Page images
PDF
EPUB

lying among the flowers of the fertile land in which he was born, sheltered by the orange trees, and watching the move'ments of the mocking-bird, "the king of song,"-dear to him in after-life from many associations. He has remarked that his earliest impressions of nature were exceedingly vivid; the beauties of natural scenery stirred a "frenzy " in his 'blood, and at the earliest age the bent of his future studies 'was indicated by many characteristic traits.' Audubon's mother appears to have died when he was an infant; his father, a French naval officer, married again, and the young naturalist met with a step-mother very different from what step-mothers are proverbially said to be, for having no children of her own, she humoured the child in every whim, and indulged him in ' every luxury. The future naturalist-who, in the recesses ' of American forests, was to live on roots and fruits, and even 'scantier fare was indulged with a carte blanche on all the 'confectionary shops in the village where his summer months were passed, and he speaks of the kindness of his step-mother as overwhelming.' At this time they were living at Nantes. How long he was indulged in unlimited cakes and humoured in every way we are not told; it is just, however, in estimating Audubon's character, to bear in mind the influence such mistaken indulgence most likely had on him. Audubon's excessive vanity and conceit would probably have been knocked out of him had he been early sent to school. However, to school at last he was sent. His father wished the lad to enter the French navy as a cadet, or to become an engineer; accordingly a course of study was prescribed in mathematics, drawing, geography, fencing, and music. In the latter art he made great proficiency; he could play adroitly on the violin, flute, flageolet, and guitar; of dancing he was very fond, but, as his biographer says, it was an accomplishment which, in afteryears, he had more opportunities of practising among bears than among men.' Mathematics were for the most part neglected for natural history rambles. The notorious Jacques Louis David, the French revolutionist and intimate friend of Robespierre (whose painting of the Rape of the Sabines and portrait of Napoleon I. are well known), was Audubon's drawing-master, and to him he owed his earliest lessons in tracing objects of natural history. The mannerism of the great French artist,' Mr. Buchanan thinks, may still be traced in 'certain pedantries discernible in Audubon's style of drawing.' While the old sailor was from home on naval service, the young naturalist, under the indulgent rule of his step-mother, had ample opportunities of gratifying his nest-hunting and bird

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

collecting propensities. Supplied with a haversack of provisions, he made frequent excursions into the country, and ⚫ usually returned loaded with objects of natural history-birds' nests, birds' eggs, specimens of moss, curious stones, and other objects attractive to the eye.' But Audubon would not study. His father, though he was astonished at the large collection of natural objects which the boy had made, and paid him some compliment on it, was evidently mortified at the idleness of 'the young naturalist.' He took him to Rochefort with the idea of making him study mathematics under his own eye, yet mathematics had to give place to natural history, and so ardently did the youth pursue his favourite amusement, that at Nantes he soon completed drawings of two hundred specimens of French birds. In vain his father urged him to win fame and glory by following the French Eagles,' Audubon's heart was with the eagles that soared aloft in the sky; for the figures that adorned the French standard he cared not at all. So the youth was sent to America to look after his father's property. He landed at New York, where he caught the yellow fever; from thence he was removed to Morristown and nursed by two kind Quaker ladies, to whose attentive care he probably owed his life. Audubon was next put under the care of a Mr. Fisher, his father's agent at Philadelphia, who took him to his villa. Now Mr. Fisher had strong objections to shooting birds and hunting; he even thought music hardly correct, and it was not likely that this lover of freedom and wild nature would be happy with so strict a religious formalist. The house was little livelier than a prison,' and he gladly escaped from it. There was a pretty little place-a 'blessed 'spot,' as Audubon termed it-called Mill Grove, on the Perkiominy Creek, which belonged to his father, and to this spot the young naturalist went. The rental paid by the tenant of this little property supplied Audubon with all the money he needed, and here, he adds, 'cares I knew not, and cared ' nothing for them.' Within sight of Mill Grove, and adjoining the property, was a place called Fatland Ford, where an English gentleman, Mr. Bakewell, and his daughter resided. Audubon hated the very name of an Englishman, and nothing would induce him to seek the acquaintance of Mr. Bakewell and his daughter at Fatland Ford; but one day, after the winter's frosts had set in, as Audubon was following some grouse down the creek, he suddenly came upon Mr. Bakewell, whom kindred tastes had brought to the spot. The Englishman's urbanity quickly dispelled the Frenchman's prejudices. Audubon says,

[ocr errors]

'I was struck with the kind politeness of his manners, and found him a most expert marksman, and entered into conversation. I admired the beauty of his well-trained dogs, and finally promised to call upon him and his family. Well do I recollect the morning, and may it please God that I never forget it, when for the first time I entered the Bakewell house. It happened that Mr. Bakewell was from home. I was shown into a parlour where only one young lady was snugly seated at work, with her back towards 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 with a smile, would be in a few minutes, as she would send a servant after him. Other ruddy cheeks made their appearance, but, like spirits gay, vanished from my sight. Talking and working, the young lady who remained made the time pass pleasantly enough, and to me especially so. It was she, my dear Lucy Bakewell, who afterwards became my wife and the mother of my children.'

Audubon was a capital marksman. On one occasion, while skating down the Perkiominy Creek, he laid a wager with Miss Bakewell's brother that he would put a shot through his cap, when thrown into the air by his companion, he himself skating at full speed. The experiment was made, and the cap riddled.' The young naturalist, while at Mill Grove, met with an accident that nearly cut short his career.

'Having engaged in a duck-shooting expedition up the Perkiominy Creek with young Bakewell and some young friends, it was found that the ice was full of dangerous air-holes. On our upward journey it was easy to avoid accident, but the return trip was attended with an accident which had nearly closed my career. Indeed, my escape was one of the inconceivable miracles that occasionally rescues a doomed man from his fate. The trip was extended too far, and night and darkness had set in before we reached home. I led the party through the dusk with a white handkerchief made fast to a stick, and we proceeded like a flock of geese going to their feeding-grounds. Watching for air-holes, I generally avoided them; but increasing our speed, I suddenly plunged into one, was carried for some distance by the stream under the ice, and stunned and choking I was forced up through another air-hole further down the stream. I clutched hold of the ice and arrested my downward progress, until my companions arrived to help me.'

It was three months before he recovered. The treachery and rascality of a man of the name of Da Casta, sent over from France as a partner, tutor, and monitor,' by the elder Audubon, ended in the naturalist leaving Mill Grove and walking straight off to New York in the middle of a severe winter. This person demurred to the proposed union with Lucy Bakewell, and appears to have made himself very objectionable in other ways. On Audubon arriving at New York with a letter of credit to a man named Kanman, he found that he had

[ocr errors]

money to give him, and Kanman disclosed the partner's' treachery by hinting that Audubon should be seized and shipped for China! No wonder the young naturalist was 'furious' at such treatment, and sailed immediately to his parents' home in Nantes. The result of Audubon's voyage to France was satisfactory to himself. Da Casta was removed from his position, and the elder Audubon gave his consent to his son's marriage with Lucy Bakewell. Shooting, fishing, collecting natural history specimens, the future American ornithologist was as happy as could be. In one year two hundred drawings of European birds had been completed; a fact,' as his biographer remarks, which displays marvellous industry, if it does not necessarily imply a sound artistic representation of the birds drawn.' After remaining at Nantes for one year, he entered as a midshipman the French Marine; he made one short cruise in the service of France, and then returned to Mill Grove once more, its master. He had not yet gained possession of Lucy Bakewell, and the young lady's father advised Audubon to gain some knowledge of commercial 'pursuits' before marrying his daughter. With characteristic promptitude-amor addidit alas-Audubon started for New York, and entered the counting-house of Mr. Benjamin Bakewell. Here he made rapid progress in his education by losing some hundreds of pounds by a bad speculation in indigo.' It was not likely that Audubon, fond of a free, wild country life, and devoted to the study of birds and plants, ever should have been content behind the counter,' and so, after a season of probation, during which Mr. Bakewell became convinced of the impossibility of tutoring Audubon into mercantile habits, the naturalist gladly returned to Mill Grove. As a proof of his unfitness for business, he relates that he once posted a letter containing 8,000 dollars, and forgot to seal it.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

On April 8, 1808, he was married to Miss Bakewell in her father's house at Fatland Ford. He sold Mill Grove, and, investing his capital in goods, prepared to start for the West. The newly-married pair sailed down the Ohio in a flat-bottomed float, named an ark-a mode of travelling exceedingly primitive and tedious-and reached Louisville after a voyage of twelve days. At Louisville Audubon commenced trade ⚫ under favourable auspices, but the hunting of birds continued to be the ruling passion.' Among the Louisville planters he found a ready welcome, and his life, in the company of his young wife, was one of extreme happiness. But the study of birds and business could not go together.

Audubon's sojourn at Louisville was made memorable by

his acquaintance with Alexander Wilson, the weaver-poet of Paisley. Their meeting is thus described by Audubon:

Your

'One fair morning I was surprised by the sudden entrance into our counting-room at Louisville of Mr. Alexander Wilson, the celebrated author of the "American Ornithology," of whose existence I had never until that moment been apprised. This happened in March 1810. How well do I remember him, as he then walked up to me! His long rather hooked nose, the keenness of his eyes, and his prominent cheek bones, stamped his countenance with a peculiar character. His dress too was of a kind not usually seen in that part of the country; a short coat, trousers, and waistcoat of grey cloth. His stature was not above the middle size. He had two volumes under his arm, and as he approached the table at which I was working, I thought I discovered something like astonishment in his countenance. He, however, immediately proceeded to disclose the object of his visit, which was to procure subscriptions for his work. He opened his books, explained the nature of his occupations, and requested my patronage. I felt surprised and gratified at the sight of his volumes, turned over a few of his plates, and had already taken my pen to write my name in his favour, when my partner, rather abruptly, said to me in French, "My "dear Audubon, what induces you to subscribe to this work? "drawings are certainly far better, and again, you must know as much " of the habits of American birds as this gentleman." Whether Mr. Wilson understood French or not, or if the suddenness with which I paused disappointed him, I cannot tell; but I clearly perceived that he was not pleased. Vanity and the encomiums of my friend prevented me from subscribing. Mr. Wilson asked me if I had many drawings of birds. I rose, took down a large portfolio, laid it on the table, and showed him as I would show you, kind reader, or any other person fond of such subjects-the whole of the contents, with the same patience with which he had showed me his own engravings. His surprise appeared great, as he told me he never had the most distant idea that any other individual than himself had been engaged in forming such a collection. He asked me if it was my intention to publish, and when I answered in the negative his surprise seemed to increase. And truly such was not my intention; for until long after, when I met the Prince of Musignano in Philadelphia, I had not the least idea of presenting the fruits of my labours to the world. Mr. Wilson now examined my drawings with care, asked if I should have any objections to lending him a few during his stay, to which I replied that I had none. He then bade me good morning, not, however, until I had made an arrangement to explore the woods in the vicinity along with him, and had promised to procure for him some birds, of which I had drawings in my collection, but which he had never seen. It happened that he lodged in the same house with us, but his retired habits, I thought, exhibited either a strong feeling of discontent or a decided melancholy. The Scotch airs which he played sweetly on his flute made me melancholy too, and I felt for him. I presented him to my wife and friends, and seeing that he was all enthusiasm, exerted myself as much as was

« EelmineJätka »