Part 20

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

The problem why certain men and women come to eminence, and why others, with apparently as much ability, remain forever in obscurity, is an interesting one to solve. Most persons desire fame; most persons desire wealth; but, for one reason or another, thousands fail to achieve what they desire. They lack either singleness of aim, or adequate perseverance, or determined will, or sound judgment, or, instead of mastering circumstances, they permit circumstances to master them.

It is so easy to be turned aside in life by trivial matters; to be interested in our neighbor's wedding, or our neighbor's profits and losses. Those who oversee the affairs of others rarely oversee their own. Men become very busy over clubs and pastimes; women, over social gatherings and appearance, and die with little accomplished.

Audubon's life furnishes a unique illustration of the result of having a definite purpose, and bending all one's energies to it, till success is attained.

John James Audubon was born at New Orleans, May 4, 1780, in the land of orange groves and magnolias, of birds and sunshine. His grandfather was a poor fisherman of La Vendee, France, with twenty-one children. Unable to support them, they made their way in life as best they could.

When John's father was twelve years old, the fisherman gave him "a shirt, a dress of warm clothing, his blessing, and a cane, and sent him out to seek his fortune." He went to Nantes, shipped before the mast; at twenty-one commanded a vessel, and at twenty-five was owner and captain of a small craft.

Going to St. Domingo, West Indies, he purchased a small estate. Ambitious, as are all persons who succeed, he soon secured an appointment from the Governor of St. Domingo, returned to France, made the acquaintance of influential men, and obtained an appointment in the Imperial navy, with the command of a small vessel of war.

He had what all persons need, true self-appreciation; quite another quality from self-conceit. To believe that we can do things, having kept our characters such that we respect ourselves, is a strong indication that we shall prosper if we make the attempt.

Frequently visiting America in his ship, Audubon purchased land in Louisiana, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. In the former State he married a lady of Spanish extraction, Anne Moynette, both beautiful and wealthy. Of their three sons and one daughter, John James was the youngest son.

The mother was not spared to rear the distinguished naturalist, but perished a few years after his birth, in the insurrection of the colored people of St. Domingo. The father, having purchased a beautiful estate on the Loire, nine miles from Nantes, married a second time, a woman who proved a most indulgent mother to her husband's children. Having none of her own, she humored John in every way, and allowed him to gather moss, curious stones, birds' nests,--indeed, everything which belongs to natural history,--to his heart's content.

On the return of Commodore Audubon to France, finding that the boy was following the bent of his own mind, to the neglect of a solid education, in spite of the tears and entreaties of his wife, he sent him away to school. For a year John was obliged to apply himself closely to mathematics, taking a ramble to collect specimens whenever it was possible. He studied drawing under the celebrated painter David, and learned to play well on the violin, flute, flageolet, and guitar.

His father had hoped that he would become a soldier under Napoleon, but a lad who could lie on his back under a tree for three weeks, and watch with a telescope the habits of some little gray birds of the color of the bark of the tree, would not care much for the smoke and din of battle. He was therefore sent to America, to look after his father's property.

With a heavy heart the youth said good-by to France, where he had already sketched two hundred varieties of birds from life. Arriving in New York, he became ill of yellow fever, and was carried to the home of two Quaker ladies in Morristown, whose kindness doubtless saved his life.

When he had recovered, he went to his father's farm at Mill Grove, near the Schuylkill Falls, Pennsylvania, and found, as he said, "a blessed spot." He was free, now, to study natural history; no more mathematics; no more urging to become a soldier. He was delighted with the mill attached to the property, and with the pewees who built their nests near by. "Hunting, fishing, and drawing occupied my every moment," he says; "cares I knew not, and cared nothing for them."

An English gentleman, William Bakewell, descended from the Peverils of Derbyshire, rendered historical by Scott's novel "Peveril of the Peak," owned the adjoining property. Audubon, being French, did not court the acquaintance of the Englishman, indeed avoided him, till one day, as he was following some grouse down the creek in winter, he met Mr. Bakewell.

"I was struck with the kind politeness of his manners," says Audubon, "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 may I never forget it, when for the first time I entered the Bakewell household. It happened that Mr. Bakewell was from home. I was shown into a parlor, where only one young lady was snugly seated at work, with her back turned 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."

Mr. Bakewell soon returned, and lunch was provided before leaving on a shooting expedition. "Lucy rose from her seat a second time, and her form, to which I had before paid little attention, seemed radiant with beauty, and my heart and eyes followed her every step. The repast being over, guns and dogs were provided, and as we left I was pleased to believe that Lucy looked upon me as a not very strange animal. Bowing to her, I felt, I knew not why, that I was at least not indifferent to her."

Thus was begun a beautiful affection that ran like a thread of gold through the darkness and light of two struggling lives. The friendship increased as the months went by, for the youth, alone in a strange country, devoted to his foster-mother, needed a woman's love and tenderness to cheer him. Lucy Bakewell taught Audubon English, and he in return gave her drawing lessons.

At Mill Grove the weeks passed pleasantly,--is not the world always beautiful when we love somebody? Audubon says in his journal: "I had no vices; but was thoughtless, pensive, loving, fond of shooting, fishing, and riding, and had a passion for raising all sorts of fowls, which sources of interest and amusement fully occupied my time.... I ate no butcher's meat, lived chiefly on fruits, vegetables, and fish, and never drank a glass of spirits or wine until my wedding day. To this I attribute my continual good health, endurance, and an iron constitution."

Here at Mill Grove, while yet a boy, he planned his great work, the "Birds of America," their habits, and a description of them. This one idea dominated Audubon's life. Through poverty and suffering, this one desire was ever before him. It is well to plan early in life what we wish to do, and then do it.

One writer has well said of Audubon: "For sixty years or more he followed, with more than religious devotion, a beautiful and devoted pursuit, enlarging its boundaries by his discoveries, and illustrating its objects by his art. In all climates and in all weathers; scorched by burning suns, drenched by piercing rains, frozen by the fiercest colds: now diving fearlessly into the densest forest, now wandering alone over the most savage regions; in perils, in difficulties, and in doubts; with no companion to cheer his way, far from the smiles and applause of society; listening only to the sweet music of birds, or to the sweeter music of his own thoughts, he faithfully kept his path.

"The records of man's life contain few nobler examples of strength of purpose and indefatigable energy. Led on solely by his pure, lofty, kindling enthusiasm, no thirst for wealth, no desire of distinction, no restless ambition of eccentric character, could have induced him to undergo as many sacrifices, or sustained him under so many trials. Higher principles and worthier motives alone enabled him to meet such discouragements and accomplish such miracles of achievement. He has enlarged and enriched the domains of a pleasing and useful science; he has revealed to us the existence of many species of birds before unknown; he has given us more accurate information of the forms and habits of those that were known; he has corrected the blunders of his predecessors; and he has imparted to the study of natural history the grace and fascination of romance."

At Mill Grove he came near losing his life, on a duck-shooting expedition, by falling through an air hole in the ice. It was three months before he recovered.

At this time "a partner, tutor, and monitor," Da Costa, whom Audubon's father had sent over to superintend a lead-mine enterprise at Mill Grove, refused to give money to the son and objected to his marrying Lucy Bakewell. Resenting the dictation of Da Costa, young Audubon determined to go to France and lay the matter before his father. Da Costa would give him no money, but a letter of credit upon an agent in New York. The youth, nothing daunted, walked all the way to New York, was refused the money by the agent, who hinted that the lad should be seized and shipped to China, borrowed his passage money, went to France, caused the removal of Da Costa, and obtained his father's consent to his marriage. For a year he resided at Nantes, shooting, stuffing birds, and drawing for his beloved book. Then all Frenchmen being liable to conscription under Napoleon, the Commodore obtained leave for his son to return to America.

Once again he was at his dear Mill Grove. In his room "the walls were festooned with all sorts of birds' eggs, carefully blown out and strung on a thread. The chimney piece was covered with stuffed squirrels, raccoons, and opossums, and the shelves around were likewise crowded with specimens, among which were fishes, frogs, snakes, lizards and other reptiles."

Lucy's father, concluding that the study of natural history might not bring pecuniary support for his daughter, suggested to Audubon that he obtain some knowledge of commercial pursuits. Love seldom asks about ways and means; too seldom, in fact, for subsequent happiness. Audubon entered the counting-house of Mr. Benjamin Bakewell of New York, and soon lost some hundreds of pounds by a bad speculation in indigo. The drying of bird's skins in his rooms was so disagreeable to his neighbors that a message was sent him, through a constable, insisting on his abating the nuisance!

Finance did not seem the specialty of the young man, and he returned to Mill Grove.

Dear as the place was to him, he sold it, invested the capital in goods, married Lucy Bakewell, April 8, 1808, when he was twenty-eight years old, and started for the West. They were twelve days in sailing down the Ohio River in a flat-bottomed float, called an ark. He engaged in trade at Louisville, and the young couple were extremely happy. Fortunate it was that they had these few months of comfort, for hardship was soon to test their affection.