CHAPTER XXI

DÉBUT AS A NATURALIST

Audubon makes his bow at Philadelphia—Is greeted with plaudits and cold water—Friendship of Harlan, Sully, Bonaparte and Harris—Hostility of Ord, Lawson and other friends of Alexander Wilson—A meeting of academicians—Visit to "Mill Grove"—Exhibits drawings in New York and becomes a member of the Lyceum—At the Falls of Niagara—In a gale on Lake Erie—Episode at Meadville—Walk to Pittsburgh—Tour of Lakes Ontario and Champlain—Decides to take his drawings to Europe—Descends the Ohio in a skiff—Stranded at Cincinnati—Teaching at St. Francisville.

In 1824 after five hard years of struggle and embarrassment, Audubon decided that the time had come to bring his labors to the light of day. At thirty-nine, he read and spoke two languages but was without adequate training in either; he had never written a line for publication, and to the scientific world he was a stranger. Though without a definite plan, he cherished the ardent hope of presenting the birds of his beloved America as he had depicted them, to the size of life, and with all the added interest and zest that a natural environment could give them.

To Philadelphia the naturalist now turned his steps, for that city was then a Mecca for scientific men. Leaving Shippingport in March, he reached the Quaker capital on the fifth day of April. There he purchased a new suit of clothes, and, dressed "with extreme neatness," paid his respects to Dr. William Mease, the one friend there whom he had known intimately in his younger and more prosperous days. It was primarily through this excellent man's interest that Audubon met the leading artists and scientific men of the city, including Thomas Sully, Robert and Rembrandt Peale, Richard Harlan, Charles Le Sueur, and Charles L. Bonaparte, the latter then a rising young ornithologist of one and twenty. It was Bonaparte who introduced Audubon to the Academy of Natural Sciences, where his drawings were exhibited and generally admired. Among his critics on that occasion was George Ord, who from their first interview seems to have looked upon the new luminary with jealous eyes. Whether this was true or not, there is no doubt that Ord became one of his few really bitter and implacable adversaries, and not many days elapsed before Audubon came to feel that many in Philadelphia would be glad to see him return to the backwoods of the Middle West, from which, like an apple of Sodom, he seemed suddenly to have dropped into their midst. Those who were most interested in the continued sale and success of Wilson's _Ornithology_, he declared, advised him not to publish anything, and threw not only cold water but ice upon all his plans. Thus began that unseemly rivalry, fostered for many years by George Ord in this country, between the friends of Alexander Wilson and those of John James Audubon, the dead embers of which are occasionally stirred even to this day.[299]

Ord, who was about Audubon's own age, was a quiet, persistent, and unassuming worker, held in high esteem by many of his associates. Audubon seems to have done his best to conciliate him then and at a later day, but all to no purpose; Dr. Harlan once advised him to give up the attempt, since Ord, he declared, had no heart for friendship, having been denied that blessing by nature herself. Ord, as we have seen, had edited the eighth and written the ninth, or concluding, volume of Wilson's _American Ornithology_, as well as a life of its author; the appearance of a new star in the ornithological horizon may not have been a welcome sight. At all events, we soon find him engaged upon a new edition of Wilson's work.[300] Ord had objected to Audubon's method of combining plants and other accessories with his drawings of birds, a criticism that in the case of purely technical works could be easily sustained, and some of his later charges, though carried too far, were not wholly without foundation.[301]

Bonaparte,[302] on the other hand, was captivated by Audubon's drawings and anxious to secure his services for his own work, then well in hand. This was the _American Ornithology_, for which Titian R. Peale was then making the drawings, and Thomas Lawson, who had been Wilson's engraver, was engaged on the plates; though quite distinct in itself, this was much in the style of Wilson's earlier work, of which it was virtually a continuation. When Bonaparte introduced Audubon to these men, it is not surprising that the meeting was not productive of the best of feeling on either side. Peale's stiff and rather conventional portraits of birds naturally failed to awaken enthusiasm in "the trader naturalist," as some who looked upon him as a rival rather contemptuously called him. The interview with Lawson, if correctly reported by his friend,[303] shows that his interest could not have been of the most disinterested sort. "Lawson told me," said this reporter, "that he spoke freely of the pictures, and said that they were ill drawn, not true to nature, and anatomically incorrect." Thereupon Bonaparte defended them warmly, saying that he would buy them and that Lawson should engrave them. "You may buy them," said the Scotchman, "but I will not engrave them ... because ornithology requires truth in the forms, and correctness in the lines. Here are neither." Other meetings are said to have followed, but to have ended only in mutual dislike. Nevertheless, one of Audubon's drawings was engraved by Lawson and appeared in Bonaparte's work,[304] but most of the figures in Bonaparte's concluding volumes were by the hand of a German named Alexander Rider. It was doubtless a fortunate circumstance that the prejudice and obstinacy of this overbearing Scot was a bar to any further absorption of Audubon's talents.[305]

Audubon met at this time a more appreciative engraver in Mr. Fairman, who urged him to take his drawings to Europe and have them engraved in a superior style; on July 12 the naturalist wrote that he had drawn "for Mr. Fairman a small grouse to be put on a banknote belonging to the State of New Jersey." By some lucky chance this incident brought him the acquaintance of Edward Harris,[306] whom he met that summer in Philadelphia, and who became one of his most constant and disinterested friends. It was Harris who a few days after their meeting took all of the drawings which Audubon had for sale and at the artist's own prices;[307] who for years was continually sending him rare or desirable specimens of birds; who accompanied him through the Southern States to Florida in 1837 and on the famous Missouri River Expedition in 1843. Edward Harris became a patron of science through his friendship with scientific men, and many besides Audubon were indebted to him for judicious advice as well as more substantial benefits.

The Academy of Natural Sciences, founded in 1812, was well established at this time, and its rapidly growing Museum was already the largest and most valuable in the New World; ornithology was a favored subject, and the Academy's roll embraced every American pioneer worker of note in the entire field of the natural sciences. The following account of a meeting of the Academy, held on October 11, 1825, when Ord presided, has been preserved in a letter of the period:[308]

A few evenings since I was associated with a society of gentlemen, members of the Academy of Natural Sciences. There were present fifteen or twenty. Among the number were Le Sueur, Rafinesque, Say, Peale, Pattison, Harlan, and Charles Lucien Bonaparte.

Among this collection life was most strikingly exemplified: Le Sueur, with a countenance weather-beaten and worn, looked on, for the muscles of his ironbound visage seemed as incapable of motion, as those on the medals struck in the age of Julius Cæsar. Rafinesque has a fine black eye, rather bald and black hair, and withal is rather corpulent. I was informed that he was a native of Constantinople; at present he lives in Kentucky. Dr. Harlan is a spruce young man.... Peale is the son of the original proprietor of the Philadelphia Museum, and one who visited the Rocky Mountains with Major Long; he is a young man, and has no remarkable indications of countenance to distinguish him. Say, who was his companion in the same expedition, is an extremely interesting man; to him I am particularly obligated for showing me their Museum and Library. I think he told me that their society had published nine volumes.... Bonaparte is the son of Lucien Bonaparte and nephew to the Emperor Napoleon; he is a little set, black-eyed fellow, quite talkative, and withal interesting and companionable.

Among the working naturalists at Philadelphia Dr. Richard Harlan was possibly one whose friendship was most valuable to Audubon; the artist from whom he received most encouragement was Thomas Sully, the portrait painter, who took him into his studio and gave him lessons in the use of oils. Sully was one of those who saw the good side of Audubon's character, discerned his talent, and predicted for him a great future; at a later day Sully was able to rejoice in finding his prediction amply fulfilled.[309]

Convinced that the advice which Fairman and Bonaparte had given him was sound, Audubon decided to look to Europe for a publisher of his _Birds_, and with this end in view, set hard to work at his drawings. "I had some pupils offered," he said, "at a dollar per lesson; but I found the citizens unwilling to pay for art, although they affected to patronize it. I exhibited my drawings for a week, but found the show did not pay, and so determined to remove myself." Audubon remained in Philadelphia until August, and while in doubt as to what step he should take next, he was cheered by a visit to "Mill Grove," made in the carriage of his Quaker friend, Reuben Haines. To quote his journal:

As we entered the avenue, which led to the farm, every step brought to my mind the memory of past years, and I was bewildered by the recollections until we reached the door of the house, which had once been the residence of my father as well as of myself. The cordial welcome of Mr. Wetherill, the owner, was extremely agreeable. After resting a few moments, I abruptly took my hat and ran wildly to the woods, to the grotto where I first heard from my wife that she was not indifferent to me. It had been torn down, and some stones carted away; but raising my eyes towards heaven, I repeated the promise we had mutually made. We dined at Mill Grove, and as I entered the parlor I stood motionless for a moment on the spot where my wife and myself were forever joined.

In this dramatic rehearsal the naturalist clearly implies that he was married in the parlor of his own home, but his excellent wife, who was surely in this instance the better authority, explicitly states that their marriage took place in her father's house at "Fatland Ford." Since Audubon was in the habit of sending extracts from his journal to his family, it is clear that errors of this sort were the simple result of an impulsive temperament; the moment his imagination pictured his wedding as having taken place in his old abode, down went the jotting in the journal, which was written at odd moments anywhere, often at late hours, and with no care in revision or thought of future publication.

On August 1, 1824, Audubon recorded in his diary that he had left Philadelphia for New York on the day before, "in good health, free from debt, and free from anxiety about the future." Sully had given him glowing letters of introduction to Gilbert Stuart, Washington Allston and Colonel Trumbull, but then as now midsummer was not a propitious time to find city people at home, and he began to consider the advisability of visiting both Albany and Boston. Alternately elated or depressed by the prospects of the day or the hour, Audubon wrote on August 4 that he had called with a letter of introduction on Dr. Mitchell, who had given him "a kind letter to his friend Dr. Barnes." This hurriedly penciled note from the Nestor of American science of that day has been carefully preserved, and reads as follows:[310]

_Dr. Samuel L. Mitchell to Dr. Barnes_

Mr. A. who brings strong testimonial of excellence from our friends in Pha is now sitting with me—I have been delighted and instructed by a Display of his Port Folio containing Drawings Done from Life of North American Birds and illustrating the Connect, of ornithology with Botany. he has Superior attainments & skill in the natural sciences which he has cultivated for more than 20 y.

he wishes to show his Elegant performances to the Members of the Lyceum and to be made a Member of that Society—it is his intention to Leave this City for Boston on Sunday morning. Meanwhile I recommend him to your good offices.

Yours Truly as ever

SAM, L. MITCHELL Aug t 4 t 1824

Dr. Mitchell, who was the father and first president of the Lyceum of Natural History, had been a friend of young Audubon when he was clerking in New York in 1807.[311] His recommendation was accepted, and the naturalist was enrolled on the Lyceum's list of members; to justify his election, two papers, representing his first contribution to ornithology, were presented to the Society, and appeared in its _Annals_ of that year.[312] Audubon visited the Lyceum with Dr. DeKay and exhibited his drawings, but said that he felt awkward and uncomfortable. On August 3 he called on John Vanderlyn, the artist, examined his pictures, and "saw the medal given him by Napoleon, but was not impressed with the idea that he was a great painter." Upon meeting Vanderlyn again a little later, he was asked to sit for a portrait of Andrew Jackson; his journal entry regarding the incident was as follows:[313]

August 10. My spirits low, and I long for the woods again; but the prospect of becoming better known prompts me to remain another day. Met the artist Vanderlyn, who asked me to give him a sitting for a portrait of General Jackson, since my figure considerably resembled that of the General, more than any he had ever seen. I likewise sketched my landlady and child, and filled my time.

The context shows that the sitting was given, and as Mr. Stanley C. Arthur remarks, Vanderlyn's portrait, which now hangs in the City Hall in New York, shows "Old Hickory" from the shoulders up, but from the shoulders down it is John James Audubon.

On the 14th Audubon wrote cheerfully to Sully:

_Audubon to Thomas Sully_

My reception in New York has surpassed my hopes. I have been most kindly [received], and had I seen Col. Trumball, I would have found him the gentleman you represented, but his absence at Saratoga Springs has deprived me of that pleasure.

New York is now an immense city. Strangers are received here with less reserve generally than at Philadelphia. I found the Academy well supplied with paintings, and sculptures of the Greek masters. The steam boats of the Sweet Ohio, with all their swiftness of motion and beautiful forms, do not interest the eye like those that are here tossing over the foaming billows with the grace of the wild swan. Were I a painter—ah could I, like ——, carry in my mind's eye all my mind feels when looking at the Battery at the moon's tender reflections on the farthest sails, forcing the vessel they move with the very wind's heart,—express as he does the quick moving tar hauling in a reef at the yard's end,—and make on the canvas a noble commander speak, as you have done; then, my dear friend, I could show you New York's harbor and all its beauties....

I cannot part with that Fair City [Philadelphia] this soon; I cannot help thanking Fairman, Peale, Neagle, Le Sueur, and many others besides Mc Murty for their attentions to me. Should you see honest Quaker Haines, beg him to believe me his friend; should you see Mr. Ord, tell him I never was his enemy. Think of me some time, and accept the truest best wishes of

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

I leave for Boston tomorrow. Should you please to write to me, direct to Care of Messrs. Anshutz & Co, Pittsburgh, where I shall be in about 40 days.

The very next day Audubon changed his plans and sailed up the Hudson to Albany, where he hoped to meet De Witt Clinton, then at the height of his fame, who in the course of his great undertakings had found time to write letters on the natural history and antiquities of his State, and Dr. Beck, the botanist. Failing to find either at home, Audubon was compelled by the depleted state of his pocketbook to give up his plan of visiting Boston, and being determined to see Niagara Falls, he took passage on a canal boat to Buffalo instead. The Falls were reached on the 24th of August, and it was then, on recording his name at an hotel, that Audubon wrote underneath: "Who, like Wilson, will ramble, but never, like that great man, die under the lash of a bookseller."[314] Upon his first view of the Falls he was satisfied that Niagara never had been and never could be painted. He wanted to cross the bridge at Goat Island but was deterred by the necessity of economy. Visitors it seems, had already learned to venture under a small section of the American Falls, and Audubon said that while looking through the falling sheet of water, "at their feet thousands of eels were lying side by side, trying vainly to ascend the torrent." After strolling through the village to find some bread and milk, the naturalist recorded that he ate a good dinner for twelve cents, and that he went to bed "thinking of Franklin eating his roll in the streets of Philadelphia, of Goldsmith traveling by the aid of his musical powers, and of other great men who had worked their way through hardships and difficulties to fame, and fell asleep, hoping, by persevering industry, to make a name for himself among his countrymen."

The schooner from Buffalo to Erie, Pennsylvania, on which Audubon had taken deck passage, as he was unable to afford a berth in the cabin, was caught in a violent gale on the way and was obliged to anchor in the harbor of Presque Isle. "It was on the 29th of August, 1824," his diary reads, "and never shall I forget that morning." Captain Judd, of the United States Navy, had sent a gig with six men to its relief, and "my drawings," he continues, "were put into the boat with the greatest care. We shifted into it, and seated ourselves according to direction. Our brave fellows pulled hard, and every moment brought us nearer the American shore; I leaped upon it with elated heart. My drawings were safely landed, and for anything else I cared little at the moment."

At this point Audubon set out with a fellow traveler, who was also an artist, for Meadville, Pennsylvania. The earliest version of his journal[315] which gives an account of this experience reads as follows:

On the shore of upper Canada, my money was stolen. The thief, perhaps, imagined it was of little importance to a naturalist. To repine at what could not be helped would have been unmanly. I felt satisfied Providence had relief in store. Seven dollars and a half were left to us, two persons, 1500 miles from home, at the entrance of Presque-Isle Harbor.

Five dollars was paid to their driver, and when they reached Meadville, and entered J. E. Smith's "Traveler's Rest," they had but one hundred and fifty cents between them. No time was to be lost, and Audubon at once started out with his portfolio and his artist friend to look for work:

I walked up the Main Street, looking for _heads_, till I saw a Hollander gentleman in a store, who looked as if he might want a sketch. I begged him to allow me to sit down. This granted, I remained perfectly silent till he very soon asked: "What is in that portfolio"? This sounded well; I opened it. He complimented me on my drawings of birds and flowers. Showing him a portrait of my Best Friend, I asked him if he would like one of himself. He said "Yes, and I will exert myself to gain as many more customers as I can."

According to a story current at Meadville long after the event Audubon made the acquaintance of Mr. Benedict, a merchant, lately come from New Haven, whose attractive daughter, named Jennett,[316] was then one and twenty; his family lived at the village tavern, called the "Torbett House," in which Mr. Augustus Colson had a store. It was Mr. Colson, to whom Audubon probably refers, who responded generously to his appeal for work, and called in a number of his young friends as possible patrons. Among them was Miss Jennett Benedict, and the naturalist, attracted by her agreeable manners and pleasing appearance, asked permission to make a portrait-sketch, saying that he would pay for the privilege by presenting her with a copy. This was evidently good business enterprise, for, according to the story, a grain bin in the Colson store was soon converted into a studio, and Audubon was rewarded by a number of sitters. Here is his account from the record just quoted:

Next day I entered the _artist's room_, by crazy steps of the store-garret; four windows faced each other at right angles; in a corner was a cat nursing, among rags for a paper-mill; hogsheads of oats, Dutch toys on the floor, a large drum, a bassoon, fur caps along the walls, a hammock and rolls of leather. Closing the extra windows with blankets, I procured a painter's light.

A young man sat to try my skill; his phiz was approved; then the merchant; the room became crowded. In the evening I joined him in music on the flute and violin. My fellow traveller also had made two sketches. We wrote a page or two in our journals, and went to rest.

The next day was spent as yesterday. Our pockets replenished, we walked to Pittsburgh in two days.

A month was spent at Pittsburgh, where Audubon searched the country for birds and continued his drawings. While there he made the acquaintance of the Reverend John Henry Hopkins, a man of superb appearance and rare conversational and oratorical powers, later known as the learned and versatile first Episcopal Bishop of Vermont. Audubon attended some of the ministrations of this remarkable man, through whose influence, he said, "I was brought to think, more than I usually did, of religious matters; but I never think of churches without feeling sick at heart at the sham and show of some of their professors. To repay evil with kindness is the religion that I was taught to practice, and this will forever be my rule."

In the autumn of 1824 Audubon planned another visit to the Great Lakes in search of new birds, and tried to induce his friend, Mr. Edward Harris, to accompany him. While wandering in the forests along those lakes he thought out the plan which was finally followed in the publication of his _Birds of America_:

Chance, and chance alone, had divided my drawings into three different classes, depending upon the magnitude of the objects to be represented; and, although I did not at that time possess all the specimens necessary, I arranged them as well as I could into parcels of five plates—I improved the whole as much as was in my power; and as I daily retired farther from the haunts of man, determined to leave nothing undone, which my labor, my time, or my purse could accomplish.[317]

Audubon's journal kept on the lakes has been lost, but that journey was fresh in mind when he wrote the following letter to Edward Harris.[318]

_Audubon to Edward Harris_

BEECHWOODS. Near BAYOU SARA, LA. _Jany. 31 1825._

Surely I have not dismerited your esteem; when on the Lakes, both Ontario and Champlain, I wrote to you—again from Pittsburgh, all without any answer, and I am sorry to say that I have been either abandoned or forgotten by all those other persons who had promised to keep up a correspondence with me....

The country I visited was new, in great measure, to me. I have been delighted with the tour, but will forever regret that your sister's indisposition could not allow you time to augment my pleasure by your company.

[Audubon offers to send his friend shrubs and fruits from the South, and concludes;] In fact, my dear Mr. Harris, I am yet the same man you knew at the corner of 5th, and Minor Streets [in Philadelphia], and will continue forever the same.

After his tour of the Lakes Audubon returned to Pittsburgh, and on October 24, 1824, started down the Ohio in a skiff, intending to descend to the Mississippi and thence reach his family in Louisiana. Bad weather and lack of funds interfered with this plan, and ere long he was once more stranded in Cincinnati, where he was beset by claimants for payment upon articles ordered for the Western Museum five years before. Finding it difficult at this time to replenish an empty purse, Audubon felt that he must borrow fifteen dollars, but could not make up his mind how to ask the favor until he had several times walked past the house where he had once been known. Nevertheless, he succeeded in obtaining the necessary funds, took passage on a boat bound for Louisville, and slept cheerfully that night on a pile of shavings which he managed to scrape together on deck. "The spirit of contentment which I now feel," he wrote, "is strange; it borders on the sublime; and, enthusiastic or lunatic, as some of my relatives will have me, I am glad to possess such a spirit"; later he added: "I discover that my friends think only of my apparel, and those upon whom I have conferred acts of kindness prefer to remind me of my errors."

Louisville was reached on November 20, and a number of days were spent in visiting his eldest son, Victor, who was then at Shippingport.[319] He finally arrived at Bayou Sara in late November, 1824. The captain of his vessel, which was bound for New Orleans, put him ashore at midnight, and he was left to grope his way to the village on the hill. St. Francisville, to his dismay, was nearly deserted, a scourge of yellow fever having driven most of its inhabitants to the pine woods. The postmaster, however, was able to assure him that his wife and son were well, and Mr. Nübling, a friendly German, whom he described as "a man of cultivation and taste, and a lover of Natural Science," gave him refreshment and a horse. In his eagerness to cover the fifteen miles to the Percy house as rapidly as possible, he tried to strike a straight course through the dark forest, but missed his way, and dawn found him on unfamiliar ground; he then learned from a negro that he was two miles beyond the place. When he arrived at last "with rent and wasted clothes, and uncut hair, and altogether looking like the wandering Jew," his wife was busily engaged in teaching her pupils. During his absence of nearly fourteen months she had prospered greatly, and she was not only ready but eager to place her earnings at her husband's disposal.

When he had finally decided to take his drawings to Europe for publication, Audubon set to work to increase his capital, and soon had pupils in French, music, and drawing, while a dancing class of sixty was organized in a neighboring town. His country lads and lassies proved rather awkward material, and he broke his bow and nearly ruined his violin in his impatience to evoke a single graceful step or motion; when, however, he consented to dance to his own music, he never failed to bring down thunders of applause. These efforts were continued for over a year, until he had realized a considerable sum. With this money in hand, supplemented by what his wife could spare, he determined to seek his fortunes in the Old World.