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AUDUBON WITH ZOOLOGICAL AND OTHER NOTES BY ELLIOTT COUES Volume L NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1897 ! I'M \ i Ol. 31 V.I nvos Copyright, 1897, By Charles ticRiBNER's Sons. tHnitoRBitB T&ttax John Wilson and Son Cambridge, U.S.A« m 3fn Lotoitiff ifRemor? OF MY FATHER, JOHN WOODHOUSE AUDUBON, AND OF HIS LOVE AND ADMIRATION FOR HIS FATHER, JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN. ^ PREFACE i '. TT is customary at the close of a Preface to make some ■*• acknowledgment of the services rendered by others in the preparation of a volume ; but in my case this aid has been so generous, so abundant, and so helpful, that I must reverse the order of things and begin by saying that my heartiest thanks are due to the many who have assisted me in a work which for many years has been my dream. Without the very material aid, both by pen and advice, of Dr. Elliott Coues, these pages would have lost more than I care to contemplate. All the zoological notes are his, and many of the geographical, besides suggestions too numerous to mention ; moreover, all this assistance was most liberally given at a time when he personally was more than busy ; and yet my wishes and convenience have always been consulted. Next to the memory of my father, Mr. Ruthven Deane has been the motive power which has caused this volume to be written. For many years he has urged me to at- tempt it, and has supplied me with some valuable mate- rial, especially regarding Henderson. During the months that I have been working on much that I have felt incom- petent to deal with, his encouragement has helped me over many a difficulty. via PREFACE } To my sisters Harriet and Florence, and my cousin M. Eliza Audubon, I am especially indebted. The first and last have lent me of their choicest treasures ; letters, jour- nals, and other manuscripts they have placed uncondition- ally in my hands, besides supplying many details from other sources ; and my sister Florence has been my almost hourly assistant in more ways than I can specify. The arrangement of the papers and journals was sug- gested by the late Dr. G. Brown Goode ; and many names come to mind of friends who have helped me in other ways. Among them are those of Mr. W. H. Wetherill, Messrs. Richard R. and William Rathbone, my aunt, Mrs. James Hall, Dr. Arthur T. Lincoln, Mr. Morris F. Tyler, Mr. Joseph Coolidge, Rev. A. Gordon Bakewell, and Mr. George Bird Grinnell. I wish also to say that without the loving generosity of my friend the late Miss M. Louise Comstock, I should never have had the time at my command which I have needed for this work ; and last, but by no means least, I thank my mother for her many memories, and for her wise criticisms. There came into my hands about twelve years ago some of these journals, — those of the Missouri and Labrador journeys; and since then others have been added, all of which had been virtually lost for years. The story of how I heard of some, and t.aced others, is too long to tell here, so 1 will only say that these journals have formed my chief sources of information. So far as has been possible I have verified and suppL'mented them by every means. Researches have been made in San Domingo, New Orleans, and France ; letters and journals have been consulted which PREFACE IX prove this or that statement ; and from the mass of papers I have accumulated, I have used perhaps one fifth. " The Life of Audubon the Naturalist, edited by Mr. Robert Buchanan from material supplied by his widow," covers, or is supposed to cover, the same ground I have gone over. That the same journals were used is obvious ; and besides these, others, destroyed by fire in Shelbyville, Ky., were at my grandmother's command, and more than all, her own recollections and voluminous diaries. Her manuscript, which I never saw, was sent to the English publishers, and was not returned to the author by them or by Mr. Buchanan. How much of it was valuable, it is impossible to say; but the fact remains that Mr. Bu- chanan's book is so mixed up, so interspersed with anec- dotes and episodes, and so interlarded with derogatory remarks of his own, as to be practically useless to the world, and very unpleasant to the Audubon family. More- over, with few exceptions everything about birds has been left out. Many errors in dates and names are apparent, especially the date of the Missouri River journey, which is ten years later than he states. However, if Mr. Buchanan had done his work better, there would have been no need for mine ; so I forgive him, even though he dwells at un- necessary length on Audubon's vanity and selfishness, of which I find no traces. In these journals, nine in all, and in the hundred or so of letters, written under many skies, and in many condi- tions of life, by a man whose education was wholly French, one of the journals dating as far back as 1822, and some of the letters even earlier, — there is not one sentence, one expression, that is other than that of a refined and cul- f X PREFACE tured gentleman. More than that, there is not one utter- ance of " anger, hatred or malice." Mr. George Ord and Mr. Charles Waterton were both my grandfather's bitter enemies, yet one he rarely mentions, and of the latter, when he says, " I had a scrubby letter from Waterton," he has said his worst. But the journals will speak for themselves better than I can, and so I send them forth, believing that to many they will be of absorbing interest, as they have been to me. M. R. A. Ill i.ntroduct Audubon The Europ The Lahka The Missoi CONTENTS Volume I PAGE Introduction 3 Audubon 5 The European Journals. 1826-1829 79 The Labrador Journal, 1833 343 The Missouri River Journals. 1843 447 'f AUDUBOI Fi Mill Gr Ft Fatland Fr Audubon No John J. A Fro Mrs. Aud Froi Audubon Date Audubon : York . Flycatche From From a Pe Drawi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Vol. I. PAGE Audubon Frontispiece From the portrait by J. W. Audubon. November, 1843. Mill Grove Mansion on the Peukiomen Creek ... 16 From a photograph from W. H. Wetherill, Esq. Fatland Ford Mansion, looking toward Valley Forge 20 From a photograph from W. H. Wetherill, Esq. Audubon's Mill at Henderson, Ky 34 Now owned by Mr. David Clark. John J. Audubon 48 From the miniature by F. Cruikshank, published by Rob-rt Havell, January la, 1835. Mrs. Audubon 64 From the miniature by F. Cruikshank, 1835. Audubon 74 Date unknown. From a daguerreotype owned by M. F.liza Audubon. Audubon Monument in Trinity Church Cemetery, New York 76 Flycatchers. (^Heretofore unpublished^ 114 From a drawing made by Audubon in 1826, and presented to Mrs. Rathbone of Green Bank, Liverpool. Still in the possession of the Rathbone family. ./' From a Pencil Sketch of Audubon 128 Drawn by himself for Mrs. Rathbone. Now in the possession of Mr. Richard R. Rathbone, Glao-y-Menai, Anglesey. ■i , i(- * ii-l xiv ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGB Audubon in Indian Dress 132 From a i icil sketch drawn by lihnself for Miss Rathbone, 1826. Now ill llie pussessiou uf Mrs. Abraham Dixon {,nie Rathbone), London, England. Audubon 206 From tlie portrait by Henry luman. Now in the possession of the family. Facsimile of Entry in Journal 221 Eagle and Lamb 342 Painted by Audubon, London, i8a8. In the possession of the family. Audubon 348 From the iwrtrait by George P. A. Healy, London. 1838. Now in the possession of the Boston Society of Natural History. Victor Gifford Audubon 384 From the miniature by F. Cruikshank, 1838. John Woodhouse Audubon 412 From the miniature by F. Cruikshank, 1838. Audubon 454 From the portrait by John Woodhouse Audubon (about 1841). COLUMBA PASSERINA (NOW CoLUMBIGALLINA PASSERINA TEKRESTRIS), GROUND DOVE 474 From the Linpublished drawing by J. J. Audubon, 1838. Facsimile of a Page of the Missouri River Journal . 510 Reduced one third. View on the Missouri River, above Great Bend . . 516 From a water-color drawing by Isaac Sprague. Indian Hatchet Pipe 532 Carried by Audubon during many of his journeys. AUDUBON VOL. 1. — 1 ill TN tl ^ II that h; am no merits as nati since b( enemies 1 hav my read that the thought INTRODUCTION TN the brief biography of Audubon which follows, I have given, I believe, the only correct account that has been written, and as such I present it. I am not competent to give an opinion as to the merits of his work, nor is it necessary. His place as naturalist, woodsman, artist, author, has long since been accorded him, anvd he himself says: '* My enemies have been few, and my friends numerous." I have tried only to put Audubon the man before my readers, and in his own words so far as possible, that they may know what he was, not what others thought he was. M. R. A. Ill THE m Orleans on the p quis de Audubor in the g( Jean Au( here som of the la time witl named th Since the other owr there are landmark' Audub( words in ' but of his year, have children, ' Audubon however, i one of th< 1 "My nan never sign ex( my father's d( bone, 1827.) Laforest. AUDUBON THE village of Mandcville in the parish of St. Tam- many, Louisiana, is about twenty miles from New Orleans on the north shore of Lake Ponchartrain. Here, on the plantation of the same name, owned by the Mar- quis de Mandeville de Marigny, John James Laforest Audubon^ was born, the Marquis having lent his home, in the generous southern fashion, to his friend Admiral Jean Audubon, who, with his Spanish Creole wife, lived here some months. In the same house, towards the close of the last century, Louis Philippe found refuge for a time with the ever hospitable Marigny family, and he named the beautiful plantation home " Fontainebleau." Since then changes innumerable have come, the estate has other owners, the house has gone, those who once dwelt there are long dead, their descendants scattered, the old landmarks obliterated. Audubon has given a sketch of his father in his own words in " Myself," which appears in the pages following; but of his mother little indeed is known. Only within the year, have papers come into the hands of her great-grand- children, which prove her surname to have been Rabin. Audubon himself tells of her tragic death, which was not, however, in the St. Domingo insurrection of 1793, but in one of the local uprisings of the slaves which were of ^ " My name is John James Laforest Audubon. The name Laforest I never sign except when writing to my wife, and she is the only being, since my father's death, who calls me by it." (Letter of Audubon to Mrs. Rath- bone, 1827.) All Mrs. Audubon's letters to her husband address him as Laforest. AUDUBON frequent occurrence in that beautiful island, whose history is too dark to dwell upon. Beyond this nothing can be found relating to the mother, whom Audubon lost before he was old enough to remember her, except that in 1822 one of the family Marigny told my father, John Woodhouse Audubon, then a boy of ten, who with his parents was living in New Orleans, that she was "une dame d'une beaut6 incomparable et avec beaucoup de fiert^." It may seem strange that nothing more can be found regarding this lady, but it is to be remembered these were troublous days, when stormy changes were the rule ; and the roving and adventurous sailor did not, I presume, encumber himself with papers. To these circumstances also it is probably due that the date of Audubon's birth is not known, and must always remain an open question. In his journals and letters various allusions are made to his age, and many passages bearing on the matter are found, but with one exception no two agree ; he may have been born anywhere between 1772 and 1783, and in the face of this uncertainty the date usually given. May 5, 1780, may be accepted, though the true one is no doubt earlier. The attachment between Audubon and his father was of the strongest description, as the long and affectionate, if somewhat infrequent letters, still in the possession of the family, fully demonstrate. When the Admiral was retired from active service, he lived at La Gerb^ti^re in France with his second wife, Anne Moynette, until his death, on February 19, 1818, at the great age of ninety-five. In this home near the Loire, Audubon spent his happy boyhood and youth, dearly beloved and loving, and receiv- ing the best education time and place afforded. As the boy grew older and more advantages were desired for him, came absences when he was at school in La Rochelle and Paris ; but La Gerb^ti^re was his home till in early manhood he returned to America, the land he loved above AUDUBON all others, as his journals show repeatedly. The impress of the years in France was never lost ; he always had a strong French accent, he possessed in a marked degree the adaptability to circumstances which is a trait of that nation, and his disposition inherited from both parents was elated or depressed by a trifle. He was quick-tem- pered, enthusiastic, and romantic, yet affectionate, forgiv- ing, and with unlimited industry and perseverance ; he was generous to every one with time, money, and possessions ; nothing was too good for others, but his own personal requirements were of the simplest character. His life shows all this and more, better than words of mine can tell; and as the only account of his years till he left Henderson, Ky., in 1 8 19, is in his own journal, it is given here in full.^ Myself.2 The precise period of my birth is yet an enig'.tia to me, and I can only say what I have often heard my father repeat to me on this subject, which is as follows : It seems that my father had large properties in Santo Domingo, and was in the habit of visit- ing frequently that portion of our Southern States called, and known by the name of, Louisiana, then owned by the French Government. During one of these excursions he married a lady of Spanish extraction, whom I have been led to understand was as beautiful as she was wealthy, and otherwise attractive, and who bore my father three sons and a daughter, — I being the youngest of the sons and the only one v/no survived extreme youth. My mother, soon after ray birth, ar companied my father to the estate of Aux Cayes, on the island cf Santo Dommgo, and she was one of the victims during the ever-to-be-lamented period of the negro insurrection of that island. * This manuscript was found in an old book which had been in a barn on Statcn Island for years. ' Reprinted from Scribner's Magazine, March, 1893, p. 267. A few errors in names and dates are now corrected. 8 AUDUBON m U My father, through the intervention of some faithful servants, escaped from Aux Cayes with a good portion of his plate and money, and with me and these humble friends reached New Orleans in safety. From this place he took me to France, where, having married the only mother I have ever known, he left me under her charge and returned to the United States in the employ of the French Government, acting as an officer under Admiral Rochambeau. Shortly afterward, however, he landed in the United States and became attached to the army under La Fayette. The first of my recollective powers placed me in the central portion of the city of Nantes, on the Loire River, in France, where I still recollect particularly that I was much cherished by my dear stepmother, who had no children of her own, and that I was constantly attended by one or two black servants, who had followed my father from Santo Domingo to New Orleans and afterward to Nantes. One incident which is as perfect in my memory as if it had occurred this very day, I have thought of thousands of times since, and will now put on paper as one of the curious things which perhaps did lead me in after times to love birds, and to finally study them with pleasure infinite. My mother had several beautiful parrots and some monkeys ; one of the latter was a full- grown male of a very large species. One morning, while the ser- vants were engaged in arranging the room I was in, " Pretty Polly " asking for her breakfast as usual, ^^ Du pain au lait pour le perroquet Mignonne" the man of the woods probably thought the bird presuming upon his rights in the scale of nature ; be this as it may, he certainly showed his supremacy in strength over the denizen of the air, for, walking deliberately and uprightly toward the poor bird, he at once killed it, with unnatural composure. The sensations of my infant heart at this cruel sight were agony to me. I prayed the servant to beat the monkey, but he, who for some reason preferred the monkey to the parrot, refused. I uttered long and piercing cries, my mother rushed into the room, I was tranquillized, the monkey was forever afterward chained, and Mignonne buried with all the pomp of a cherished lost one. AUDUBON This made, as I have said, a very deep impression on my youthful mind. But now, my dear children, I must tell you some- what of my father, and of his parentage. John Audubon, my grandfather, was born and lived at the small village of Sable d'Olhonne, and was by trade a very humble fisherman. He appears to have made up for the want of wealth by the number of his children, twenty-one of whom he actually raised to man and womanhood. All were sons, with one excep- tion ; my aunt, one uncle, and my father, who was the twentieth son, being the only members of that extraordinary numerous family who lived to old age. In subsequent years, when I visited Sable d'Olhonne, the old residents assured me that they had seen the whole family, including both parents, at church many times. When my father had reached the age of twelve years, his father presented him with a shirt, a dress of coarse material, a stick, and his blessing, and urged him to go and seek means for his future support and sustenance. Some kind whaler or cod-fisherman took him on board as a " Boy." Of his life during his early voyages it would be useless to trouble you ; let it suffice for me to say that they were of the usual most uncomfortable nature. How many trips he made I cannot say, but he told me that by the time he was seventeen he had become an able seaman before the mast ; when twenty-one he commanded a fishing-smack, and went to the great Newfound- land Banks; at twenty-five he owned several small crafts, all fishermen, and at twenty-eight sailed for Santo Domingo with his little flotilla heavily loaded with the produce of the deep. " For- tune," said he to me one day, " now began to smile upon me. I did well in this enterprise, and after a few more voyages of the same sort gave up the sea, and purchased a small estate on the Isle i Vaches ; ^ the prosperity of Santo Domingo was at its zenith, and in the course of ten years I had realized something very con- siderable. The then Governor gave me an appointment which called me to France, and having .ved some favors there, I became once more a seafaring man, the government having granted me the command of a small vessel of war." ' * Isle 4 Vache, eight miles south of Aux Cayes. 8 This vessel was the " Annelle." y\. 10 AUDUBON How long my father remained in the service, it is impos- sible for me to say. The different changes occurring at the time of the American Revolution, and afterward during that in France, seem to have sent him from one place to another as if a foot-ball; his property in Santo Domingo augmenting, how- ever, the while, and indeed till the liberation of the black slaves there. During a visit he paid to Pennsylvania when suffering from the effects of a sunstroke, he purchased the beautiful farm of Mill Grove, on the Schuylkill and Perkiomen streams. At this place, and a few days only before the memorable battle (j^V) of Valley Forge, General Washington presented him with his portrait, now in my possession ; and highly do I value it as a memento of that noble man and the glories of those days.^ At the conclusion of the war between England and her child of the West, my father returned to France and continued in the employ of the naval de- partment of that country, being at one time sent to Plymouth, England, in a seventy-five-gun ship to exchange prisoners. This was, I think, in the short peace that took place between Eng- land and France in 1801. He returned to Rochefort, where he lived for several years, still in the employ of government. He finally sent in his resignation and returned to Nantes and La Gerb^ti^re. He had many severe trials and afflictions before his death, having lost my two older brothers early in the French Revolution ; both were officers in the army. His only sister was killed by the Chouans of La Vendue," and the only brother he had was not on good terms with him. This brother resided at ^ The family still own this portrait, of which Victor G. Audubon writes : " This portrait is probably the first one taken of that great and good man, and although the drawing is hard, the coloring and costume are correct, I have no doubt. It was copied by Greenhow, the sculptor, when he was preparing to model his ' Washington ' for the Capitol, and he considered it as a valuable addition to the material already obtained. This por- trait was painted by an artist named Polk, but who or what he was, I know not." ' There still remain those who recall how Audubon would walk up and down, snapping his fingers, a habit he had when excited, when relating how he had seen his aunt tied to a wagon and dragged through the streets of Nantes in the time of Carrier. AUDUBON II Bayonne, and, I believe, had a large family, none of whom I have ever seen or known. ^ In personal appearance my father and I were of the same height and stature, say about five feet ten inches, erect, and with muscles of steel ; his manners were those of a most polished gentleman, for those and his natural understanding had been care- fully improved both by observation and by self-education. In tem- per we much resembled each other also, being warm, irascible, and at times violent ; but it was like the blast of a hurricane, dreadful for a time, when calm almost instantly returned. He greatly approved of the charge in France during the time of Napoleon, whom he almost idolized. My father died in 1818, regretted most de- servedly on account of his simplicity, truth, and perfect sense of honesty. Now I must return to myself. My stepmother, who was devotedly attached to me, far too much so for my good, was desirous that I should be brought up to live and die " like a gentleman," thinking that fine clothes and filled pockets were the only requisites needful to attain this end. She therefore completely spoiled me, hid my faults, boasted to every one of my youthful merits, and, worse than all, said fre- quently in my presence that I was the handsomest boy in France. All my wishes and idle notions were at once gratified ; she went so far as actually to grant me carte blanche at all the confection- ery shops in the town, and also of the village of Cou^ron, where during the summer we lived, as it were, in the country. My father was quite of another, and much more valuable description of mind as regarded my future welfare ; he believed not in the power of gold coins as efficient means to render a man happy. He spoke of the stores of the mind, and having suffered much himself through the want of education, he ordered that I should be put to school, and have teachers at home. " Revolu- tions," he was wont to say, " too often take place in the lives of individuals, and they are apt to lose in one day the fortune they before possessed; but talents and knowledge, added to sound mental training, assisted by honest industry, can never fail, nor be * This brother left three daughters ; only one married, and her descen- dants, if any, cannot be traced. ir 12 A UDUBON liii" ili'lill taken from any one once the possessor of such valuable means." 1 "lerefore, notwithstanding all my mother's entreaties and her teai.. off to a school I was sent. Excepting only, perhaps, mili- tary s< hools, none were good in France at this period ; the thun- ders < f the Revolution still roared over the land, the Revolutionists covered the earth with the blood of man, woman, and child. But let me forever drop the curtain over the frightful aspect of this dire picture. To think of these dreadful days is too terrible, and would be too horrible and painful for me to relate to you, my dear sons. The school I went to was none of the best ; my private teachers were the only means through which I acquired the least benefit. My father, who had been for so long a seaman, and who was then in the French navy, wished me to follow in his steps, or else to become an engineer. For this reason I studied drawing, geog- raphy, mathematics, fencing, etc., as well as music, for which I had considerable talent. I had a good fencing-master, and a first-rate teacher of the violin ; mathematics was hard, dull work, I thought ; geography pleased me more. For my other studies, as well as for dancing, I was quite enthusiastic ; and I well recol- lect how anxious I was then to become the commander of a corps of dragoons. My father being mostly absent on duty, my mother suffered me to do much as I pleased ; it was therefore not to be wondered at that, instead of applying closely to my studies, I preferred asso- ciating with boys of my own age and disposition, who were more fond of going in search of birds' nests, fishing, or shooting, than of better studies. Thus almost every day, instead of going to school when I ought to have gone, I usually made for the fields, where I spent the day ; my little basket went with me, filled with good eatables, and when I returned home, during either winter or summer, it was replenished with what I called curiosities, such as birds' nests, birds' eggs, curious lichens, flowers of all sorts, and even pebbles gathered along the shore of some rivulet. The first time my father returned from sea after this my room exhibited quite a show, and on entering it he was so pleased to see my various collections that he complimented me on my taste for such t I, like a c word. D her playin he preseni on my vio it was strii any drawi My good f a tune lefl father and were fasten tilion was pocket, an thoughts. After son My father h hibited in h we alighted stopped his his hat and syllable reac The hous to go on as by his side, beloved boy may be able have ample ployed with and as I mus the fine ship: pany me." sented to ev less, I saw m prisoner-of-w My best ar or Vice-Adm AUDUBON 13 i for such things : but when he inquired what else I had done, and I, Hke a culprit, hung my head, he left me without saying another word. Dinner over he asked my sister for some music, and, on her playing for him, he was so pleased with her improvement that he presented her with a beautiful book. I was next asked to play on my violin, but alas 1 for nearly a month I had not touched it, it was stringless ; not a word was said on that, subject. ** Had I any drawings to show?" Only a few, and those not good. My good father looked at his wife, kissed my sister, and humming a tune left the room. The next morning at dawn of day my father and I were under way in a private carriage ; my trunk, etc., were fastened to it, my vioiin-case was under my feet, the pos- tilion was ordered to proceed, my father took a book from his pocket, and while he silently read I was left entirely to my own thoughts. After some days' travelling we entered the gates of Rochefort. My father had scarcely spoken to me, yet there was no anger ex- hibited in his countenance ; nay, as we reached the house where we alighted, and approached the door, near which a sentinel stopped his walk and presented arms, I saw him smile as he raised his hat and said a few words to the man, but so low that not a syllable reached my ears. The house was furnished with servants, and everything seemed to go on as if the owner had not left it. My father bade me sit by his side, and taking one of my hands calmly said to me : " My beloved boy, thou art now safe. I have brought thee here that I may be able to pay constant attention to thy studies ; thou shalt have ample time for pleasures, but the remainder must be em- ployed with industry and care. This day is entirely thine own, and as I must attend to my duties, if thou wishest to see the docks, the fine ships-of-war, and walk round the wall, thou may'st accom- pany me." I accepted, and off together we went; I was pre- sented to every officer we met, and they noticing me more or less, I saw much that day, yet still I perceived that I was like a prisoner-of-war on parole in the city of Rochefort. My best and most amiable companion was the son of Admiral, or Vice-Admiral (I do not precisely recollect his rank) Vivien, 'm 14 AUDUBON ,l!i iiii who lived nearly opposite to the house where my father and I then resided ; his company I much enjoyed, and with him all my leisure hours were spent. About this time my father was sent to England in a corvette with a view to exchange prisoners, and he sailed on board the man-ol-war " L'Institution " for Plymouth. Previous to his sailing he placed nie imder the charge of his secretary, Gabriel Loyen Dupuy Gaudeau, the son of a fallen nobleman. Now this gentleman was of no pleasing nature to me j he was, in fact, more than too strict and severe in all his pre- scriptions to me, and well do I recollect that one morning, after having been set to a very arduous task in mathematical problems, I gave him the slip, jumped from the window, and ran off through the gardens attached to the Marine Secretariat. The unfledged bird may stand for a while on the border of its nest md perhaps open its winglets and attempt to soar away, but his youthful im- prudence may, and indeed often does, prove inimical to his prowess, as some more wary and older bird, that has kept an eye toward him, pounces relentlessly upon the young adventurer and secures him within the grasp of his more powerful talons. This was the case with me in this instance. I had leaped from the door of my cage and thought myself quite safe, while I rambled thoughtlessly beneath the shadow of the trees in the garden and grounds in which I found myself; but the secretary, with a side glance, had watched my escape, and, ere many minutes had elapsed, I saw coming toward me a corporal with whom, in fact, I was well acquainted. On nearing me, and I did not attempt to escape, our past familiarity was, I found, quite evaporated ; he bid me, in a severe voice, to follow him, and on my being presented to my father's secretary I was at once ordered on board the pontoon in port. All remonstrances proved fruitless, and on board the pontoon I was conducted, and there left amid such a medley of culprits as I cannot describe, and of whom, indeed, I have but little recollection, save that I felt vile myself in their vile com- pany. My father returned in aue course, and released me from these floating and most disagreeable lodgings, but not without a rather severe reprimand. Shortly after this we returned to Nantes, and later to La AUDUBON IS GerWtifere. My stay here was short, and I went to Nantes to study mathematics anew, and there spent about one year, the remembrance of which has flown from my memory, with the ex- ception of one incident, of which, when I happen to pass my hand over the left side of my head, I am ever and anon reminded. 'T is this : one morning, while playing with boys of my own age, a quarrel arose among us, a battle ensued, in the course of which I was knocked down by a round stone, that brought the blood from that part of my skull, and for a time I lay on the ground uncon- scious, but soon rallying, experienced no lasting effects but the scar. During all these years there existed within me a tendency to follow Nature in her walks. Perhaps not an hour of leisure was spent elsewhere than in woods and fields, and to examine either the eggs, nest, young, or parents of any species of birds consti- tuted my delight. It was about this period that I commenced a series of drawings of the birds of France, which I continued until I had upward of two hundred drawings, all bad enough, my dear sons, yet they were representations of birds, and I felt pleased with them. Hundreds of anecdotes respecting my life at this time might prove interesting to you, but as they are not in my mind at this moment I will leave them, though you may find some of them in the course of the following pages. I was within a few months of being seventeen years old, when my stepmother, who was an earnest Catholic, took into her head that I should be confirmed ; my father agreed. I was surprised and indifferent, but yet as I loved her as if she had been my own mother, — and well did she merit my deepest affection, — I took to the catechism, studied it and other matters pertaining to the cere- mony, and all was performed to her liking. Not long after this, my father, anxious as he was that I should be enrolled in Napoleon's army as a Frenchman, found it necessary to send me back to my own beloved country, the United States of America, and I came with intense and indescribable pleasure. On landing at New York I caught the yellow fever by walking to the bank at Greenwich to get the money to which my father's letter of credit entitled me. The kind man who commanded the i6 AUDUBON ■ W ship that brought me irom France, whose name was a common one, John Smith, took particular charge of me, removed me to Morristown, N. J., and placed me under the care of two Quaker ladies who kept a boarding-house. To their skilful and untiring ministrations I may safely say I owe the prolongation of my life. Letters were forwarded by them to my father's agent, Miers Fisher of Philadelphia, of whom I have more to say hereafter. He came for me in his carriage and removed me to his villa, at a short dis- tance from Philadelphia and on the road toward Trenton. There I would have found myself quite comfortable had not inci'lents taken place which are so connected with the change in my life as to call immediate attention to them. Miers Fisher had been my father's trusted agent for about eighteen years, and the old gentlemen enteitained great mutual friendship ; indeed it would seem that Mr. Fisher was actually desirous that I should become a member of his family, and this was evinced within a few days by the manner in which the good Quaker presented me to a daughter of no mean appearance, but toward whom I happened to take an unconquerable dislike. Then he was opposed to music of all descriptions, f.s well as to dancing, could not bear me to carry a gun, or fishing-rod, and, indeed, condemned most of my amusements. All these things were diffi- culties toward accomplishing a plan which, for aught I know to the contrary, had been premeditated between him and my father, and rankled the heart of the kindly, if somewhat strict Quaker. They troubled me much also ; at times I wished myself anywhere but under the roof of Mr. Fisher, and at last I reminded him that it was his duty to install me on the estate to which my father had sent me. One morning, therefore, I was told that the carriage was ready to carry me there, and toward my future home he and I went. You are too well acquainted with the position of Mill Grove for me to allude to that now ; suffice it to say that we reached the former abode of my father about sunset. I was presented to our tenant, William Thomas, who also was a Quaker, and took possession under certain restrictions, which amounted to my not receiving more than enough money per quarter than was ^!ll u u y. •A o O o •/} /^ o as ■ I w' 1 ilii III ^ * ,S considered man. Miers F my blessing this was on for he certi ever to me ceived the l round the fi trees, as wt The mill wj you too rem failed to fine Hunting, moment ; c£ purchased e bors as I f could be. / informed or plantation ni well, and mt teresting dat cared not a in sight of was merely Schuylkill Rh had called oi the woods ir go shooting \ and I such a against all of weeks, which Mrs. Thom subject, as w( English was I on that, and i mained unack: VOL. I mm AUDUBON 17 considered sufficient for the expenditure of a young gentle- man. Miers Fisher left me the next morning, and after him went my blessings, for I thought his departure a true deliverance ; yet this was only because our tastes and educations were so different, for he certainly was a good and learned man. Mill Grove was ever to me a blessed spot ; in my daily walks I thought I per- ceived the traces left by my father as I looked on the even fences round the fields, or on the regular manner with which avenues of trees, as well as the orchards, had been planted by his hand. The mill was also a source of joy to me, and in the cave, which you too remember, where the Pewees were wont to build, I never failed to find quietude and delight. Hunting, fishing, drawing, and music occupied my every moment ; cares I knew not, and cared naught about them. I purchased excellent and beautiful horses, visited all such neigh- bors as I found congenial spirits, and was as happy as happy could be. A few months after my arrival at Mill Grove, I was informed one day that an English family had purchased the plantation next to mine, that the name of the owner was Bake- well, and moreover that he had several very handsome and in- teresting daughters, and beautiful pointer dogs. I listened, but cared not a jot about them at the time. The place was with- in sight of Mill Grove, and Fatland Ford, as it was called, was merely divided from my estate by a road leading to the Schuylkill River. Mr. William Bakewell, the father of the family, had called on me one day, but, finding I was rambling in the woods in search of birds, left a card and an invitation to go shooting with him. Now this gentleman was an Englishman, and I such a foolish boy that, entertaining the greatest prejudices against all of his nationality, I did not return his visit for many weeks, which was as absurd as it was ungentlemanly and impolite. Mrs. Thomas, good soul, more than once spoke to me on the subject, as well as her worthy husband, but all to no import; English was English with me, my poor childish mind was settled on that, and as I wished to know none of the race the call re- mained unacknowledged. VOL. I. — 2 1 1 m I ' I i8 AUDUBON • Frosty weather, however, came, and anon was the ground covered with the deep snow. Grouse were abundant along the fir-covered ground near the creek, and as I was in pursuit of game one frosty morning I chanced to meet Mr. Bakewell in the woods. I was struck with the kind politeness of his manner, and found him an expert marksman. Entering into conversation, I admired the beauty of his well-trained dogs, and, apologizing for my discourtesy, finally promised to call upon him and his family. Well do I recollect the morning, and may it please God that I may never forget it, when for the first time I entered Mr. Bake- well's dwelling. It happened that he was absent from home, and I was shown into a parlor where only one young lady was snugly seated at her work by the fire. She rose on my entrance, offered me a seat, and assured me of the gratification her father would feel on his return, which, she added, would be in a few moments, as she would despatch a servant for him. Other ruddy cheeks and bright eyes made their transient appearance, but, like spirits gay, soon vanished from my sight ; and there I sat, my gaze riveted, as it were, on the young girl before me, who, half working, half talking, essayed to make the time pleasant to me. Oh ! may God bless her ! It was she, my dear sons, who afterward became my beloved wife, and your mother. Mr. Bake- well soon made his appearance, and received me with the manner and hospitality of a true English gentleman. The other members of the family were soon introduced to me, and " Lucy " was told to have lunc'ieon produced. She now arose from her seat a second tine, ..nd her form, to which I had previously paid out partial atteatioi., showed both grace and beauty; and my heart followed every one of her steps. The repast over, guns and dogs were made ready. Lucy, I was pleased to believe, looked upon me with some favor, and I turned more especially to her on leaving. I felt that certain "Je ne sais quoi " which intimated that, at least, she was not indifferent to me. To speak of the many shooting parties that took place with Mr. Bakewell would be quite useless, and I shall merely say that A UDUBON 19 ■i \ % : he was a most excellent man, a great shot, and possessed of ex- traordinary learning — aye, far beyond my comprehension. A few days after this first interview with the family the Perkiomen chanced to be bound with ice, and many a one from the neighbor- hood was playing pranks on the glassy surface of that lovely stream. Being somewhat of a skater myself, I sent a note to the inhabi- tants of Fatland Ford, inviting them to come and partake of the simple hospitality of Mill Grove farm, and the invitation was kindly received and accepted. My own landlady bestirred her- self to the utmost in the procuring of as many pheasants and partridges as her group of sons could entrap, and now under my own roof was seen the whole of the Bakewell family, seated round the table which has never ceased to be one of simplicity and hospitality. After dinner we all repaired to the ice on the creek, and there in comfortable sledges, each fair one was propelled by an ardent skater. Tales of love may be extremely stupid to the majority, so that I will not expatiate on these days, but to me, my dear sons, and under such circumstances as then, and, thank God, now exist, every moment was to me one of delight. But let me interrupt my tale to tell you somewhat of other companions whom I have heretofore neglected to mention. These are two Frenchmen, by name Da Costa and Colmesnil. A lead mine had been discovered by my tenant, William Thomas, to which, besides the raising of fowls, I paid considerable atten- tion; but I knew nothing of mineralogy or mining, and my father, to whom I communicated the discovery of the mine, sent Mr. Da Costa as a partner and partial guardian from France. This fellow was intended to teach me mineralogy and mining engineering, but, in fact, knew nothing of either ; besides which he was a covetous wretch, who did all he could to niin my father, and indeed swindled both of us to a large amount. I had to go to France and expose him to my father to get rid of him, which I fortunately accomplished at first sight of my kind parent. A greater scoundrel than Da Costa never probably existed, but peace be with his soul. The other, Colmesnil, was a very interesting young Frenchman 20 AUDUBON with whom I became acquainted. He was very poor, and I invited him to come and reside under my roof. This he did, remaining for many months, much to my delight. His appear- ance was typical of what he was, a perfect gentleman ; he was handsome in form, and possessed of talents far above my own. When introduced to your mother's family he was much thought of, and at one time he thought himself welcome to my Lucy ; but it was only a dream, and when once undeceived by her whom I too loved, he told me he must part with me. This we did with mutual regret, and he returned to France, where, though I have lost sight of him, I believe he is still living. During the winter connected with this event your uncle Thomas Bakewell, now residing in Cincinnati, was one morning skating with me on the Perkiomen, when he challenged me to shoot at his hat as he tossed it in the air, which challenge I ac- cepted with great pleasure. I was to pass by at full speed, within about twenty-five feet of where he stood, and to shoot only when he gave the word. Off I went like lightning, up and down, as if anxious to boast of my own prowess while on the glittering sur- face beneath my feet \ coming, however, within the agreed distance the signal was given, the trigger pulled, off went the load, and down on the ice came the hat of my future brother-in- law, as completely perforated as if a sieve. He repented, alas ! too late, and was afterward severely reprimanded by Mr. Bakewell. Another anecdote I must relate to you on paper, which I have probably too often repeated in words, concerning my skating in those early days of happiness ; but, as the world knows nothing of it, I shall give it to you at some length. It was arranged one morning between your young uncle, myself, and several other friends of the same age, that we should proceed on a duck- shooting excursion up the creek, and, accordingly, ofT we went after an early breakfast. The ice was in capital order wherever no air-holes existed, but of these a great number interrupted our course, all of which were, however, avoided as we proceeded up- ward along the glittering, frozen bosom of the stream. The day was spent in much pleasure, and the game collected was not inconsiderable. O lit -J O J i = 'A o '■it -) H On 01 lead the up, and to their and, as ness car sciously . to check went, anc must, for may, I n yards, wli hole, and out. My suddenly when I en not except by the haii helped to i and comp] ill-fitting gi ever, mucl may be, thi extraordina have writtei Mr. Da ( for your mo of her and c of my rank , the question of this I am so exasperat usual income wrote to my ray friends ^Philadelphia, passage from AUDUBON 21 I On our return, in the early dusk of the evening, 1 was bid to lead the way ; I fastened a white handkerchief to a stick, held it up, and we all proceeded toward home as a flock of wild ducks to their roosting-grounds. Many a mile had already been passed, and, as gayly as ever, we were skating swiftly along when dark- ness came on, and now our speed was increased. Uncon- sciously I happened to draw so very near a large air-hole that to check my headway became quite impossible, and down it I went, and soon felt the power of a most chilling bath. My senses must, for aught I know, have left me for a while ; be this as it may, I must have glided with the stream some thirty or forty yards, when, as God would have it, up I popped at another air- hole, and here I did, in some way or another, manage to crawl out. My companions, who in the gloom had seen my form so suddenly disappear, escaped the danger, and were around me when I emerged from the greatest peril I have ever encountered, not excepting my escape from being murdered on the prairie, or by the hands of that wretch S B , of Henderson. I was helped to a shirt from one, a pair of dry breeches from another, and completely dressed anew in a few minutes, if in motley and ill-fitting garments ; our line of march was continued, with, how- ever, much more circumspection. Let the reader, whoever he may be, think as he may like on this singular and, in truth, most extraordinary escape from death ; it is the truth, and as such I have written it down as a wonderful act of Providence. Mr. Da Costa, my tutor, took it into his head that my affection for your mother was rash and inconsiderate. He spoke triflingly of her and of her parents, and one day said to me that for a man of my rank and expectations to marry Lucy Bakewell was out of the question. If I laughed at him or not I cannot tell you, but of this I am certain, that my answers to his talks on this subject so exasperated him that he immediately afterward curtailed my usual income, made some arrangements to send me to India, and wrote to my father accordingly. Understanding from many of my friends that his plans were fixed, and finally hearing from Philadelphia, whither Da Costa had gone, that he had taken my passage from Philadelphia to Canton, I walked to Philadelphia, f 22 AUDUBON 111! entered his room quite unexpectedly, and asked him for such an amount of money as would enable me at once to sail for France and there see my father. The cunning wretch, for I cannot call him by any other name, smiled, and said: "Certainly, my dear sir," and afterward gave me a letter of credit on a Mr. Kauman, a half-agent, half-banker, then residing at New York. I returned to Mill Grove, made all preparatory plans for my departure, bid a sad adieu to my Lucy and her family, and walked to New York. But never mind the journey ; it was winter, the country lay under a covering of snow, but withal I reached New York on the third day, late in the evening. Once there, I made for the house of a Mrs. Palmer, a lady of excellent qualities, who received me with the utmost kindness, and later on the same evening I went to the house of your grand-uncle, Benjamin Bakewell, then a rich merchant of New York, managing the concerns of the house of Guelt, bankers, of IjOndon. I was the bearer of a letter from Mr. Bakewell, of Fat- land Ford, to this brother of his, and there I was again most kindly received and housed. The next day I called on Mr, Kauman ; he read Da Costa's letter, smiled, and after a while told me he had nothing to give me, and in plain terms said that instead of a letter of credit. Da Costa — that rascal ! — had written and advised him to have me arrested and shipped to Canton. The blood rose to my temples, and well it was that I had no weapon about me, for I feel even now quite assured that his heart must have received the result of my wrath. I left him half bewildered, half mad, and went to Mrs. Palmer, and spoke to her of my purpose of returning at once to Philadelphia and there certainly murdering Da Costa. Women have great power over me at any time, and perhaps under all cir- cumstances. Mrs. Palmer quieted me, spoke religiously of the cruel sin I thought of committing, and, at last, persuaded me to relinquish the direful plan. I returned to Mr. Bakewell's low- spirited and mournful, but said not a word about all that had passed. The next morning my sad visage showed something was wrong, and I at last gave vent to my outraged feelings. AUDUBON 23 Benjamin Bakewell was a friend of his brother (may you ever be so toward each other). He comforted me much, went with me to the docks to seek a vessel bound to France, and offered me any sura of money I might require to convey me to my father's house. My passage was taken on board the brig " Hope," of New Bedford, and I sailed in her, leaving Da Costa and Kauman in a most exasperated state of mind. The fact is, these rascals intended to cheat both me and my father. The brig was bound direct for Nantes. We left the Hook under a very fair breeze, and proceeded at a good rate till we reached the latitude of New Bedford, in Massachusetts, when my captain came to me as if in despa.ir, and said he must run into port, as the vessel was so leaky as to force him to have her unloaded and repaired before he proc.eded across the Atlantic. Now this was only a trick; my captain was newly married, and was merely anxious to land at New Bedford to spend a few days with his bride, and had actually caused several holes to be bored below water-mark, which leaked enough to keep the men at the pumps. We came to anchor close to the town of New Bedford ; the cap- tain went on shore, entered a protest, the vessel was unloaded, the apertures bunged up, and after a week, which I spent in being rowed about the beautiful harbor, we sailed for La Belle France. A few days after having lost sight of land we were overtaken by a violent gale, coming fairly on our quarter, and before it we scudded at an extraordinary rate, and during the dark night had the misfortune to lose a fine young sailor over- board. At one part of the sea we passed through an immensity of dead fish floating on the surface of the water, and, after nine- teen days from New Bedford, we had entered the Loire, and anchored off Painboeuf, the lower harbor of Nantes. On sending my name to the principal officer of the customs, he came on board, and afterward sent me to my father's villa, I^a Gerb^tifere, in his barge, and with his own men, and late that evening I was in the arms of my beloved parents. Although I had written to them previous to leaving America, the rapidity of my voyage had prevented them hearing of my intentions, and to them my appearance was sudden and unexpected. Most wel- 24 AUDUBON come, however, I was ; I found my father hale and hearty, and chere maman as fair and good as ever. Adored maman, peace be with thee ! I cannot trouble you with minute accounts of my life in France for the following two years, but will merely tell you that my first object being that of having Da Costa disposed of, this was first effected ; the next was my father's consent to my marriage, and this was acceded to as soon as my good father had received answers to letters written to your grandfather, William Bakewell. In the very lap of comfort my time was happily spent ; I went out shooting and hunting, drew every bird I procured, as well as many other objects of natural history and zoology, though these were not the subjects I had studied under the instruction of the celebrated David. It was during this visit that my sister Rosa was married to Gabriel Dupuy Gaudeau, and I now also became acquainted with Ferdinand Rozier, whom you well know. Between Rozier and myself my father formed a partnership to stand good for nine years in America. France was at that time in a great state of convulsion ; the re- public had, as it were, dwindled into a half monarchical, half democratic era. Bonaparte was at the height of success, over- flowing the country as the mountain torrent overflows the plains in its course. Levies, or conscriptions, were the order of the day, and my name being French my father felt uneasy lest I should be forced to take part in the political strife of those days. I underwent a mockery of an examination, and was received as midshipman in the navy, went to Rochefort, was placed on board a man-of-war, and ran a short cruise. On my return, my father had, in some way, obtained passports for Rozier and me, and we sailed for New York. Never can I forget the day when, at fit. Nazaire, an officer came on board to examine the papers of the many passengers. On looking at mine he said : " My dear Mr. Audubon, I wish you joy ; would to God that I had such papers ; how thankful I should be to leave unhappy France under the same passport." I Abou I We weri gained c ward of passed w but kept floating i the eneni her broai instantant leaped or for the ca] over the w The ves: was what J nothing but accordance therefore w ofiicers who thing that w sheep, cofTe despite all t Congress, J charm ingyoi 'ee, and aim ransacking tl the run bene removed the] that I placed in some cloth It remained depart, which commander o his wife with h After this re thirty miles of '"The Poll AUDUBON 25 ■*s About a fortnight after leaving France a vessel gave us chase. We were running before the wind under all sail, but the unknown gained on us at a great rate, and after a while stood to the wind- ward of our ship, about half a mile off. She fired a gun, the ball passed within a few yards of our bows ; our captain heeded not, but kept on his course, with the United States flag displayed and floating in the breeze. Another and another shot was fired at us j the enemy closed upon us ; all the passengers expected to receive her broadside. Our commander hove to : a boat was almost instantaneously lowered and alongside our vessel ; ^ two officers leaped on board, with about a dozen mariners ; the first asked for the captain's papers, while the lal>.vr with his men kept guard over the whole. The vessel which had pursued us was the " Rattlesnake " and was what I believe i? generally called a privateer, which means nothing but a pirate ; every one of the papers proved to be in perfect accordance with the laws existing between England and America, therefore we were not touched nor molested, but the English officers who had come on board robbed the ship of almost every- thing that was nice in the way of provisions, took our pigs and sheep, coffee and wines, and carried off our two best sailors despite all the remonstrances made by one of our members of Congress, I think from Virginia, who was accompanied by a charming young daughter. The " Rattlesnake " kept us under her lee, and almost within pistol-shot, for a whole day and night, ransacking the ship for money, of which we had a good deal in the run beneath a ballast of stone. Although this was partially removed they did not find the treasure. I may here tell you that I placed the gold belonging to Rozier and myself, wrapped in some clothing, under a cable in the bow of the ship, and there it remained snug till the "Rattlesnake" had given us leave to depart, which you may be sure we did without thanks to her commander or crew; we were afterward told the former had his wife with him. After this rencontre we sailed on till we came to within about thirty miles of the entrance to the bay of New York," when we ^ " The Polly," Captain Sammis commander. ^ ^ay 26, 1806. 26 AUDUBON passed a fishing-boat, from which we were hailed and told that two British frigates lay off the entrance of the Hook, had fired an Amer- ican ship, shot a man, and impressed so many of our seamen that to attempt reaching New York might prove to be both unsafe and unsuccessful. Our captain, on hearing this, put about immedi- ately, and sailed for the east end of Long Island Sound, which we entered uninterrupted by any other enemy than a dreadful gale, which drove us on a sand-bar in the Sound, but from which we made off unhurt during the height of the tide and finally reached New York. I at once called on your uncle Benjamin Bakewell, stayed with him a day, and proceeded at as swift a rate as possible to Fat- land Ford, accompanied by Ferdinand Rozier. Mr. Da Costa was at once dismissed from his charge. I saw my dear Lucy, and was again my own master. Perhaps it would be well for me to give you some slight in- formation respecting my mode of life in those days of my youth, and I shall do so without gloves. I was what in plain terms may be called extremely extravagant. I had no vices, it is true, neither had I any high aims. I was ever fond of shooting, fish- ing, and riding on horseback ; the raising of fowls of every sort was one of my hobbies, and to reach the maximum of my desires in those different things filled every one of my thoughts. I was ridiculously fond of dress. To have seen me going shooting in black satin smallclothes, or breeches, with silk stockings, and the finest rufiled shirt Philadelphia could afford, was, as I now realize, an absurd spectacle, but it was one of my many foibles, and I shall not conceal it. I purchased the best horses in the country, and rode well, and felt proud of it ; my guns and fishing-tackle were equally good, always expensive and richly ornamented, often with silver. Indeed, though in America, I cut as many foolish pranks as a young dandy in Bond Street or Piccadilly. I was extremely fond of music, dancing, and drawing ; in all I had been well instructed, and not an opportunity was lost to con- firm my propensities in those accomplishments. I was, like most young men, filled with the love of amusement, and not a ball, a skating-match, a house or riding party took place without me. AUDUBON 27 Withal, and fortunately for me, I was not addicted to gambling ; cards I disliked, and I had no other evil practices. I was, be- sides, temperate to an intemperate degree. I lived, until the day of my union with your mother, on milk, fruits, and vegetables, with the addition of game and fish at times, but never had I swallowed a single glass of wine or spirits until the day of my wedding. The result has been my uncommon, indeed iron, constitution. This was my constant mode of life ever since my earliest recollection, and while in France it was extrem 'y annoying to all those round me. Indeed, so much did it inhuence me that I never went to dinners, merely because when so situated my peculiarities in my choice of food occasioned comment, and also bee, 1 use often not a single dish was to my taste or fancy, and I could eat nothing from the sumptuous tables before me. Pies, puddings, eggs, milk, or cream was all I cared for in the way of food, and many a time have I robbed my tenant's wife, Mrs. Thomas, of the cream in- tended to make butter for the Philadelphia market. All this time I was as fair and as rosy as a girl, though as strong, indeed stronger than most young men, and as active as a buck. And why, have I thought a thousand times, should I not have kept to that delicious mode of living? and why should not mankind in general be more abstemious than mankind is? Before I sailed for France I had begun a series of drawings of the birds of America, and had also begun a study of their habits. I at first drew my subjects dead, by which I mean to say that, after procuring a specimen, I hung it up either by the head, wing, or foot, and copied it as closely as I possibly could. In my drawing of birds only did I interest Mr. Da Costa. He always commended my efforts, nay he even went farther, for one morning, while I was drawing a figure of the Ardea herodias^ he assured me the time might come when I should be a great Amer- ican naturalist. However curious it may seem to the scientific world that these sayings from the lips of such a man should affect me, I assure you they had great weight with me, and I felt a certain degree of pride in these words even then. Too young and too useless to be married, your grandfather * Great Blue Heron. 28 AUDUBON William Bakewell advised me to study the mercantile business j my father approved, and to insure this training under the best auspices I went to New York, where 1 entered as a clerk for your great-uncle Benjamin Bakewell, while Rozier went to a French house at Philadelphia. The mercantile business did not suit me. The very first ven- ture which I undertook was in indigo ; it cost me several hundred pounds, the whole of which was lost. Rozier was no more fortu- nate than I, for he shipped a cargo of hams to the West Indies, and not more than one-fifth of the cost was returned. Yet I suppose we both obtained a smattering of business. Time passed, and at last, on April 8th, i8o8, your mother and I were married by the Rev. Dr. Latimer, of Philadelphia, and the next morning left Fatland Ford and Mill Grove for Louisville, Ky. For some two years previous to this, Rozier and I had visited the country from time to time as merchants, had thought well of it, and liked it exceedingly. Its fertility and abundance, the hospi- tality and kindness of the people were sufficiently winning things to entice any one to go there with a view to comfort and happiness. We had marked Louisville as a spot designed by nature to be- come a place of great importance, and, had we been as wise as we now are, I might never have published the " Birds of America ; " for a few hundred dollars laid out at that period, in lands or town lots near Louisville, would, if left to grow over with grass to a date ten years past (this being 1835), have become an immense fortune. But young heads are on young shoulders ; it was not to be, and who cares ? On our way to Pittsburg, we met with a sad accident, that nearly cost the life of your mother. The coach upset on the mountains, and she was severely, but fortunately not fatally hurt. We floated down the Ohio in a flatboat, in company with several other young families ; we had many goods, and opened a large store at Louisville, which went on prosperously when I attended to it ; but birds were birds then as now, and my thoughts were ever and anon turning toward them as the objects of my greatest delight. I shot, I drew, I looked on nature only ; my days were happy beyond human conception, and beyond this I really cared not. AUDUBON 29 Victor was born June 12, 1809, at Gwathway's Hotel of the Indian Queen. We had by this time formed the acquaintance of many persons in and about Louisville ; the country was settled by planters and farmers of the most benevolent and hospitable nature ; and my young wife, who possessed talents far above par, was regarded as a gem, and received by them all with the great- est pleasure. All the sportsmen and hunters were fond of me, and I became their companion ; my fondness for fine horsr:? vas well kept up, and I had as good as the country — and the coun- try was Kentucky — could afford. Our most intimate friends were the Tarascons and the Berthouds, at Louisville and Shipping- port. The simplicity and whole-heartedness of those days I cannot describe ; man was man, and each, one to another, a brother. I seldom passed a day without drawing a bird, or noting something respecting its habits, Rozier meantime attending the counter. I could relate many curious anecdotes about him, but never mind them ; he made out to grow rich, and what more could he wish for? In 1 810 Alexander Wilson the naturalist — not the American naturalist — called upon me.^ About 181 2 your uncle Thomas W. Bakewell sailed from New York or Philadelphia, as a partner of mine, and took with him all the disposable money which I had at that time, and there [New Orleans] opened a mercantile house under the name of " Audubon & Bakewell." Merchants crowded to Louisville from all our Eastern cities. None of them were, as I was, intent on the study of birds, but all were deeply impressed with the value of dollars. Louisville did not give us up, but we gave up Louisville. I could not bear to give the attention required by my business, and which, indeed, every business calls for, and, therefore, my business abandoned me. Indeed, I never thought of it beyond the ever-engaging journeys which I was in the habit of taking to Philadelphia or New York to purchase goods ; these journeys I greatly enjoyed, MThis visit passed into history in the published works of each of the great ornithologists, who were never friends. See " Behind the Veil," by Dr. Coues in Bulletin of Nuttall Ornithological Club, Oct., 1880, p. 200. 30 AUDUBON as they afforded me ample means to study birds and their habits as I travelled through the beautiful, the darling forests of Ohio, Kentucky, and Pennsylvania. Were I here to tell you that once, when travelling, and driving several horses before me laden with goods and dollars, I lost sight of the pack-saddles, and the cash they bore, to watch the motions of a warbler, I should only repeat occurrences that hap- pened a hundred times and more in those days. To an ordinary reader this may appear very odd, but it is as true, my dear sons, as it is that I am now scratching this poor book of mine with a miserable iron pen. Rozier and myself still had some business together, but we became discouraged at Louisville, and I longed to have a wilder range ; this made us remove to Henderson, one hundred and twenty-five miles farther down the fair Ohio. We took there the remainder of our stock on hand, but found the country so very new, and so thinly populated that the commonest goods only were called for. I may say our guns and fishing-lines were the principal means of our support, as regards food. John Pope, our clerk, who was a Kentuckian, was a good shot and an excellent fisherman, and he and I atterded to the pro- curing of game and fish, while Rozier ?gain stood behind the counter. Your beloved mother and I were as happy as possible, the people round loved us, and we them in return ; our profits were enormous, but our sales small, and my partner, who spoke English but badly, suggested that we remove to St. Genevieve, on the the Mississippi River. I acceded to his request to go there, but determined to leave your mo'-her and Victor at Henderson, not being quite sure that our adventure would succeed as we hoped. I therefore placed her and the children under the care of Dr. Rankin and his wife, who had a fine farm about three miles from Henderson, and having arranged our goods on board a large flatboat, my partner and I left Henderson in the month of De- cember, 1810, in a heavy snow-storm. This change in my plans prevented me from going, as I had intended, on a long expedi- tion. In Louisville we had formed the acquaintance of Major Croghan(an old friend of my father's), and of General Jonathan lawapat broke th vJHage 01 for me ; dians, un with my I son, to wl any comn off from a found pie; selling out amount in pJished, I j enough, an( son I was 0 ran the chr her two des this passage found in the Winter wn mines. Nat marvels, the abounded wi at the sights crossed those collecting the one hundred of the time n( fored much a early March, a AUDUBON 31 I Clark, the brother of General William Clark, the first white man who ever crossed the Rocky Mountains. I had engaged to go with him, but was, as I have said, unfortunately prevented. To return to our journey. When we reached Cash Creek we were bound by ice for a few weeks ; we then attempted to ascend the Mississippi, but were again stopped in the great bend called Tawapatee Bottom, where we again planted our camp till a thaw broke the ice.^ In less than six weeks, however, we reached the village of St. Genevieve. I found at once it was not the place for me ; its population was then composed of low French Cana- dians, uneducated and uncouth, and the ever-longing wish to be with my beloved wife and children drew my thoughts to Hender- son, to which I decided to return almost immediately. Scarcely any communication existed between the two places, and I felt cut off from all dearest to me. Rozier, on the contrary, liked it ; he found plenty of French with whom to converse. I proposed selling out to him, a bargain was made, he paid me a certain amount in cash, and gave me bills for the residue. This accom- plished, I purchased a beauty of a horse, for which I paid dear enough, and bid Rozier farewell. On my return trip to Hender- son I was obliged to stop at a humble cabin, where I so nearly ran the chance of losing my life, at the hands of a woman and her two desperate sons, that I have thought fit since to introduce this passage in a sketch called "The Prairie," which is to be found in the first volume of my " Ornithological Biography." Winter was just bursting into spring when I left the land of lead mines. Nature leaped with joy, as it were, at her own new-born marvels, the prairies began to be dotted with beauteous flowers, abounded with deer, and my own heart was filled with happiness at the sights before me. I must not forget to tell you that I crossed those prairies on foot at another time, for the purpose of collecting the money due to me from Rozier, and that I walked one hundred and sixty-five miles in a little over three days, much of the time nearly ankle deep in mud and water, from which I suf- fered much afterward by swollen feet. I reached Henderson in early March, and a few weeks later the lower portions of Kentucky * Episode " Breaking of the Ice." rr^^- — '^-.TiJf ^!:~ 32 AUDUBON and the shores of the Mississippi suffered severely by earthquakes. I felt their effects between Louisville and Henderson, and also at Dr. Rankin's. I have omitted to say that my second son, John Woodhouse, was born under Dr. Rankin's roof on November 30, 181 2 ; he was an extremely delicate boy till about a twelvemonth old, when he suddenly acquired strength and grew to be a lusty child. Your uncle, Thomas W. Bakewell, had been all this time in New Orleans, and thither I had sent him almost all the money I could raise ; but notwithstanding this, the firm could not stand, and one day, while I was making a drawing of an otter, he suddenly ap- peared. He remained at Dr. Rankin's a few days, talked much to me about our misfortunes in trade, and left us for Fatland Ford. My pecuniary means were now much reduced. I continued to draw birds and quadrupeds, it is true, but only now and then thought of making any money. I bought a wild horse, and on its back travelled over Tennessee and a portion of Georgia, and so round till I finally reached Philadelphia, and then to your grandfather's at Fatland Ford. He had sold my plantation of Mill Grove to Samuel Wetherell, of Philadelphia, for a good round sum, and with this I returned through Kentucky and at last reached Henderson once more. Your mother was well, both of you were lovely darlings of our hearts, and the effects of pov- erty troubled us not. Your uncle T. W. Bakewell was again in New Orleans and doing rather better, but this was a mere tran- sient clearing of that sky which had been obscured for many a long day. Determined to do something for myself, I took to horse, rode to Louisville with a few hundred dollars in my pockets, and there purchased, half cash, half credit, a small stock, which I brought to Henderson. Chemin faisant, I came in contact with, and was accompanied by. General Toledo, then on his way as a re- volutionist to South America. As our flatboats were floating one clear moonshiny night lashed together, this individual opened his views to me, promising me wonders of wealth should I decide to accompany him, and he went so far as to offer me a colonelcy AUDUBON 33 I on what he was pleased to call " his Safe Guard." I listened, it is true, but looked more at the heavens than on his face, and in the former found so much more of peace than of war that I con- cluded not to accompany him. When our boats arrived at Henderson, he landed with me, purchased many horses, hired some men, and coaxed others, to accompany him, purchased a young negro from me, presented me with a splendid Spanish dagger and my wife with a ring, and went off overland toward Natchez, with a view of there gathering recruits. I now purchased a ground lot of four acres, and a meadow of four more at the back of the first. On the latter stood several buildings, an excellent orchard, etc., lately the property of an English doctor, who had died on the premises, and left the whole to a servant woman as a gift, from whom it came to me as a freehold. The pleasures which I have felt at Henderson, and under the roof of that log cabin, can never be effaced from my heart until after death. The little stock of goods brought from Louisville answered perfectly, and in less than twelve months I had again risen in the world. I purchased adjoining land, and was doing extremely well when Thomas Bakewell came once more on the tapis, and joined me in commerce. We prospered at a round rate for a while, but unfortunately for me, he took it into his brain to persuade me to erect a steam-mill at Henderson, and to join to our partnership an Englishman of the name of Thomas Pears, now dead. Well, up went the steam-mill at an enormous expense, in a country then as unfit for such a thing as it would be now for me to attempt to settle in the moon. Thomas Pears came to Hender- son with his wife and family of children, the mill was raised, and worked very badly. Thomas Pears lost his money and we lost ours. It was now our misfortune to add other partners and petty agents to our concern ; suffice it for me to tell you, nay, to assure you, that I was gulled by all these men. The new-born Kentucky banks nearly all broke in quick succession ; and again we started with a new set of partners ; these v;ere your present uncle N. Ber- VOL. 1. — 3 34 AUDUBON ilil ll I !! :1 i:.i! jl'liil thoud and Benjamin Page of Pittsburg. Matters, however, grew worse every day ; the times were what men called " bad," but I am fully persuaded the great fault was ours, and the building of that accursed steam-mill was, of all the follies of man, one of the greatest, and to your uncle and me the worst of all our pe- cuniary misfortunes. How I labored at that infernal mill ! from dawn to dark, nay, at times all night. But it is over now ; I am old, and try to forget as fast as possible all the different trials of those sad days. We also took it into our heads to have a steam- boat, in partnership with the engineer who had come from Philadelphia to fix the engine of that mill. This also proved an entire failure, and misfortune after misfortune came down upon us like so many avalanches, both fearful and destructive. About this time ^ went to New Orleans, at the suggestion of your uncle, to arrest T B , who had purchased a steamer from us, but whose bills were worthless, and who owed us for the whole amount. I travelled down to New Orleans in an open skiff, accompanied by two negroes of mine ; I reached New Orleans one day too late ; Mr. B had been compelled to surrender the steamer to a prior claimant. I returned to Hender- son, travelling part way on the steamer " Paragon," walked from the mouth of the Ohio to Shawnee, and rode the rest of the distance. On my arrival old Mr. Berthoud told me that Mr. B had arrived before me, and had sworn to kill me. My affrighted Lucy forced me to wear a dagger. Mr. B walked about the streets and before my house as if watching for me, and the continued reports of our neighbors prepared me for an en- counter with this man, whose violent and ungovernable temper was only too well known. As I was walking toward the steam- mill one morning, I heard myself hailed from behind ; on turning, I observed Mr. B marching toward me with a heavy club in his hand. I stood still, and he soon reached me. He com- plained of my conduct to him at New Orleans, and suddenly raising his bludgeon laid it about me. Thoiigh white with wrath, I spoke nor moved not till he had given me twelve severe blows, then, drawing my dagger with my left hand (unfortunately my right was disabled and in a sling, having been caught and ;Ji'l y. y. --i aa iwi;' T much ii and he hastenir plank. were all through more at variously Thus pre sitting, ai who attac The " 1 worse an( more brai where he From tl heavy bill moment tl I was ass; man was r I held to day, my or Vour mc thus on ace Rosa. S/i heavily thai and cheerfi beloved lips rich? Finally I forever, with by no means where I was My planta nothing was talents to rer ^y beloved AUDUBON 35 much injured in the wheels of the steam-engine), I stabbed him and he instantly fell. Old Mr. Berthoud and others, who were hastening to the spot, now came up, and carried him home on a plank. Thank God, his wound was not mortal, but his friends were all up in arms and as hot-headed as himself. Some walked through my premises armed with guns; my dagger was once more at my side, Mr. Berthoud had his gun, our servants were variously armed, and our carpenter took my gun " Long Tom." Thus protected, I walked into the Judiciary Court, that was then sitting, and was blamed, only, — for not having killed the scoundrel who attacked me. The " bad establishment," as I called the steam-mill, worked worse and worse every day. Thomas Bakewell, who possessed more brains than I, sold his town lots and removed to Cincinnati, where he has made a large fortune, and glad I am of it. From this date my pecuniary difficulties daily increased ; I had heavy bills to pay which I could not meet or take up. The moment this became known to the world around me, that moment I was assailed with thousands of invectives; the once wealthy man was now nothing. I parted with every particle of property I held to my creditors, keeping only the clothes I wore on that day, my original drawings, and my gun. Your mother held in her arms your baby sister Rosa, named thus on account of her extreme loveliness, and after my own sister Rosa. She felt the pangs of our misfortunes perhaps more heavily than I, but never for an hour lost her courage ; her brave and cheerful spirit accepted all, and no reproaches from her beloved lips ever wounded my heart. With her was I not always rich ? Finally I paid every bill, and at last left Henderson, probably forever, without a dollar in my pocket, walked to Louisville alone, by no means comfortable in mind, there went to Mr. Berthoud's, where I was kindly received ; they were indeed good friends. My plantation in Pennsylvania had been sold, and, in a word, nothing was left to me but my humble talents. Were those talents to remain dormant under such exigencies ? Was I to see my beloved Lucy and children suffer and want bread, in the 36 AUDUBON i »'!^!t::!:!^l abundant State of Kentucky? Was I to repine because I had acted like an honest man? Was I inclined to cut my throat in foolish despair ? No ! ! I had talents, and to them I instantly resorted. To be a good draughtsman in those days was to me a blessing ; to any other man, be it a thousand years hence, it will be a bless- ing also. I at once undertook to take portraits of the human " head divine," in black chalk, and, thanks to my master, David, succeeded admirably. I commenced at exceedingly low prices, but raised these prices as I became more known in this capacity. Your mother and yourselves were sent up from Henderson to our friend Isham Talbot, then Senator for Kentucky ; this was done without a cent of expense to me, and I can never be grateful enough for his kind generosity. In the course of a few weeks I had as much work to do as I could possibly wish, so much that I was able to rent a house in a retired part of Louisville. I was sent for four miles in the country, to take likenesses of persons on their death-beds, and so high did my reputation suddenly rise, as the best delineator of heads in that vicinity, that a clergyman residing at Louisville (I would give much now to recall and write down his name) had his dead child disinterred, to procure a fac-simile of his face, which, by the way, I gave to the parents as if still alive, to their intense satisfaction. My drawings of birds were not neglected meantime ; in this particular there seemed to hover round me almost a mania, and I would even give up doing a head, the profits of which would have supplied our wants for a week or more, to represent a little citizen of the feathered tribe. Nay, my dear sons, I thought that I now drew birds far better than I had ever done before misfortune in- tensified, or at least developed, my abilities. I received an in- vitation to go to Cincinnati,^ a flourishing place, and which you now well know to be a thriving town in the State of Ohio. I was presented to the president of the Cincinnati College, Dr. Drake, and immediately formed an engagement to stuff birds for the museum there, in concert with Mr. Robert Best, an Englishman 1 1819. A UDUBON 37 of great talent. My salary was large, and I at once sent for your mother to come to me, and bring you. Your dearly beloved sister Rosa died shortly afterward. I now established a large drawing-school at Cincinnati, to which I attended thrice per week, and at good prices. The expedition of Major Long ^ passed through the city soon after, and well do I recollect how he, Messrs. '1\ Peale,'* Thomas Say,* and others stared at my drawings of birds at that time. So industrious were Mr. Best and I that in about six months we had augmented, arranged, and finished all we could do for the museum. I returned to my portraits, and made a great number of them, without which we must have once more been on the starving list, as Mr. Best and I found, sadly too late, that the members of the College museum were splendid promisers and very bad paymasters. In October of 1820 I left your mother and yourselves at Cin- cinnati, and went to New Orleans on board a flat-boat commanded and owned by a Mr. Haromack. From this date my journals are kept with fair regularity, and if you read them you will easily fiml all that followed afterward. In glancing over these pages, I see that in my hurried and broken manner of laying before you this very imperfect (but per- fectly correct) account of my early life I have omitted to tell you that, before the birth of your sister Rosa, a daughter was born at Henderson, who was called, of course, Lucy. Alas ! the poor, dear little one was unkindly born, she was always ill and suffering ; two years did your kind and unwearied mother nurse her with all imaginable care, but notwithstanding this loving devotion she died, in the arms which had held her so long, and so tenderly. 1 Stephen Harriman Long, Corps of Engineers, U. S. Army, who was then on his way to explore the region of the upper Mississippi and Minne- sota Rivers. ■^ Titian R. Peale, afterward naturalist of the U. S. Exploring Expedi- tion, under Commodore Wilkes. Later in life he was for many years an examiner in the Patent Office at Washington, and died at a very advanced age. He was a member of the eminent Peale family of artists, one of whom established Peale's Museum in Philadelphia. — E. C. ' The distinguished naturalist of that name. — E. C. 38 AUDUBON % ■^ li'^i This infant daughter we buried in our garden at Henderson, but after removed her to the Holly burying-ground in the same place. Hundreds of anecdotes I could relate to you, my dear sons, about tiiose times, and it may happen that the pages that I am now scribbling over may hereafter, through your own medium, or that of some one else be published. I shall try, should (lod Almighty grant me life, to return to these less inij)ortant portions of my history, and delineate them all with the same faithfulness with which I have written the ornithological biographies of the birds of my beloved country. Only one event, however, which possesses in itself a lesson to mankind, I will here relate. After our dismal removal from Henderson to Ix)uisville, one morning, while all of us were sadly desponding, I took you both, Victor and John, from Shijipingport to Louisville. I had purchased a loaf of bread and some apples ; before we reached Louisville you were all hungry, and by the river side we sat down and ate our scanty meal. On that day the world was with me as a blank, and my heart was sor ly heavy, for scarcely had I enough to keep my dear ones alive ; and yet through these dark ways I was being led to the development of the talents I loved, and which have brought so much enjoyment to us all, for it is with deep thankfulness that I record that you, my sons, have passed your Hves almost continuously with your dear mother and myself. But I will here stop with one remark. One of the most extraordinary things among all these adverse circumstances was that I never for a day gave up listening to the songs of our birds, or watching their peculiar habits, or delineat- ing them in the best way that I could ; nay, during my deepest troubles I frequently would wrench myself from the persons around me, and retire to some secluded part of our noble forests ; and many a time, at the sound of the wood-thrush's melodies have I fallen on my knees, and there prayed earnestly to our God. This never failed to bring me the most valuable of thoughts and always comfort, and, strange as it may seem to you, it was often necessary for me to exert my will, and compel myself to return to my fellow-beings. AUDUBON 39 To speak more fully on some of the incidents which Audubon here relates, I turn to one of the two journals wliich are all that fire has spared of the many volumes which were filled with his fine, rather illegible handwriting previous to 1826. In the earlier of these journals I read: " I went to France not only to escape Da Costa, but even more to obtain my father's consent to my marriage with my Lucy, and this simply because I thought it my moral and religious duty to do so. But although my request was immediately granted, I remained in France nearly two years. As I told you, Mr. Bakewell considered my Lucy too young (she was then but seventeen), and me too un- biisincss-like to marry ; so my father decided that I should remain some months with him, and on returning to America it was his plan to associate me with some one whose commercial knowledge would be of value to me. " My father's beautiful country seat, situated within sight of the Loire, about mid-distance between Nantes and the sea, I found quite delightful to my taste, notwith- standing the frightful cruelties I had witnessed in that vicinity, not many years previously. The gardens, green- houses, and all appertaining to it appeared to me then as if of a superior cast; and my father's physician was above all a young man precisely after my own heart ; his name was D'Orbigny, and with his young wife and infant son he lived not far distant. The doctor was a good fisherman, a good hunter, and fond of all objects in nature. Together we searched the woods, the fields, and the banks of the Loire, procuring every bird we could, and I made drawings of every one of them — very bad, to be sure, but still they were of assistance to me. The lessons which I had received from the great David ^ now proved all- important to me, but what I wanted, and what I had the good fortune to stumble upon a few years later, was the ' Jacques Louis David (1748-1825), court painter to Louis XVL and afterwards to Napoleon I. '■■'^ 40 AUDUBON knowledge of putting up my models, in true and good positions according to the ways and habits of my beauti- ful feathered subjects. During these happy years I man- aged to make drawings of about two hundred species of birds, all of which I brought to America and gave to my Lucy/ " At last my father associated me with Ferdinand Ro- zier, as you already know, and we were fairly smuggled out of France ; for he was actually an officer attached to the navy of that country, and though I had a passport stating I was born at New Orleans, my French name would have swept that aside very speedily. Rozier's passport was a Dutch one, though he did not understand a single word in that language. Indeed, our passengers were a medley crowd; two days out two monks appeared among us from the hold, where our captain had concealed them." This same " medley crowd " appears to have comprised many refugees from the rule of Napoleon, this being about 1806, and the amusements were varied, including both gaming and dancing. To quote again : " Among the passengers was a handsome Virginian girl, young and graceful. She was constantly honored hy the attentions of two Frenchmen who belonged to the nobility; both were fine young fellows, travelling, as was not uncommon then, under assumed names. One lovely day the bon- net of the fair lady was struck by a rope and knocked overboard. One of the French chevaliers at once leaped ^ In 1836, Auduljon wrote to Dr. John Bachman : "Some of my early drawings of European birds are still in our possession, but many have been given away, and the greatest number were destroyed, not by the rats that gnawed my collection of the " Birds of America," but by the great fire in New York, as these drawings were considered my wife's special property and seldom out of her sight. Would that the others had been under her especial care also ! Yet after all, who can say that it was not a material advantage, both to myself and to the world, that the Norway rats destroyed those drawings ? " AUDUBON ■•"g the deck he presented h h"^ ^™'- °" -^^l- obeisance and perfect sa^g f^h '^^1 "'* ^ S'^"''"' l>,m as black as a raven X *" "™' '°°''5'i at ■"tier till dawn, when reports" o"f'T ™' ^'^"^ °^ *e t.e alarm was general, as we feared ™' ^"^ ^'"-i- 'te^ deck it was found thaTa cTall ^ T °" ^^'"'"3 -rf accepted, a duel had po^it ve ' "f "^ "^^ ^ive^ alas! m the death of the ^escul Cf^f" f'"' ^"^"'S' young lady felt this deeply anH "/ . ^°""'''- The very uncomfortable " "''''='' " rendered us all -- h:""a-"et,ioi"r;t^«"r^ '° >«■■" --■ '0 Lucy Bakewell. It was at . '' ''" "^"''-■2= -er spoke of without deep fel,r '" •^'"'^^'^ '°-d, an'd romant,c if you „ii|, ^^^ aLl' ^^ ""= =«>=>'t'Ve nature, :-"™e„t, and Mill o^tr :rt'::n:rsp^ -e;fptr:firnt;"xrh"- -^ n™ce, almost a natural terrace ^l' °," ^ S"""'^ <="''- ^''t. the rapid waters o pTrllr" °"^'' '°'''''^' '!"= h<^lo.v empties into the Schuv WM ^'■°*' "'"■'^'' h'st 'I- south is the historic groCo7v ■„"'■;" ''''''' '° Ptoperty has remained i„ the Wethe .Tr ^^ ^°'«'- ^he s-ace Audubon sold it to^^f ,t,"^' ^"'""y "«tly ever P.rose„t owner, d '; tf to Trel """" '" '^'^- ^he ■j-d lover, and not ol makes ' T''^ '"« "' the that he can in the least dL^ef "° """S« '" ^"^thing 'f'^d many photographTlL'''''^""" ''™' •"" "- »l"ch adorn his walls, "^''ffrav.ngs of Audubon PasJ!rgt::gh'^t%::,:l^P-f *°se *^^'-"' « haH ^"■" °f ".bble-stone ./^^^J-- - either side, wa. I 42 A [/DC/BON 'ii' 11 1774 was sold to Admiral Audubon, who in the year following built an addition, also of rubble-stone. This addition is lower than the main house, which consists of two full stories and an attic with dormer windows, where, it is said, Audubon kept his collections. The same Frank- lin stove is in the parlor which stood there giving out its warmth and cheer when the young man came in from the hunting and skating expeditions on which he loved to dwell. The dense woods which once covered the ground are largely cut down, but sufficient forest growth remains to give the needed shade and beauty ; the hemlocks in par- ticular are noticeable, so large and of such perfect form. Going down a foot-path to Perkiomen Creek, a few steps lead to the old mill which gave the place its name. Built of stone and shaded by cottonwood trees, the stream rushing past as in days long gone, the mill-wheel still re- volves, though little work is done there now. When I saw Mill Grove ^ the spring flowers were abun- dant; the soft, pale blossom of the May-apple (^Podophyl- lum peltatuiri) held its head above the blue of many violets, the fingers of the potentilla with their yellow stars crept in and out among the tangled grass and early under- growth; the trilliums, both red and white, were in pro- fusion ; in the shade the wood anemones, with their shell pink cups grew everywhere, while in damp spots by the brook yet remained a few adder's-tongues, and under the hemlocks in the clefts of the rocks the delicate foliage of the Dutchmen's breeches {Dicentra cticullarid) with a few late blossoms ; all these and many more which I do not now recall, Audubon has pictured with the birds found in the same regions, as his imperishable tribute to the home he loved — Mill-Grove Farm on the Perkiomen Creek. Fatland Ford, to the south of Mill Grove, is a far larger and grander mansion than that of the modest Quaker Evans; as one approaches, the white columns of the I April 28, 1893. , I AUDUBON 43 imposing entrance are seen for some distance before enter- ing the avenue which leads to the front of the mansion. Like Mill Grove it stands on a natural terrace, and has an extensive outlook over the Schuylkill and Valley Forge. This house was built by James Vaux in 1760. He was a member of the Society of Friends and an Englishman, but in sympathy with the colonists. One end of Sullivan's Bridge was not far from the house ; the spot where it once stood is now marked by the remains of a red-sandstone monument.^ Washington spent a night in the mansion house with Mr. Vaux, and left only twelve hours in advance of the arrival of Howe, who lodged there the followmg night.^ The old walled garden still remains, and the stable with accommodation for many horses. A little withdrawn from all these and on the edge of a wood are " the graves of a household," not neglected, as is so often the case, but preserved and cared for by those who own Fatland Farm^ as well as Mill Grove. Dear as Mill Grove was to Audubon, he left it with his young bride the day following their wedding, which took place at Fatland Ford on April 8, 1808, and departed for Louisville, Ky., where he and Rozier, his part^ser, had previously done some business. Though they had both lost money they liked the place, which reason seemed quite suffi- cient to decide them to return and lose more money, as they promptly did. They remained at Louisville till 18 10, ^ " I have often seen the red-sandstone monument placed to mark the terminal of the Sullivan Bridge on our side of the river, but the curiosity hunters have so marred it that only ' livans' and part of the date remain." (Extract from letter of Mr. W. H. Wetherill, Aug. 12, 1893.) "^ This statement is from the " Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography," vol. xiv.. No. 2, page 218, Ju'iy, 1890. 8 " Under the will of Col. Jno. Macor.ib Wetherill, late owner of Fatland Farm, 40 feet square were deeded out of the farm, and placed in trust, and Jicoo trusteed to keep the grove aid lot in order. A granite curb and heavy iron rail surround this plot; Col. Wetherill was buried there and his remains lie with those of your ancestors." (Extract from letter of W. H. Wetherill, May 10, 1897.) 44 'AUDUBON when they moved to Henderson, where Rozier did what business was done, and Audubon drew, fished, hunted, and rambled in the woods to his heart's content, but his purse's depletion. He describes this life in the episode " Fishing in the Ohio," and in these rushing times such an Arcadian existence seems impossible. Small wonder that his wife's relatives, with their English thrift, lost patience with him, could not believe he was aught but idle, because he did not work their way. I doubt not many would think, as they did, that he wasted his days, when in truth he was laying up stores of knowledge which later in life brought him a rich harvest. Waiting times are always long, long- est to those who do not understand the silent inner growth which goes on and on, yet makes no outward sign for months and even years, as in the case of Audubon. Henderson was then a tiny place, and gains being small if any, Rozier and Audubon, in December, 1810, started for St. Genevieve, spent their winter in camp, and reached their destination when the ice broke up. On April 11, 181 1, they dissolved partnership, and wrote each as they felt, Audubon saying : " Rozier cared only for money and liked St. Genevieve; " Rozier writing: "Audubon had no taste for commerce, and was continually in the forest." Once more, however, he went to St. Genevieve to try to get money Rozier owed him, and returned to Hender- son on foot, still unpaid, in February or March of 18 12. He had gone with a party of Osage Indians, but his jour- ney back was made alone. He writes in his journal, simply with date of April, 1 8 1 2 : — " Bidding Rozier good-bye, I whistled to my dog, crossed the Mississippi and went off alone and on foot, bent on reaching Shawanee Town as soon as possible; but little had I foreseen the task before me, for soon as I had left the river lands and reached the prairies, I found them covered with water, like large lakes; still nothing would have made me retrace my steps, and the thoughts of my sins c( notwii Mudd. great \ like m ments, for ma U'hich a it. I,v and whi the dau^ boiJcd sc "Such ter came his famir sl'^'ins, but ess was 01 small Jonl money wo powder, a "My wi roads now travelled ai Indians en( Tiiey undei 'soiled bear then Jay do that \\\\Q^ a'^ tlie Indis to keep the " J waikec t'^J four o'c thirty minutt ^ entered tl AUDUBON 45 Lucy and my boy made me care little what my journey might be. Unfortunately I had no shoes, and my mocca- sins constantly slipping made the wading extremely irksome ; notwithstanding, I walked forty-five miles and swam the Muddy River. I only saw two cabins that day, but I had great pleasure in viewing herds ofDeer crossing the prairie, like myself ankle deep in water. Their beautiful move- ments, their tails spread to the breeze, were perceivable for many miles. A mound covered with trees through which a light shone, gave me an appetite, and I made for it. I was welcomed kindly by the woman of the house, and while the lads inspected my fine double-barrelled gun, the daughters bustled about, ground coffee, fried venison, boiled some eggs, and made me feel at once at home. " Such hospitality is from the heart, and when the squat- ter came in, his welcome was not less genuine than that of his family. Night fell; I slept soundly on some bear- skins, but long before day was. ready to march. My host- ess was on the alert; after some breakfast she gave me a small loaf and some venison in a clean rag, and as no money would be received, I gave the lads a flask of gun- powder, a valuable article in those days to a squatter. " My way lay through woods, and many small cross- roads now puzzled me, but I walked on, and must have travelled another forty-five miles. I met a party of Osage Indians encamped, and asked in French to stay with them. They understood me, and before long I had my supper of boiled bear's-fat and pecan-nuts, of which I ate heartily, then lay down with my feet to the fire, and slept so soundly that when I awoke my astonishment was great to find all the Indians had gone hunting, and only left two dogs to keep the camp free from wolves. " I walked off gayly, my dog full of life, but met no one till four o'clock when I passed the first salt well, and thirty minutes more brought me to Shawanee Town. As I entered the inn I was welcomed by several whom I 46 AUDUBON t liilil knew, who had come to purchase salt. I felt no fatigue, ate heartily, slept soundly without being rocked, and having come forty miles had only forty-seven more to walk to reach my home. Early next morning I pursued my way ; the ferry boat took me from Illinois to Kentucky, and as night came I found myself with my wife beside me, my child on my knee." The time from now till 1819 was the most disastrous period of Audubon's life, as regarded his finances. With his brother-in-law, Thomas W. Bakewell, he engaged in various ventures in which, whatever others did, he lost money at every turn. The financial affairs of Kentucky were, it is true, not on a very sound basis, but Audubon frankly acknowledges the fault in many cases was his own. Thomas W. Bakewell was often in New Orleans, where they had a mercantile establishment, and Audubon spent not only days, but weeks and months, at his favorite pursuits. On his journeys to Philadelphia to procure goods he wan- dered miles in all directions from the main route; when in Henderson he worked, at times, very hard in the mill, for, indeed, he never did anything except intensely; but the cry of the wild geese overhead, the sound of the chatter- ing squirrel, the song of the thrush, the flash of the hum- ming-bird with its jewelled throat, were each and all enough to take him from work he hated as he never hated any- thing else. When first in Henderson he bought land, and evidently had some idea of remaining there permanently; for, " on March 16, 18 16, he and Mr. Bakewell took a ninety- five years' lease of a part of the river front between First and Second Sts., intending to erect a grist and saw mill, which mill was completed in 18 17, and yet stands, though now incorporated in the factory of Mr. David Clark. The weather-boarding whip-sawed out of yellow poplar is still intact on three sides, the joists are of unhewn logs, and the foundation walls of pieces of flat broken rock are four and large It ings never that, : on a t dubon his par of him. money merchai I'Jght to niiess. reft of aJ acquirem garden ar ^eart, anc f'le saddc! when the 1 and \hQ ^A and the pr| ^>'es from never exist] f'rom l| ShippfngpJ ^'cholas bI ^'^e ^arascol ^^^o sons, \f ^ quote fJ straitened tl Portra/ts at tl e'-e many daj ^rom "Hi J '['•If AUDUBCN 47 and a half feet thick. For those days it was built on a large scale, and did the sawing for the entire country." ^ It has been said that the inside walls had many draw- ings of birds on them, but this, while quite likely, has never been proved; what was proved conclusively is that, from his woodcutters, whose labors were performed on a tract of forest land of about I2CX) acres, which Au- dubon purchased from the government, to those who were his partners, by far the greater number had the advantage of him. The New Orleans venture has a similar record ; money left him by his father was lost by the failure of the merchant who held it until Audubon could prove his right to it, and finally he left Henderson absolutely pen- niless. He writes: "Without a dollar in the world, be- reft of all revenues beyond my own personal talents and acquirements, I left my dear log house, my delightful garden and orchards with that heaviest of burdens, a heavy heart, and turned my face toward Louisville. This was the saddest of all my journeys, — the only time in my life when the Wild Turkeys that so often crossed my path, and the thousands of lesser birds that enlivened the woods and the prairies, all looked like enemies, and I turned my eyes from them, as if I could have wished that they had never existed." From Louisville Audubon went almost at once to Shippingport, where he was kindly received by his friends Nicholas Berthoud, who was also his brother-in-law, and the Tarascon family. Here he was joined by his wife and two sons, Victor Gififord and John Woodhouse, and again I quote from Audubon's own words: "As we were straitened to the very utmost, I undertook to draw portraits at the low price of five dollars per head, in black chalk. I drew a few gratis, and succeeded so well that ere many days had elapsed I had an abundance of work ; 1 From " History of Henderson County, Kentucky," by E. L. Starling, page 794- 48 AUDUBON .1 and being industrious both by nature and habit I pro- duced a great number of those black-ch ilk sketches."* This carried him on for some months, but the curse, or blessing, of the " wandering foot " was his, and as soon as money matters were a httle ahead, off he went again to the forests. It was during these years, that is from i8i i to 1 8 19, that many months were passed hunting with the Indians, the Osage tribe being the one whose hmguage Audubon spoke. Late in hfe he wrote: "Of all the Indian tribes I know, the Osage are by far the superior." With them he delighted to track the birds and quadrupeds as only an Indian or one of like gifts, can ; from them he learned much woodcraft; with them he strengthened his already iron constitution ; and in fearlessness, endurance, patience, and marvellously keen vision, no Indian sur- passed him. He had a wonderful gift of making and retaining friends, and even in these days of poverty and depression he never seemed too poor to help others; and certainly from others he received much kindness, which he never ceased to remember and acknowledge. Through one of these friends — I believe a member of the Tarascon family — he was offered a position in the Museum at Cincinnati. Without delay, or any written agreement, Audubon and his family were again (18 18) in new surroundings, and the work being congenial, he entered heartily into it with Mr. Robert Best. The promised salary was large, but being never paid Audubon began drawing classes to sup- port his modest household. In Cincinnati he first met Mr. Daniel Mallory (whose second daughter afterwards married Victor G. Audubon) and Captain Samuel Cum- mings. This latter gentleman had many tastes similar to Audubon's, and later went with him to New Orleans. The life at Cincinnati was one of strict economy. Mrs. Audubon was a woman of great ability and many re- ^ Of these many sketches few can be traced, and none purchased. <:^^2/t/i — -" O--^^ / e^ ' (With sii. p. r,3. * "^ Prince of '" '^^arch, IS. ^""'<-'nclrUure ''^^' Academy f " '^rnithob, ^ynopsis^" of AUDUBON 55 his wife, from whom he was now absent, had any faith in him or his genius. He never became indifferent, as most of us do, to the coldness of those who had in earlier days souL,dit him, not for what he was, but for what he had. Chivah'ous, generous, and courteous to his heart's core, he could not beheve others less so, till painful experiences taught him; then he was grieved, hurt, but never imbit- tered ; and more marvellous yet, with his faith in his fellows as strong as ever, again and again he subjected himself to the same treatment. This was not stupidity, nor dulncss of perception ; it was that always, even to the enil, Audubon kept the freshness of childhood ; he was one of those who had " the secret of youth; " he was " old in years only, his heart was young. The earth was fair; plants still bloomed, and birds still sang for him." ^ It has been hard for me to keep from copying much from this journal, but I have felt it too sacred. Some would see in it the very heart of the man who wrote it, but to others — and the greater number — it would be, as I have decided to leave it, a sealed book. h^'irly in March, 1824, Audubon left Shippingport for Philadelphia, Victor remaining in the counting-house of Mr. Herthoud. He had some money, with which he de- cided to take lessons in painting either from Rembrandt Peale or Thomas Sully. He much preferred the latter both as artist and friend, and he remained in Philadelphia from April until August of the same year. This visit was marked by his introduction to Charles Lucien Bonaparte ^ M With slight alterations) from "Bird Life," by F. M. Chapman, 1897, P-I3- '^ Prince of Musignano, and subsequently a distinguished ornithologist. In March, 1824, lionaparte was just publishing his "Observations on the Nomenclature ot Wilson's Ornithology," which ran through the " Journal of the Academy of Natural Sciences," of Philadeljjhia, from April 5, 1S24, to Aug. 25, 1825, in five parts. This 'vas preliminary to ]!ona]>arte's "Ameri- can Ornithology" which appeared in four quarto vols., 1S25-33, to his " Synopsis," of 1828, and to his " Comparative List," of 1838. — E. C. 56 AUDUBON and Edward Harris, both of whom became Hfc-long friends, especially Mr. Harris, with whom he corresponded fre- quently when they were separated, and with whom he made many journeys, the most prolonged and important being that to the Yellowstone in 1843. To copy again: "April 10, 1824. I was introduced to the son of L,ucien Bonaparte, nephew of Napoleon, a great ornithologist, I was told. He remained two hours, went out, and returned with two Italian gentlemen, and their comments made me very contented." That evening he was taken to the Phil- osophical Academy^ where the drawings were greatly admired, and their author says : " / do not think much of them except when in the very act of drawing them." At this meeting Mr. George Ord met Audubon and objected strongly to the birds and plants being drawn together, " but spoke well of them otherwise." Mr. Ord was one-of those (of the very few, I might say) who disliked the naturalist from first to last,^ who was perhaps, his bitterest enemy. In later years Dr. John Bachman resented his conduct, and wrote a very trenchant reply ^ to one of Mr. Ord's published articles about Audubon ; but there is no word of anger anywhere in the letters or journals, only of regret or pain.* Of Mr. Harris we find this: "July 12, 1824. I drew for Mr. Fairman a small grouse to be put on a bank-note be- longing to the State of New-Jersey ; this procured me the acquaintance of a young man named Edward Harris of Moorestown, an ornithologist, who told me he had seen ^ Probably the Academy of Natural Sciences. "^ Orel had edited the posthumous vols. viii. and ix. of " Wilson's Orni- thology," which appeared in 1814; and in 1824 was engaged upon that edition of Wilson which was published in 3 vols. 8vo, in 1828-29, with a folio atlas of 76 plates. This is probably enough to account for his attitude toward Audubon. — E. C. * " DefeT'ce of Audubon," by John Bachman. " Bucks Co. Intelligencer," 183s, and other papers. * Almost the only other enemy Audubon appears to have ever had in public print was Charles Waterton, who vehemently assailed him in " Lou- AUDUBON 57 some English Snipes ^ within a few days, and that they bred in the marshes about him." And also: "July 19th. Young Harris, God bless him, looked at the drawings I had for sale, and said he would take them all, at my prices. I would have kissed him, but that it is not the custom in this icy city." Other friends were made here, almost as valuable as Mr. Harris, though not as well loved, for these two were truly congenial souls, who never wearied of each other, and between whom there was never a shadow of difference. Thomas Sully, the artist, Dr. Richard Harlan,^ Reuben don's Magazine of Natural History," vi. 1833, pp. 215-218, and vii., 1S34, pp. 66-74. Audubon was warmly defended by his son Victor in the same magazine, vi. 1833, p. 369, and at greater length by " R. 15.," ibid., pp. 369- 372. Dr. Coues characterizes Waterton's attack as "flippant and super- cilious animadversion," in " Birds of the Colorado Valley," 1S7S, p. 622. The present is hardly the occasion to bring up the countless reviews and notices of Audubon's published life-work ; but a few references I have at hand may be given. One of the earliest, if not the first, appeared in the "Edinburgh Journal of Science," vi. p. 184 (1S27). In 1828, Audubon him- self published "An Account of the Method of Drawing Birds," etc., in the same Journal, viii., pp. 48-54. The " Report of a Committee appointed by the Lyceum of Natural History of New York to examine the splendid work of Mr. Audubon," etc., appeared in " Silliman's Joumal,"xvi., 1829, pp. 353. 354- H's friend William Swainson puljjished some highly commendatory and justly appreciative articles on the same sul)ject in " Loudon's Magazine," i., 1S29, pp. 43-52, and in the " Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal," x., 'S31, pp. l)\l-y:fl, under the pseudonym " Ornithophilus." Another anony- mous review, higiily laudatory, appeared in the same Journal, xviii., 1834, pp. 131-144. Dr. John Bachman defended the truthfulness of Audubon's draw- ings in the "Journal of the Boston Society of Natural History," i. 1834, pp. 15-31. One of the most extended notices appeared anonymously in the ''North American Review," July, 1835, pp. i94-2_<- ; and another signed " B," in "Loudon's Magazine," viii., 1835, pp. 184-190. In (Jermany, " Isis von Oken" contained others, xxx., 1S37, pp. 922-928, xxxv., 1842, pp. 157, 158; and xxxvii., iS.h, pp. 713-718. " Silliman's Journal" again reviewed the work in xlii., 1S42, pp. 130-136. — E. C. ' That is the sp jcies now known as Wilson's Snipe, GiilUnago delicata. ° Dr. Richard 1 larlan is the author of the well-known " Fauna Americana," 8vo, Philadelphia, 1825, and of many scientific papers. Audubon dedicated to him the Black Warrior, FaUo harlani, a large, dark hawk of the genus l^nUo, shot at St. Francisville, La., Nov. 18, 1829. 58 AUDUBON Haines, Lc Sueur,^ Dr. Mease, and many another honored name might be given. In August Philadelphia was quitted, and another period of travel in search of birds was begun. Of this next year, 1825, no record whatever can be found besides the episodes of "Niagara" and " Meadville," and two detached pages of journal. Audubon went to New York, up the Hudson, along the Great Lakes, then to Pittsburg, and finally to Bayou Sara, where, having decided to go to England, he made up his mind to resume at once his classes in drawing, music, and dancing, to make money for the liuropean jour- ney, for which he never ceased to accumulate pictures of his beloved birds. Reaching Bayou Sara in December, 1825, this work at once began by giving lessons in dancing to the young ladies under my grandmother's care; and Judge Randolph, a near neighbor, had his sons take lessons in fencing. In these branches Audubon was so successful that the residents of the village of VVoodvillc, fifteen miles distant, engaged him for Friday and Saturday of each week, and here he had over sixty pupils. From the ac- count of this class I take the following: "I marched to the hall with my violin under my arm, bowed to the com- pany assembled, tuned my violin; played a cotillon, and began my lesson by placing the gentlemen in a line. Oh! patience support me ! how I labored before I could pro- mote the first appearance of elegance or ease of motion; in doing this I first broke my bow, and then my violin; I then took the ladies and made them take steps, as I sang in time to accompany their movements." These lessops continued three months, and were in every sense a success, Audubon realizing about $2000 ' Charles Alexandre Le Sueur, 1778-1846, distinguished French natu- ralist. Best biography in Youman's " Pioneers of Science in America," 8vo, N. Y., 1896, pp. 128-139, with portrait. The same volume contains a biographical sketch of Audubon, pp. 1 52-166, with portrait after the oil painting by George P. A. Healy, belonging to the Boston Society of Natural History. — E. C. m from of tJi v\'ai-d other packe, natura Kngiar The ^vith till tJestrucl of one c and are pass on i ■^udubor His tin of Amevk AUDUBON 59 from his winter's work. With this, and the greater part of the savings of his wife, which she had hoarded to for- ward this journey, so long the goal of their hopes, an- other farewell was taken, the many valued drawings packed up, and on April 26, 1826, the vessel with the naturalist and his precious freight left New Orleans for England. The journals from this date, until May i, 1829, are kept with the usual regularity, and fortunately have escaped the destruction which has befallen earlier volumes. They tell of one of the most interesting periods of Audubon's life, and are given beyond, — not entire, yet so fully that I pass on at once to the last date they contain, which marks Audubon's return to America, May 5, 1829. His time abroad had seen the publication of the " Birds of America"^ successfully begun, had procured him sub- 1 Of the great folios, parts i.-v., containing plates 1-25, were originally published at successive dates (not ascertained) in 1827 ; parts vi.-x., plates 26-50, appeared in the course of 1828, — all in London. The whole work was completed in 1838; it is supposed to have been issued in 87 parts of S plates each, making the actual total of 435 plates, giving 1065 figures of birds. On the completion of the series, the plates were to be bound in 4 vols. Vol. 1., pll. i-ioo, 1827-30; vol. ii., pU. 101-200, 1831-34; vol. iii., pll. 201-300, 1834-35; vol. iv., pll. 301-435, 1835-38 (com- pleted June 30). These folios had no text except the title-leaf of each volume. The original price was two guineas a part ; a complete copy is now worth $1,500 to 52,000, according to condition of binding, etc., and is scarce at any price. The text to the plates appeared under the different title of "Ornithological Biography," in 5 large 8vo volumes, Edinburgh, 1S31-39; vol. i., 1S31 ; vol. ii., 1834; vol. iii., 1835; vol. iv., 1838; vol. v., 1839. In I840--44, the work reappeared in octavo, text and plates together, under the original title of "Birds of America;" the text somewhat modified by the omission of the " Delineations of American Scenery and Manners," the addition of some new matter acquired after 1839, and change in the names of many species to agree with the nomenclature of Audubon's Synopsis of 1839 ; the plates reduced by the camera lucida, rearranged and renumbered, making 500 in all. The two original works, thus put together and modified, became the first octavo edition called " Birds of America," issued in 100 parts, to be bound in 7 volumes, 1840-44. There have been various subsequent issues, partial or complete, upon which I cannot here enlarge. For full bibliographical data see Dr. Coues' "Birds of the 6o AUDUBON scribcrs enough to warrant his continuing the vast under- taking, and had given him many friends. His object now was to make drawings of birds which he had not yet figured for the completion of his work, and then to take his wife, and possibly his sons with him to England. During these years Mrs. Audubon was latterly alone, as John had taken a position with Victor and was in Louisville. Victor, meantime, had worked steadily and faithfully, and had earned for himself a position and a salary far beyond that of most young men of his age. Both parents relied on him to an extent that is proof in itself of his unusual ability; these words in a letter from his father, dated London, Dec. 23, 1828, " Victor's letters to me are highly interesting, full of candor, sentiment, and sound judgment, and I am very proud of him," are certainly testimony worth having. As the years went on both sons assisted their father in every way, and to an extent that the world has never recognized. Great as was Audubon's wish to proceed without delay to Louisiana, he felt it due to his subscribers to get to work at once, and wrote to his wife under date of New York, May 10, 1829: "I have landed here from on board the packet ship Columbia after an agreeable passage of thirty-five days from Portsmouth, I have come to America to remain as long as consistent with the safety of the continuation of my publication in London without my personal presence. According to future circumstances I shall return to England on the ist of October next, or, if possible, not until April, 1 830. I wish to employ and devote every moment of my sojourn in America to draw- ing such birds and plants as I think necessary to enable me to give my publication throughout the degree of per- fection that I am told exists in that portion already pub- lished. I have left my business going on quite well; my Colorado Valley," Appendix, 1878, pp. 612, 618, 625, 629, 644, 661, 666, 669 and 686. — E. C. engr; COIDJJ the fi first } be cii N.J., n till] be J canm cause i scribcrs find in wifj take forward doing ;ve subscribe] AJJ thi: ^"dubon PennsyJvar tinuingr to I September Swamp, or '^^'ng at Cr "I am at ^'S:i't pairs '"ens; stiJJ ' Referring "3me ^^■\\\ i,^ ,^ ,f";i"f>on shot' . C^rn. Hfogr." ^ ^^'''e winter p,,; °f Science," ,863 See previous |:;57, and plate. '7°;^"dubon ^f actually See Ep: isodes AUDUBON 6i engraver ^ has in his hands all the drawings wanted to complete this present year, and those necessary to form the first number of next year. I have finished the two first years of publication, the two most difficult years to be encountered." To Victor he writes from Camden, N. J., July lo, 1829: "I shall this year have issued ten numbers, each containing five plates, making in all fifty .'^ I cannot publish more than five numbers annually, be- cause it would make too heavy an expense to my sub- scribers, and indeed require more workmen than I could find in London. The work when finished will contain eighty numbers,^ therefore I have seventy to issue, which will take fourteen years more. It is a long time to look forward to, but it cannot be helped. I think I am doing well ; I have now one hundred and forty-four subscribers." All this summer and early fall, until October loth, Audubon spent in the neighborhood of New Jersey and Pennsylvania, working as few can work, four hours con- tinuing to be his allowance for sleep. Six weeks in September and October were spent in the Great Pine Swamp, or Forest,* as he called it, his permanent lodgings being at Camden, N. J. Here he writes, October 11,1829: " I am at work and have done much, but I wish I had eight pairs of hands, and another body to shoot the speci- mens; still I am delighted at what I have accumulated ' Referring to ^^r. Robert Havell, of No. 77 Oxford St., London. His name will be recalled in connection with Sterna havcllii, the Tern which Auduhon shot at New Orleans in 1820, and dedicated to his engraver in "Orn. Biogr." v., 1839, p. 122, " B. Amer.," Svo, vii., 1844, p. 103, pi. 434. It i« the winter plumage of the bird Nuttall called S.forsteri in his " Manual," ii., 1834, p. 274. See Coues, " Proceedings of the Philadelphia Academy of Science," 1862, p. 543. — E. C. ^ See previous note on p. 59, where it is said that plates 1-25 appeared In 18:7, and plates 26-50 la 1S2S — in attestation of which the above words to Victor Audubon become important. — E. C. ^ It actually ran to 87 numbers, as stated in a previous note. * See Episodes " Great Egg Harbor " and " Great Pine Swamp." 62 AUDUBON in drawings this season. Forty-two drawings in four months, eleven large, eleven middle size, and tvvent}--two small, comprising ninety-five birds, from Eagles down- wards, with plants, nests, flowers, and sixty different kinds of eggs. I live alone, see scarcely any one, besides those belonging to the house where I lodge. I rise long before day and work till nightfall, when I take a walk, and to bed. " I returned yesterday from Mauch Chunk ; after all, there is nothing perfect but primitivencss, and my efforts at copy- ing nature, like all other things attempted by us poor mor- tals, fall far short of the originals. Few better than myself can appreciate this with more despondency than I do." Very shortly after this date Audubon left for Louisiana, crossed the Allcghanies to Pittsburg, down the Ohio by boat to Louisville, where he saw Victor and John. " Dear boys!" he says; "I had not seen Victor for nearly five years, and so much had he changed I hardly knew him, but he recognized me at once. Johnny too had much grown and improved." Remaining with his sons a few days, he again took the boat for Bayou Sara, where he landed in the middle of the night. The journal says: " It was dark, sultry, and I was quite alone. I was aware yellow fever was still raging at St. Francisville, but walked thitlier to procure a horse. Being only a mile distant, I soon reached it, and entered the open door of a house I know to be an inn ; all was dark and silent. I called and knocked in vain, it was the abode of Death alone ! The air was putrid ; I went to another house, another, and another; everywhere the same state of things existed; doors and windows were all open, but the living had fled. Finally I reached the home of Mr. Nubling, whom I knew. He welcomed me, and lent me his horse, and I went off at a gallop. It was so dark that I soon lost my way, but I cared not, I was about to rejoin my wife, I was in the woods, the woods of Louisiana, my heart was bursting with joy ! The first glimpse of dawn set me on my , a ser •iparti ^n^X s p/ayin and tJi was so our JicM Audti '"gton, J ^or ]ing\ tiiein on '■eccivcd , as hiniseJ otiicrs hac safe, and ^ as svqW ag ^^J-s. Au, <^on, but tJ: husband's ^'■'^ Octob'e ^^ ^'s old J ^'^ ^<^lt truly] ^^'^ " Ornitll ^^ ^^e jourif ^^3t I am a scribble a tq °"e 'n Frenc] "°^ 3 schoJal ^'^'ng knows I '"an living hal :'^^ ^he assis ;J°"'^ 1^ 1112.2 i |i£ 112.0 1.8 1-25 1.4 11.6 ^ 6" ► V] 0% n '^ jjSi.. / '/ /A fliotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WiST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 l^.