ly say that he was a most
excellent man, a great shot, and possessed of
extraordinary learning&emdash;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 neighborhood was playing pranks
on the glassy surface of that lovely stream. Being
somewhat of a skater myself, I sent a note to the
inhabitants 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 herself 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
attention; 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 ruin 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 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 appearance 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
accepted 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 surface 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,
off we went after an eaarly breakfast. The ice was in
capital
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
280
order wherever no air -
holes existed, but of these a great number interrupted
our course, all of which were, however, avoided as we
proceeded upward along the glittering, frozen bosom of
the stream. The day was spent in much pleasure, and the
game collected was not inconsiderable.
On our return, in the
early dusk of the evening, I 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 darkness came on, and now our speed was
increased. Unconsciously 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 naught 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&emdash;, 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, however, 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, 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 London. I was the bearer of a letter from Mr.
Bakewell, of Fatland 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
&emdash; that rascal &emdash; 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 at once
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
281.
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
circumstances. 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.
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 sum
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 the most exasperated state of mind.
The fact is, both 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 Rhode Island,
when my captain came to me, as if in despair, 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
proceeded 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 captain 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
overboard. At one part of the sea we passed through an
immensity of dead fish floating on the surface of the
water, and, after nineteen days from New Bedford, we had
entered the Loire, and anchored off Painbonif, 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, La Gerbertiliere,
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
welcome, however, I was; I found my father hale and
hearty, and 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
twelve months, 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 republic had, as it
were, dwindled into a half monarchical, half democratic
era. Bonaparte was at the height of success, overflowing
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
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
282
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 St. 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."
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
windward 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; 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
latter with his men kept guard over the whole.
The vessel which had
pursued us was the Rattlesnake and was what I believe is
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 everything 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 within about thirty miles of the entrance
to the bay of New York, when we 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
American 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 immediately, 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
sandbar 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 Bakewdll, stayed with him a day, and
proceeded at as swift a rate as possible to Fatland 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 information 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,
fishing, 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
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
283
have seen me going
shooting in black satin smailclothes, or breeches, with
silk stockings, and the finest ruffled 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 confirm 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. Withal, and fortunately for me, I was not
addicted to gambling; cards I disliked, and I had no
other evil practices. I was, besides, 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 extremely annoying to all those round me.
Indeed, so much did it influence me that I never went to
dinners, merely because when so situated my peculiarities
in my choice of food occasioned comment, and also because
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 intended 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 heriodias, he
assured me the time might come when I should be a great
American 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 William Bakewell advised
me to study the mercantile business; my father approved,
and to insure this training under the best auspices I
went to New York, where I 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 venture which I undertook
was in indigo; it cost me several hundred pounds, the
whole of which was lost. Rozier was no more fortunate
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 5, 1808, 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 hospitality and kindness of the people
were sufficiently winning things to entice anyone to go
there with a view to comfort and happiness.
We had marked Louisville
as a spot
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
284
designed by nature to
become 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 flat-boat, 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.
Victor was born June 12,
1809, at Gwathway's Hotel of the Indian Queen. We had by
this time formed the ac- quaintance 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
greatest pleasure. All the sportsmen and hunters were
fond of me, and I became their companion; my fondness for
fine horses was well kept up, and I had as good as the
country&emdash;and the country was Kentucky &emdash;
could afford. Our most intimate friends were the
Tarascons and the Berthouds, at Louisville and
Shippingport. 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, Hozier 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 1810 Alexander Wilson,
the naturalist &emdash; not the American naturalist
&emdash; called upon me. About 1812 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, 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 happened 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. Ilozier
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
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
285
Kentuckian, was a good
shot and an excellent fisherman, and he and I attended to
the procuring of game and fish, while iRozier again 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. Genevizwe, on the
Mississippi River. I acceded to his request to go there,
but determined to leave your mother 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 flat-boat, my
partner and I left Henderson in the month of December,
1813, in a heavy snow-storm. This change in my plans
prevented me from going, as I had intended, on a long
expedition. In Louisville we had formed the acquaintance
of Major Croghan (an old friend of my father's), and of
General Jonathan 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 Canadians, uneducated and
uncouth, and the ever-longing wish to be with my beloved
wife and children drew my thoughts to Henderson, 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 pro- posed selling out to him, a bargain was
made, he paid me a certain amount in cash, and gave me
bills for the residue. This accomplished, I purchased a
beauty of a horse, for which I paid dear enough, and bid
Rozier farewell. On my return trip to Henderson 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,"
and which is to be found in (I believe) 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 suffered
much afterward by swollen feet. I reached Henderson in
early March and a few weeks later the lower portions of
Kentucky 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, 1812; he
was an extremely delicate boy till about a twelve month
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 appeared. 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
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
286
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 Moses
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
poverty troubled us not. Your uncle, T. W. Bakewell, was
again in New Orleans, and doing rather better, but this
was a mere transient 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. Cheminfaisant, I came in contact
with, and was accompanied by, General Toledo, then on his
way as a revolutionist to South America. As our fiat -
boats 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 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 concluded 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 Henderson 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 were your
present uncle N. Berthoud 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
steammill was, of all the follies of man, one of the
greatest, and to your uncle and me the worst of all our
pecuniary 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 steamboat, 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
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
287
us like so many
avalanches, both fearful and destructive.
About this time I 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&emdash; had been compelled to
surrender the steamer to a prior claimant. I returned to
Henderson, 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&emdash; had arrived before me, and had
sworn to kill me. My girfrighted Lucy forced me to wear a
dagger. Mr. B&emdash; walked about the streets and before
my house as if watching for me, and the continued reports
of our neighbors prepared me for an encounter 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&emdash; marching toward me with a heavy
club in his hand. I stood still, and he soon reached me.
He complained of my conduct to him at New Orleans, and
suddenly raising his bludgeon laid it about me. Though
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 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 walkcd
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 &emdash; for
not having killed the scoundrelwho 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
abundant land 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 blessing 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 exceeding-
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
288
ly 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
as 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 asmuch 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 intensified, or at least
developed, my abilities. I received an invitation 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 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. T. 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 Cincinnati, 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 find 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 perfectly
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. 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 those times, and
it may happen that the pages that I am now scribbling
over may hereafter, through your own medium, or that of
someone else, be published. I shall try, should God
Almighty grant me life, to return to these less important
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
Louisville, one morning, while all of us were sadly
desponding, I took you, both Victor and John from
Shippingport to Loulsville. I had purchased a loaf of
bread
AUDUBON'S STORY OF
HIS YOUTH.
page
289
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 rue as a blank, and my heart was
sorely 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 lives 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 delineating 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.
Copied verbatim from the
original journal in John J. Audubon's handwriting,
1892.
THIS
PAGE CREATED BY FLORIDA KEYS BEST
COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL
http://www.floridakeysbest.com
site
map
email@floridakeysbest.com
