Yale University Library
I! 39002028625490

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1 ¦

John Hill Morgan
Farmington Connecticut

>SCHOOL OF THE PINE ABTS <

CITIES IN V,HICH HARDING PAINTED
(from W. P. G.Harding's Biography)

Pittsburgh p. 18
Paris, Ky. -100 portraits 23
Ky. again 1820 25
St. Louis - 15 mos. kb
Washington - 1821-22 32
xDittsfleld, Mass. 1822 33
Northampton, Mass. 34
Boston - 6 mis. 1823 o4-5
(80 portraits)
England - 2 yrs. sailed Aug.
1823 36
Pointed in Glasgow; sailed
Sept. 1826 for Boston 124-129
Boston 1826 129
Boston 1827 -Feb. 8 131
9 Cedar St., Boston 132
Montreal June 24, 1827 133
16 Beacon St., Boston Dec.
1827 (house still stand- 135
ing, occupied by Unitarian
Society. Horace Harding,
father of W.P.G., was born
there in 1828 135
Richmond, Va. Oct. 1829 137, 146,
18 portraits in 3 mos. 149, 150
Washington 1830 147
Springfield 1830 - to live 152
Cincinnati 1838 144
Several visits to the West
and South -1830-45 152
Boston 1836 153
Baltimore and wheeling 1838 152
New Orleans 1840 156
Boston 1841 159

Page —2—
CITIES IN V,HICH HARDING PAINTED

Lexington, Ky. 1842 p. 161
Auburn, N. Y. 1843 162
Nev. York 1843 163
Sailed for England Aug. 30,
1846 - 9 mos. to April 165-6
1847 182
Winter of 1847-8 Washington 183
(painted there Webster in
Athenaeum; Clay in City Hall,
Washington) 184
Buffalo 1847-8 187
L st 15 yrs. in some large
city; or in Springfield with
Mrs. J. L. King or in St.
Louis vtith Mrs. Krum 190
New York 1861 192
St. Louis 1864, nere he began
his portrait of Sherman 193-4

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.

CHESTEE HARDING.

PREPARED FOR HIS FAMILY AND FRIENDS,
BY ONE OF HIS CHILDREN.

CAMBRIDGE:
PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
1866.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S66, by
M. E. WHITE,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

PREFATORY NOTE.

\ YEAR before my father's death, he placed
what he had finished of his "Egotisti-
graphy," as he playfully called it, in my hands,
to arrange and copy. He also intrusted to my
taste and judgment the selections to be made
from the diary he kept during his first visit to
England. He subsequently added a few particu
lars concerning his later life ; but they are in
so disconnected a form, that I have been obliged
to weave them together as best I could, supply
ing the deficiencies as far as possible from let
ters, of which hut few have been preserved.
I wish the task of selection and arrangement
had fallen into more competent hands ; but it
seemed too sacred a trust to delegate to another,

IV PREFATORY NOTE.
and I know that I may rely upon the partiality of
those for whom it has been prepared, to over
look whatever defects they may find in the
manner in which that trust has been fulfilled.
M. E. w.
Keene, N.H., June 1, 1866.

T HAVE often been importuned by my chil
dren and numerous friends to write a history
of my life, which, perhaps, has been more varied
and eventful than common. This I have en
deavored to do; and, if the perusal of this
imperfect sketch shall give them pleasure, I
shall be amply repaid for the labor the work has
cost me.
I trust that some of my young readers may
find encouragement in the difficulties I have
overcome, and the success which has followed
my perseverance.
June, 1865.

CONTENTS.

Chapter Page
I. — From Boyhood to Beginning of Life as Abtist 9
II. — Life in Pittsburgh. — Paris, Ky. — St. Louis. —
. Depabtuke fob England  26
III. — Birmingham. — London. — Sir Thomas Lawren
ce's Pictures. — Mr. Hunter  48
IV. — Holkham. — Duke of Sussex. — New Lanark. —
Duke of Hamilton  69
V. — Ireland. — Duke of Nobfolk. — Pabis. — The
Louvre. — Dumfries. — Journey to Glas
gow. — To London. — To Glasgow. — Life in
Glasgow. — Return to America  100
VI. — Boston. — Washington Allston. — N. P. Wil
lis. — Judge Marshall. — John Randolph. —
John C. Calhoun. — Daniel Webster ... 136

Vlll CONTENTS.
Chapter Paoe
VII — Second Visit to England . — Sir Archibald
Alison. — Samuel Rogers. — Thomas Car-
lyle. — Salmon Fishing. — Jenny Lind . . . 148

Daniel Webster. — Saguinay. — Picture of Gen.
Sherman. — Illness. — Death. — Obituary
Notices  166

MY EGOTISTIGEAPHY.

CHAPTER I.
OF my ancestors I know nothing beyond my
grandparents. My paternal grandfather
was a substantial farmer in Deerfield, Mass.
He lived in a two-story house, which to my
youthful imagination was a palace ; filled many
offices of profit and trust in the town, lived
to a good old age, and was gathered to his fath
ers with the universal respect of his neighbors.
On the maternal side, I can go no further
back. My grandfather Smith was a farmer, who
lived to a ripe old age, and died much respected.
For many years he held the office of deacon, in
the town of Whately, where he resided. I was
born in the adjoining town of Conway, on the
1st of September, 1792.
My parents were poor ; and, of course, I was
brought up like all other poor children of that
period. My first recollection is of our moving
2

10 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
from Conway to Hatfield. I well remember the
brook that ran close by the house we lived in
there, and the amusement I had in catching the
little fishes with a pin-hook. As I grew older,
I began to fish with a real hook, and to catch
trout. Like most boys of my age, I thought
more of " going a-fishing " than of all other in
dulgences. Indeed it amounted almost to a
passion with me. I would go miles on an er
rand, or do any amount of service, for a penny
or two, that I might be able to buy my fish
hooks. From the age of eight to ten, I lived in Ber-
nardston, with an aunt. Here again I had a
brook that constantly enticed me from my daily
duties, which consisted chiefly of the care of a
flock of young geese. I played truant nearly
every day, and as often was whipped by my
aunt. I returned home at the end of two years.
We were very poor, and were often in need of
the necessaries of life. My father was a good
man, of unexceptionable habits ; but he was not
thrifty, and did little towards the support of the
family. He had a great inventive genius, and
turned all his powers towards the discovery of
perpetual motion. At the time of his death, his
attic was full of machines, the making of which
had occupied a large part of his life. But this

7
MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 11
brought no bread and butter to his hungry
children. One hard winter he went to Northfield, Mass.,
to get work, where my mother supposed he was
earning something for the maintenance of the
family. While there, he had the small-pox ; and
all the work he did was to make the body of a
very large bass-viol. Imagine the disappoint
ment of his family when they found that this
monster skeleton was all he had brought home
to them !
My mother was a noble woman. In all the
trials of poverty, she managed to keep her chil
dren decently dressed, that they might go to
meeting on Sunday, and make a respectable
appearance among other boys. It is true our
more prosperous cousins rather turned up their
noses at us now and then, much to our morti
fication. At the age of twelve, I was hired out at six
dollars a month, to a Mr. Graves, in Hatfield.
He was a good and religious man. I lived with
him two years. I went to school in the winter,
and learned to read enough to read the Bible.
I partook largely of the religious sentiment that
pervaded the family. I said my prayers night
and morning, and was deemed a model boy.
At the age of fourteen, my father moved to the

12 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY- '
western part of New- York State, into Madison
County, then an unbroken wilderness. Now
began my hard work and harder fare. Our first
business was to build a log-house, and to clear
a patch of ground, and fit it for seed. I had
two brothers older than myself, the oldest of
whom was a chair-maker by trade, and made
common flag-bottomed chairs for the neighbors.
By this means we could get an occasional piece
of pork, some flour and potatoes ; whilst my
father and his other boys wielded the axe, —
that great civilizer.
We finished the house, and in the spring we
had a few acres felled and ready for burning.
We planted corn and potatoes amongst the
blackened stumps ; fortunately, the crop needed
no labor beyond that of planting. Before the
season was far spent, we were all down with
chills and fever. We managed somehow to live
through that year, which was the hardest we had
ever seen. I grew strong, and was distinguished
for my skill in using the axe. I could lift a larger
log than any one else, and, in short, at eighteen
was considered a prodigy of strength. Our
means for intellectual development were very
scant. Our parents would sometimes read the
Bible to us, the only book we had in the house ;
and occasionally we were blessed with a visit

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 13
from some itinerant preacher, when the whole
forest settlement would meet in some large
building, either the schoolhouse or a barn, and
listen to his divine teachings. At nineteen I
changed my mode of life. I began to think
there might be an easier way of getting a liv
ing than by cutting down and clearing up the
heavily timbered forest, and worked one winter
with my brother at turning stuff for chairs.
About this time, war was declared between
the United States and Great Britain. A mili
tary spirit was aroused throughout the whole of
Western New York, and I imbibed as much of it
as any one. I had become a distinguished
drummer, and had drummed for pay, until I was
obliged to do military duty. My brother, next
younger than myself, was one of the first to
enlist in the service for one year. The troops
were soon called to active service at Oswego.
After six months he was anxious to return home.
I offered myself, and was accepted as a substi
tute. As he was a drummer, I could easily fill
his place.
Nothing of importance broke in upon the mo
notony of camp-life until mid-winter, when we
were ordered to prepare three days' provisions,
and to march next morning for Sacket's Har
bor. The snow was very deep, and the weather

14 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
cold ; yet the days of our march were holidays,
when compared to camp-life. We committed
many depredations on our way, such as stealing
chickens, or, on rare occasions, a pig. I was on
the rear section of the column one day, and
with another soldier had fallen so far behind,
that we had lost sight of the troops. Being
uncertain which of two roads to take, we applied
at a house which was near, for directions.
" Oh ! " said the woman, " you have only to fol
low the feathers."
Sacket's Harbor was threatened with an at
tack by the British. They had a considerable
force in Canada, nearly opposite ; and the lake
at that point was completely frozen over. We
were constantly drilled, and kept in readiness
for an attack. We had several alarms, and were
often drummed out at midnight to face the foe ;
but he was only found in the imagination of the
frightened sentinel.
Sickness now began to thin our ranks. Every
hour in the day, some poor fellow would be fol
lowed to Briarfield ; and the tune, " Away goes
the merryman home to his grave," played on re
turning from the burial, was too often heard to
leave the listeners indifferent to its notes. My
turn came at last, and I was taken down with
the prevailing disease, dysentery ; but my lieu-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 15
tenant took me to his own quarters, instead of
sending me to the hospital. He was my neigh
bor, and in this instance proved himself to be
one in the Scripture sense. Had I gone to the
hospital, I should probably have shared the fate
of nearly all who went there, and have been
carried to Briarfield. As soon as I recovered
sufficient strength to get home, I was discharged,
as my time of service was nearly up.
I suffered intensely on my way home. I was
thinly clad, without overcoat or gloves. I
started from camp with a lad who was taking
back a horse that an officer had ridden to Sack
et's Harbor: he was warmly clothed and of a
very robust make. We travelled on, until I be
gan to feel a good deal fatigued. We at last
came to a house where we had been told we
could find accommodation. We arrived there
just at dusk; and, to our dismay, were told by the
master of the house, that he could not keep us,
and that he had nothing on hand for either man
or beast to eat. It was six miles to the next
house, and the road lay on the beach of the lake,
exposed to the piercing winds which blew over
it. We started off, I on foot as before, while the
boy was mounted. I had to run to keep warm.
At length we came in sight of a light ; but what
was our dismay to find an open river between

16 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
us and it ! I shouted to the utmost capacity of
my lungs, but could get no response. What
was to be done ? Nothing, but to return to the
shelter we had left an hour and a half before.
I started back at the same speed I came ; but,
before we had gone half the distance, my
strength gave out, leaving me no other alterna
tive but to mount the horse with the boy. I
soon found myself getting very cold, and a
strong desire to go to sleep came over me.
I looked at the thick clumps of evergreen that
stood by our path, and thought seriously of lying
down under one of them to wait until daylight.
The boy was crying, and begged me to keep on,
saying, " If you lie down there, you will freeze
to death," which would indeed have been in
evitable. I yielded to his entreaties, and we
finally reached the house we had left three
hours before. The boy was not much frozen,
but I was badly bitten. My face, hands, and
thighs were stiff. After a good deal of rapping
and hallooing, the door was opened. The man
of the house had been used to such scenes, and
knew well what to do. He put my feet into
cold water, at the same time making applications
to my face, ears, and legs. Mortal never suf
fered more acute pain than I did through that
sleepless night. I experienced the truth of our

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 17
host's statement with regard to provisions. The
next day at noon, we started again on our per
ilous journey, having been assured that we
were mistaken about the river being open.
Travelling more leisurely than we had done the
previous night, we reached the river again ; and,
owing to the intense cold, it was covered with a
thin coat of ice, but not thick enough to bear
a man in an upright position. I got a long pole,
and, by putting myself in a swimming posture,
reached the opposite shore in safety, though it
was frightful to feel the ice, not much thicker
than a pane of window-glass, bending under me.
At the house, I was told that the crossing was
half a mile back. I recrossed the river ; and, re
tracing our steps a mile, we found a blind road
leading over the bluff, which soon took us in
safety to a comfortable house, where we found
enough to eat for ourselves and our horse. The
next day I started for my home, where my suf
ferings were soon forgotten. I speedily recov
ered, and went to work with my brother. We
had a contract for drum-making from the United
States, which gave us employment all the fol
lowing summer.
Early in the fall of this year, I embarked in
a new business. A mechanic had invented and
patented a spinning-head, which was thought to
3

18 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
be a great improvement upon the old plan. I
accepted an offer he made me to sell the patent
in the State of Connecticut. The only thing
in the way of my making a fortune was the
want of capital. However, " where there's a
will, there's a way." I soon contrived to get
a horse and wagon, and five or six dollars in
money, besides a quantity of essences, such as
pepper-mint, tanzy, winter-green, &c. With this
fit-out I launched forth into the wide world in
pursuit of fortune. There is no period in the
history of a young man which awakens so many
of the finer feelings of his nature as that when
he leaves his home, and for the first time as
sumes the position and responsibility of an inde
pendent man. All the joyful recollections of
that home he is about to leave, no matter how
humble it is, rush with overwhelming force
upon his susceptible heart. I started with all
the firmness and resolution I could call to my
aid ; yet, if my mother could have looked into
my eyes, she would have seen them filled with
big tears. I jumped into my wagon, whipped
up my horse, and was soon out of sight of what,
at that moment, seemed all the world to me.
I managed, in view of my small stock of
money, to get along without drawing largely
upon it. I often bartered my essences for a

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 19
night's entertainment, and was going on swim
mingly, until I came to a small town on the
banks of the Mohawk. I stopped to bait my
horse ; and, as I was about to start, a man with
a bundle of clothing in his hand wanted to get
a ride as far as the next town, for which he
would give me twenty-five cents. I, of course,
was glad to avail myself of his offer. We had
travelled perhaps a mile, when we overtook
two men by the roadside, in violent dispute
about a pack of cards. One was very drunk.
My new friend proposed, that we should stop,
and inquire into the rights of the case : so I
pulled up. The drunken man was contending,
that he had won a quarter of a dollar of the
other ; whereupon he proceeded to show us how
it was done. He had bet that the top card
was the jack of clubs, and was willing to bet
again that the top card was the jack of clubs ;
at the same time showing, as if by accident, that
it was on the bottom of the pack. My friend
bet him a quarter, that it was not on the top ;
and won. He fixed his cards again very clum
sily, as he was very drunk. I bet, and won. I
bet a half next time ; so did my friend : we lost.
We now accused him of haying two jacks in
the pack, and my friend examined the pack,
but found only one ; and that he managed to drop

20 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
into the bottom of the wagon, and covered it
with his foot. The cards were again shuffled.
We had no scruples about betting on a certainty,
as it was to get our money back, so we each
bet a dollar, but lost. In some mysterious
manner the card had been taken from under
the foot. There was nothing to be done but
to bear this loss as well as I could; and we
started on, very sad. My companion had lost
every cent he had in the world. He had a
loaded whip, worth two or three dollars, that
he urged me to buy. In pity for the poor fel
low I gave him his price, when he suddenly
recollected that he had left something at the
tavern, and must go back. He soon overtook
the two worthies we had just left, and all three
joined in a hearty laugh. My eyes were
instantly opened. I clenched my new whip, de
termined to go back and thrash the scoundrels ;
but, as they were three to one, I finally thought
better of it. I firmly believe, that, if I had
gone back, I should have killed one of them
at least, with my loaded whip. I travelled on,
not much in love with myself. I bore the loss
of the money better than I did the way in which
it was lost. This lesson has never been forgot
ten. I finally reached Connecticut, the field of
my future operations. I returned with more

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 21
money than I started with, and had a surplus
of fifty or sixty wooden clocks and several
watches, which I had taken for the patent in
different parts of the State.
Near the close of the war, my brother (young
er than myself) and I went into the cabinet
and chair manufactory in Caledonia, a small
town in Livingstone County, N.Y.
At this juncture, I happened to meet with
Caroline Woodruff, a lovely girl of twenty, with
handsome, dark eyes, fine brunette complexion,
and of an amiable disposition. I fell in love
with her at first sight. I can remember the
dress she wore at our first meeting as well as
I do those beautiful eyes. It was a dark crim
son, woollen dress, with a neat little frill about
the neck. I saw but little of her ; for the family
soon moved to a distance of forty or fifty miles.
Though she was absent, however, her image
was implanted too deeply in my heart to be
forgotten. It haunted me day and night. At
length I took the resolution to go to see her ;
which was at once carried out. I set out on
foot, found her and proposed, and was bid to
wait a while for my answer. I went again, in
the same way, and this time had the happiness
to be accepted ; and, three weeks after, she be
came my wife, and accompanied me to my home.

22 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
We had hardly reached it before I was sued for
a small debt, which I could not meet : in short,
business was not very flourishing, and we were
much embarrassed.
To relieve myself, I went into an entirely
new business, — that of tavern-keeping. Here
I paid off some old debts by making new ones.
Matters, however, did not improve : on the
contrary, creditors grew more clamorous and
threatening. Nothing could strike me with
more horror than the thought of being shut up
in Batavia Jail. At that time the barbarous
practice of imprisonment for debt was in full
force. My mind was made up. On Saturday
night, I took leave of my wife and child, and
left for the head waters of the Alleghany River.
As soon as the river opened, I took passage on
a raft, and worked my way down to Pittsburg.
Here I was at a loss what to do. Times were
hard; and, besides, I was not a good enough
mechanic to get employment at the only trade
I knew any thing of. I finally got a job at
house-painting ; but I felt lonely and unhappy.
As soon as I had saved a few dollars, I started
for my wife and child. I walked over moun
tains, and through wild forests, with no guide
but the blazed trees. Bears, wolves, deer, and
turkeys I met so often, that I would hardly turn

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 23
around to look at them. At last I reached the
settlement within a few miles of Caledonia.
Here I halted till night, thinking it safer to
travel by moonlight than in broad day. As it
grew dark, I started, tired and foot-sore. I saw
a horse grazing in the road, and the thought
struck me that he could ease my weary limbs.
I succeeded in catching and mounting him ; and,
by means of my staff or walking-stick, I steered
him to the street of Caledonia. I then turned
him on his way home, and bade him good
night. I remained in close concealment three
or four days, and, when all was ready, started
again for the head waters of the Alleghany, but
not alone : this time my wife and child were with
me. We experienced many hardships on our
way, but nothing of particular interest occurred.
At Orleans Point we embarked upon a raft,
with a comfortable shanty on board, and in a
week floated down the river to Pittsburg.
Before I had left Pittsburg, I had rented a ten-
footer, with two rooms in it : so we went directly
there. All our availables consisted of one bed,
and a chest of clothing, and some cooking uten
sils ; so that we had little labor in getting settled
down. But now all my money was gone, and how
to get more was the question. I could find no

24 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
work as a house-painter, and what to do I did
not know. I would walk about the town, and
return to find my wife in tears, — though she
always had a smile for me. I went into the
market the next morning, though for what pur
pose I could hardly tell ; for I had not one cent
of money. At last I ventured to ask the price
of a beefsteak. I had the impudence to say to
the man, that I should like that piece very
much, but that I had no change with me. To
my great surprise, he said I could take it, and
pay for it the next time I came. As I had
made the acquaintance of Mr. Sands, a barber
who occupied the twin part of the house I was
in, I went to his wife, and asked her to loan me
half a loaf of bread, which she did cheerfully.
If we went hungry, that day, it was not because
we had not enough to eat, and that, too, with an
honest appetite.
There was an opening just now for a sign-
painter. I had talked with Neighbor Sands
upon the subject of my becoming one. He
approved the plan, and was the means of my
getting an order. A Mr. W. H. Wetherell
wanted a sign painted in gold letters on both
sides, so as to project it into the street. I
agreed to do it; but where was the stock of
gold paint and board to come from? I went

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 25
into Neighbor Sands' half a dozen times, for the
purpose of asking him to lend me the money to
procure the materials, and as often my heart
failed me. At last I made a grand effort, and
said, " Neighbor Sands, I wish you would lend
me twenty dollars for a few days, as I have no
money by me that is current." — " Certainly,
with pleasure." I could hardly believe it real.
I took the money, and hurried into my room, and
threw it into my wife's lap. She was fright
ened, fearing I had obtained it by some unlaw
ful means. The first use I made of it was to
go to the market, and to pay the credulous
butcher ; and to buy some vegetables, tea, sugar,
and some other little luxuries. I got my sign
board made, bought my gold leaf, paints, &c. ;
went to a printer, and got some very large im
pressions of the alphabet; and, having in my
chair-making experience learned the art of gild
ing, I soon had my sign finished, and paid back
my neighbor his money. He never knew that
I was not flush of money ; but his kindness I
never forgot. I was at once established as a
sign-painter, and followed that trade for a year.

26 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.

CHAPTER II.
ABOUT this time, I fell in with a portrait-
painter by the name of Nelson, — one of
the primitive sort. He was a sign, ornamental,
and portrait painter. He had for his sign a copy
of the " Infant Artists " of Sir Joshua Reynolds,
with this inscription, "Sign, Ornamental, and
Portrait Painting executed on the shortest no
tice, with neatness and despatch." It was in
his sanctum that I first conceived the idea of
painting heads. I saw his portraits, and was
enamored at once. I got him to paint me and
my wife, and thought the pictures perfection.
He would not let me see him paint, nor would
he give me the least idea how the thing was
done. I took the pictures home, and pondered
on them, and wondered how it was possible for
a man to produce such wonders of art. At
length my admiration began to yield to an am
bition to do the same thing. I thought of it by
day, and dreamed of it by night, until I was
stimulated to make an attempt at painting my
self. I got a board; and, with such colors as I
had for use in my trade, I began a portrait of

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 27
my wife. I made a thing that looked like her.
The moment I saw the likeness, I became fran
tic with delight: it was like the discovery of
a new sense ; I could think of nothing else.
From that time, sign-painting became odious,
and was much neglected.
I next painted a razeed portrait of an English
man who was a journeyman baker, for which
I received five dollars. He sent it to his mother
in London. I also painted portraits of the man
and his wife with whom I boarded, and for
which I received, on account, twelve dollars
each. This was in the winter season : the river
was closed, and there was but little to be done
in sign-painting.
I shall always remember the friendship of an
Irish apothecary, who, at this period of my his
tory, encouraged me in my attempts at portrait-
painting, and allowed me to buy any materials
I needed, on credit, from his paint and drug
store. I had been painting a second picture
of my wife, and asked Nelson the painter to come
and see it. He declared it to be no more like
my wife than like him, and said further that it
was utter nonsense for me to try to paint por
traits at my time of life : he had been ten years
in learning the trade. To receive such a lec
ture, and such utter condemnation of my work,

28 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
when I expected encouragement and approval,
was truly disheartening. He left me ; and I was
still sitting before the picture, in great dejec
tion, when my friend the doctor came in. He
instantly exclaimed, with much apparent de
light, " That's good ; first-rate, a capital like
ness," &c. I then repeated what Nelson had
just said. He replied that it was sheer envy ;
that he never painted half so good a head, and
never would. The tide of hope began to flow
again, and I grew more and more fond of
head-painting. I now regarded sign-painting
merely as a necessity, while my whole soul was
wrapped up in my new love ; and neglected my
trade so much that I was kept pretty short of
money. I resorted to every means to eke out
a living. I sometimes played the clarionet for a
tight-rope dancer, and on market-days would
play at the window of the museum to attract
the crowd to the exhibition. For each of these
performances I would get a dollar.
I was stictly temperate in my habits, and sel
dom spent a sixpence for any thing that we did
not actually need ; but I remember one occa
sion when my love of music and excitement
got the better of my prudence. I had gone
out one evening to borrow a dollar to go to
market with the next morning, when, as I was

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 29
sauntering about, I heard music, which at
tracted me to the spot. It was the performance
of the orchestra of the theatre. It was a tem
porary building, loosely boarded ; and as I looked
through the cracks of the covering, I saw such
a sight as I had never dreamed of. I went
instantly to the door, got a ticket, and crowded
my way in. By degrees, I managed to get into
a box which was full. I stood for the first
hour in perfect amazement at the lords and
ladies, and was overwhelmed by the brilliant
lights and heavenly music. At the end of one
of the acts, one of the gentlemen left his seat,
and went out; and I took it. He came back,
and claimed his seat. I was not inclined to
admit his claim. I had paid my dollar, and told
him I thought I had as good a right to a seat as
he had ; and that he could as well stand an hour
as I. He prepared to eject me by force ; but,
as I unfolded my dimensions, he relinquished
his purpose, and bore the loss of his seat as
well as he could. I did not leave the theatre
until the last lamp was extinguished. The play
which had so enchanted me was Scott's "Lady
of the Lake." This was my first acquaintance
with the stage. I do not remember how we
fared the next day in our marketing; but I pre
sume I borrowed another dollar in the morning.

30 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
Up to this time, I had never read any book
but the Bible, and could only read that with
difficulty. My wife, who had received a com
paratively good education, and had once taught
school, borrowed of one of the neighbors "The
Children of the Abbey," a popular novel of that
day. I was rather opposed to her reading it, as
I had been taught to believe by my mother, that
cards and novels were the chief instruments of
the Devil in seducing mortals from the paths
of virtue. However, her desire to read it was
too strong to be overcome by any objections I
could raise, so I had to yield; but I insisted upon
her reading it aloud. One dark and rainy day,
she commenced the reading. She read on till
bed-time, and then proposed to leave the rest of
the story until the next day ; but I was altogether
too eager to hear how the next chapter ended,
to consent to that. She was persuaded to read
the next chapter, and the next, and the next.
In short, I kept her reading all night, and gave
her no rest until the novel was finished. The
first novel I ever read myself was " Rob Roy."
I could only read it understandingly by read
ing it aloud, and to this day I often find
myself whispering the words in the daily news
paper. My brother Horace, the chair-maker, was

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 31
established in Paris, Ky. He wrote to me
that he was painting portraits, and that there
was a painter in Lexington who was receiv
ing fifty dollars a head. This price seemed
fabulous .to me ; but I began to think seri
ously of trying my fortune in Kentucky. I
soon settled upon the idea, and acted at once.
Winding up my affairs in Pittsburg, I found that
I had just money enough to take me down the
river. I knew a barber, by the name of Jarvis,
who was going to Lexington; and I proposed to
join him in the purchase of a large skiff. He
agreed to it; and we fitted it up with a sort of
awning or tent, and embarked, with our wives
and children. Sometimes we rowed our craft ;
but oftener we let her float as she pleased,
while we gave ourselves up to music. He, as
well as I, played the clarionet; and we had much
enjoyment on our voyage. We arrived in Paris
with funds rather low; but, as my brother was
well known there, I found no difficulty on that
score. Here I began my career as a professional
artist. I took a room, and painted the portrait
of a very popular young man, and made a de
cided hit. In six months from that time, I had
painted nearly one hundred portraits, at twenty-
five dollars a head. The first twenty-five I took

32 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
rather disturbed the equanimity of my con
science. It did not seem to me that the portrait
was intrinsically worth that money ; now, I know
it was not.
I have stated previously, that I was strictly
temperate. This was not from principle, but
simply because I did not want any stimulant.
During my stay in Paris, I was constantly thrown
into the society of those who did drink. It was
the almost universal custom to take a julep
before breakfast ; and by degrees I fell into the
habit of taking my julep, and sometimes two. I
soon guessed where this would end, for I found
that I felt uncomfortable unless I had my morn
ing dram. I stopped short at once, and for
five years never tasted a drop of ardent spirits.
I was sometimes obliged to sip a glass of wine at
the dinner table.
My second daughter was born in Paris, in the
winter of 1818-19.
Here it was that I mingled for the first time
with the tip-top of society. I went at once, on
my arrival in the town, to the first-class hotel.
I found unspeakable embarrassment at the table,
with so many fine young gentlemen, all so ele
gantly dressed, with ruffled shirts, rings on their
white and delicate fingers, and diamond pins in
their bosoms. They, no doubt, thought me very

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 33
clownish; as I undoubtedly was. I found little
respect paid me by them, until I began to attract
the attention of their masters. I soon became
a sort ef lion, and grew very popular among
these clerks, especially after I was so far ad
vanced in the ways of society as to take my
morning juleps.
Up to this time, I had thought little of the
profession, so far as its honors were concerned.
Indeed it had never occurred to me, that it was
more honorable or profitable than sign-paint
ing. I now began to entertain more elevated
ideas of the art, and to desire some means of
improvement. Finding myself in funds suffi
cient to visit Philadelphia, I did so ; and spent
two months in that city, devoting my time
entirely to drawing in the Academy, and study
ing the best pictures, practising at the same
time with the brush. I' would sometimes feel
a good deal discouraged as I looked at the
works of older artists. I saw the labor it would
cost me to emulate them, working, as I should,
under great disadvantages. Then again, when
I had painted a picture successfully, my spirits
would rise, and I would resolve that I could and
would overcome every obstacle. One good
effect of my visit to Philadelphia was to open
my eyes to the merits of the works of other
5

34 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
artists, though it took away much of my self-
satisfaction. My own pictures did not look as
well to my own eye as they did before I left
Paris. I had thought then that my pictures
were far ahead of Mr. Jewitt's, the painter my
brother had written me about, who received
such unheard-of prices, and who really was a
good artist. My estimation of them was very
different now : I found they were so superior to
mine, that their excellence had been beyond my
capacity of appreciation.
When I returned to Kentucky, I found that
the scarcity of money, from which the State was
• then suffering, seriously affected my business ;
and after struggling on for a few months, with
out bettering my finances, I concluded to try a
new field. I first tried my fortune in Cincinnati ;
but, after waiting a week or two in vain for or
ders, I gave up all hope of succeeding there, and
determined to push on to St. Louis. But how
to get there was a puzzling question. I had
used up all my money; but, in my palmy days in
Paris, I had bought a dozen silver spoons, and a
gold watch and chain for my wife. There was
no way left for me now but to dispose of these
superfluities. I went with them to a broker,
and pawned them for money enough to take me
and my family to Missouri. I had letters of

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 35
introduction to St. Louis, and set off at once for
that far-off city. We went as far as Louisville
on a flat-boat, and there found a steamboat
ready to take passengers; and in ten days we
were safely landed in St. Louis. I presented
one of my letters to Governor Clarke, who was
then Governor of the Territory, Indian Agent,
&c. ; and he kindly helped me about getting a
suitable room for a studio, and then offered him
self as a sitter. This was an auspicious and
cheering beginning. I was decidedly happy in
my likeness of him, and, long before I had fin
ished his head, I had others engaged ; and for
fifteen months I was kept constantly at work.
In June of this year, I made a trip of one
hundred miles for the purpose of painting the
portrait of old Colonel Daniel Boone.* I had
much trouble in finding him. He was living,
some miles from the main road, in one of the cab
ins of an old block-house, which was built for the
protection of the settlers against the incursions
of the Indians. I found that the nearer I got to
his dwelling, the less was known of him. When
within two miles of his house, I asked a man to
tell me where Colonel Boone lived. He said
he did not know any such man. "Why, yes,
* This picture is now in possession of John L. King, Esq.,
of Springfield, Mass.

36 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
you do," said his wife. " It is that white-headed
old man who lives on the bottom, near the
river." A good illustration of the proverb, that
a prophet is not without honor save in his own
country. I found the object of my search engaged in
cooking his dinner. He was lying in his bunk,
near the fire, and had a long strip of venison
wound around his ramrod, and was busy turning
it before a brisk blaze, and using salt and pepper
to season his meat. I at once told him the
object of my visit. I found that he hardly knew
what I meant. I explained the matter to him,
and he agreed to sit. He was ninety years old,
and rather infirm; his memory of passing events
was much impaired, yet he would amuse me
every day by his anecdotes of his earlier life.
I asked him one day, just after his description
of one of his long hunts, if he never got lost,
having no compass. " No," said he, " I can't say
as ever I was lost, but I was bewildered once for
three days."
He was much astonished at seeing the like
ness. He had a very large progeny; one
grand-daughter had eighteen children, all at
home near the old man's cabin : they were even
more astonished at the picture than was the old
man himself.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 37
I will mention in this connection the fact of
my painting one of the Osage chiefs. There
was a deputation from this tribe on a visit to
Governor Clarke. I asked some of them to go
to my room, and there showed them the portrait
of Governor Clarke, at the sight of which they
gave several significant grunts. They were not
satisfied with merely looking, but went close to
the picture, rubbed their fingers across the face,
looked behind it, and showed great wonder.
The old chief was a fine-looking man, of great
dignity of manner. I asked him to sit for his
portrait. He did so ; and, after giving evident
signs of pleasure at seeing himself reproduced
on canvas, he said that I was a god (a great
spirit), and, if I would go home with him, I
should be a brave, and have two wives.
The deputation went to Washington, where
they staid long enough to lose much, I may say
nearly all, of that which ennobles the Indian
character. I saw them on their return to St.
Louis. They wore, instead of their own grace
ful blankets, a military dress with tawdry cotton
epaulettes and cotton lace ; and withal had
fallen into the habit of getting beastly drunk.
All the interest I had felt in them was gone.
The city became very sickly, and the weath
er was intensely hot. I decided to leave the

38 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
city' for a month or two. I hired a pair of
horses and a close carriage and driver, and
started for the town of Franklin, about two
hundred miles from St. Louis, situated on the
Missouri River. The day after we started, I
was taken violently ill of dysentery, and was
reduced in one week to a skeleton.
We met with an adventure on our way, which
I relate for the amusement of the younger
portion of my readers. We stopped one day
about noon to bait our horses. While waiting
at the tavern, I saw the fresh skin of some wild
animal, and inquired what it was. I was told
that it was the skin of a panther that had been
shot the night before, and that her mate was
prowling about the prairie. The two had done
great damage to the young cattle and hogs, and
a deadly war had been waged against them.
The whole settlement had turned out on the
hunt, and at last had succeeded in killing one.
We started to cross the prairie called the
Twenty-mile Prairie, and travelled on through
intense heat and swarms of flies until near
night, and were within a mile of the wooded
border, when the driver suddenly stopped, and
called out, "My God! massa, what dat dar?"
I lifted the window of the coach, and there
stood an enormous panther, directly in our

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 39
path, and in a half-crouching posture. The
negro swung his hat, and yelled as if he were
frightened out of his senses; and there was
good cause for his fear, for the animal was not
more than twenty feet from us. The monster
gave one or two leaps into the grass, and there
stood and eyed us very closely as we passed.
If the driver was frightened, those within the
carriage were no less so. We were none of
us sorry to part company with the creature.
We soon reached the tavern; and, as the land
lord was beginning to take the harness from
the horses, I told him the adventure. He
instantly dropped the harness ; and calling all
the men, boys, and dogs that were near, they
all started at their utmost speed. They soon
found the beast, and followed him nearly all
night; but he would not "tree."
We had a little adventure at this tavern,
which might have shocked some of the refined
boarders at the Astor House. I had observed
a white counterpane spread upon the grass,
covered over with fruit for the purpose of dry
ing. On sitting down at the tea-table, the
same article appeared as a table-cloth ; and, on
going to bed, we found it put to its legitimate
use. We arrived, at last, at the town of Franklin,

40 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
which was the county seat. Where the bed
of the Missouri River now lies, the Court
house then stood. Such have been the rav
ages of this unreliable stream, that not a house
in the then flourishing town is now standing.
It was here that my oldest son was born. One
other event of importance occurred. It was
here that I obtained a perfect knowledge of
the English language : at least, I was assured
by an itinerant professor, that he could make
me a thorough grammarian in twelve lessons.
As I took the required number, if I am not all
that he promised me, it must be his fault, and
not mine.
While in St. Louis, I bought a lot of land, for
which I painted five hundred dollars worth in
pictures at their then current value. On leaving
St. Louis, I left the lot in charge of an agent,
with funds for the accruing taxes. I never
thought of the lot or the agent for five years,
when I met a gentleman in Washington who
was well acquainted with real estate in St.
Louis. I asked him if he knew any thing about
my lot : he said it had, he thought, been sold
for taxes. This proved to be true ; but, as the
limit of redemption had not expired, I empow
ered this gentleman to redeem it, and to sell
it at once, if he could get a fair price for it, to

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 41
relieve myself from the trouble of looking after
it. He sold it for seven hundred dollars. That
same lot is now worth forty thousand. By such
chances fortunes are made or missed !
My ambition in my profession now began
to take a higher flight, and I determined to go
to Europe. I had accumulated over a thousand
dollars in cash, and had bought a carriage and
pair of horses. With these I started with
my family for Western New York, where my
parents were still living, by whom we were
warmly welcomed.
My success in painting, and especially the
amount of money I had saved, was the wonder
of the whole neighborhood. My grandfather
Smith, at an advanced age, had followed his
children to the West, and was living in the
same place with my father. He had, as yet,
said nothing congratulatory upon my success ;
but one day he began, " Chester, I want to
speak to you about your present mode of life.
I think it is very little better than swindling to
charge forty dollars for one of those effigies.
Now, I want you to give up this course of liv
ing, and settle down on a farm, and become
a respectable man." As I did not exactly
coincide in his views, I did not become the
"respectable man" according to his notions.
6

42 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
My failure in Caledonia for four or five hun
dred dollars had caused as much surprise and
excitement as would the failure of any of our
first merchants in Boston. The surprise was,
at least, as great to my creditors to find them
selves paid off in full.
My plan now was to leave my wife and chil
dren with my father and mother, and go to
Europe. This plan was so far matured and
carried out, that I had my trunk packed, and
was to leave on the following morning.* Just
before starting, my mother asked me to sit
down by her, as she wished to have a serious
talk with me. She began, " You are now going
to Europe ; and how soon — if ever — you
return, no one can tell. You are leaving, your
wife and children with very little to live upon ;
certainly, not enough to support them in the
way they have lived. To come to the point, I
want you to give up your trip for the present,
and buy a farm [pointing to one in the neigh
borhood that was for sale], and place your
family in a comfortable position. If you go to
Europe, and never return, they are then pro-
* The ship I was intending to sail in was the ill-fated
"Albion." She was wrecked, and all on board were lost except
one man, an invalid, who was thrown up a cleft in the rocks,
and saved.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 43
vided for; and this reflection will console you
under any trials you may be called on to pass
through." This appeal was too much for me.
I yielded; and the next morning, instead of
starting for Europe, I started for the farm, and
before night had a deed of one hundred and
fifty acres. I next made a contract with a car
penter to build a frame-house upon it ; and then
started for Washington, to spend the winter.
I had fairly begun work before Congress
assembled, and had some happy specimens for
exhibition. I spent about six months there ;
was full of business, and was able in the spring
to pay for the new house, and make another
payment on the farm.
The following summer I spent in Pittsfield
and Northampton. Mr. Mills, United States
Senator from Massachusetts, resided in the lat
ter town. He had seen my pictures in Wash
ington, and had spoken favorably of them and
of me ; and I found that I had already a high
reputation. I at once got orders, and in a
short time my room was tolerably well filled
with pictures.
While I was there, the annual cattle-show
came off. I allowed my pictures to be exhib
ited among the mechanic arts. They elicited
great admiration, and formed one of the chief

44 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
attractions. I went into the room one day
when there was a great crowd, and was soon
pointed out as the artist. Conversation ceased,
and all eyes were turned upon me. This was
altogether too much for my modesty, and I
withdrew as quickly as possible.
I one day received an invitation to a large
party, to be given by Mrs. Ashmun (the step
mother of George Ashmun), which I accepted;
but, as the evening drew near, began to regret
that I had done so. I finally went into my
room, and sat down on the bed, before begin
ning to dress, and took the matter into serious
consideration. Should I go? or should I not?
It was a fearful ordeal to go through. I had
never been to a fashionable lady's party, and
should not know how to behave. My heart
grew faint at the thought of my ignorance and
awkwardness. But then I reflected, there must
be a first time ; and, with a mighty effort, re
solved that this should be it I So I went, and
passed through the trial better than I antici
pated; but I was glad enough when it was
over. While in Northampton, I painted the portraits
of two gentlemen from Boston. They encour
aged me to establish myself in that city. I did
so, and for six months rode triumphantly on the

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 45
top wave of fortune. I took a large room,
arranged my pictures, and fixed upon one
o'clock as my hour for exhibition. As soon as
the clock struck, my bell would begin to ring ;
and people would flock in, sometimes to the
number of fifty. New orders were constantly
given me for pictures. I was compelled to
resort to a book for registering the names
of the numerous applicants. As a vacancy
occurred, I had only to notify the next on the
list, and it was filled. I do not think any artist
in this country ever enjoyed more popularity
than I did ; but popularity is often easily won,
and as easily lost. Mr. Stuart, the greatest
portrait painter this country ever produced,
was at that time in his manhood's strength as a
painter; yet he was idle half the winter. He
would ask of his friends, " How rages the Hard
ing fever ? "
Although I had painted about eighty portraits,
' I had a still greater number of applicants await
ing their turn ; but I was determined to go to
Europe, as I had money enough to pay for my
farm, and some sixteen hundred dollars besides.
I had engaged to paint a few portraits in
Springfield, which I did on my way to Barre,
where my family were living. After spending
a week or two there in arranging matters con-

46 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
nected with their comfort, I took leave of them,
and started for New-York City, where I was to
embark. On my way, I spent a day or two in
Northampton with my friends. While there, a
lady, whose judgment I respected, advised me
to send for my family, and establish them in that
town; urging as a reason, that my children
would grow up wild where they were, and that
my wife could not improve in the accomplish
ments of refined society, but inevitably remain
stationary, on the standard level of those she
would be obliged to associate with, while I
should be improving by mingling with the re
fined and distinguished persons my profession
would throw me among. I was impressed with
the good sense of this advice, and adopted it.
I started at once for my wild home, and brought
my family, now numbering four children, to
Northampton; and saw them well settled in a
very excellent boarding-house, where they re
mained two years. I have had good reason
to thank my friend for her judicious sugges
tion. And now, at last, I took my departure for a
foreign land, leaving wife, children, and friends,
— all indeed that I had sympathy with, — to cast
in my lot, for a time, with strangers in a strange
land. My heart was full of conflicting emotions.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 47
Scores of my patrons in Boston had tried to
dissuade me from taking this step, some urging
as a reason, that I already had such a press of
business that I could lay up a considerable sum
of money yearly; while others insisted that I
need not go abroad, for I already painted better
pictures than any artist in this country, and
probably better than any in Europe. My self-
esteem was not large enough, however, to listen
to all this, and my desire for study and improve
ment was too great to be overpowered by flat
tery. In spite of all advice to the contrary,
I sailed for England, in the good packet ship
"Canada," on the first day of August, 1823.
After a favorable passage of eighteen days,
we arrived safely in port, at Liverpool; and I
remember feeling so ridiculously happy at set
ting foot on shore again, that I laughed heartily
without knowing why.
During the two years of separation from my
family which ensued, I kept a journal to send to
my wife; and, as it gives the details of my expe
riences on the other side of the Atlantic with
greater freshness than I could throw into any
account I might try to give at this distance of
time, I shall continue my narrative by making
extracts from it.

48 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.

CHAPTER III.
Journal. — 1823.
WEDNESDAY, Aug. 20.— Took a seat at
Liverpool in an opposition coach for
Birmingham. Travelled through a delightful and
highly cultivated country. Admired the neat
and clean appearance of the cottages. The
sudden and very great transition from ease and
opulence to extreme and abject misery cannot
fail, however, to be a source of painful reflection
to every intelligent traveller upon that road.
The rich seem to have almost exhaustless wealth,
from the refinement and profusion of their luxu
ries ; and the squalid wretchedness of the poor
exhibits not less striking evidence of the ex
treme of poverty. The first annoyance, experi
enced by a stranger travelling in this country,
is the unremitting applications of coachmen,
waiters, and chambermaids for money, when he
is unable to discover any foundation for their
claims. Custom, however, is so despotic a
tyrant, and so irresistible in his sway, that one
yields to all these demands without questioning

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 49
their justice ; the authority from which they are
derived is so universally respected, that its name
is a sufficient passport for every species of im
position. Birmingham, from its great number of mills,
is enveloped in smoke ; which, in addition to a
fog, almost prevents one from finding his way
through the streets.
One of our fellow-passengers gave us (Cap
tain Barnaby and myself) a letter to his friend
in Birmingham, which contained a singular mis
take, that amused us not a little. The letter ran,
"Dear Tom, will you show these gentlemen
some of your manufactures?" instead of facto
ries. The consequences of the mistake were
such as might be anticipated. The note was
duly delivered with our address, and in a very
short time the " man of brass " came down, quite
out of breath, with many apologies for being out
when we did him the favor to call; begging that
we would accompany him to his warehouse,
where he would show us as great a variety, and
at as low prices, as any man in his line in Bir
mingham. But, alas! when informed by us of
his mistake, and he ascertained that he should
have no heavy orders to fill, he was instantly
seized with an ague that seemed to freeze him
into utter speechlessness: but a few moments
7

50 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
sufficed to restore to him the use of his faculties,
and his manners softened towards us sufficiently
to induce an offer of his services in showing us
some of the wonders of the town ; an offer which
was readily accepted, and which procured us the
sight of one brass and copper foundry.
Friday, 22. — Left Birmingham for London.
Saturday, 23. — Entered the grand metropolis,
and took lodgings at Cooper's Hotel. Walked
about the neighboring streets ; saw the mighty
St. Paul's, and the millions passing it. On first
entering Fleet Street, I was disposed to stop
until the crowd had passed, but soon found the
procession was interminable. In the evening
went to see Matthews in " Mons. Tonson ; " not
so much gratified as when I saw him in Bos
ton. Sunday, 24. — Rain and smoke render a candle
almost necessary to read or write. My friend
left me to my own reflections, which my situa
tion, — being in a small, dark room in the third
story, or, as my friend described it, " the first
floor down the chimney," — united to a gloomy
day, conspired to make quite depressing. My
only prospect from the windows was a sight of
a few dirty buildings with their outhouses.
Then the awful tolling of St. Paul's went to my
heart with overwhelming power. I had never

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 51
before heard such melancholy peals, and their
first influence was irresistible. The clouds
broke in the evening, and I walked down to
the Waterloo Bridge.
Tuesday, 26. — Took a coach, and drove up
and down the city in search of Mr. Leslie,
without knowing his address*; and, after two
or three hours of fruitless exertion, and half
a guinea coach hire, I accidentally cast my eye
on the letter I had to him, when I saw, " No. 8,
Buckingham Street, Fitzroy Square." I had
the satisfaction of at length presenting my let
ter to him; but, finding him engaged, I soon
left him, with the promise to call again in the
evening. At tea, met Newton and Bowman
and Mason, with whom I had a delightful con
versation. Wednesday, 27. — Accompanied Leslie to the
Royal Academy, where I found many students
at their " devotions," and saw one of Raphael's
Cartoons, with copies of all of them. I was
greatly disappointed in these renowned works,
more particularly in regard to their coloring.
Thursday, 28. — Mr. Leslie having procured
me a ticket of admission to the gallery of Mr.
Augustine, I visited it, and saw there for the
first time an original Vandyke : it was masterly
indeed, and quite equalled my expectations.

52 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
Saw many Titians, which failed in produc
ing the same gratification ; saw also several
Claudes, all beautiful as Nature herself. There
is here likewise a picture of the raising of
Lazarus, by one of the old masters, which has
been and still is extravagantly extolled, and
which cost an enormous sum. Yet, notwith
standing its high reputation, and my endeavors
to admire it because Leslie pointed it out to
me, I could not think it very fine. I shall
probably change my opinion of it upon a more
extensive knowledge of the art. Saw a fine Sir
Joshua, and one of Wilkie, — a Scotch merry
making ; delighted with both, as also Hogarth's
" Marriage a la Mode."
Sept. 1. — Being my birthday, I had Mason
to dine with me. After dinner, we went to
see the grand gallery of the late Mr. West.
From what I had already seen of his works, I
was prepared to find his pictures quite inferior
to what I once fancied them, and to the estima
tion of the public. Owing to this preposses
sion, I was the more agreeably disappointed.
" Death on the Pale Horse " is awfully sublime,
and I shrank back with horror when my eyes
first glanced upon it. There were many others
that delighted me, many which I thought quite
ordinary, and some contemptible. I think that

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 53
he has departed widely from nature in coloring,
and that he has carried his classical ideas of
. the face almost to a deformity. If his heroes
were to walk out of the canvas, and mingle in
society, they would be found to resemble men
of our day so Httle, that they would scarcely
be recognized as human beings. He was a
great mannerist. His last pictures afford evi
dence of the decline of his intellectual powers.
Tuesday, 2. — Commenced the head of Mr.
Baldwin for myself, and found that my hand
was a good deal out. Leslie, Newton, and
others being so curious to see my first picture,
added not a little to the mingled feelings of
doubt and confidence, hope and fear, which agi
tated and oppressed me.
Monday, 8. — Finished the portrait of Mr.
Baldwin. Not entirely satisfied with it, but
by no means discouraged; for I daily behold
worse paintings than I ever painted, even in
Pittsburg. Went to Vauxhall Gardens. I
had never seen any thing before resembling
these gardens, and had no idea, of the amuse
ments they afford. Barnaby and I went about
ten o'clock ; and, in entering, took a long alley
that was intentionally left very dark, and which
opened directly into the quietest part of the
garden. My astonishment upon leaving this

54 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
dark alley was indeed beyond conception.
There were, I suppose, ten thousand lamps, of
various colors, most tastefully arranged, whose
dazzling light bewildered, and, for a few mo
ments, nearly blinded me, as they burst upon
me in contrast to the darkness I had left. In
the centre of the principal part of the garden
is an orchestra prettily fitted up with lamps,
and with fifty or more performers; there are
also beautiful rotundas and long promenades.
At every other place of amusement, such as
the theatre, balls, &c, you see some thoughtful
faces; but here every countenance is lit up
with smiles, which give unequivocal evidence
of participation in the enjoyment and magic
influences of the scene. Splendid fire and
water works were playing all the time. It
was to me a scene of such perfect enchant
ment, that I took no note of time ; and it was
near three o'clock before we left the gardens.
Sept. 9. — At night, taken violently ill of
the cholera; thought of having occasion for
an " undertaker ; " wished myself at home a
thousand times in the course of a long and
tedious night. The thought was dreadful to
me of the possibility that I might not see home
again : the idea of dying away from home was
horrible. This weakness did not leave me

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 55
until I was out of danger. Morning at length
came, and I got once more upon my feet; and,
before night, obtained relief.
Thursday, 11. — Quite recovered my strength.
Began the portrait of Captain Barnaby, and
walked about the city.
Friday, 12. — Went to see the London Docks ;
saw a wilderness of masts ; ships from every quar
ter of the globe ; many from my own country,
which I looked upon with uncommon pride and
pleasure. I thought them infinitely the finest
ships in dock. It was a charming sight.
Saturday, 13. — Went with Bowman to see
Sir Thomas Lawrence's portraits. As much
pleased as on the first visit. His women are
angels, but his men are not so faultless by any
means. There happened to be two or three
learned critics making their remarks while we
were there. It occurred to me, while listening
to these gentlemen, that, however excellent a
painter may be, it must take a long time to. be
come known to the world; but, having once
become celebrated, whatever he does is out of
the reach of criticism : visitors go to see his
works with a predisposition to be pleased with
them. Very different is the case with the be
ginner. Instead of overlooking the faults, they
are most apt to overlook any little merit the pic-

56 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
ture may possess, and seem to take great credit
to themselves for having discovered that the
pictures are not perfect ; but, happily for the
artists, and perhaps for the art, the beginner is
content with a smaller share of approbation, as
he also is content with a small price for his first
efforts. To criticise and praise judiciously re
quires great knowledge : to find fault is an easy
task, as no work of genius is perfect. A young
painter needs the criticism of the wise, that he
may be confirmed in what is good in his work,
and not merely to be made to feel that his work
is bad.
Monday, 15. — Went with Mr. and Miss Leslie,
and a party of ladies and gentlemen, to see the
Dalwich Gallery. This is a splendid collection.
The portrait of the " Arch-duke Albert," by
Vandyke, is the finest piece of art that I have
yet seen ; it is very nearly, if not quite, perfect ;
the shadows are so transparent that they do not
appear at all at first glance. The portrait of
Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, by Sir Josh
ua, is a fine picture ; very yellow, perhaps too
much so. Saw some of Claude's fine landscapes,
and a multitude of other pictures, such as Cuype,
Poussin, Titian, Rembrandt, and some others,
whose works are admirable : but then there are,
as an offset to these beautiful pieces, hundreds

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 57
of inferior productions, which to my mind are
not worth the trouble of preserving, though
they all in their turn find admirers. Some will
admire a picture because it looks old ; some, be
cause it is so dark nothing is left to the eye, but
all to the imagination ; others, for the respect
they have for the name of its author.
We then went to a beautiful spot of rising
ground, about two miles from Dalwich, where
we could see St. Paul's, and many other points
of London. We had our fortunes told by some
gipsies on our way. After walking about un
til four o'clock, we found ourselves seated upon
the side of a hill, with our dejeuner, which was
previously provided, before us : all ate as if it
were his last meal. One of the greatest pleas
ures in this kind of feasting seems to be the
delightful inconvenience, which is unavoidable.
In consequence of our choice of position, our
plates and dishes would slip about in fine style :
now a salt-cellar would begin its revolutions
down the hill ; now a glass of ale would follow
its example, and perhaps a mustard-pot would
turn a somersault or two; in short, we had
every annoyance that can be necessary to ren
der such an occasion charming. The ceremony
of eating once over, and our legs straightened
again, we adjourned to a level spot of grass

58 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
that was like velvet, where we commenced a
dance, which closed our amusements.
Sunday, 21. — My friend Barnaby kindly in
vited me to spend a week with him at his
friend's, in Oxfordshire ; so we mounted to the
top of a coach, and, after travelling four or five
hours in a hard rain, we arrived at our place of
destination. The captain's friend, Mr. Large,
is a gentleman farmer of some wealth, and
much esteemed by all classes of society. Here
I spent ten days, and I must say I never spent
ten days more delightfully in my life. On the
evening of our arrival, we were invited to a
" harvest-home : " we met about fifteen gentle
men. When we first entered the room, I thought
we were in a Yankee bar-room, so full was it of
smoke. Every gentleman had his long pipe,
that sent forth its blue, encircling smoke most
plentifully. The company, however, bore no
likeness to the class that is found haunting our
bar-rooms ; they were mostly men of reading,
and some of classical education. They were
seated in a circle around a large fire, with a
small table to each three or four; every man
had his tumbler of hot toddy, of brandy, rum, or
gin, as best pleased himself; and they were
emptied often enough to keep the company in
good heart. Songs and stories went round in

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 59
rapid succession. At twelve o'clock, we sat
down to a plentiful supper ; and at two, went
home, happy enough. . . .
Monday, 29. — Now came on the most delight
ful sport in the world. Mr. Large had invited
about twenty ladies and gentlemen to take a
day's sport, of coursing the hare. This, I found,
was to show me a specimen of country sports.
We went into the field in a martial manner, all
well mounted; and we soon started a hare.
The hounds were uncoupled, and after the little
harmless creature they went like lightning,
and the riders as close in the chase as possible.
" Here' she is ! " — " There she goes ! " — " Now
we have her ! " — " The hounds have lost the
scent ! " — " No : they have it again ! " and so on
was the cry for ten or fifteen minutes, when the
hounds came up with her, and soon despatched
her. In the course of the day, we had seven
or eight fine courses. One could hardly say
which was most excited by them, — the horses,
the riders, or the dogs. At night, most of the
gentlemen sat down to a dinner prepared for the
occasion, which was a jollification indeed. We
stuck to the table until three o'clock: we had
toasts, songs, and a flood of the best wines
the country could afford. The old parson was
the man last at the table ; and, while at it, would

60 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
thump the hardest, drink the hardest, and laugh
the loudest, of all the company. Thus ended
my delightful visit.
Monday, Oct. 6. — Commenced the study of
the French language, with a determination to
persevere in it ; the want of society will favor
my determination; pretty busy between the
study of French, drawing, history, and the many
letters I have to write.
Monday, 12. — Went with Mason to Westmin
ster Abbey ; struck with amazement at this
wonderful pile ; the architecture is sublime,
but, together with all that we associate with
Westminster Abbey, it is impressive beyond
the power of description.
Friday, 16. — Went to Drury-Lane Theatre.
In going into the pit in a tremendous crowd,
had my pockets picked of five pounds: who
ever took it must have been a finished master
in the " art and mystery of pocket-picking."
My purse was in my pantaloons' pocket, and it
was with great difficulty that I could get my
own hand into it ; but I suppose it was fished
out with hooks that are prepared purposely.
Saw Macready in " Hamlet ; " very great acting.
Sunday, 18. — At twelve, noon, reading by
candle-light. A good deal afraid of taking the
small-pox. I exchanged beds with the child

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 61
that lies ill of it, the day before the pox made
its appearance on her.
Monday. — Had a great disappointment in
seeing the celebrated " Chapeau de Paille," by
Rubens. I thought it had little, besides the
name of its author, to recommend it to the lover
of art. I think it vastly over-rated : had I seen
it in a pawnbroker's window, with the price of
five pounds affixed to it, I am certain I should
have passed it without buying. The face is out
of drawing, and the coloring by no means to
my taste. I am almost sorry that I saw it. By
the side of it, I saw the half-length portrait of
an old woman (by Rembrandt) that was living. .
I would rather possess it than a score of the
"Chapeau de Paille."
Thursday, 30. — Went to see the pictures by
Sir Joshua, and the copies by the young stu
dents of London. Sir Joshua's pictures are
splendid : they stand first in my estimation, of
all modern art. Much is said by the artists
of the day, however, of their bad drawing, and
fading colors ; so I must take another look or
two before I make a decision. The more I
learn of the system of copying even the great
est painters, the more I disapprove of it. I
have always advocated the system of following
nature closely, and of doing nothing the artist

62 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
did not clearly understand ; and, on looking at
these copies, I am more firmly fixed in my the
ory than ever. Some of the copies are very
like the originals, and the beginner wonders at
his own success ; but he never once asks him
self, why the master did this or that, and is, in
fact, as incapable of appreciating these mas
ter-pieces of art as he is of wielding the giant
brush that produced them.
Thursday, Nov. 13. — Began the portrait of
Mr. Rush.
18. — Finished it much to my own liking: it
is my best head. Mr. Rush gave me an intro
ductory letter to Sir Thomas Lawrence. I
called upon him, and found him very civil.
I am to carry him some of my heads for his in
spection and criticism. On Friday, carried the
portrait of Mr. Rush, with my own, to Sir
Thomas. He asked me what school I had
studied in. I told him the Stuart School. I
told him this, that he need not think that I wished
to pass for a prodigy. He found some faults
with the head ; praised them some ; and, on the
whole, flattered my vanity a good deal.
Monday, Dec. 8. — Spent Sunday evening at
Mr. Rush's, where I met Mr. Owen, Mr. Hunter,
and several other countrymen, as well as a num
ber of Englishmen. Was highly pleased with

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 63
Mr. Owen ; and listened with deep interest for
two hours to the conversation of Mr. Rush and
Mr. Owen. It ran chiefly upon the new system
of education adopted by the latter at New
Lanark. The theory seems very feasible, and
the successful experiments he has made at New
Lanark leave little doubt of its usefulness. The
system is thoroughly republican, and Mr. Owen
says that the United States is the "half-way
house " between this country and his desired
object. Wednesday, Dec. 23. — Smuggled into Som
erset House by Leslie to hear the annual lecture
by Sir Thomas Lawrence. After a few words
of congratulation to those who had just received
the prizes for drawing and painting, he took a
broad and general view of art, which he treated
in a very interesting manner. He said much
upon the comparative merits of modern masters.
He eulogized Mr. West most highly. He read
his discourse in a very eloquent style : he is
a fine-looking man, black or very dark-brown
eyes, bald head, and a very fine, white, polished
forehead. Thursday. — Breakfasted with Hunter. Met
Mr. Owen and other gentlemen. Mr. Owen
invited me to dine with him at Mr. John Smith's,
M.P. Here I felt painfully diffident or embar-

64 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
rassed, being conscious that I was in some
measure the representative of my country, or
that I might be taken as a specimen of Amer
icans. The gentlemen present could know
nothing of my history, and, of course, would
set me down for just what I appeared to them :
they did not even know that I was an artist.
However, when I could say nothing to advan
tage, I listened attentively ; and gained by the
conversation, however much I failed to contrib
ute to it.
Sunday, Dec. 28. — I am often vexed to hear
the Americans abuse Mr. Hunter in the manner
they do. I have spent much time in his com
pany, and I think him one of the most remark
able men I ever knew. His opinions of men
and things are entirely natural, free from the
errors and prejudices that a conventional educa
tion is liable to give. He grew up, from his
earliest recollection, among the Indians; whom
he left about eight years ago, bringing nothing
with him that nature did not dictate. He was
then ignorant of every thing beyond the limits
of his savage life. He first went to school at
the age of nineteen or twenty ; and the profi
ciency that he has made in the various branches
of scholastic education proves the absurdity of
the common opinion, that a man at twenty is too

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 65
old for studying the sciences, unless he has had
the first principles beat into his head by school
masters. Mr. Hunter is a good English, and, I
am told, a good Latin scholar. He is qualified
to practise physic ; he is a good mathematician ;
in short, there is scarcely a branch of science
that he has not made some proficiency in. His
society is courted by the great, partly, no doubt,
because he is a wonder ; but the very thing that
makes him wonderful is that which reflects his
greatest honor. I think him an honor to the
country that claims him, and I am happy to find
that he is devotedly attached to that country.
My own want of education I feel constantly : but,
after the example of Mr. Hunter, let me not
complain ; for, by following it, I can supply the
deficiency. If the possession of learning is
worth the pursuit of it, and can be obtained by
industry, he who is ignorant has himself alone
to blame, and is deservedly the victim.
1824, Jan. 7.— Went to see Sir William Bee-
chy. After looking at his pictures for half an
hour, was ushered into his presence. I like the
man better than his pictures, though he has some
capital things in his collection : they are, how
ever, all works of his youthful and more vigor
ous days. He remembers Mr. Stuart, and
thinks highly of him as an artist. Went last

66 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
night to the theatre ; saw Madame Vestris in
" The Beggar's Opera." She is one of the most
angelic singers on the English stage ; but she
is one of the most abandoned of the female
race, given up to every vice that can tarnish
the female character: the bare mention of her
name ought to bring a blush upon the cheek of
modesty. To see such a woman cheered and
applauded by a Christian audience is to me an
unaccountable incongruity.
Jan. 14. — Began the portrait of His Royal
Highness the Duke of Sussex. This was the
first time that I ever had the honor of seeing
one of the royal family ; and, of course, my
approach to this august personage was marked
by some little palpitations of the heart: but his
affable manners placed me entirely at my ease.
In the course of the sitting, His Royal Highness
spoke warmly of America, and said he felt a
pleasure in being painted by an American artist.
In this country, it is looked upon as a mark of
great distinction to be allowed to paint one
of the royal family. For this honor I am
indebted to my friend Hunter. The duke is a
prodigiously fat man, above six feet high, of
very uncommon features, but not intellectual.
Monday, 19. — Finished the portrait of the
duke. He seems well pleased with it, and

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 67
seems to take considerable interest in my suc
cess. All who have seen the portrait think it
the best that ever was taken of His Royal
Highness. His Highness gave me a ticket to the High
land Society's dinner, an annual jubilee from
time immemorial. This was the grandest affair
I ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Some
two hundred of the Highland chiefs and lairds,
all in their appropriate costume, were assem
bled. Every man wore the plaid of his clan.
There were five or six of us in black coats : we
were placed at the foot of one of the long
tables, and had a fine view of the company.
Old and young were splendidly dressed, and a
gorgeous sight it was. After the regular toasts,
such as "The King," "The Royal Family,"
" The Ministers," and so on, volunteer toasts
were given. The Duke of Sussex was the pre
sident, and was addressed as the Earl of In
verness ; the clans considering that title higher
than his English one.
At intervals, I tried to make some conversa
tion with my black-coated neighbors ; but their
attention was apparently too much absorbed by
what Was going on at the other end of the
table. Presently I saw the duke's servant
coming down to our end of the table; and, ap-

68 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
proaching me, said, " His Royal Highness will
take wine with you." I rose, and His Royal
Highness half rose and bowed. Such a mark
of distinction was felt by my taciturn neighbors.
I found them sociable and very respectful after
that. As soon as the dinner was despatched,
the bagpipes were introduced, and the first note
started the company to their feet, and nearly
the whole assembly joined in the "Highland
Fling." Many songs were sung: Miss Payton,
afterward Mrs. Wood, sang some Scotch songs
from the gallery. It was an exciting scene,
and continued till a late hour. Some were
" fu'," and all were " unco happy." As the
duke retired, he honored me with a shake of
his hand.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 69

CHAPTER IV.
JAN. 20. — Set off for Holkham, Norfolk, to
paint the portrait of Mr. Coke, — a period of
great anxiety.
Jan. 21. — Arrived at Holkham at ten in the
evening. Rang at the door, and was answered
by a footman in powder, who announced me to
the next servant ; and my name rang through
the long hall most awfully. One of the head
servants then asked me if I would go to my
room, or be introduced to the family. I chose
the former. Next morning I went down to
breakfast with trembling steps. As I passed
through the long range of splendidly furnished
apartments, the echo of the shutting doors, and
even my own steps in these large rooms, was
frightful; and what rendered my embarrassment
greater was that I had never seen Mr. Coke,
and had to introduce myself. At length, how
ever, I reached the breakfast room, and was
ushered into it. There were but a few persons
in the room, and neither Mr. Coke nor Lady
Anne were present. They soon came in, and
broke the painful silence I was constrained to

70 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
observe. We soon were seated at table to the
number of five and twenty ladies and gentle
men, the latter in their shooting dresses. Here
I felt a little awkward, as the table arrange
ments were very different from any I had seen.
In the centre of the room was placed a long
table, around which the company were seated ;
and side-tables, loaded with cold meats and cold
game, were resorted to by any one that wished
for flesh or fowl. It struck me at first as being
a queer sort of hospitality not to be asked to
take this or that, but left to help myself or go
without. Each calls for coffee, tea, or choco
late, as he fancies, without being asked which
he prefers. After breakfast, I joined the shoot
ing party : we set off in terrible array, with
guns, dogs, and game-keepers ; the older gentle
men mounted on horseback. In the course of
the day, I shot about a dozen in all, — pheasants,
partridges, and hares; and was withal exces
sively fatigued. At six, we sat down to a
sumptuous dinner. The very men with whom
I had been shooting and conversing freely
all day, had so changed the " outer man " by
throwing off their shooting habiliments, and
putting on their finery, that I hardly recognized
a single face at table. Every dish was of silver,
gold knives and forks for dessert, and every

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 71
thing else about the table of corresponding
costliness. The ladies retired about eight ; and
the gentlemen, with a few exceptions, gathered
around a smaller table, and sat until nine, and
then joined the ladies and took coffee. After
coffee, some of the company retire to their
rooms; others to side-tables to write letters; and
such as have nothing else to do play whist or
chess, or some other games, until ten, when a
supper is served up on a side-table, where the
company stand, and eat or drink what they wish.
After supper, one after another calls for a bed
room candle, and goes to his room. None stop
later than eleven o'clock.
Jan. 23. — Began the portrait of Mr. Coke,
after which I amused myself by sauntering
about the gallery. I found many excellent
paintings, a fine statue gallery, and a splendid
library. Mr. Coke is said to have one of the
finest manuscript libraries in the kingdom.
The furniture of this house is in the most
extravagant style. Lady Anne showed me the
state-rooms, bedrooms, &c, which are magnifi
cent. The bed-curtains of one of the beds cost
eight guineas a yard : the rest of the furniture
was equally costly. All the principal rooms are
hung with tapestry. I had no idea of the
wealth of an English gentleman until I came

72 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
here. Mr. Coke owns seventy thousand acres
of productive land.
Mr. Coke is now, and always has been, an
ardent admirer of America. He was the first
to propose the recognition of our independence
in the House of Commons. He is seventy-two
years old, but retains all the mental vigor of
a man of forty. He has, within two years,
married a young wife of eighteen ; and has by
her a fine son to prop and support his declining
years, and to inherit his large estates.
Wednesday, 27. — Commenced the portrait of
Lady Anson, — a daughter of Mr. Coke, — upon a
small scale. We breakfast at ten, lunch at two ;
and, at six, the party assemble in the drawing-
room, in full dress, for dinner. Mr. Coke leads
the lady of highest rank first ; then follows the
highest titled gentleman with Lady Anne, and
the rest fall in according to rank or seniority.
I am a good deal bothered with the titles we
have here. " Your ladyship " and " your lord
ship " do not slip readily from my tongue.
There is great splendor in the dinner service,
as well as in the attendants at table, of whom
there are eight or ten in powdered livery as
well as two out of livery, — the one, the butler ;
the other, a sort of master of ceremonies.
There is a large bell in one of the towers of

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 73
the hall, which is rung to announce the hours
of breakfasting and dining. After breakfast,
each lady goes to her room; and she enjoys
entire freedom as to the disposition of her time
during the day. Some order their carriages or
horses, and drive or ride around the park. The
gentlemen always go out shooting, unless they
are prevented by bad weather.
Friday, 29. — Finished the portrait of Mr.
Coke. The family are highly pleased with it.
Began the portrait of Lady Andover's daughter.
Mr. Adair, one of our visitors, has been ambas
sador at Constantinople, — a very pleasant gen
tleman. Mr. Coke is most decidedly American in his
feelings : he often says it is the only country
where one spark of freedom is kept alive ; and
he regrets very much not having gone over at
the termination of the revolutionary struggle,
that he might have seen the brightest character
that ever adorned the page of history.
Friday night, some itinerant jugglers came to
the Hall to amuse the family. Their perform
ance was indifferent enough ; but it was interest
ing to see the household collected. There were
about seventy domestics. After the perform
ance, Mr. Coke told the steward to give them a
couple of guineas, and send them away.
10

74 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
Feb. 1. — Commenced the portrait of Mr.
Blakie, Mr. Coke's steward, on the kit-cat size,
at thirty guineas.
Lady Anson has a most benevolent heart : she
spends much of her time, and a good deal of
her money, amongst the poor and destitute of
the neighboring village. Mr. Coke has very
humanely provided for the servants who have
grown gray in his service, by building them
neat little cottages near the Hall, with a small
piece of ground attached for a garden ; and, in
some instances, he has given a pension for life.
They seem as happy as men can be in this life.
They are seen every day about three o'clock
walking up to the Hall for their dinners. They,
with the steward and a few other of the upper
servants, dine together as sumptuously as their
master. London, Feb. 28. — Went to the Italian
Opera House to witness the performance of
a grand oratorio. Madame Catalini was the
principal attraction : the power of her voice
far surpasses that of any singer I ever heard
before. Besides sacred pieces, which she gave
to admiration, she sang " God save the King "
and " Rule Britannia ; " and she so riveted my
attention that I knew not what I did. I shouted
" Rule Britannia," &c, as loud and as loyally as

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY- 75
the best Englishman present. There were one
hundred and forty performers, vocal and instru
mental. The house is magnificent; there are
four rows of boxes, all hung with red curtains,
and splendidly upholstered.
On Thursday night I received a ticket from
the Duke of Sussex to attend a dinner in sup
port of old and indigent Jews, and for the
education of the young ; the duke in the chair.
There were about two hundred present. After
the cloth was removed, and usual toasts drunk,
and speeches made, the school of children was
introduced to the number of fifty. Each had
some specimen of his skill in mechanics in his
hand, a chair or shoes, &c. One of the little
girls, about eight years old, and of most inter
esting appearance, recited a piece of poetry
which had been written for the occasion. The
lines were full of pathos, and delivered with
astonishing force. This little manoeuvre had a
most powerful effect upon the company. The
duke rose to speak; but he was so moved with
pity, that the tears ran down his cheeks in a
flood: nor were the golden drops of the com
pany shed less profusely. The subscription
amounted to twenty-three hundred guineas.
The Duke of Sussex is a much better speaker
than his brother York, whom I heard at the

76 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
"Theatrical Fund" dinner; but he is not an
eloquent nor a strong-minded man. His good
ness of heart, however, makes ample amends
for all want of brilliancy.
Monday, March 14. — Went to the House of
Lords ; and, through the kindness of the Duke
of Sussex, was fortunate enough to get a front
seat, on the foot of the throne, — a place set apart
for the sons of noblemen, and foreign ambassa
dors. The debate, upon the recognition of the
independence of South America, was extremely
interesting. The Marquis of Lansdowne was
the mover of the question, and he supported it
most ably and eloquently ; but, as it was a party
question, his eloquence was in vain: the motion
was lost by a large majority. The house is as
uninteresting within as it is without. The cus
tom of seating the lord chancellor on the wool
sack is too ridiculous and barbarous for the
present stage of civilization. There are three
sacks, about ten feet in length, two feet high
and perhaps four feet wide, so put together as
to form three sides of a square ; the lord chan
cellor sits on the centre sack, the clerks on the
others. The wigs, which the lords wear, are
still less dignified in their appearance.
Tuesday, March 6. — Sent the portraits of
Mr. Perkins, Owen, Anson, and myself, to Somer-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 77
set House. I tremble for their fate. I can't
hope for more than to have two of them ad
mitted. Saturday, April 10. — Breakfasted with Mr.
Owen. He is very confident of success in his
attempts at universal reform. He is plain in
his appearance, and simple in his manners, but
strong in argument.
Monday, April 20. — Went with Mr. Neale and
Mr. Humphries to Greenwich Fair, about six
miles from town. We got into a boat at West
minster Bridge, and had a most charming sail
down the Thames. Some thousands of town
and country folks were assembled, and enjoy
ing themselves in every variety of way. In
addition to the Smithfield amusements, they
have a singular mode of amusing themselves
by rolling down a very steep and grassy hill:
boys and girls are seen rolling and tum
bling together in every direction and posi
tion. The grand Hospital for Decayed Seamen is
situated here. The building itself is extremely
beautiful, and the effect is enhanced by the river
which washes one side of the grand area : the
surrounding landscape, harmonizing so well with
the whole, renders the scene enchanting. It is
delightful, too, to know that two thousand inva-

78 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
lids are sharing a nation's gratitude. One sees
contentment reigning in the faces of hundreds
who are deprived of half their limbs. They
are well-fed and well-clad, in a half-military
uniform. Monday, 26. — Commenced the portrait of Mr.
Henry Anson. Delightful weather. Sunday
called with Hunter upon the Duke of Sussex.
He was very polite and kind. Mr. Hunter and
I took a long walk, and thought and talked
about our country ; compared it to England : the
result was favorable to the land of our birth.
In the course of our rambling, we got into a
boat, and floated with the tide from the Water
loo Bridge to the Iron Bridge. On the Thames
we had a most beautiful view of the city. The
sun was just setting, but still shone bright upon
St. Paul's stupendous dome, and some other
prominent points of the city, such as Somerset
House, the Adelphi, &c. ; and, as we floated along
under the several bridges, which never look so
strikingly grand as when seen from beneath, we
concluded it would be many years before our
country could boast such monuments of art. In
viewing Waterloo Bridge, we were led to speak
of the event which this stupendous work per
petuates ; from that, to the captivity of Napo
leon ; of the indelible stain that event has cast

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 79
upon the great conqueror of the age, — what mag
nanimity he had it in his power to show by
treating this once powerful but now fallen foe
like a Christian, instead of dooming him to
waste his life in exile like a pirate.
Thursday, 29. — Dined with Mr. Everett ; met
Mr. and Mrs. Appleton and others; a pleasant
party. Spring is now opening, and all nature seems
to smile again ; fruit-trees in full blossom. How
delightful to the eye, after being shut up in fog
and smoke for six months, to see the green
fields once more displaying their charms ! But
spring approaches so gradually here, that one
does not feel that pleasure which one feels in
the Northern States of America, where the tran
sition from snow to verdure is so quick, that,
before one can say spring approaches, it is
already arrived. How delightful to meet old and
intimate friends in a foreign land ! Dr. Bobbins
and wife and Miss Pickard, who have just ar
rived, make me forget that I am in a strange
country. Saturday, 29. — Began the portrait of the Rev.
 , recommended by Leslie. He is a country
clergyman; and, from his Jewing disposition,
I should judge he had more taste in tithes than
pictures. He spent at least one hour of his pre-

80 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
cious life in a fruitless attempt to lower my
price. I feel myself improving in every picture I
paint. Nine-tenths of the pictures that are
painted in London are execrably bad.
Monday, May 3. — Somerset House opened
this day. This is a grand display altogether.
Portraiture is the branch of art in which the
English School stands pre-eminent. Sir Thomas
Lawrence, Jackson, Shee, Phillips, Sir Wm.
Beechy, and one or two others, stand high;
but Sir Thomas towers above them all. In
the small cabinet pictures, after Wilkie, Leslie
stands first. His picture of Sancho Panza in
the apartment of the duchess is a beautifully-
told story, and commands great admiration. He
devoted six months of hard study to it, and it
was time well-spent. Newton has a very clever
picture of the " Patient in spite of himself,"
which evinces more talent than industry in the
author. He affects a contempt for the minutiae
of his pictures, and, instead of giving them an
agreeable finish, leaves them undetermined in
the outline, and unfinished in effect. My own
portraits do not look as well as I thought they
would : they want the broad effect so necessary
in this exhibition. On going into the room, I
wished there was to be another exhibition im-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 81
mediately, that I might shun the defects in my
next that I saw so plainly in these. The great
est advantage I shall derive from this exhibition
is the opportunity of comparing myself with
others. It was sickening, on first going into the
room, to see some of my pictures so badly placed ;
but, on a little reflection, I thought I was placed
as well as I deserve.
May 13. — Obtained a ticket of admission to
the Marquis of Stafford's collection, which ad
mits me every Wednesday of this and next
month. A fine collection, containing many of
the old masters.
Monday, 17. — In the evening, went to the
opera; saw a part of an Italian opera, and an
English after-piece. In the course of the eve
ning Madame Catalini sung three songs, which
were delightful, and of course were encored.
' The entrance to the house is in the Haymarket ;
and, an hour before the doors opened, the rush
was so great that I really thought my life in
danger, women screaming, men swearing and
fighting. My friend Barnaby and I took our
seats in the pit; and, as we were waiting for
the performance to begin, we were standing
upon the benches, when an insolent fellow
crowded between us, or rather crowded the
captain out of his seat. As the captain was a
11

82 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
small man, I took the liberty of hoisting the
intruder out pretty roughly. Nothing but my
size saved me from a row.
Thursday, 20. — Dined with Mr. Bowker.
Met several gentlemen of the bar; also Mr.
Cox, a very amusing poet ; heard many pleasing
anecdotes. Before dinner went to see the grand
display of gentry and nobility. This was the
grand drawing-room of the palace of St. James.
A line of carriages stretched from the foot of
St. James Street to the top of Bond Street, all in
their grandest trappings. I crowded my way,
or rather was forced down by the current, to the
bottom of St. James, where I stood for a half-hour
looking on like the rest of the astonished multi
tude. The courtiers would in the most conde
scending manner allow the crowd to see them
through the windows of their carriages, whilst
their faces seemed to express the greatest con
tempt for the plebeian rabble. I felt a good
deal vexed, but relieved myself, as soon as the
crowd allowed me to withdraw from a place
where I should have been ashamed to have been
seen by any of my acquaintances.
Sunday, June 6. — Got into a- coach with my
friend Humphries, and went to view the beauties
of Richmond. The weather was as fine as heart
could wish, and the country as beautiful as

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 83
nature and art combined could make it. One
of the richest views I ever beheld is that
from Richmond Hill. The Thames is seen wind
ing its way for many miles through a highly
cultivated valley : Richmond is nearly at the
extremity of the tide-water. I was much dis
appointed in the size of the renowned river
Thames ; it is less than the Mohawk in New
York. The man who has a farm in England is a fool
to sell it with a view to bettering his condition
in America or any other country ; nor would I
advise any man of genius or talent of any
sort to leave this country; but I would ad
vise the hard-working farmer or mechanic to
try his fortune in a land where there is a chance,
after a life of toil, to lay his bones in his own
ground, which I consider to be out of his power
here. The children of the English aspire to
nothing higher than the station of their fathers ;
and it is a happy circumstance, since the hope
of rising is almost vain. They may say what
they will of slavery in America ; yet the fact is
clear to those who will take the trouble to look
into the condition of the peasantry of this coun
try, that there is more real slavery in this land
of boasted liberty than there is in America.
It takes one hundred peasants to make one lord

84 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
or master ; and there is a greater disparity be
tween the man and his master than there is
between the slave and his master.
Monday, 14th. — Went with Mr. Everett and
family to Epsom Races. This was a grand af
fair ; great crowd of vehicles of all sorts from a
barouche down to a donkey-cart. We had our
dinner with us, as is the custom with all, and
a most sumptuous one it was, — cold turkeys,
chickens, champagne, &c.
Mr. Coke was at Somerset House, looking
about without a catalogue, and pronounced the
portrait of the Duke of Devonshire, by Sir
Thomas Lawrence, and the portrait of Mr.
Owen, by myself, to be the best in the room, —
so says Lady Anson. This pleased me much:
at the same time I knew he was not correct;
but such is the insatiable desire that man has
for distinction, that he is willing to give ear to
the most extravagant flattery, and will try hard
to reconcile it to himself, however absurd it
may be.
Sunday, 20th. — Attended divine service at
Westminster Abbey. The sermon may have
been well or ill, it was all the same to me ; my
mind was completely absorbed in matters foreign
to religious instruction. Yet I never in my life
felt so sensibly the true sublimity of religion

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 85
as I did while gazing on this wondrous pile.
The organ fills one with devotional feelings;
and it is impossible to look at the monuments
and grandeur of architecture that surround one,
without an elevation of feeling which bids
earthly thoughts stand aside.
Sunday, 27th. — Yet in doubt, whether it is
my duty to stay another year in this country, or
go home to my family and friends. Life is short
at best : then why not spend it in a way that
will be most conducive to our happiness while
here ? I have duties to perform towards my
wife and four helpless children: ought I not,
then, to live with them, and discharge those
duties ? These and the like thoughts are con
stantly haunting my mind. But then, I have
made choice of a profession in which I am most
anxious and determined to excel. The charm of
distinction is dazzling my eyes continually. I
have already excited a warm interest with
many friends in my behalf: to fail, therefore,
would be painful beyond description. To return
to Boston, and receive a cold welcome where I
have been so warmly patronized, would be a
sore wound to my pride, and ice to my ambition.
Yet it is but fair to count upon this in some
degree. Public favors and opinion are capri
cious. There was something novel, perhaps, in

86 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
my history that contributed more to my un
heard-of success than any merit I possessed as
a painter. The fact of a man's coming from the
backwoods of America, entirely uneducated, to
paint even a tolerable portrait, was enough to
excite some little interest. That source of in
terest will be cut off on my return. I shall be
judged of as one having had all the advantages
of the best schools of art in Europe ; and the
probability is, that more will be expected of
me than is in the power of almost any man to
perform. Saturday, July 30. — Introduced to Irving,
by Leslie. He is very pleasing in his manners ;
talks with great volubility, at the same time has
a little hesitation, or want of fluency, in conver
sation. Called upon the Duke of Sussex. He recom
mends to me to send for my wife, and make
England my home.
Aug. 3. — Called upon the Duke of Sussex,
and got a letter to the Duke of Hamilton. On
the fourth, gave up my rooms, and set off for
Scotland. Arrived here (York) at half-past
nine, the ninth. It is with great difficulty I can
understand the Yorkshire dialect. The cathe
dral here is sublime. I went to the top of the
grand tower, which measures sixty-five feet

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 87
sauare on the top, and affords one of the finest
views of high cultivation that I ever saw. The
cathedral is five hundred and twenty feet long.
The town of York is a walled city : it has four
public entrances through strong gates. Left
York on Friday, at ten. The country is delight
ful. From London to York, and, indeed, in every
other direction from London, the coachmen are
fat and red-faced, answering faithfully the de*
scription given by Irving. They will certainly
weigh from two hundred and fifty to three hun
dred pounds each ; but, after leaving York for
Scotland, the likeness is lost. They are like the
coachmen of London, commonly called jarvies, —
dirty, and lean as greyhounds. The reason is,
probably, that they have to take care of their
own horses, as they drive only one stage.
Arrived in Glasgow at five on Sunday morn
ing. Tuesday. — Walked about Glasgow with my
friend Pattison. Saw the Museum, the High-
Church Cathedral, and many other objects of
interest. This town is almost exclusively a
manufacturing town, — glass and cotton goods,
but principally the latter.
Wednesday. — Got into a coach with Pattison,
and set off for New Lanark, the seat of Mr.
Owen's great experiment. We arrived at Lan-

88 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
ark about noon, where all was gayety. It wrs
the annual fair. We dined with Mr. Owen/at
six o'clock. He lives in good style, keeps open
house to those who visit his establishment, and
every thing is comfortable about him. The
family is very interesting.
Thursday. — Went down to the new village,
and through all the different mills. Heard the
classes at their recitations ; little boys and girls,
from three to five, answering questions in geog
raphy. Mr. Owen asked a little creature, not
more than four years old, what country I lived
in ; telling him the Atlantic divided my country
from this. He first said the Brazils, then Col
umbia, then North America. The most perfect
order prevails in every department of the estab
lishment. The children are as happy at their
lessons as they are at their play. Every
thing indicates contentment. The oldest class
of boys is comprised of those ten years old and
under. They study natural history, botany,
mineralogy, mathematics, and music. Many of
them perform well on different instruments:
they dance four sets of cotillions at once ; their
dancing would not disgrace a London drawing-
room. I never witnessed a more interesting
sight than this.
To see children taken from the lowest dregs

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 89
of society, and taught to enjoy all the blessings
of refined life, and at an expense entirely
within their own reach, is to every feeling
mind a treat of the highest order. The parents
of these children, and all above ten years old,
work in the mills eight hours each day. Their
pay enables them to buy every comfort that
nature requires. There is a store here contain
ing every thing they want to eat, drink, or wear.
The goods are laid in at the lowest rate, and
cost and charges are all that is required for
them. By this means, the goods are sold at
thirty per cent lower rate than they would be
otherwise. If, after the deduction of all the
expenses of the establishment, there should be
any money remaining, it is appropriated to the
general good, such as buying medicines, paying
physicians, &c.
The village is beautifully situated on the Clyde,
with rugged and romantic scenery about it.
The houses are built of stone ; generally three,
and sometimes four, stories high, with every con
venience possible for cooking, &c.
Saturday. — Went to the Falls of the Clyde,
about two miles above New Lanark. The water
falls about thirty feet perpendicularly, with
beautiful scenery around. About a mile from
Lanark on the Courtland Craigs, a place famous
12

90 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
for warlocks and witches in olden times, is the
cave where Wallace hid himself.
There is at this time here a Mr. Flower
from Indiana, who is authorized by Mr. Rapp of
New Harmony to sell his establishment. Mr.
Owen seems too credulous. Mr. Flower draws a
" long bow," now and then ; and has so far worked
upon Mr. Owen as to persuade him to go out and
see the place. Mr. Flower is all the time repre
senting Indiana as the most important State in
the Union. This I can see through readily
enough, as he has a large estate adjoining New
Harmony, which would be much improved by
such a settlement as Mr. Owen would probably
make. I- advise Mr. Owen to try his plans in
Massachusetts, or some other of the old States,
where there is a more crowded population as
well as a greater portion of intellect. But Mr.
Flower will succeed, I fear.
Monday. — Set off for Hamilton. Staid at the
inn. Tuesday morning, sent my letter with my
address to the palace ; but it was soon returned,
with direction from the footman, that " all letters
to His Grace must come through the post-office."
This I afterwards learned was to avoid refusing,
more directly, admittance to the gallery, as
there were so many applications that the family
were constantly annoyed. I took the letter, and

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 91
went to the palace with the resolve to see His
Grace, if possible. After waiting half an hour,
the duke came out from the breakfast table, and
very politely asked me into the breakfast room,
and invited me to take breakfast ; but I declined
the honor, and made my business known to him,
which was to request the duke to sit for a
picture for the Duke of Sussex. He readily
complied, and asked me to send for my portman
teau, and take up my residence with him.
I soon commenced the portrait. The day
passed off very happily in looking at the pic
tures of the old masters, of which here are
hundreds. Five o'clock came, and I began to
dress for dinner. Felt rather aguish from fear,
and wished the ordeal of dinner well over. Six
O'clock came at last, and I was ushered into the
dining-room. In a short time I began to realize
that my titled companions were very like
other people; and, in a short time more, my
nerves became steady, though I could not en
tirely refrain from moving my knife and fork
a little, or playing with my bread, or in some
other awkward way betraying my want of ease.
There was a display of great magnificence ; ser
vants all in livery, splendid plate. The duchess
and her daughter retired early ; and, about nine,
the gentlemen followed them. The duchess

92 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
made tea with her own fair hand, and was be
sides very agreeable. At half- past eleven, I
set off for bed ; and, on my way, thanked my
stars that it was all over, and matters stood no
worse. The palace is two hundred and sixty-five feet
long by two hundred broad. The picture gal
lery is a hundred and thirty-five long, full of
old cabinets and other curious furniture. I am
obliged to own to myself that this style of liv
ing is very charming : every thing around one
savors strongly of title, wealth, and antiquity.
We breakfast at ten, lunch at two, and dine at
six. The duchess is pretty, witty, and sociable.
Lord Archibald Hamilton is staying here at this
time, and is a very clever man. I think I shall
succeed very well. All the household servants
have been in to. look at the picture, and say it
could not be more like. As I walk about the
grounds, the laborers, old and young, lift their
hats as I pass them. This respect and rever
ence sit but ill on me, who have been all the
early part of life in as humble a sphere as those
who pay it. What freak of fortune is this which
has raised me from the hut in my native wilds
to the table of a duke of the realm of Great
Britain ! By another freak, I may be sent back
to the hovel again, but not to enjoy those inno-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 93
cent pleasures that were mixed with the toils of
boyhood. Sunday. — Walked to Bothwell Brig; then to
Bothwell Castle. The gardener showed me the
gardens and hot-houses, and the grounds, that
are laid off most beautifully. We left this fer
tile spot for one calculated to awaken feelings of
no ordinary nature. As we bent our course to
the castle, we suddenly came into a full view of
it, at about half a mile's distance from it, up the
Clyde. It is strikingly beautiful as seen from
this point. It stands upon a high bank, which has
a frightful descent to the river below. One side
of the castle is in tolerably good repair or pres
ervation, but almost overgrown with ivy. The
sun was bright, and there was not a breath to
disturb the solemn silence that prevailed amidst
these relics of ancient grandeur. One side of
the castle has fallen to the ground ; and large
trees, at least a foot through, are growing on the
heavy masses of stone, that were too strongly
cemented to be broken. Larch-trees, two feet
through, are now standing where the principal
breach was made, like mighty conquerors view
ing their fallen foe. The wall is about six feet
thick, built of rough stone; and, wherever there
are any crevices in it, vegetation is seen shoot
ing forth. One who has not visited these or

94 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
like ruins can form no idea of their sublimity.
I sat down upon one of the stones that were
formerly a part of this once impregnable for
tress, and calmly viewed the surrounding walls.
I thought of the thousands who had died in
their defence : the same sun shone on them that
now shines on me. They were as full of ambi
tion as I am, and thought as little of this gener
ation as I do of those yet unborn ; and where
are they now?
There is a finely built, showy, modern house
standing within sight of these ruins ; but it is
only a dull reality : there is none of the poetry
of association to make one pause to look at it a
second time.
Sunday night. — After dinner, took leave of
the family. The duke urged me to stay a few
days longer. The duchess wished me every
success, and Lord Archibald pressed me to call •
on him in London. The duke said, if it was at
any time in his power to serve me, he should
be most happy to do so. He ordered a portrait
of His Royal Highness, the Duke of Sussex.
He advised me not to think of returning to my
own country for the present. Thus ended a
visit of ten days that I shall long remember
with delight and gratitude.
Monday. — Left the palace for Glasgow at*
nine o'clock.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 95
Tuesday morning. — Set off with Pattison and
a small party of ladies for the Highlands : we
crossed overland from Helensburgh to Loch
Lomond, a distance of eight or nine miles. We
got in sight of the loch about three o'clock ;
and, after taking our tea, we set off in a small
row-boat for Ben Lomond, a distance of five
miles. The day was fine. I wrote on the
loch, in my pocket memorandum-book, " In the
middle of the loch, just as the sun is gilding
the highest peaks of Ben Lomond. How heav
enly the scene ! The red clouds behind Ben
Lomond look like fairy-land, only more beautiful :
all is still as the grave, save the plashing of the
oars ; the high mountains on either side are re
flected in the crystal waters ; the sun has just
bid adieu to the highest rock of the mountain :
no scene on earth can be more enchanting."
The loch is about four miles wide on an aver
age, and very pure, cold water. We landed just
at twilight, and entered a dirty Highland hut,
called an inn, at the foot of Ben Lomond. Had
my supper, and went to bed, but not to sleep ;
horrible beds, dirty sheets, and a very small
room for two of us. We rose early, got a little
breakfast, such as it was ; and then four of us,
Mr. P., Miss P., Miss Monteith, and Miss Park,
*set off for the top of the mountain. The moun-

96 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
tain is between three and four thousand feet
above the loch : the manner in which we were
obliged to wind our way up made a distance of
about six miles to the top. The day proved
very fine, though we were occasionally envel--
oped in clouds that were scudding along the
side of the hill. At last we reached the top,
which was far above any clouds that were flying.
What a singular sensation was produced by look
ing down upon the clouds ! We amused our
selves with throwing down large stones. The
hundred mountains in view, the lights and
shades, the blue mist, and the most picturesque
outline that can be formed, made the scene as
heavenly as any thing earthly can be.
We staid on the hill an hour or two, and then
descended. After a bad dinner, got on to a
steamboat, and steamed down the loch. On
our way to Dumbarton, we passed the house
where Smollett was born. It stands on the beau
tiful river Severn, which is the outlet of the
loch. The house is small, and of no interest,
except as having been the birthplace of this
great man. Just opposite stands a small but
neat monument to his memory. We arrived
just before sunset at Dumbarton Castle ; and, in
order to see it, concluded to stay all night. The
castle is kept by a governor and a few soldiers.'

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 97
It is said to be a miniature of Gibraltar : it is a
solid mass of rock : on the top is a spring of
pure water. From it we had a charming view
of the Clyde, both up and down.
Left Glasgow, Monday, Aug. 30, for Stirling ;
went a part of the way in a canal-boat. Reached
Stirling at four o'clock ; very clear, fine weather.
Went direct from the coach to the top of the
castle, which affords one of the richest views I
ever saw, except that from the top of Mount
Holyoke, in Northampton. The Frith of Forth
winds through a very fertile valley. The castle
stands upon a rock one hundred and ninety feet
above tide-water, and is in good repair, well
garrisoned, with guns mounted. It looks to me
impregnable. Left at six next morning for Edinburgh, in a
steamboat ; passed through a rich country. Ar
rived at " The Black Bull " at one o'clock. This
is a splendid town of palaces, all of stone, and
from five to ten stories high. Went through the
castle of Edinburgh. Saw the crown of the Scot
tish kings : it is shown by lamplight, and seen
through a strong iron cage, such as lions and
tigers are generally exhibited in. The castle is
not unlike that at Stirling, strongly garrisoned.
Went to see the new Bridewell; saw some poor
¦ condemned wretches at work on the tread-mill.
13

98 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
Went to Holyrood House. This is a splendid
palace : the greater part of it is in perfect re
pair : the chapel is in beautiful ruin. In the
centre of the chapel is the burying-ground of
the Scotch nobility.
Thursday, Sept. 3. — Called upon Blackwood,
and found him very civil. He said it was sin
gular that Leslie, Newton, and myself should
appear to him so soon after the article in his
magazine giving so minutely the character
istics of each.
At four o'clock, left Edinburgh for Glasgow.
Sunday, 6th. ¦ — Spent the day at Dunoon, a
place opposite Gouroch. In the course of the
day, we took a boat, and rowed up the " Holy
Loch," a beautiful sheet of water, surrounded
on three sides by high and steep hills. At the
foot of one of these stands the vault of the
family of Argyle. It is situated in the centre
of an old church-yard, with two platforms, about
ten feet wide and two feet high, on which the
coffins of many generations of the Argyle family
lie. Some of the bodies are embalmed. The
coffins are richly decorated with the arms of
the family. I sat down upon one of these cof
fins, and could not help comparing the ashes
that slept within, with those of his vassals that
lay unheeded in the yard without. The one

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 99
was now as motionless as the other ; the one
was now as powerless as the other ; the same
grave had opened for both, and yet how differ
ent their lots in this world ! There was some
thing awfully solemn in this tabernacle of the
dead. The faint light from one small window
made even my companions look like inhabitants
of the place : we were glad to return to the
cheerful light of day.
Monday, I returned to Glasgow.
Saturday, 12th. — A call from J. S. Knowles
and Macready.
Saturday, 19th. — We went over the grounds
of the Duke of Argyle. Saw a great many
cypress and yew trees, two of the former
measuring eighteen feet in circumference.
Monday, 20th. — Returning this morning from
the AthenEeum, I met a respectable merchant,
and asked, " What news ? " as carelessly as one
asks " Are all well at home ? " He replied, " No
news, no news at all. I have been looking
through the ' Courier ', and find nothing." —
" But," said I, " did you not notice the death
of the two monarchs, Louis XVIII. and Itur-
bide?" — « Oh! yes, I saw that; but it will have
no effect at all upon trade." This is a fair
specimen of the trading class of this great and
populous city.

100 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.

CHAPTER V.
WEDNESDAY, 7th. — Made up my mind
to leave the city, and consequently set
tled with my landlady ; received pay for my
labors, and took an affectionate farewell of my
friends. I got on to a steamboat at ten o'clock,
and sailed for Belfast, Ireland. This is a fine
town, containing about fifty thousand inhabi
tants. Mr. Spurr, one of my fellow-travellers,
agreed to go on to Dublin with me ; so we set
off for that place in high spirits. We passed
through many very neat villages and towns,
much more so than the like towns in England
or Scotland ; but they say this is the gem of
the Emerald Isle. The scenery in some parts is
very fine.
We travelled over a great deal of the peat or
turf country. We passed by the Marquis of
Cunningham's seat, on the Boyne. The high
cultivation, and the beautiful little fall in the
river, make this spot most enviable. The river
is about the size of the Deerfield River. At
seven o'clock, we arrived in the great city of
Dublin.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 101
Saturday morning it set in to rain, and con
tinued to rain and blow a hurricane until
Wednesday. I spent the greater part of the
day in calling upon the artists of Dublin. I
had a letter to Mr. Comerford, a protege1 of Mr.
Stuart, who is the principal artist (a miniature
painter) in Ireland.
Monday. — Dined with Mr. Comerford ; found
a delightful party of artists. After the cloth
was removed, Mr. Comerford proposed as a
toast, " America and her Artists." I returned
thanks, &c.
Tuesday. — Still a most dreadful storm ; ac
counts of many wrecks at Kingston, and along
the coast. Visited the public buildings. Dub
lin is a fine city ; equal, if not superior, to
Edinburgh. Yet it is a deserted town. How
galling must it be to the feelings of a proud
Irishman to see this decay of his nation's great
ness ! The splendid Parliament House is now
converted into a banking-house ; the mansions
of their nobility are used as boarding-houses,
hotels, &c.
Tuesday. — Dined with Mr. Cummins, an ama
teur artist ; a delightful party. In the morning,
went with Mr. Comerford to Kingston, a dis
tance of five miles, to see the effects of the gale.
It was a horrible sight ; wrecks in every quar-

102 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
ter, some washing to pieces, some driven high
and dry upon the sandy beach. In a new har
bor just completed, which was thought very
secure, there were four large ships broken to
pieces. The new breakwater, a stupendous
work of a mile in length with three railways
upon it, was torn up by the heavy sea, not a
vestige of the railways left ; the stones were
hove up like ice in a spring flood. While we
were contemplating this scene, the waves hav
ing subsided a little so as to enable us to walk
out on the ruinous pile, we saw a brig making
for the harbor in distress. She had lost a part
of her rigging, which rendered her in some
degree unmanageable ; and, besides, the crew,
as we afterwards learnt, were worn out with
fatigue, so that she was unable to make the
harbor, but was drifting fast upon the rocks,
with a heavy sea and a strong wind to force her
upon them. This was an awful moment ; four
or five hundred spectators, within hail, yet un
able to render the least assistance : it seemed
that their doom was sealed. Their only reliance
now rested upon the cable, which was literally
their thread of life. The poor wretches had
weathered the gale for fifty hours, and now so
near land, and yet without a hope of escape !
Many of the seamen, and two or three of the

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. " 103
passengers, were clinging to the bulwarks of the
ship to prevent their being washed off, unable
to do more. At length a ray of hope beams
upon them : a boat is discovered putting out
from shore. It is a life-boat, manned with
twelve brave, stout tars. All eyes are now
turned upon the half-worn-out cable. There is a
universal cry of " If it only holds until the boat
comes up, they are safe ! " This was the most
painful and anxious moment of my life ; hope
and fear alternated in the breast of each be
holder. Sometimes we heard the cry, " She
drags her anchor ; " and then, " No, she still
holds ; " until, at length, the boat came up and
made fast under the lee of the brig; and the
passengers and crew were seen crawling over
the sides of the vessel, and letting loose their
hold : we could see them fall like so many sacks
into the boat. In a few moments more, we had
the pleasure of seeing these poor creatures
snatched from what had seemed, so recently,
inevitable destruction. Not long after this
worn-out crew had left their perilous situation,
another boat was seen putting off from shore
with as bold a crew as the former, but actuated
by very different motives : they went to make a
prize of the deserted wreck. At the imminent
hazard of their lives, they succeeded in board
ing and taking her away. *

104 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
Here I had the mortification to see the frigate
Essex, that had been taken during the last war,
— a prison hulk.
Wednesday, 13th. — Left Dublin for Holy
head in the king's steam-packet. There was a
tremendous sea rolling, in consequence of the
late gale. Landed at Holyhead at two o'clock.
Took a coach to Shrewsbury ; slept at Bangor.
At this place is now building a suspension
bridge ; the distance from one pier to another is
five hundred and seventy feet, and very high : a
ship under full sail can go under it.
Saturday, 15th. — Arrived safe in London.
Called upon my friends and patrons, but found
the most of them had left town. When I first
arrived in London (in August, 1823), I was told
that " everybody was out of town." I could
not then understand it, but now I feel the truth
of the remark. Spent a week in looking at the
" wonders." Sunday, set off for the Duke of Norfolk's, at
Fornham, Bury St. Edmunds. Arrived at three.
Monday morning, after breakfast, took a post-
chaise to Fornham, a distance of two miles, for
which I paid ten shillings. I had only paid
twelve shillings from London to Bury. Cursed
this imposition; but, as I was going to the
duke's, it ill became me to complain. Arrived

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 105
at the Hall at ten o'clock. Found His Grace
with a small party at breakfast. He was very
polite ; introduced me to Sir Edward Codring-
ton, Dr. Walliston, and several other gentlemen.
He was engaged for the day, so could not give
me a sitting; but gave me a good horse, and
introduced me to his factor. We rode all over
the duke's grounds. In the course of the day,
we went into the Court of Sessions. Nothing
can be more ridiculous, in my estimation, than
the gowns and wigs of the lawyers. Heard
some sharp disputation, tinctured with sarcasm.
I never heard so much confusion in any of our
pettifogging courts in my life.
The duke lives in splendid style. Servants
in every direction to attend one's nod. The
Dukedom of Norfolk is the finest in the realm.
Tuesday. — Commenced the portrait ; after
which, the duke invited us all to ride with
him over his farms. He is a great agriculturist.
His farms are as well conducted as any in the
country. His farmhouses are not only comfort
able, but would be called splendid in America.
Stables, barns, yards, &c, in the very best con
dition. We returned about five to dress for din
ner. The conversation in this circle is generally
upon the " sports of the field," or the " turf," the
14

106 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
" breed of hounds," the " pedigree of a horse,"
<&c. Politics are seldom touched upon. The
variety of wines commands, of course, a share
of table-talk.
Thursday. — Going on very well with the pic
ture. Sir Edward, I find, was at the battle of
New Orleans, and feels not a little sore on ac
count of the rough reception the British met
with there.
Friday night, all hands went to the theatre
at Bury. The duke had " ordered a play : " so,
after dinner, which was early, we set off in two
carriages. The theatre was very much crowded ;
and, when we entered the box that was ap
propriated to the duke, all eyes were turned
upon us. Probably, for this once at any rate, I
was taken for one of the great ones.
Monday, Nov. 1. — Finished the head of the
duke. It is said by the company present to be
the best portrait that has been taken of him.
He has asked me to make a copy of it for
him, and has promised to give me a sitting in
town. He thinks I am mistaken in going back
to America. He says America is too young for
the arts to flourish.
Tuesday morning. — Took leave of His Grace.
He made many professions of friendship. He
sent his carriage with me to Bury. As I ap-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 107
proached the inn, I observed a good deal of
bustle among the attendants and hangers-on. I
soon guessed the reason. The duke's carriage
could contain no ordinary personage. I waited
for a short time, until the coach came up ; and
the first thing the landlord did was to whisper
in the coachman's ear, who was remarkably civil
during the journey.*
Wednesday evening, Nov. 18. — Left London
for Dover, at which place we arrived at four, p.m.
As the boat left immediately for Calais, I could
see nothing of the place. The boat had been
detained two days by head winds blowing a gale.
It was doubtful at first whether we should go
* I have often heard my father tell a little incident which
occurred, I think, upon this journey. His fellow-travellers,
seeing him drive up in the duke's coach, took it for granted
.he was a man of rank ; and, judging from his appearance
that he was a military man, gave him the title of Colonel.
They were very obsequious, and were so talkative, and used
his imaginary title so frequently, that my father grew weary of
it; and, turning to them, at last, said with some dignity,
" General, if you please." But the higher his rank, the more
persistent their attentions. At last the conversation turned
upon America and American women, whom his companions
depreciated in a way which aroused my father's indignation;
and he warmly undertook their defence. They looked at him
in surprise ; and one at last remarked, " You feel strongly
about this matter." — " And well I may," was the reply ; " for
I have an American woman for my wife, and an American
woman for my mother." After this he was troubled with no
more superfluous attentions.

108 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
or not ; but the captain concluded to try it, and
at ten we set off. I never experienced so disa
greeable a motion in my life. The waves were
rolling directly across our path, and our little
boat was tossed about like an egg-shell. Every
soul on board, but the sailors, was sick. At three
o'clock we made the port of Calais. Here, for
the first time since I left home, I feel like a
stranger. Every thing that meets my eyes or
ears is foreign. The appearance of the city and
its inhabitants is strikingly different from any
thing that I ever met before. Calais is consid
ered impregnable : it is a walled town. Great
trouble and vexation at the custom-house.
Next morning we set off for Paris in a dili
gence. The English say a great deal of our bad
roads and bad carriages ; but they have only to
cross the channel to find, not only worse roads
and worse coaches, but worse-looking establish
ments altogether. The horses are driven by
rope lines, — two wheel and three lead horses.
The coachman rides postilion, and the horses
jog on at the rate of about five miles an hour.
As we travelled by night, we necessarily lost
some of the views worth travelling for. We
passed through two walled towns during the
night, each of which I had a strong desire to
see. The gates of each town were shut, and

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 109
some little ceremony was necessary to get us
through. Saturday. — Clear and cold. I rode by the
side of the condudeur the greater part of the
day; but, as he did not speak or understand
one word of English, our conversation was very
much confined to gesture. Nothing of especial
interest during the day ; passed some neat
towns. At eight in the evening, we arrived
in Paris, and stopped at the Hotel de Maurice.
Sunday, 13th. — After breakfast we set out in
quest of wonders. The first thing we came
upon was the Tuileries, then the gardens, then
the Seine. The view from the toll-bridge is the
most picturesque I have ever seen. I spend
hours of the most exquisite delight in looking
at this scene. The Louvre was open to the
public, at least the new one ; so we passed in
without any difficulty. From what I had seen
and read of the French artists, I was very much
prejudiced against them ; but, to my delight, I
found the exposition full of good pictures of
every class, except portraits, and there were a
few of those that were not bad. In the higher
walks of art, they stand decidedly above the
English. The English artists say the French
are full of affectation ; but I think there is
as much affectation in the English, and of a

110 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
less pardonable nature. A slovenly finish, and
a contempt for the minutiae of nature, seem to
possess the English ; while a love of the sub
lime, and a high finish, given even to the most
trifling object, seem the ruling passion of the
French. The latter have too much " school,"
while the former have too little. By far the
greater part of the French pictures are of the
highest walks of art, while those of the English
are of the lowest. Some of the large pictures
in the present exhibition give me great delight;
one in particular, by Cogniet, of Caius Marius
on the ruins of Carthage. It is nearer perfec
tion than any, either ancient or modern, that I
have seen. It has poetry in every inch of it.
The exhibition is full of beautiful interiors of
cathedrals, convents, &c, and a great many in
the style of Wilkie ; but their portraits are,
in general, wretchedly bad. There are two
portraits by Sir Thomas Lawrence, which shine
like diamonds among rubbish. Bowman and I
joined in procuring some casts, and other mate
rials for drawing.
After looking through the Louvre, we took a
walk through the Tuileries Gardens. Here is
a sight that is worth a voyage across the Atlan
tic to see. Although the season of gayety has
gone by, and the trees are leafless, yet the ap-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. Ill
pearance to me was grand1 and enchanting. The
fine groups of statues in marble, that one meets
at every turn, are objects of no little interest to
me. Although it was Sunday, we saw in the
course of our walk several groups of children
singing and dancing, while their parents and
friends looked on with great interest. How
different this is from the rigid Puritanism of the
Scotch ! Whether it be right or wrong, I will
not attempt to say; but this much I must confess,
it is innocent enjoyment to them, and conducive
to good feeling between the children.
I am all impatience to get to painting again.
I think I have benefited from looking at the
French, as well as the antique, pictures. Am
getting on a little in my French.
Wednesday. — Dined with Mr. Brown. At six,
Washington Irving, Mr. Bowdoin, Mr. Prince,
and Mr. Finch, called for me with a carriage.
This did not look like a dinner "without cere
mony." Not a little astonished to find eight or
ten ladies assembled in the drawing-room. Had
a sumptuous dinner, but rather stiff. I was
seated by Lady Harvey, who is very affected in
her manners. A ludicrous mistake occurred on
the occasion of my making a ceremonious call
upon Mr. Brown, after the dinner party. It
was raining and very muddy ; and, as I stood in

112 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
the hall, wiping my feet, I said to the porter, by
way of practising my French, " II fait mauvais
temps." He respectfully replied, " Oui, mon
sieur ; " and immediately I heard " Mons. Mau
vais Temps " resounding up the stairway from
one servant to another, to the great amusement
of the party in the parlor, who, as soon as they
saw me, comprehended the joke.
Last Saturday night, went to the Italian opera
to see " Othello." The character of Desdemona,
by Madame Pasta, was the most perfect thing
possible : the character of Othello was also admi
rably played. Although I could not understand
the language, yet the music and gesture were
so impressive that I could hardly contain my
self. I could scarcely keep my seat during the
last act: not a breath was heard from the au
dience during the performance. There is a
charm in the Italian music which no other
music possesses.
Went on Saturday to the Louvre. The French
artists have more merit than I was at first
disposed to give them. Their knowledge of
anatomy is great: they draw well, and perhaps
adhere as closely to nature as the English in
point of color ; yet they evince a want of taste
in their choice. They generally choose the
coldest light. But there is often a want of har-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 113
mony about their pictures, as if their heads
were painted in one light, the hands and dra
pery in another.
Tuesday. — I went to see the grand library in
Rue Richelieu : this is the finest establishment
of the kind I have seen. Went also to see the
model of the great elephant, commenced by
Napoleon. This is about fifty feet high : it was
to have been of bronze, and to serve as a foun"
tain to supply the city, or a part of it, with
water. Wednesday. — Bowman, Hayden, and myself
set off for Versailles, which is twelve miles from
the city. We first surveyed the grand palace,
which is allowed by all to be the finest in the
world. To go into a minute detail of all that I
saw there, would be the work of a day. The
palace has no furniture excepting pictures.
The paintings were mostly done in the reign of
Louis XIV., and much better than any the
present age can produce. We then visited the
great and little Trianon. The gardens of the
latter are, I believe, thirty miles in circumfer
ence. The fountains are very numerous, and
around each are allegorical figures.
Monday. — Went with Bowman to view P&re la
Chaise, the common burying-ground of Catholic
citizens of Paris. The most ordinary of the
15

114 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
monuments has something tasteful, either in the
workmanship of the stone, or the decorations.
Garlands of flowers are woven around the stones.
This decorating the graves of departed friends
is perhaps a weakness ; yet it certainly is an
amiable one, and can have no bad effect. On
the contrary, it keeps alive that tender feel
ing of respect for the memory of those once
loved, which all who live are so ready to hope
for when they shall be numbered amongst the
dead. Tuesday. — Determined to go to London this
week. Went to see the celebrated painting in
the dome of St. Genevieve Chapel, or, more com
monly called, the Pantheon, by Baron du Bos
(created by Charles X.). It is a masterpiece
of art, very difficult to execute; but, from the
distance at which we were obliged to view it, it
had a distorted and unnatural appearance.
Bowman and I now went to view the Louvre
for the last time. We spent about three hours
in the old gallery. I continue to like and dis
like the same pictures I did at first, particularly
the one I have before mentioned, — of Marius. I
never can pass it without feeling its superior
worth, — without paying adoration to it. It
never fails to interest and give me pleasure.
Thursday, Dec. 16. — Set off for London.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 115
Landed at Dover at noon on Saturday. When
the English custom-house officers came on board
the steamer to inspect the baggage of the pas
sengers, their suspicions fastened upon my
friend Bowman. They searched his trunk
thoroughly, and even his pockets ; but found
nothing contraband, and very little of any thing
else. Then came my turn. I had a quantity
of gloves, and many other articles that were
liable to seizure ; but I gave them my key.
They opened the trunk, looked at a few articles
of dress which lay on top, and passed it. Bow
man said to me, " You were born to good luck."
He said it was my personal appearance which
cleared me so easily, while it was his diminu
tive stature which aroused their suspicion of
him. His personal appearance was certainly
not much in his favor.
Sunday. — Visited the cathedral at Canter
bury. Wandered about in the long, echoing
aisles in silent admiration. While we were
wrapped in silence and thought, the grand
organ began to chant. It carried me to sub-
limer regions. I never heard any music which
seemed to inspire me with religion like this.
It produced a pleasing, melancholy sensation,
such as I have felt in days long gone by, when
under a grove of our native pines, listening to

116 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
the hollow moaning of the breeze as it found
its way through them.
Monday, Dec. 20. — Arrived in town last
night, about eight.
Saturday, Christmas Day. — This is a dull
day with me ; no one to go and take a family
dinner with. The very preparation of others
makes me unhappy. How foolish it is for me
to live from home in the way I do ! I think
this is the last Christmas I will spend apart
from my family.
1825, Jan. 12. — Received a hare and two
pheasants from the Duke of Norfolk. This
attention, trifling as it may seem, is very grati
fying to me.
Jan. 16. — Began the portrait of the Duke of
Sussex, for the Duke of Hamilton.
Feb. 7. — Lady Anson has returned to town.
She is still as friendly as ever. Commenced
the portrait of her son William.
Friday, Feb. 16. — The season of gaiety is
fast approaching ; but, beyond my profession,
what does it signify to me ? Perhaps I may be
invited now and then to a dinner; but it is very
annoying frequently, when there is no annoy
ance meant. To get into a hackney-coach full
of dirt and straw, with one's very best fix-up
on, with silk stockings and white kid gloves,

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 117
and start off to a dinner, and arrive, perhaps,
just as my Lord's carriage and turn-out are set
ting down, with, perhaps, my Lady So-or-so
waiting her turn, and wondering what that
vulgar man was invited for to intercept her
passage, is rather galling to one's pride, al
though he be a republican born and bred. This
is a good sort of place enough for a man of
wealth and leisure. He will always find amuse
ment of some kind ; and if he wish to become
fashionable, in the high sense of the word, this
is his place. But for a man who has to depend
upon his hands for his bread, whose very time
is his money, particularly if his profession be of
an intellectual nature, it is no place. A man in
any profession that requires mental exertion is
kept alive by the cheering applause of his
friends. He needs constant encouragement
from them : it is the food of genius. Without
it, his efforts dwindle into mere mechanical
drudgery. " Ah ! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar ?
Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Hath felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with fortune an eternal war ;
Checked by the scoff of pride, by envy's frown,
' And poverty's unconquerable bar,
In life's low vale, remote, hath pined alone,
Then dropped into the grave, unpitied and unknown ? "

118 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
Sunday, Feb. 27. — Two months of my rent
have gone by, and I have not done enough to
pay it and my other expenses ; but I hope for
better times.
The duke sat on Thursday last, and was very
pleasant, and seemed delighted with the picture.
He thinks I have made wonderful progress in
the art since I first painted him. So I have ;
but he is as much pleased with the flattery in
the last picture, as he is with my improve
ment. There is not a human being on earth
who is not susceptible of flattery ; and he who
flatters most, in this great city, will do the most
judicious thing.
Tuesday. — Sent the duke and Mr. Atkinson
to the exhibition in Suffolk Street.
Friday. — Dined with Mr. Smith. In almost
all the dinner-parties in high life that I have
attended, I have seen very little ease or enjoy
ment of any thing beyond the bottle and the
dinner. The company, with one or two excep
tions, are exceedingly on their guard, measuring
their sentences with great care, and laughing
very mechanically. My impressions, however,
may be influenced by my own want of ease and
enjoyment. While we were at the table, after the ladies
had retired, we separated into knots, some talk-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 119
ing upon political economy, some upon religion,
some upon politics. I overheard one man, who
was a member of Parliament, say that it was
believed the United States would soon be di
vided into two or more separate governments ;
that the presidential election would be the great
cause. This he urged against universal suf
frage. But, as I was not of his little squad, I
did not say aught to the contrary, nor even pre
tend to listen to him : he did not know I was an
American. Monday, April 1. — The exhibition in Suffolk
Street is opened. There are some good pic
tures ; but the balance is so much against them,
that they appear but indifferently.
Bowman had sent two pictures to this exhibi
tion ; and, like myself, not doubting but they
would find a good situation in the best room,
had not taken the trouble to inquire after them.
On my first entering the rooms, I looked about,
but saw none of his in the little room. Well,
thought I, he is at least in the large room,
whether they have given him a good light or
not ; so on I pushed, and soon encountered my
own two portraits in a capital light. Now for
Friend Bowman ! ' I looked about, but saw him
not ; I looked again, and was again disappointed.
Is it possible, thought I, that they have rejected

120 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
him ? My suspicions were soon confirmed : they
had sent his pictures back to him without the
least explanation. Now, one of the most painful
offices devolved upon me a man can have to
perform. I had promised to see Bowman that
night, and tell him how his pictures looked,
what sort of light they were hung in, &c. The
hearing the fate of his pictures gave him, I
believe, less pain than the telling him of it did
me. I have made up my mind to an excursion to
Glasgow. So I gave Bowman the use of my
lodgings, and set off by the coach immediately.
Passed through Dumfries. This is where the
mortal remains of " Nature's sweetest poet " lie
buried. The coach stopped but for twenty-five
minutes, the usual time allowed to passengers
for refreshment. This time, short as it was, I
preferred to spend in feasting my mind and
imagination. The church-yard was at least
three minutes' walk, or, I should say, run, from
the inn ; for I went with such speed through the
streets as to astonish the good people I met.
When I arrived at the church-yard, I found an
old woman ready to let me in at once, and I lost
no time in letting her know that I preferred
looking about me to her prating ; by which means
I was shown at once to the spot I had so longed

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 121
to see. This was consecrated ground, where I
was disposed to linger, and forget all earthly
things in the contemplation of the heavenly
part of him who lay entombed beneath my feet.
The monument is simple and beautiful, and the
death-like stillness of every thing about me led
'me into a delightful train of thought. While I
was lost to every thing external, I heard the
grating sound of a horn, the discordant effect of
which sent a chill through my veins. I wished
that confounded horn and its owner to the dogs.
But it was fortunate for me that I heard it ; for
it proved to be the bugle of the guard, who was
summoning the passengers to their seats. So,
after being fairly brought to myself again, I
looked at my watch, and found that I had staid
the full length of my allotted time ; and it was
only by the same speed I made in going to, that
I made in going from, the inn, that I reached it
before the coach left.
On this journey, I met with an amusing in
stance of sycophancy. The day before I arrived
in Glasgow, I had the misfortune to fall in with
a title-worshipper, and was obliged to ride by
his side all day. In the course of the day, an
officer got on the seat with the driver, which
led this companion of mine .to turn his attention
considerably towards him. He was conjecturing
16

122 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
the probable rank of the officer, when I hap
pened to espy a sword-case, marked Captain Sir
Something, which I pointed out to my friend.
The moment he saw it, he ejaculated in broad
Scotch, " My God ! he's a nobleman." This
was enough for Sawney. Now, how to ingra
tiate himself with the nobleman was his only
care. He, however, being richly endowed with
the sagacity for which his countrymen are so
noted, soon hit upon the surest means of effect
ing his object. He flattered the officer ; laughed
at all his stale jokes ; was, in short, every thing
the nobleman could have wished. At dinner,
there was a good opportunity to show off, and
the Scotchman took advantage of it. He teased
him to death by pressing him to take this or
that. He was, at least, a bore to all but the
officer. The time at length arrived when the
" nobleman " was to take his leave of us. I
will not attempt to describe the chagrin the
poor Scotchman evinced when he found the man
had gone, — but the sword-case was left behind !
All he could say was, " My God ! and he's no
nobleman after a'."
Arrived safe in Glasgow, April 7, after
three days' hard pounding in the coach. Took
up my abode with Walker, in Buchanan Street.
Before leaving London, I had three or four

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 123
portraits engaged ; so, of course, I was not long
in making a beginning. I commenced on Pro
fessor Davidson ; others followed to the number
of thirteen. In the course of six weeks, I real
ized three hundred and fifty pounds.
During this short but profitable visit, I
received great attention from several of the first
families in the place. My friends, the Messrs.
Pattersons, were unceasing in their attentions.
Professor Davidson and others were also very
kind. I was invited to a dinner given by the
college club to Mr. Dunn. Here I was placed
in an embarrassing situation. The company, to
the number of twenty-four, were very merry;
toasting the college club, the corporation of
Glasgow, and many other public institutions,
when Mr. Davidson rose, and proposed as a
toast, " Success to the fine arts, and the health
of Mr. Harding." This, coming so unexpect
edly, threw me completely off my balance. I,
however, thanked them for the honorable men
tion they had been pleased to make of me.
Pretty soon, the president of the college, a
reverend doctor, began a long speech by say
ing, that, until that moment, he did not know
that they had the honor of a distinguished
artist and a foreigner at their dinner. He con
cluded by proposing more directly, " The health

124 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
of Mr. Harding." Then, followed a round of
applause. This was ten times more embarrass
ing than the former; and I could only say "that
I felt most sensibly the honor they had done
me, and begged to return them my sincere
thanks." I thought, when the venerable doc
tor had concluded his eloquent speech, that I
would attempt to address the company, and say
something more than merely " Thank ye ; " but
the solemnity of rising disconcerted me so
much, that I hardly knew whether I spoke or .
only whispered.
Many portraits are partly promised, in case I
should return.
It was during this visit that I made up my
mind to send for my family, and make Glasgow
my home.
Now, being very anxious to see the exhibi
tions in London, I closed my engagements
here, and set off again for that city. I took
barely money enough to pay my way on the
most economical basis ; but, as I never yet
learned to act upon that basis, I got myself
into a sad dilemma. At Nottingham, I had to
pay my fare to London, which was just two
pounds ; but, as I was reduced to just that sum,
I should have no change for refreshments, or
for the guard and coachman. So I paid one

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 125
pound, and left the other to be paid on my
arrival in town. I got on very well until we
arrived at the mail-stage office in Islington :
here I got off the coach, and ordered my port
manteau into the inn, and went to the bar, and
asked the landlady to let me have a pound, at
which she seemed somewhat astonished; nor
would she comply with my request until the
guard became responsible to her for that sum,
although she had my trunk. I got the pound
at last, and paid the remainder of my fare; and
the coach drove off to the merry notes of the
bugle. I went to the bar, and asked the bar-maid to
show me my room ; but, lo ! I could get no bed
at all, as she said they were full. Here was a
pretty business, — my trunk in pawn, no money,
and not a very prepossessing appearance, as I
had not shaved, nor changed my linen, for three
days. I, however, set off in quest of another
inn, though the idea of again exposing myself
to the scrutinizing gaze of that beggarly race
of waiters was not the most pleasant. But
there was no alternative; so I bolted into the
bar of the Angel Inn, with, as I thought, a con
fident manner, and asked the head- waiter to
give me a bed. " Directly, sir." — " But," said
I, " you will oblige me, if you will let me have

126 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
a pound to redeem my portmanteau." The
waiter looked very cautiously at me, but, after
some hesitation, called the " boots," and said,
" Here, take this pound, and go with the gen
tleman, and pay for his trunk, and bring it
here." As soon as we arrived at the inn
again, I called for pen, ink, and paper ; at which
brief demand they all seemed to stare with
great amazement. They obeyed, however, and
I was soon shown into my room. When I called
for the writing materials, I thought I would
write a line to Mr. Williams, but changed my
mind, and went to bed.
I had not been there many minutes before I
heard stocking-feet steps at or near my door,
and I soon guessed at their object. I could
hear them say, " Oh ! he's gone to bed." The
next morning, a servant came early into my
room with, "Did you ring, sir?" but evidently
to see if I had not made way with myself; and
really, when I came to look at myself by day
light, in the glass, I did not so much wonder at
their suspicions. I was shockingly sun-burnt,
with a long beard, and altogether a frightful ob
ject. Before I went down, however, I shaved,
and put on some clean linen. The good folks
of the inn no longer stared at me, but were
rather civil, particularly after I had returned

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 127
from Mr. Williams, with my hands full of bank
notes. I now took a coach for my lodgings. During
my absence, Bowman had collected almost all
the pictures he had painted in England, and
strewed them about the rooms ; and had left
them to their fate. He was in such despair that
he kept aloof from all respectable society.
I set off directly for the Somerset House.
As it had opened during my absence, I felt the
greatest impatience to see the paintings. I did
not feel that degree of anxiety about my own
pictures that I did the year before, as I knew
where they were placed ; still I was very desir
ous to see how they stood the comparison with
other pictures. I was happy to think that they
were among the best, not the worst, class in the
exhibition. I must say that I looked at them
with as nrach, and perhaps the same kind of,
pride as a mother feels in looking at her beau
tiful daughter on her presentation at court. It
filled me with laudable ambition to excel ; but I
can here solemnly aver, that envy or jealousy of
any other artist's talents or eminence never
entered into my mind. I never felt a greater
pleasure in my profession than then. It is
a noble art, thought I ; it is, of all others in
the world, the most delightful. But here the

128 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
thought of my friend Bowman broke in upon
my delight. Poor fellow ! He had sent four
pictures to Somerset House, — the two that were
rejected at Suffolk Street, and two new ones;
but, sad to relate, they were all condemned as
unworthy a place. This was certainly a dis
agreeable shade in the delightful pictures I had
just been drawing of the profession. Here was
Bowman, by two years my senior in the art, and
who had ever since his commencement been
flattered, and taught to believe that he was a
wonderful genius ; and now, after eight or nine
years of hard study, his hopes are blasted in
this cruel manner. I sat upon a bench for — God
knows how long, looking into vacancy, and
thinking painfully of the discouragements of
the artist. I made up my mind, that he, too, was
not free from perplexities.
My absence from London, though short, had,
I found, broken up my connections in a great
degree. Some of my friends (I should say pat
rons) were about leaving town. Others had
much to say of the gaieties of the past season ;
of their thankfulness that it was over ; of their
wretched, haggard faces, and similar subjects,
unfavorable to that branch of the fine arts
which depends mainly upon the vanity of man
kind for its support. So I concluded to spend

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 129
a few weeks looking at the works of art, and
then return to Glasgow.
Aug. 9. — Left London, with all my imple
ments of painting. This was not effected with
out some regret. London never looked more
charming than it did just then, although every
body was out of town. The idea of bidding it
adieu, perhaps an eternal one, was painful. I
don't know how it is, but I feel a great attach
ment to the great metropolis, inhospitable as it
is. It is the fountain-head of every thing that
is excellent in my profession, as well as every
means of attaining excellence in it. But I took
my seat on the top of a coach ; and, in the noisy
bustle about the coach-office, and the amusing
variety one always meets with on such occa
sions, I set off in very good spirits.
Safely arrived in Glasgow, I began the
arduous task of finding apartments. I then
collected a few of my old pictures, which,
added to those I had brought down from Lon
don, made a tolerable exhibition. But work
was slow to come. Day after day I spent in
contemplating my beautiful light, which I had
been at six pounds'^expense in cutting out of
the roof. I found some relief, however, in fur
nishing my house, in expectation of the arrival
of my family. Before I left Glasgow for Lon-
17

130 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
don, while I was very busy, dozens were talking
of sitting, and three positively agreed to sit on
my return ; but I find they have changed their
mind. Should I again be pressed with more
than I can attend to, no doubt they will be as
anxious as at first to have their pictures taken.
How fickle are people of quality, as they con
sider themselves, in regard to matters of taste !
Sept. 24. — At half-past six, a.m., I set off to
Greenock to meet my family, with my heart full
to its inmost recesses of pleasant anxieties. I
received a letter from my wife, on her arrival
at Liverpool, telling me of her safe voyage, and
her intended departure from Liverpool on the
steamboat " City of Glasgow ; " so, on our arrival
at Greenock, I began to look for the boat, and
soon had the delight of seeing her. My impa
tience to know if my family were on board was
almost beyond control. A few revolutions of
the heavy wheels brought us alongside of the
object my eyes had been, for the last hour, so
steadily riveted upon. I then saw my wife,
and waved my hand to her ; but we kept out of
speaking distance for some time. During this
short interval, the risible muscles of my face
became excessively painful, from the great
effort it cost me to suppress a downright
schoolboy laugh.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 131
Then came the meeting ; — then followed ten
thousand inquiries after one and another, in
such rapid succession that one could not be
answered before another was asked. We
directly went aboard a Glasgow boat, and in
three hours arrived in safety at my own lodg
ings. I now took up my abode in Glasgow, with my
family around me ; and should have been per
fectly happy, if I could have seen my way clear
for gaining a support for them. I had no work
on hand, and the trade of the community was
seriously depressed, while there was little pros
pect of any immediate renewal ; so that I some
times wished I had gone to, instead of sending
for, my family. Fortunately for me, several of
my friends interested themselves in my behalf,
and got for me an order to paint a full-length
portrait of the " Deacon Convener of Trades,"
who was a very popular man. I was successful
in my work, and exhibited with e"clat. This
brought me many sitters : indeed, for five or six
months I was kept constantly employed.
I painted many of my best pictures at this
time ; but I found, as my anxieties for my family
increased, my enthusiasm for my art decreased.
At times I felt a strong desire to go to Italy ;
but how could I leave my wife and four chil-

132 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
dren ? Sir Joshua Reynolds was right when he
said a painter's wife or mistress should be his
lay-figure, and his art should be his first and
only love.
The summer following (1826) was the most
disastrous to all branches of business that had
ever been known in the kingdom. Nearly every
country bank failed; and a universal panic
seized the public mind, spreading through all
classes of society. I was out of business: no
one wanted pictures while this excitement last
ed, and no one could tell when it would end.
I thought seriously of returning to America, and
consulted the Duke of Hamilton about my plans.
He at first favored my going to Edinburgh ; but,
after weighing all the circumstances, he finally
agreed that I was right, telling me I could re
turn when the condition of the country was
more prosperous. This interview settled the
question. I finished what pictures I had on the
easel, collected what money was due me, and
left Glasgow for Liverpool.
I had to take leave of many good and true
friends, which was a sore trial : among them
were James Sheridan Knowles, John Pattison, —
one of nature's noblemen, — and many others, all
of whom wished me God-speed.
This step was not taken without the most

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 133
painful regrets. No artist had a fairer prospect
of rising to the highest rank in his profession,
with such patrons as the Dukes of Sussex and
Hamilton, and many other influential persons;
and with Lady Anson's unwavering friendship.
But I could not live through the universal pros
tration of business. I was influenced in my
decision even more by another consideration.
I had three daughters, nine, seven, and three
years old. They were very pretty. Should
they, when they grew up, fulfil the promise of
their childhood, I felt they would be exposed to
dangers growing out of the state of society in
England which they would be free from at home.
My profession entitled me to move in the high
est circles, in which, at the same time, my wife
and children would not be recognized. This is
one of the cruel customs of the aristocracy of
Great Britain.
We were weather-bound in Liverpool; but
the impatience that I naturally felt at my com
pulsory stay was much alleviated by the kind
ness of Mr. Roscoe, whose acquaintance I made
through a letter from the Duke of Hamilton.
He was very kind and attentive, and showed me
every thing that was of any interest in the city.
Among other things, he took me to see Mr.
Audubon's collection of birds, which he had

134 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
just brought with him from America. I saw all
the original paintings, and very beautiful they
were. After two weeks' weary watching of the
weathercock, the wind changed at last, and we
put out to sea about the first of September.
No pen can describe the pleasure we felt,
when, after an uncomfortable passage of forty
days, we sailed into Boston Harbor.
It was Sunday ; and with a fair, light breeze,
and bright sun, the scene was enchanting. All
the annoyances of the voyage were forgotten:
sea-sickness and . head-winds were as though
they had not been. As I took a parting look at
the good ship " Topaz," I could not but feel grate
ful to her, as though she had been " a thing of
life," for the part she had taken in bringing us
through so many storms. Her ultimate fate
cost me a sigh, when I heard of it. Her next
voyage was to India, where she was captured
and burnt by pirates.
After reeling about awhile on the wharf, a
store or counting-room was opened ; and we stag
gered up a long flight of stairs, like so many
intoxicated persons. We took a carriage, and
drove to the Exchange Hotel. What a luxury
it was to sit down to dinner, and find the dishes
and tumblers keep their places !

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 135
I walked out with the children. Every thing
had a diminutive appearance. The Common was
not what it used to be in old times. The chil
dren took but little interest in what they saw ;
but they had one wonder to tell their mother
of, that they had not seen a single beggar. I met
many old friends, who gave me a hearty wel
come home.

136 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.

CHAPTER VI.
I NOW began my career again in Boston ;
not as I did on my first appearance in that
city, for then I was entirely self-taught, and little
could be expected of one from the backwoods :
but now I came fresh from the schools of Europe,
and with some reputation. I felt keenly how
much more would be required of me now to fill
the expectations of the connoisseurs and patrons
of art.
My first picture was of Emily Marshall, then
the reigning beauty of Boston. No artist's skill
could be put to a severer test; for her beauty
depended much upon the expression of her ani
mated face, which, when lighted up in conversa
tion, was bewitchingly lovely. I did not succeed
to my own satisfaction, though others seemed
well pleased.
Much interest was shown in my paintings,
and I soon had enough to do; though, of the
eighty applicants on my list when I left Boston,
not one came to renew his engagement. Many
whom I had painted previously wanted their
pictures altered, either because the dress was

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 137
out of fashion, or the expression did not please
them, <fec. ; but I found it would never do to begin
to alter the old pictures. So I adopted for a
rule, that I would paint a new picture in the
place of the old one, and deduct the price of
the latter. I now charged one hundred dollars
for a head : my former price was fifty dollars.
Among the sitters I had at this time was
Timothy Pickering, of Salem. He was far ad
vanced in years, but as bright in intellect as a
man of thirty. His conversation was extremely
interesting, though it mostly pertained to the
early days of our Government. One day, I felt
a strong desire to know how a man would feel
who knew that his allotted time was nearly
spent, and thought I might venture to put the
question to him ; so I said, " You have lived be
yond the average of human life: how do you
feel upon the subject of the final departure to
the other world ? " His reply was, " It was
only the other day I was asking old Dr. Holyoke
the same question." The doctor was some ten
years his senior.
I had at this time, to take care of my room,
a boy who afforded me much amusement. I
came into my studio one day, when he' handed
me a card. I asked him what the gentleman
said who left it. He replied, that he said he
18

138 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
wanted to pay me something. " But," said I,
"he owes me nothing." — "Well, that's what he
said ; but I can't remember what it was he
wanted to pay." — " Was it his resp'eds ? " said I.
" Oh ! yes, sir," he answered, evidently much
relieved: "that was it."
I, for the first time, was reading Gil Bias : I
had finished the tyrst, and had begun the second,
volume. It was a dark, snowy day; and no
visitors came in to interrupt us. The boy took
up the first volume, as he sat on one side of the
stove, and I on the other. As we read on, the
humor of the book would prove too much for
my risibles, and I would be forced to laugh aloud ;
then the boy would respond at something he had
come across : so there we were, master and man,
both enjoying the witty story with equal delight.
I think, if the author could have seen us, he
would have laughed as heartily as either.
I had now become intimately acquainted with
Mr. Allston. His habits were peculiar in many
respects. He lived alone, dining at six o'clock,
and sitting up far into the night. He break
fasted at eleven or twelve. He usually spent
three or four evenings, or rather nights, at my
house every week; and I greatly enjoyed his
conversation, which was of the most polished
and refined order, and always instructive. I

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 139
sometimes called at his studio. It was an old
barn, very large, and as cheerless as any ancho
rite could desire. He never had it swept, and
the accumulation of the dust of many years was
an inch deep. You could see a track, leading
through it to some remote corner of the room,
as plainly as in new-fallen snow. He saw few
friends in his room; lived almost in solitude,
with only his own great thoughts to sustain
him. Just before I sailed for Europe, he had shown
me his great picture of the " Feast of Belshaz-
zar." It was then finished, with the exception
of the figure of Daniel. I thought it a wonderful
picture. I was not to speak of it to any one
but Leslie. During the three years of my ab
sence, he did not work on it. I had a fine, large
studio ; and, when I went to Washington, which
I did in the winter of 1828, I gave it to Mr.
Allston to finish his picture in. But he did not
unroll it. He painted all winter, instead, on a
landscape ; and, when I came home, I found he
had wiped out his winter's work, saying it was
not worthy of him. He smoked incessantly,
became nervous, and was haunted by fears that
his great picture would not come up to the
standard of his high reputation. One day, he
went to his friend Loammi Baldwin, and said, " I

140 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
have to-day blotted out my four years' work on
my ' Handwriting on the Wall.' "
He had discovered some little defect in the
perspective, which could not be corrected with
out enlarging the figures in the foreground.
Had he painted this picture in London, sur
rounded by the best works of art, and in daily
intercourse with artists of his own standing, his
picture would undoubtedly have taken a high
rank among the best works of the old masters.
As it is, it is only a monument of wasted genius
of the highest order.
[The following letter, from Washington Allston to my
father, gives such an agreeable impression of the " social
nature " of the former, and at the same time pays so pleasant
a tribute to the latter, that I need make no apology for insert
ing it. — M.] Cambridqeport, Mass., 25th December, 1838.
Dear Haeding, — Your letter from Cincinnati
brought me an unexpected pleasure (though some
perhaps might not think so, from this tardy acknowl
edgment ; but not you, who too well know that I am
any thing but a punctual correspondent) , and I sin
cerely thank you for it. Independent of the satisfac
tion of being kindly remembered, it was a pleasure to
me to hear of the success of one whom I so highly
esteem. I regret, however, that this sublime place
supplies too little subject-matter for a letter to enable
me to make a proper return ; and my visits to Boston
are so rare that I can glean next to nothing from that

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 141
quarter. I might indeed talk of myself; but that is
a subject on which I seldom care to say much at any
time. All I shall say on it at present is, that I have
been, as usual, hard at work ; to what effect, I hope you
will see on your return. You know that I am never
idle ; and, if I bring but little to pass, it is because my
notions of excellence are sometimes beyond my reach.
I may add to this indefiniteness, that I expect to
resume "Belshazzar" in the spring.
You say that you think more of your art, when you
are away from home. This is natural, and must
needs be so with one who has so large a family to care
for. But I do not think it a subject of self-reproach
that it is so ; but there would be a just one, if you suf
fered even the love of art to supplant the duties you
owe to them, — I do not mean by the neglecting to pro
vide for them, which would be unpardonable ; but by
taking the place of those personal attentions, those
nameless kindnesses, that go to make up so large a
portion of domestic happiness. I have often thought
of your conduct with regard to your family, and
always with increased respect. You have a good
wife and good children ; a fact that bears the strong
est evidence of your right bearing as a husband and
a father. Neither do I think that your attentions to
them, liberal as I know them to be, have ever caused
you to neglect your pencil. Your numerous pictures
ought to set your heart at rest on that score. Upon
the whole, I cannot but consider your lot a desirable
one. Much as I love my art (and I believe no one
ever rightly loved it more), I still hold it subordinate
to my affections. But there is time for the exercise

142 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
of both, except, perhaps, where grinding poverty al
lows no remission of labor. But, even then, no man
who continues true to his social nature is ever without
some redeeming moment, when he is at liberty to
interchange kindnesses ; and it is seldom that any one
is ever wholly deprived of such moments excepting by
his own fault. . . . Present my compliments to Miss
Harding, who, I understand, is with you ; and believe
me, dear Harding, Ever your faithful friend,
Washington Allston.
At this period of my life, I became acquainted
with N. P. Willis. He was the " lion " of the
town ; was young, handsome, and wrote poetry
divinely. He often met Allston at my house,
and, I trust, recollects how swiftly the hours
flew by. He is living, and it is not my province
to speak of his fame. It is national, and will be
cherished wherever the English language is
read. The friendship then formed between us
has never for a moment been disturbed.
During my stay in Washington, alluded to
above, I painted many of the distinguished men
of the day, such as Mr. Adams, Mr. Wirt, all the
judges of the Supreme Court, <fec. Among them
was a full-length portrait of Judge Marshall, for
the Athenasum. I consider it a good picture.
I had great pleasure in painting the whole of

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 143
such a man. I remember one or two little inci
dents connected with him, which amused me at
the time. When I was ready to draw the figure
into his picture, I asked him, in order to save
time for him, to come to my room in the evening,
as I could draw it just as well then as by day
light. He was glad to do so. An evening was
appointed ; but he could not come until after the
" consultation," which lasts until about eight
o'clock. It was a warm evening, and I was
standing on my steps waiting for him, when he
soon made his appearance ; but, to my surprise,
without a hat. I showed him into my studio,
and stepped back to fasten the front door, where
I encountered Mr. Storrs, M.C., and two or three
other gentlemen, who knew the judge very well.
They had seen him passing by their hotel in
his hatless condition, and with long strides, as
if in great haste ; and had followed, curious to
know the cause of such a strange appearance.
When I re-entered the studio, I inquired of
the judge whether he did not come without a
hat, and he said " Yes ; " that the consultation
lasted longer than he expected, and he hurried
off as quickly as possible to keep his appointment
with me. When he was preparing to return to
his lodgings, I urged him to take my hat ; hut he
said, " Oh, no ! it is a warm night, I shall not need
one."

144 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
I again met Judge Marshall in Richmond,
whither I went during the sitting of the con
vention for amending the Constitution. He was
a leading member of a quoit club, which I was
invited to attend. The battle-ground was about
a mile from the city, in a beautiful grove. I
went early, with a friend, just as the party were
beginning to arrive. I watched for the coming
of the old chief. He soon approached with his
coat on his arm, and his hat in his hand, which
he was using as a fan. He walked directly up
to a large bowl of mint-julep, which had been
prepared, and drank off a tumbler full of the
liquid, smacked his lips, and then turned to
the company, with a cheerful " How are you,
gentlemen ? " He was looked upon as the best
pitcher of the party, and could throw heavier
quoits than any other member of the club. The
game began with great animation. There were
several ties ; and, before long, I saw the great
chief justice of the Supreme Court of the
United States, down on his knees, measuring the
contested distance with a straw, with as much
earnestness as if it had been a point of law; and,
if he proved to be in the right, the woods would
ring with his triumphant shout. What would the
dignitaries of the highest court of England have
thought, if they had been present ?

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 145
I had brought a letter to John Randolph, from
General Hamilton of South Carolina, asking him
to sit to me for his portrait. I presented it with
considerable trepidation, knowing something of
Mr. Randolph's peculiarities ; but my fears were
groundless. I was most graciously received,
and was assured it would give him great plea
sure to sit to me. At the close of the second
sitting, he said, " If you have no objection to
showing your sketch, I would like to see it. I
know, if it is like, it will be very ugly. Ah ! it
is very like."
I never in all my professional practice had a
more agreeable sitter. He sat to me for three
different pictures.
I was again in Washington in the winter of
1830-31, when I painted the portrait of John
C. Calhoun. During the sittings, he invited me
to come up to the Senate, as there was to be an
interesting debate. Mr. Hayne was to speak on
the subject of " Foote's Resolutions," in reply to
a short speech of Mr. Webster. I accepted the
invitation, and Mr. Calhoun admitted me as one
of the many favored ones.
Mr. Hayne was most eloquent, and exceed
ingly bitter in his remarks upon Mr. Webster's
speech ; and so scathing in his denunciations of
New England and her policy, that I felt his
19

146 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
sarcasms were unanswerable. I think all the
friends of Mr. Webster thought so too. The
South side of the Senate were vociferous in
their applause. At night, I went to see the
fallen great man, as I considered him. My
daughter was visiting Mr. Webster's daughter
at the time. To my surprise, I found him cheer
ful, even playful. He had the two girls upon
his knees. I told him I expected to find him in
another room, pointing to his library. " Time
enough for that in the morning," said he.
Mr. Calhoun gave me another' sitting the next
morning. He seemed to think the great cham
pion of the North was annihilated. He said it
was a pity he had laid himself open at so many
points. I needed no invitation to go to the Senate
that morning. I went early to the gallery, and
secured a seat among the reporters. As Mr.
Webster entered the Senate, all eyes were
turned upon him. He was elegantly dressed,
and apparently less excited than any of his
friends. I felt towards Mr. Webster as I ima
gine a criminal might feel who looks to his coun
sel to save him from punishment for some crime
he is charged with. He soon, however, put me
at my ease. As he proceeded with his speech,
all his friends felt satisfied that victory was his.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 147
I need make no further allusion to this splendid
effort, as it is as familiar to all as household
words. The next morning, I asked Mr. Calhoun what
he thought of Webster's reply. , He said simply,
but with great emphasis, " Mr. Webster is a
strong man, sir, a very strong man."
In the latter part of the summer of 1830, I
had taken my family to Springfield, Mass., to
spend a portion of the warm weather. We
were all so well pleased with the place, that I
exchanged my house in Beacon Street for one
in Springfield, which has been our home ever
since. Little of interest occurred in my life for sev
eral years. Its monotony was varied only by
several professional trips to the West and
South. In 1845 I met with a sore bereavement in the
death of my wife. She died on the 27th of
August, after an illness of but three days.

148 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.

CHAPTER VII.
[In August, 1846, my father again went to Europe. His
letters to his family, during the year he spent there, are the
only journal that he kept; and the following extracts- are taken
from them. — M.]
LONDON, Aug. 30, 1846.— Just at night of
the fourth day from land, we fell in with
some mountains of ice. Many of them were as
large as the State-house, at Boston. One of
them, the captain said, was two hundred feet
high, and three times as broad at the base. It
looked like a giant's snow-fort. While we
were all admiring this sublime spectacle, the
captain drew my attention to a small iceberg,
nearly covered with water ; telling me that it
was those that were the terror of navigators.
They are not easily seen in rough weather, and
to encounter one would be as fatal as to run
on to a reef of rocks. We made our port in
eleven days and a half.
I find nobody in town that I want to see.
I have strolled about a good deal, visiting my
old haunts. Yesterday, I went to the National
Gallery, and looked at the works of the old

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 149
masters. Many of them I saw frequently when
I was here before ; but I find that most of them
do not please me so much as they did formerly.
I have dined with Pickersgill and Leslie, and
visited their studios ; but I am disappointed in
the modern portraits that I have seen. I find,
on looking at my own old pictures, that I was at
least twenty years younger in the art than I am
now, whatever I may be in years.
Glasgow, Aug. 11. — Glasgow looks, in the
main, just as it did twenty years ago, though it
has spread out into the country, and has doubled
its population. But it is sad to find my former
friends grown so old. It is almost impossible to
feel, that these gray-headed men are the same
persons that I knew so intimately when I was
here before. I have looked in the glass to see
if I can discover any change in my own looks ;
and sometimes I think I can discover a slight
one. Oct. 12. — The only thing in the way of my
profession worth relating is, that Mr. Alison,
the historian, is sitting to me. What do you
imagine he looks like? Of course you have
pictured in your mind some image of the great
author. He looks no more like one's imagina
tion of an author than I do like a bishop. He
is nearly my own size, with a round full face, of

150 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
the complexion of Mr. Everett, reddish hair,
large yellow whiskers ; yet has rather a distin
guished air. He is the sheriff of Glasgow, a
very important office ; and is highly esteemed by
all classes.
The last ten days have been miserably dull
and rainy. My only relief from the horrors has
been in books. I have read Hazlitt's writings
on art, with a good deal of pleasure and in
struction. I am no w reading " Alison's History."
I commenced it, mainly, so that when he was
sitting to me I need not have the mortification
of saying I had not read his book. But, since I
have got fairly into the history, I have needed
no such motive to induce me to go on with the
work. It is beautifully written, and more exci
ting than any work of fiction. I am delighted
with the " Diary and Letters of Madame d'Ar-
blay." It is highly interesting. I would recom
mend it to your attention, if you have not already
got hold of it. But don't let H. read it, nor any
other book that does not directly or indirectly
promote his studies. Light reading of any kind
must dissipate the mind, and, at any age, make
hard study uninteresting ; but, to the boy, it is
ruinous : of this I am well satisfied.
These same Scotch folks that I am among are
a curious people. Close in their habits ef econ-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 151
omy, thrifty in business, always looking after
their own interest, yet they are overflowing
with hospitality. They always have some one
or more to " tak' pot-luck wi' them," and make
dinner a social meal. They often sit two hours
at the table ; more for the sake of conversation
than for drinking.
My habits are very regular. I rise at nine
o'clock, order breakfast, smoke my cigar, and
then go to work. I fast from that time until
dinner, which is at six. I go home about
eleven, and read till one; and then turn in to
my bed.
Nov. 1. — Among my other pleasing occupa
tions, I have had three or four of my teeth filled
by the great dentist of the place. The reason
I mention this circumstance is, that you may
know the way I paid the bill. After he had fin
ished the work, I took out my pocket-book, and
asked him how much I had to pay. " Nothing,"
said he : "I never charge artists for any such
small jobs." Do you think Dr. P. would have
so much consideration for the arts ?
Yesterday, I dined again with Mr. Alison, and
met Mr. Lockhart and his daughter. He is very
agreeable and gentlemanly. His daughter is
rather pretty, and simple in manners. After the
ladies retired, Mr. Alison joined Mr. Lockhart

152 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
and myself; and we were carrying on a very
interesting conversation on the arts (here the
arts are the subject for general conversation, as
much as politics are with us), but, horrible to
relate ! just at this happy moment, I was attacked
most violently with one of my turns of colic.
I resorted to my usual remedies, but found little
relief; and was obliged to get into Mr. Alison's
carriage, and drive home. This is the first at
tack I have had for three or four years. I
would rather have had it at any other time, as
it deprived me of a most delightful party. I
wanted much to have made some conversation
with the grand-daughter of Sir Walter Scott.
But, Pegos, what is is.
Nov. 15. — They have in this city just
opened an exhibition on the plan of the Athe-
nasum, only not equal to it in point of merit. I
was invited to see it, the day before it was
opened to the public. There are many pretty
good pictures, but none first-rate. They are
very proud of it ; and one of the principal artists
asked me, with apparent pride and exultation, if
we had any thing of the kind in America.
Nothing of any great interest has crossed my
path since my last. I have had no great din
ners, no colic : things have gone on very monot
onously. The sun has not been seen for the

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 153
last ten days, and fears are beginning to be
felt for his safety. When last seen, he was
struggling through a dense mass of smoke and
fog. Dear daughter, as the great day of all New-
England days approaches, I cannot but wish
that I could form one of the party around C.'s
table. You may be assured that I shall be in
the midst of you, in spirit. This morning I was
awakened by a friendly knock at my door. I
was dreaming at the time most delightfully, of
being at home with C. and you and the C.'s ; and
it was painful to be so suddenly aroused to the
reality of being in a far-off land. I would not
have you infer from this, that I am discontented
or unhappy, for it is not so ; and so long as I
receive letters regularly, assuring me that all
is going on well with you, my dreams of home
and friends, whether in my sleeping or waking
hours, will only increase my happiness. So God
bless you all !
Nov. 25. — I heard that the Duke of Hamil
ton was at his place, about a dozen miles from
here : so this morning I took coach to go and
see him; but, to my great disappointment, he
was not at home. The palace is shown to visit
ors on Tuesdays and Fridays: so, as this is
Wednesday, I could not get in. I told the
20

154 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
servant that I knew the duke, and had painted
a portrait of him. Still I could not get the
housekeeper to break over the law. I started
off, but had not got more than twenty rods,
when a liveried servant, without a hat, came
running after me, saying that Lady Douglass,
the duke's daughter, wished me to come back,
and see the palace. The housekeeper had told
her who I was. I spent an hour or two in
looking at the pictures. Some of them are
very fine. There are several Vandykes, and
also the celebrated picture, by Rubens, of the
" Lion's Den." The gems in the way of fur
niture are most exquisite. The tables and
cabinets, inlaid with gold and precious stones,
are wonders in the mechanic arts.
The grounds are very extensive. From the
front door of the palace, you look down an
avenue of trees about twenty rods in width
and a mile in length, and perfectly level. The
grass is as green as in midsummer. Then such
ornamental gardens, and kept in such exquisite
order ! They even surpass ours at home ! The
house, too, is considerably larger than ours.
It is about four times as large as the State-
house at Boston. We shall never see any thing
like it in our country. If one could step from
this splendid pile into one of our fine houses in

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 155
Boston, the contrast would be enough to curb
the ambition of the proudest. The main part
of this splendid building is not yet finished,
though it was up to the first story when I was
here twenty-two years ago, and the architect
has been all the .time at work upon it. Every
thing about it is of the most durable material.
The question naturally arises, whether the
owners of this princely mansion are any hap
pier than those who live in more humble dwell
ings. In this case, I believe many a man who
lives in a " ten-footer " is far happier than Ham
ilton with all his titles and wealth. He and the
duchess live in different parts of the house,
keep separate carriages, and never travel to
gether. There is this comfort in their case, the
house is large enough for twenty families to
live in it, without elbowing each other.
Dec. 8. — Yesterday, I took the cars, and went
out to Lord Belhaven's place to dine. I found
his carriage waiting for me. I found a brilliant
party of ladies and gentlemen. The conversa
tion at table was quiet and unambitious, and I
at once felt entirely at home. After dinner,
Lady Belhaven was entertaining me with some
curiosities in the drawing-room, when she came
across a book of pressed leaves from Amer
ica, which, she said, was a present from Mr.

156 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
Everett. She wished me to tell her if they
were true to nature : the colors were so bril
liant that she could hardly think they were. I
not only assured her they were so, but, what
was more, that some of them came from a tree
on my own place. I recognized the peculiar
coloring of the leaves on the maple by our gate,
and remembered when L. was visiting you, and
gathered them to send to her uncle.
London, Jan. 6, 1847. — Presented my letter to
Mr. Rogers. He is an old man, — I do not know
how old, but I should think at least eighty. He
stoops a good deal. He has a pale face, with
fine head, and features full of expression. I
hope he will sit to me for his portrait ; but all
these lions have been painted so often, that I
wonder how they can treat a painter with de
cent respect. One of the greatest objections I
have to becoming a great man is the tax
I should have to pay in time and patience to
the painters and sculptors. So I believe, on
the whole, I won't become great. If, how
ever, I am ever doomed to that distinction, I
will do my own painting. I think some of
anticipating that event by beginning a por
trait of myself at once, and sending it to the
Athenaeum. If I do commit such a folly, I
intend to paint it in a white choker, and make

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 157
it look as much like a gentleman as the case
will admit of.
Jan. 8. — I breakfasted to-day with the author
of " Italy." We sat down to breakfast at half-
past ten. We had good tea and coffee, eggs,
and cold game, with a variety of cold breads.
In short, poets, that is poet bankers, live very
much like prose bodies, for aught I can see.
Mr. Rogers is most charming in conversation.
He is familiar with every subject both in and
out of letters. He admires Prescott very much,
and thinks him one of the best writers in the
English language. He thinks Mr. Webster one
of the greatest men living, and idolizes Mr.
Everett. Jan. 16. — I have made a beginning of the
portrait of Mr. Rogers. It is very troublesome,
on account of his deafness, to keep him ani
mated. Once, to-day, he fell asleep while
sitting. He remarked, in the course of conversation,
upon the importance some painters attach to the
high finish of their hands. He said they ought
to be so disposed of as to attract no notice, for
it is considered the height of ill-breeding to be
found looking at a person's hands or dress in
company. What would the good people of our
country do, if they were deprived of the privi-

158 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
lege of looking at the dresses, hands, and feet of
the company they are in ?
Mr. Rogers told me a story yesterday. He
told it so well, that I am afraid to attempt
to relate it ; but I will try to give you the gist
of it.
About forty years since, a clergyman in Scot
land married a young and beautiful wife ; and
hardly was she his, when she died. He was
overwhelmed with grief. The night after she
was buried in the family tomb, he was sitting
up late, and the waiting-maid was watching her
almost distracted master, when he heard ^a
knock at the door. He exclaimed with great
agitation, " That is Mary's knock ! " It was
repeated, and he again cried out that it was
Mary's knock ; and again a third time. But the
maid would not go to the door. He at length
opened it himself, and Mary fainted in his arms.
The sexton violated the tomb ; and, in attempt
ing to wrench the wedding ring from her
finger, he aroused her from her trance. The
sexton fled ; and she found her way home, and
presented herself in her winding-sheet, a living
ghost, to her husband.
Imagine Allston telling the story, and you
will get a pretty good idea of Mr. Rogers's man
ner.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 159
The times are very inauspicious for my work.
Trade is dull ; and the fear of distress in Eng
land makes men stare at each other, and wonder
where it is to end. All one hears or reads in
the papers is so full of the famishing Irish, that
one almost wishes one's self in the blessed United
States. The debates in Parliament, last night,
give a gloomy picture of the present, and offer
little hope for the future condition of that
unhappy country. It was stated that one fam
ily subsisted, for several days, on a carrion car
cass of a horse that was so far decomposed that
the crows had left it. It seems that a great
portion of the Irish ordinarily live on potatoes,
at this season of the year : that resource failing,
they have nothing to substitute for them, and
have no money to buy any thing to keep body
and soul together. Only think of the coroner
sitting on the dead bodies of twelve or fifteen
in a day, in a small village, all of whom died of
hunger ! It is awful indeed.
Feb. 25. — I went to a small party last night,
at Mr. Bancroft's. He had a dinner-party ; and,
when I arrived, the gentlemen were still at
the table. I went in and took a seat, and lis
tened to an animated conversation between a
Captain Wormley and a Scotchman. There was
something striking in the broad accent and the

160 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
good sense of the Scotchman, which attracted
my attention. After listening awhile, I inquired
his name ; and who do you think he was ? No
less a person than Thomas Carlyle. I was after
wards introduced to him, and had a good deal of
conversation with him. He talks well, easily,
and naturally, and without the least tincture of
Carlyleism. He has a hard face, stiff hair, and,
in short, is as unlike the literary dandy as any
farmer in the land.
March 25. — I am now just finishing the pic
ture of Lord Aberdeen. I must here relate a
little incident which is rather flattering to me.
We — that is, my lord and I — were speaking of
the Irish, the other day ; and I remarked that the
more that is given in charity, the more will be
expected, and illustrated my views by a story,
which was this : I was riding on top of a stage
coach, on Cape Cod, one cold February day,
when I espied a flock of sheep in the field, try
ing hard to get something to eat from the
frozen ground. I said to the stage-driver, " Is
it possible these sheep run out all winter ? " —
"Yes."— "Of course they feed them?"— "No,"
said he, " they used to do so ; but the farmers
find when they feed them, that they won't help
themselves, but only hang about the pen, and
bleat all day. But, if they are left to take care

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 161
of themselves, they manage to get a living, and
come out very well in the spring." The next
time his lordship gave me a sitting, he said that
he told my sheep story' to Sir Robert Peel, at
the queen's table ; and it struck him very for
cibly. March 26. — To-day was Drawing-room at
the Palace of St. James. I did not go, because
I was not " expected." I went, however, to see
the pageant, but was just two minutes too late
to see the queen arrive. So I waited an hour
and a half for her return. I took care to get
a good stand, where I was not more than twenty
feet from where she must pass ; and then waited
with the patience of a martyr. At last the royal
procession started. All were on tip-toe. I was
tall enough without that resort. She had come
so near that I could just discern a face in the
carriage, when, most provokingly, a life-guards
man rode alongside of the carriage, and inter
posed his huge body just between me and Her
Majesty, so that I only saw her nose. I did not
think the sight of that feature worth the trouble
I had taken : so I set it all down as a piece of
mummery, and went with my friend to see the
new Italian opera-house.
Mr. Rogers says the " New Timon " is attribut
ed to Bulwer. He does not seem to think so
21

162 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
much of it as you Yankees do. He says Bryant
or Longfellow are, either of them, very much
before that author, whoever he may be. He
often speaks of Bryant in very high terms, and
thinks it is to be regretted, that a man of such
genius should waste his energies in editing a
newspaper. Glasgow, April 17. — I left London on the
5th for this region. My friend C. advised me
to come by steamer from Fleetwood. I dread
the sea, particularly the channel. However,
the weather was promising, so I booked for
Fleetwood. It is a run of twelve hours. We
started at seven in the evening, and had a very
quiet night. When we were within about an
hour's sail of our port, there came a heavy
shower of rain, accompanied with high wind.
The sea was almost immediately thrown into a
terrible commotion ; so much so, that the captain
thought it unsafe to go into port, where the
water was shallow, at low tide. So we put off
twelve miles to the island of Arran. The wind
increased to a terrific gale. We dragged our
anchor several times before we fairly got set
tled A boat, with four men, came out from •
shore (where the water was quite smooth,
being under cover of the mountain), making for
the steamer ; but, as she neared us, she got into

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 163
the wind, and was blown out to sea at a fearful
rate. The captain pulled up anchor, and went
after them ; and, with much difficulty, got the
poor wretches on board. They were com
pletely exhausted, and in a half-hour more
would in all probability have gone to the bot
tom. Another two-masted, open fishing-boat
dragged her anchor, and was driven out to sea ;
but, fortunately, a steamer was making for the
port we lay in, and picked them up. We lay
here until two o'clock ; and then, as it was high
tide, we put out for the port of our destination.
But I cannot describe to you the horrors of the
scene : it was perfectly awful. The wind blew
as if it would blow our steamer out of the
water. The wind was partly on our side,
which made the ship lurch frightfully. One
wheel would be ten feet above the water, while
the other would be entirely covered. But we
had the most perilous part of our voyage still
before us. The channel to the harbor is nar
row, crooked, and rocky. I never saw such
breakers ! However, we escaped all the dan
gers ; and I never was so glad to put myself on
firm footing as when I stepped on shore. We
had many ladies on board : all were sick and
terrified. Most of the gentlemen were in the
same plight. I was not sick ; but I cannot say

164 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
I was not frightened. Half the town were on
the wharf to see us come in. We found the
railway train waiting, and in an hour we were
safe in Glasgow.
I remained in the city three days, and then
set off for the city of the " Fair Maid of Perth."
I spent four days there, and had two days of
salmon-fishing. I do not know that I shall ever
be able to bring myself down again to trout-
fishing. But to the sport. We fitted up and
went into the boat, and fished for an hour.
We were beginning to think we should have no
sport, when, all of a sudden, a salmon took my
fly. Jehu ! how I was excited ! But I tried
my best to keep cool, and finally succeeded in
landing him. He weighed sixteen pounds.
This was considered a great feat, as it is sel
dom a man lands his first fish. I took two
more before night, and went home well satis
fied. The next day we had no right to fish for
salmon, so we took a tramp of ten miles, and
fished for trout ; but it seemed like child's play.
The day after, we tried the salmon again, and
I killed two more ; which was doing more in
two days than any sportsman has done in a
fortnight. I am told by Mr. Stirling, that I am
talked of as much by the gentry for my exploits
as old " Rough and Ready " is for his. But,

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 165
above all, I am glad to find my health improv
ing. May 8. — This is the last letter you will
receive from me from London. I am booked
for the 4th of June. I am sorry to return to
the States without having seen more of the
Old World ; but my means will not allow of my
making the grand tour. As I have told you,
my health has been such that I have been able
to paint but little for the last three months, and
it is too enormously expensive to live in Europe
without a pretty liberal income. I sometimes
fear I shall have to give up painting altogether.
I have great faith, however, in a little quiet
living at home, with my chicks about me. My
trouble is a tendency of blood to the head.
May 14. — I went last night to see Jenny
Lind. I saw her in my favorite opera of " La
Sonnambula." She entirely came up to my
youthful imagination. I had no conception
before of perfect music and acting combined,
as one sees them in this Swedish Nightingale.
She acted the part of Amina so perfectly, that
it became reality. It is impossible that she did
not feel the sentiments she uttered, so com
pletely would her countenance and complexion
change with the passions of grief or joy or
rage; at times being as pale as a ghost, and

166 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
then fresh as a rose. Her voice and execution
are wonderful. I never saw an audience, not
even at the Tremont Theatre when Mrs. Wood
was carrying everybody away, half so much
excited. Bouquets of flowers were showered
down on the stage, with shouts and waving of
handkerchiefs. When she addressed herself to
the flowers, — " Not thee, — of dear affection —
Are the sweet pledges," &c,
I thought we should all have gone mad. The
Queen and Prince Albert were there ; but they
attracted no attention.

DURING his stay in England, my father
made two trips to Paris, mainly to visit
the picture galleries. The last one was upon
the occasion of the great annual exhibition of
modern pictures at the Louvre.
He spent the winter immediately succeed
ing his return from England in Washington,
and there enjoyed a renewal of his intimacy
with Daniel Webster ; with whom, he and the
Hon. George Ashmun* and one or two other
gentlemen who " messed " together, were
* Of his life-long friendship with this gentleman, my father
speaks as never having known any interruption.

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 167
in the habit of dining two or three times
a week. My father writes, "These family
dinners were always charming. We always
found sumptuous fare, though not elaborate.
Often the great feature of the feast would
be chowder or dun-fish, both of which dishes
he excelled in. One day, I was admiring
and praising the latter, and asked him where
he procured them. He said, from his friend
Charles Cutter, of Portsmouth, N.H. I said
that I got my fish from the same gentleman,
but they did not seem to be of the same qual
ity; but perhaps they were not as skilfully
cooked. Thereupon he gave a detailed history
of the fish, mode of curing, &c. Then he
entered into a minute description of the way
of cooking it, ending with, ' Have ready good,
mealy potatoes, beets, drawn butter, and oil;
have it all served up hot, and then send for
Ashmun and me.'
" I had a few bottles of old Scotch whiskey,
such as Wilson & Scott have immortalized
under the name of ' mountain dew.' This
beverage is always used with hot water and
sugar. I put a bottle of this whiskey into my
overcoat pocket, one day when I was going to
dine with Mr. Webster; but I thought, before
presenting it to him, I would see who was m

168 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
the drawing-room. I put the bottle on the
entry table, walked into the drawing-room;
and, seeing none but the familiar party, said,
' I have taken the liberty to bring a Scotch
gentleman to partake of your hospitality to
day.' — ' I am most happy, sir,' was the reply.
I walked back to the entry, and pointed to
the bottle. 'Oh!' said he, 'that is the gentle
man that bathes in hot water.' "
Later he says, " I do think him the greatest
man I ever came in contact with. He is not
only full of wisdom and delightful anecdote, but
of that sort of playful wit which startles the
more, coming from the same fountain, as it does,
with the wisest maxims that man ever uttered.
With all this eulogium, he is far from being a
perfect character. He lacks many of the essen
tials requisite in the formation of the good man.
He lacks sympathy. He has the art of making
many admirers, but few friends."
It was during this winter that my father
painted the full-length portrait of Mr. Webster
which hangs on the walls of the AthenEeum ;
and also that of Henry Clay which hangs in
the City-hall in Washington. The succeeding
winter was spent in Buffalo. The following
little incident, which occurred while there,
amused him highly, and he thus relates it : —

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 169
"I wrote to A. S. Upham, then senator from
Genesee County; and directed the letter, as usual,
to Hon. A. S. Upham. Mr. Upham had been a
wagon-maker; and was, hke myself, a self-made man.
He was at this time engaged very extensively in car-
making for the New -York Central Railroad. As I
did not receive an answer as promptly as I expected,
I wrote him another letter, and directed to Mr. A. S.
Upham, wagon-maker. This he answered at once,
and directed the letter to Mr. Chester Harding, Sign
and Chair Painter."
Although he continued to follow his profes
sion, during the winter months, even to the last
year of his life, his active career as an artist
began to decline from this time. He says of
this period of his life : —
" As I find myself growing old, and my family
grown beyond my immediate care, I vary my pur
suits. I always had a passion for field sports, and
have, for the last twenty or thirty summers, indulged
more or less in the pastimes of shooting and trout-
fishing ; and have found them healthful and innocent.
I have spent many seasons among the White Hills ;
and, in later years, much of my summer leisure has
been spent at the Saguenay, Lower Canada. This
place is becoming a resort for excursionists. It is
certainly a wonderful river, wonderful for its depth
and bold shores, and the shoals of porpoises that are
sporting in the tide. Hundreds of the white porpoise
may be seen at almost any hour of the day. The
22

170 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
scenery on this river is grand. A Church or Bier-
stadt might revel in it.
" I wish to record my appreciation of the hospitality
I have received at the house of Mr. Radford, for six
consecutive, summers. He is the only Englishman
living at the mouth of the Saguenay. He fills the
several offices of magistrate, post-master, and col
lector of the port. All the inhabitants of the neigh
borhood, with this exception, are of the lower order
of the French. Trout-fishing is the principal amuse
ment, with an occasional fight with the salmon. One
meets many gentlemen sportsmen from Montreal
and Quebec. Altogether, I think this place the most
attractive, for the lovers of sport and grand scenery,
of any resort I have ever visited."
He spent his winters in some of the large
cities, as Boston, New York, Washington, or
St. Louis ; but, though familiar with them all,
none seemed to him so much like home, or
claimed so large a share of his affections, as
Boston. He says, in speaking of it: —
" I have been, from infancy, such a cosmopolite,
that I can hardly claim any portion of the United
States as home ; yet I feel that I owe more to Boston
than any other place : more of my professional life has
been spent in that city than anywhere, and it is
around it that my most grateful recollections cluster.
The liberal patronage I have received, and the friend
ships I have formed there, make the place dear to me.
The most liberal patronage I have enjoyed has been,

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 171
perhaps, from the Lawrences. I have painted all of
them, and many of their children. My* full-length
portrait of Amos Lawrence I consider the best thing
I have ever done in my whole artistic career. I also
painted a full-length of Abbott Lawrence.
" I am proud to record my acknowledgment of
many kind attentions from this noble race of men.
Their character for enterprise and their success are
not more remarkable than their noble bequests, as
the institutions of the State can attest ; while the poor
of the city were not overlooked in their bounties.
Few men leave a prouder record behind them."
¦ The last winter of my father's life was spent
in St. Louis, with his children there. During
the winter, he painted a nearly full-length por
trait of Major-General Sherman ; and the fidel
ity of. the likeness, and the composition and
finish of the picture, were pronounced equal to
any he had ever painted, at any period of his
life. He greatly enjoyed the work himself, and
derived great pleasure from his acquaintance
with his illustrious countryman, of whom he
thus speaks, in a letter to a friend in Canada: —
" I am now painting General Sherman, the real
hero of the great war that has ended. He is a sort of
Wellington in his appearance, small of stature, but
full of character, and every inch a soldier. He has
good and elevated notions of things, not only military,
but political. It is a pleasure to have such a man

172 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
before me, where I can tell him to turn this way
or that, and to come at my bidding."
That the pleasure derived from this acquaint
ance was in some degree mutual may be seen
from the following note, written upon receiving
the news of my father's death : —
" St. Louis, Mo., April 3, 1866.
" Hon. J. M. Krum.
"Dear Sir, — I have learned, with pain and sorrow,
the death of Chester Harding, artist. I shall always
remember the many pleasant, quiet interviews with
which I was so lately favored by him, while painting
my portrait ; and beg you will consider me as one of
his best friends. . . .
" I beg to assure you of my deep and heart-felt
sympathy. Your friend,
"W. T. Sherman,
" Major-General."
My father left St. Louis, in the month of Feb
ruary, for his home in Springfield ; but the
journey proved a very severe one, and undoubt
edly made a serious draught upon the strength
of a man of his years. He thus describes it in
a letter to one of his children : —
" Springfield, Feb. 27, 1866.
"Deae M., — I am once more at home, after the
worst time mortal ever had on the journey. I was snow
bound five days, during the coldest weather I ever saw,

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 173
and in the poorest house that mortal ever slept in ; no
fire in my room, and none in the halls, with windows
that let the snow drift in. I could only keep from
freezing by piling on blankets, my own shawl, and
overcoat ; and then I could not have my hand ex
posed outside of the covering : it would have frozen
in twenty minutes. I covered myself entirely, and
drew myself up, much as you can imagine a bear to
do when he is burrowing in midwinter. However, I
am now all right. ... I have a capital likeness of
General Sherman, which he sat for in St. Louis. I
think you would say at once that it is a capital like
ness, without ever having seen the original.
" I think this longer than the average of my
letters ; so I will conclude, with love to W. and E.,
and am Yours, affectionately, " Chester Harding."

After his return to Springfield, he occupied
himself with putting the last touches to his
picture of Sherman. Had he known it was
to be the last work of his hands, he could
not have labored on it with more care, or
looked upon it with more affection. The plea
sure and interest with which he used to pursue
his work, in his younger days, seemed to have
been aroused once more, as if to vindicate the
undying nature of those qualities of mind and
heart which constitute the artist. He put the
finishing touch to the picture, the day before

174 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
he started on his last journey to Boston. Some
friend coming in, he playfully pointed out to
him a stream of water he had introduced into
the back-ground of the picture, saying, " That
is a trout-brook ; and there," indicating the place
with his brush, " is the hole where the big
fellows lie." — "You ought to paint yourself
there fishing," responded the friend. " No,
indeed," he replied; "it wouldn't do for a
little fisherman to stand by the side of such
a big general."
On March 27, he started for Boston, on
his way to Sandwich, on Cape Cod, which
was his favorite resort for trout-fishing in the
early spring. He was, apparently, in good
health and in fine spirits. On his way to the
station, he met a friend ; and, shaking his rod
at him, called out, " Never felt more like it
in my life." He took a severe cold on the
journey, and did not leave Boston the next
day, as he had expected, although he was
able to go to his club in the evening. His
cold increasing, he was persuaded to send for
a physician; but no alarm was felt, either by
himself or his attendants, with regard to his
illness. , When asked if some of his family had
not better be notified of his illness, he said,
" Oh ! no : it is not worth while." He was not

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 175
confined to his room until Sunday morning ;
when, after getting up and dressing himself,
a prostration so sudden and complete came
over him as to make it a matter of great diffi
culty to get him on to his bed. From this time
he sank rapidly. His mind seemed to sympa
thize with the weakness of his body; and he
made no effort at conversation, and made no
sign of having any consciousness of his situa
tion. He breathed his last, April 1, at ten
o'clock, Sunday evening, before any of his chil
dren, who had been summoned at the appear
ance of danger, could reach him. His death
was such as he had often hoped for, sudden,
painless, and before the failure of physical
or mental powers.
His decease was announced to the public by
the following appreciative notice in the " Even
ing Transcript" of April 2 : —
" We deeply regret to announce the death, at the
age of seventy-four, of Chester Harding, the most
venerable of American artists, and one of the most
eminent and accomplished. He died last evening at
his rooms in the Tremont House. Few persons in the
country were so widely known, and so generally
esteemed. A self-educated artist, who rose from the
humblest beginnings to be the companion, as well as
painter, of nobles and statesmen, he had that innate
gentlemanliness which placed him on an equality with

176 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
every circle in which he moved, while he never lost,
in conventional society, the vigorous manhood which
he had learned in the woods and fields.
" It was impossible to see him without both liking
and admiring him : he had in his heart, as well as in
his manners, that quality which wins affection at the
same time it inspires respect ; and his constant regard
for the rights and feelings of others was his shield
against any invasion of his own. A duke who met
him in a drawing-room, a country lad who was his
companion in a fishing excursion, would find that his
manhood was broad enough for both. He visited Eng
land twice ; and there was hardly a place in the United
States where he was not known. His conversation
was rich in recollections of eminent men of all kinds
in both hemispheres, while it was absolutely untainted
by self-assertion and self-conceit. At one time, we
heard of him as painting Daniel Webster, at Washing
ton ; and, soon after, that he had started off to the wilds
of the West to paint Daniel Boone. One of his last
works was an admirable portrait of General Sherman,
which many of our readers will remember as among
the finest things in the exhibition at the recent ar
tists' reception. He had an instinctive attraction
for all manhood, no matter what might be the field in
which it was exercised.
" The summers of his later years having been spent
in manly field exercises and sports, his old age was so
hale and vigorous, that the announcement of his death
will strike his friends with surprise as well as pain.
Few men could leave behind them a more genial
memory, or one which will be more warmly cherished
by a large circle of friends."

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 177
His remains were taken to Springfield, and
placed by the side of his faithful and beloved
wife, in the cemetery which he had done much
to adorn ; and where he had seen gathered, one
by one, most of that generation, whose intel
lectual and social gifts, and friendship for
himself, had made the place so attractive to
him, when, thirty -six years before, he had
selected it for his home.
And now my work would seem to be done ;
but I cannot lay down my pen without adding a
few words to this simple narrative, for those
whose interest in it will perhaps exceed that of
any of its readers, — my father's grand-children.
Most of them have never seen him : none have
seen him in the prime of life ; and, without some
other account than his own of his personal and
intellectual traits, they will perhaps hardly ap
preciate the gifts with which nature endowed
him. His personal appearance was very striking.
A friend says of him, " He was the finest speci
men of manly beauty I ever saw." In height,
he was far above the average, measuring six
feet three inches in his stockings; while his
frame was so finely proportioned, that his size
was not fully appreciated until compared with
23

178 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
that of an average-sized man. His muscular
power was prodigious; and I am told by one
of his brothers, that, when he was eighteen
years old, his feats of strength were the wonder
of the neighborhood. While he was helping
his father to clear up the land, after moving to
Western New York, he, with the help of a
friend, also of great size and strength, would
themselves drag away and pile up the fallen
timber, instead of resorting to the use of oxen,
as their fellow-workmen were accustomed to
do. In chopping wood, these two could each
chop, split, and cord four cords of wood a day,
which was just double the amount of an ordi
nary day's work.
His hands and feet were so large, that he was
obliged to import his gloves, and to have his
boots made for him. The width between his
eyes was such, that an ordinary pair of spec
tacles would but half cover them. During the
later years of his life, he wore a full beard,
which, as well as his hair, was almost white,
giving him a patriarchal appearance. A few
months before his death, he sat to an artist as a
model for the head of St. Peter.
There was in his manner, particularly to
young people, a heartiness and kindliness which
universally attracted them to him ; and he pos-

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 179
sessed that intuitive perception of other people's
tastes and feelings which prevented him from
saying or doing any thing that would be dis
agreeable to them. He was full of humor, and
had a thorough appreciation of wit in others.
He had a quick, impulsive nature ; and, after
once coming to a decision about any course of
action, was very eager to carry out his plans.
My mother was fond of giving an account of
their wedding, as an illustration of this trait.
The wedding day had been fixed for Feb.
15, 1815, and on the preceding day the bride
was making her last preparations for the great
event. The guests had been invited: the wed
ding cake was in the oven ; and her brother had
been despatched to a neighboring town for
the white kid gloves and sash. Presently the
bridegroom elect drove up to the door in a
sleigh, and, after the first salutations had passed,
announced that he had come to be married on
that day ; for the snow was melting so fast, that,
if they waited twenty-four hours, they could not
get back to Caledonia. So they were married
the day beforehand. "And," my mother was
accustomed to say, " it has been the day before
hand ever since."
He was a good son and brother ; and, as soon
as his own circumstances warranted it, he not

180 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
only extended pecuniary aid to his father and
mother, but interested himself in the education
of those members of the family younger than
himself, whom he endeavored to incite to a
desire for intellectual improvement, which he
gave them opportunities to attain.
He had a sunny temper, which, combined
with his confidence in his own power of over
coming obstacles, made him meet the /little
irritations of life either with a laugh and jest, or
at most with a quick, impatient " pshaw ! "
which seemed to be all the outlet his disturbed
feelings needed. He had quick inventive pow
ers, and the mechanical skill to carry out his
ideas : so that he never seemed at fault in any
emergency, but always had some way of getting
out of every difficulty ; which, combined with
his uncommon strength, gave those who were
dependent upon him an unusual feeling of re
liance and trust.
His love for music amounted to a passion ; and
his correctness of ear was such, that he became
an accomplished performer on the clarionet,
without knowing how to read a note of music.
Any air that he could sing he could play at
once upon the piano, without striking a false
note; and he whistled finely.
His love of nature was very noticeable; and

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 181
he seemed to possess peculiar power over her,
by which he could make her subservient to his
wishes. Every living thing that his hands
touched was sure to flourish ; and it used to be
a saying in the family, that, if " father were to
plant a brick, it would come up a tree." When
he was preparing to build his house on Chestnut
Street, in Springfield, he wished to make an
artificial pond on his grounds. To do this, it
was necessary to move some well-grown trees,
with trunks as large as a man's leg. It was in
the month of August, when, of course, they
were in full leaf. He had them carried some
feet, re-set them ; and, in spite of the prophecies
to the contrary, of all his neighbors, they not
only lived, but were uninjured by their little
midsummer excursion.
Landscape gardening was his delight, and
perhaps he did more to give an impulse to the
taste which is now so conspicuous in the well-
arranged and beautifully adorned grounds about
the dwelling-houses in Springfield than any other
one person. He was closely associated with
the late Rev. Mr. Peabody in laying out the
grounds of the beautiful Springfield Cemetery;
and the arrangement of the water-works was
entirely his own. He spent days there, direct
ing the workmen, and often using the spade

182 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
himself. The pines that stand at the entrance,
now grown into large trees, he set out with his
own hands.
I shall bring these desultory remarks to a
close, with extracts from some of the expres
sions of respect and affection which his death
called forth.
One who had known him familiarly for a few
years preceding his death thus writes, in a
letter of sympathy, to one of his family : —
" Mr. Harding won upon my heart, as I believe he
did that of every one, from the first ; and he had that
rare charm of manner which, while thoroughly digni
fied, made every one feel at ease : there was no false
pretension or hauteur about him. His conversation
was always rich and instructive ; and, when with him,
I invariably heard something which I should have
been sorry not to know.
" Moving, as he had familiarly, in the highest cir
cles of rank and talent, he was singularly modest ; and
he seldom mentioned the distinguished people he had
known, unless directly asked about them. He never
coupled a duke and a dinner, nor prefaced a story with,
' When I was abroad with the Princess Orbitella.' . . .
" His host of friends will bear a life-long testimony
to his virtues and accomplishments. These attributes
' Shall long keep his memory green in our souls,'
while his many masterly portraits will perpetuate his
name in American art."

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 183
Mr. Willis, in "The Home Journal," thus
alludes to the impression my father made dur
ing his first visit to England : —
" Years afterward, I became a guest at Gordon
Castle ; and there, strangely enough, my best autho
rity with the Duchess of Gordon, and the brilliant
ladies who formed the court around her, was my
assured intimacy with Harding the artist. Her lady
ship's first question was of the ' prairie nobleman,'
as they described this Western artist ; and whom
they considered a splendid specimen of a most gifted
man." The " Boston Post " says : —
" He ranked with the representative painters of
America, and in him American art was made honor
able at home and respectable abroad. When most
who are now turned of ripe age were children, Hard
ing was engaged in painting on durable canvas hosts
of private men of worth, and an illustrious band of
the public men associated in public life at Washington
and elsewhere. If from the artist we turn to the
man, we shall find enough to justify abundantly
the strong hold he had upon private affection and
individual esteem. He was a man every way free of
reproach, and in all respects entitled to esteem, and
fitted to inspire love. He was the father of a numer
ous family, now grown to manhood and womanhood,
and settled successfully in various parts of the country.
To them this blow will come with stunning effect.
But his title to love and veneration were not limited to

184 MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY.
his relatives and his family. All who knew him loved
him. He was of kindly, social feeling, and, for one of
his years, convivial and jovial. He was ever young
in his feelings, and fresh in his views, and liberal in
his opinions. Age rested gracefully upon him. His
flowing white locks added a venerable aspect to his
portly and commanding presence. He was not a pro
fessed scholar, nor a great reader beyond his art, or
even in that ; for he believed in the inspiration of
artistic genius, rather than the studies of the closet.
Although master of the great principles of his art, he
needed only the human face divine and the pencil of
his own genius to give life to the moving canvas.
Hence he belongs to the order of original artists. He
copied no man, and he flattered no man. He aimed
in the practice of his art to be truthful, accurate,
and just.''
From the " Springfield Republican : " —
" As a portrait-painter, he was one of the first in
point of excellence that America has ever produced ;
and, in his time, he was the first, without dispute. . . .
Nor had age dimmed his power, though it had tem
pered his ambition, and checked his industry : he,
only last week, gave the finishing touches to a re
markable likeness of General Sherman, which he
began in St. Louis, during the past season, from
pure enthusiasm for the soldier and the man. It is
among the finest of his works, and can hardly be
excelled by any other likeness for spirit and fidelity.
. . . Springfield knew him longest, loved him best ;
and she is proud that, since death must come to
him, his ashes are to repose in her bosom."

MY EGOTISTIGRAPHY. 185
At a meeting of the artists of Boston, to
take notice of the death of Chester Harding,
the following resolutions were unanimously
adopted : —
" Resolved, That we lament the loss of our brother
artist, Chester Harding, who, for more than thirty
years, has been to the elder of us a genial companion,
and noble and generous rival ; to the younger, a
sympathizing friend and a worthy example ; to the
community in which he lived, an esteemed citizen ; an
exemplary husband and father : who has furnished to
posterity, by his graphic and prolific pencil, representa
tions of men of the day, and illustrations of contempo
rary history, which only posterity can properly value,
but which have already placed him high in the ranks
of American art.
" Resolved, That we shall cherish the memory of
his manly presence, and his generous and estimable
qualities of head and heart.
" Resolved, That we deeply sympathize with his
afflicted family in their bereavement.
" Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be sent
to the family of the deceased, and that they be
published."

THE END.

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