good idea of punctuality in business.... In one of your walks I hope you have thought about the _French Wine_ that we talked so much about and have ascertained the particulars from your friend, so that we may order a cask. I hope you have not mistaken the price,—for if not, nothing that can be drank in this country is one half as cheap.

In the following letter Swainson refers to the second series of his _Zoölogical Illustrations_,[365] the sale of which was irritating him, and to N. A. Vigors, with whom he had entered upon a notorious controversy in 1828:

_William Swainson to Audubon_

_18 January, 1829._

MY DEAR MR. AUDUBON,

I write this in utter uncertainty whether it will find you in London. My first number has now been out three weeks—it has been seen and universally admired, and how many copies do you think the Publisher has sold? now pray guess as the Americans say. 100—no. twentyfive, no. fifteen, no. ten? yes. positively ten copies and _no more_, has been sold. I blush almost to confess this mortification to even, _you_, but so it is. Now, my dear Sir, what am I to think of the "generally diffused taste," as the phrase is, for Natural History.

This allthough vexing to _me_, may be a consolation to _you_, who are able to exhibit on what I call your _Red Book_ the names of a good portion of 150 subscribers to a 200 guinea Book. Think yourself my friend exceedingly well off.

The amount of sale must be kept silent, it would be a nice nut to crack for V [igors]. & his friends.

I shall be able to do without the water birds, if you have not found any.

I have had a most extraordinary letter from Waterton, which will highly amuse you. The man is mad—stark, staring mad.

Yours very faith'ly

W. SWAINSON.

Can you tell me any safe expeditions made of sending and receiving letters and Parcels from Philadelphia.

J. J. AUDUBON Esq. 79 Newman St. Oxford St.

Early in 1829 Bonaparte wrote from Rome, where he had then settled, and the following letter shows that he had then heard of Audubon's visit to France, and was keenly interested in his success:

_Charles L. Bonaparte to Audubon_

ROME _January 10 th 1829_.

DEAR SIR,

I received in due time your favours of November 3d. & December 21 st. & now come to thank you for them, wishing you or rather expressing to you at the occasion of the renewal of the year, the warm wishes I constantly have for your health, happiness & especially for the success of your work. From the contents of your letter I clearly perceive that one at least of my letters to you must have miscarried. Nothing could be more interesting to me than the narrative of your journey to France, though I had heard from other quarters the good & well deserved reception you met with. Your letter of August 20 th. never came at hand, & it must have been the same with _at least_ one of mine to you. What you mention about _Temminck quite astonishes me_! ... I thought he would have undertaken even a journey to see you & your drawings!!! Please let me know when you write whether the Ornithological Illustrations of Jardine, Vigors & Co are stopped or still going on.—The animals I spoke to you of were reported as delivered to you by Mr Gray of the British Museum who had received them for me from the U. States. Is it not so? ... Corvus Cornix with us is very fond of the sea shore & feeds occasionally on fish, but I never observed it had the singular habits of C. ossifragus at least as described by Wilson.

I am surprized at Messrs J B's conduct; I have always found them extremely kind and well disposed towards me; & although we have settled our accounts I had no reason to believe they would refuse our box. However we can do without their interference quite as well, & I hope you have already forwarded the box to Leghorn recommending it to the care of my agent in that port. Messrs F. & A. Filuchs.(?) I shall keep a good lookout for it being extremely anxious to see your new number. I should never have done if I was [to] repeat [to] you all the praise given to your work by our Italian artists & men of science!... I shall merely state that on my