The Audubon Reader (30 page)

I expect to hear from thee now very shortly through Messrs. Rathbone, to whom always direct [correspondence] at Liverpool. I want to know how thou art pleased with thy watch &c. and thy Matlock spars. I hope thou wilt like the book I now send thee; it will give thee an idea of the beauty of
Edinburgh. Do not forget to collect acorns of all sorts and all other kinds of seeds and forward them to Mrs. Rathbone at Liverpool. Send a great quantity, as all the noblemen are pleased to have some, and I will have them sent here. I send thee very frequently parcels of newspapers. They all contain my name somewhere and it will be a pleasure for thee to read them. I wish thou wouldst write every week and enter in any little details thou likest. Tell Friend [Augustin] Bourgeat that I will send him a pair of the best English hounds when I go to Liverpool again in about 6 weeks. I think John might use my gun if he would be careful of it and keep it particularly clean. Does he play on the piano now? Send me some of his drawings; I wish to see what
Charles Middlemist has made of him. I feared myself that he might not be quite as good a teacher as I wished and for his own sake hoped he might be. I will now again bid thee farewell—do take especial care of thy sweet self for my sake.

Thy health is uniformly drank wherever I go and at Mr. Lizars, it is expressed thus: “
Mr. Audubon, let us drink Mrs. Audubon and the bairns!
” I have not dined at my lodgings for upwards of a fortnight one single day. My Journal would amuse thee. I herein send thee the results of Mr. [George] Combe, the phrenologist, about my skull. It proves to resemble that of Raphael very much, and I have been astounded at the merit of the science through some particular observations that the gentleman and others have made about my propensities and faculties.

Mr. Selby will take me to the
Duke of Northumberland when I call on him at his house on my way to Newcastle; he will, Mr.
Selby says, subscribe to my work. The number allotted to Scotland is now filled and I bid fair to have more, but I will take nothing for granted until within my grasp. I will exert myself much—depend on it—to ensure success, and may God grant that I will reach it. I want thee to send me by first opportunity as much of thy hair as will make me a cord for my watch. The silver one that I wear now measures three feet and is about the size of that:
but a mere thread in thickness will content me much as I wear a guard besides. I have come to fine dressing again—silk stockings and pumps, shave every morning and sometimes dress twice a day. My hairs are now as beautifully long and curly as ever and, I assure thee, do as much for me as my talent for painting. I began this morning a painting in oil of 14
Pheasants on the wing attacked by a fox that I wish to finish for the exhibition of the
Royal Academy at London by March, when I will be there myself. Read this to Johnny for my sake more than once.

Copies of invitations: “
Lady Hunter requests the honor of Mr. Audubon’s company at dinner upon Saturday, 16th December, at six o’clock, 16 Hope Street, Friday, 8th December.”

“30 Abercrombie Place—Mr. Russell requests the honor of Mr. Audubon’s company to supper on Monday, the 18th of December, at ½ past nine o’clock after the meeting of the Royal Society.”

“Lord &
Lady Morton request the pleasure of Mr. J. Audubon’s company at Dalmahoy on Wednesday, the 27th of December, to dine and remain all night.
Lord Morton’s carriage will call for Mr. Audubon at one o’clock that day if convenient to Mr. Audubon. Lord Morton begs Mr. Audubon will bring a Portfolio of his drawings of birds with him and he requests to see particularly the
Hawks Killing Game
[and] the
Death of General Montgomery
. A note sent by post to answer this, directed to the Earl of Morton, Dalmahoy, will arrive safe. Dalmahoy, Dec. 20th.”

God for ever bless my Lucy.

Dalmahoy, the seat of the Earl of Morton, 8 miles from Edinburgh
27 December 1826

There is a date for you, my sweet wife. Thy husband has leaped from America to Liverpool & from there to Manchester, Bakewell, Matlock, Buxton, twenty other places besides; then to Edinburgh, and now is seated at a sweet little table in the yellow bedchamber at the Earl of Morton’s! But in this fine room I am quite alone, I believe, and will write for thy sake and that of our dear sons a regular account of this day. After my Breakfast, not anxious to begin [painting] another Pheasant, I called on Mr. Lizars who was much engaged. I saw the ladies and bid them farewell for one day. The morning being longer than usual, I called on Messrs. [John and Patrick] Syme, the painter [i.e., John] the one who was unwell. The other being absent, my visit extended only to my walk to their door & I returned to my lodgings to make ready to pay a visit to an earl and some countesses. All this did not go on without thinking of thee a good deal; indeed, I thought of other people besides thee—my good friend Mrs. Rathbone was about me and so [also] her dear [daughter] Hannah. The Quarry Bank family and the Dockrays all visited me whilst my razor was smoothing my chin, but I thought of thee the most. I had to pack a box for thee … I did all this assisted by
D. Lizars and brother and I wished it a good voyage to thee.

Now we three had a luncheon—some fried oysters, some drink and some cake—and were still all at work thus when [Audubon’s landlady] Mrs. Dickie opened my room door and said, “
Lord Morton’s carriage, Sir.” Well, I was ready. We shook hands all round, my portfolio was taken off and I, after having washed my hands & walked downstairs, touched lightly the arm of the waiter, who opened the carriage door & jumped on a large soft seat lined with purple Morocco. The carriage moved—yes, my Lucy, the carriage moved but upon my word I now moved as never such before. The ship that under easy sail glides slowly on an even sea has more fatiguing motion and had I not been fully persuaded
(being awake) that it was a carriage I was in, I would have thought myself gently wafted thru the air in a swinging hammock. It passed the Castle, through Charlotte Square, through Coats Crescent and along the Glasgow road for eight miles so swiftly that my watch had just changed the hour to another when the porter pushed open the gates of Dalmahoy.

I now began thinking of my meeting a man who has been great chamberlain to the late Queen Charlotte, for I was not so terrified at meeting the countess—her eyes, the day I had seen her at the Royal Institution, spoke softness & amiability of disposition—but the chamberlain I could not help dreading to encounter. “And why, my dear, I would not?” No thou wouldest not because thou are a well-bred woman but I do because I am a fool. All this did not stop the carriage from proceeding smoothly round a great circle; neither did it stop my eyes from seeing a large square half-gothic building with two turrets in front surmounted with great lions and all the signs of heraldry belonging to the great Lord Morton. The carriage has stopped, it is opened, a bell is rung; a man in livery unfolds a large door and I walk in, giving my hat & gloves and my American stick that by the bye never leaves me when I do not leave it myself. Now I am led through this hall & upstairs. My name is given and I enter the drawing room of the Earl of Morton. The Countess runs to me, then returns to her lord & presents him to me, my Lucy—yes, him to me! I look—I stare—I am astonished; I have before me another Richard Coeur de Lion, for positively I had expected nothing less. I had formed an idea that a chamberlain & an earl must be a man able to cleave worlds in two. Oh my imagination, where dost thou lead me to! Why, my dear wife, I saw a small slender man, tottering on his feet, weaker than a new-hatched partridge, welcoming me to his hall with tears almost trickling from his eyes. He held one of my hands and attempted speaking, but this was difficult; his good lady was rubbing his other hand. I saw at a glance his situation & begged he would be seated; this was done and I was relieved. The
Countess of Balcarres [was] introduced also, and I at last seated my body on a sofa that I thought would swallow me up as this downy bed swelled around me.

Now I am looking fearfully around—what a room—full 60 feet
by 30, all hung with immense paintings on a solid purple ground. All was purple about me. The tables were covered with various books & instruments: telescopes, drawing apparatus with thousands of ornaments. The Queen of England fronting Marie of Scots; a chamberlain was here, a duke there, and in another place I could see a beautiful head of
Rembrandt.
Claude Lorrain had some landscapes here also. Vandyke had not been forgotten &
Titian gave a luster to the whole. I rose and took a closer view. The Countess explained all to me, but conceive my surprise when on looking through the middle window I saw at the horizon an object that was no less attractive than any about me: the castle and city of
Edinburgh a complete miniature 8 miles off, making its way to the north through avenues and over pieces of water and fields innumerable.

Now, my Lucy, I am told that luncheon is ready. What, said I to myself, luncheon again? I am sure, if my friends complain of my not eating much, they must at all events allow that I eat sufficiently often. Well, to luncheon we go, the
Countess of Balcarres rolls
Lord Morton in his castored chair and I give my arm to
Lady Morton. We cross a large antechamber and enter a dining room also quite rich in paintings and at present with a sumptuous repast. I eat again and drink again and in the middle of all this, three gentlemen make their appearance. They were visitors at the hall also, Messrs. Hays, Ramsay, and a young clergyman. This luncheon over, we had to see my drawings. The lord was rolled into a good situation for light and I again unbuckled the great Book of Nature. I am not going to repeat praises my Lucy for I am quite sickened at the sound. The drawings seen, we adjourn to the drawing room again. The Countess desires to receive a lesson of drawing from thy husband tomorrow and I acquiesce with great satisfaction. Conversation becomes now more general; I gradually feel at ease and all goes on smoothly. The Countess is about thy age; thus I save you both from being called old, as you are both quite young enough to delight a husband. She is not what men call handsome nor beautiful, but she is good-looking, has a good form, fine, clear, fresh skin and eyes, Lucy, that I dared not meet they were so dark. Her conversation is frequently interrupted by a natural impediment but it gives more spirit to all she says and
she is certainly a very superior woman. As ladies are sometimes concerned about another’s dress, the Countess, I will tell thee, was then enrobed in a rich crimson gown. Her mother was dressed in black satin.

Now Lucy, it had become 6 in the afternoon. I had taken a short walk about the grounds with the gentleman and returned to this hall when I was asked by the Countess if I wished to see my room. I knew that this meant that to dress for dinner was now necessary and I followed a gentleman waiter to this room, who on hearing his mistress say the “Yellow Room,” pointed the way to me. When I came in, a good fire of wood was lighted. My [illegible] was warming in front of it; my shoes had been unpacked, as well as my night apparel. I begged to be left alone and I looked around me. All was truly yellow in the Yellow Chamber; it might have been called a parlor in some other countries. The bed for me this night was ornamented with a crown and was large enough to receive 4 of my size. A sofa was at the foot of it, large armed chairs on each side the fire, a table containing a working desk with all ready and all that I never use anywhere. My toilet is soon over, thou knowest—for in my opinion it is a vile lot of time that spent in arranging a cravat with as much care as a hangman does his knot—and I was down again in a moment.

“Ring the bell, Mr. Hays,” said the Countess, who now is dressed superbly in white satin. A waiter came and dinner is ordered. It is now seven, and I again lead the Countess under my arm and the Earl is again rolled in his chair. I set by the mother’s side. Mr. Hays officiates as a master and I dine again for the third time this day. The waiters, Lucy, are all powdered & draped in rich, red clothes all liveried over excepting one who has black clothes on and who gives plates by handling them with a neat napkin without touching them. Positively, after one hour, the ladies & the lord retire and we the gentleman visitors set to talk & drink wine. We talk entirely of antiquities. Mr. Hays is a deeply learned man, an original besides & quite interesting in his manners. At 10 we joined the Countess again, but the Earl has retired for the night, and now that we have been looking at the signatures of the kings of old—of Mary, Henry, James &c.—and examined a cabinet of ancient coins & 12 o’clock is come, the ladies bid us goodnight by shaking
all our hands. We were then left alone and to settle the coffee that we have drank we drank now Madeira wine. What a life, oh my Lucy. I could not stand this; I prefer my primitive woods after all, but as I hope this life will enable me to enjoy them at a future period I bear it patiently. I leave the gentlemen at their wine and cakes & have come to my Yellow Chamber. Now Lucy, I have prayed on my knees, my God to grant thee well, and I will go to bed, sweet friend—good night.