Part 22

At last he reached Bayou Sara, and saw his wife; "and, holding and kissing her, I was once more happy, and all my toils and trials were forgotten."

Mrs. Audubon had been extremely fortunate. She was earning nearly three thousand dollars a year. This she offered to her husband to help the publication of the book. He was invited to teach dancing, and a class of sixty was soon organized. From this source he received about two thousand dollars. The tide of fortune had turned at last, and he began to prepare for a trip to England. He was forty-six. Life had been indeed a struggle. He had wandered over the country, with scanty food and poor attire, always in debt, but he had drawn his birds; and now the money was actually in his hands, whereby he could, perhaps, "be known in Europe." And Lucy Audubon had made it possible!

He had gained much by his trials. He had learned what most of us take a life-time to learn, patience; not to speak harshly when others are harsh. He said, "To repay evils with kindness is the religion I was taught to practice, and this will forever be my rule." He had learned that much in life is trivial, that most things are "not matters of life and death;" little worries come to all, and can be borne--the momentous things of life are really few.

April 26, 1826, Audubon sailed for England. Arriving at Liverpool, he was able to arrange for the display of his drawings at the Liverpool Exhibition. The entrance fee was one shilling, and the receipts were from fifteen to twenty dollars a day. Surely fame was coming at last. Lord Stanley spent five hours in examining the collection, and said, "This work is unique, and deserves the patronage of the Crown." He invited Audubon to visit him at his town house in Grosvenor Square. The naturalist made portraits of various friends who were desirous of obtaining specimens of his drawing. From the exhibition of his pictures in Liverpool he realized five hundred dollars.

From this city he went to Manchester, and from thence to Edinburgh. Here he met the naturalist Professor Jameson, who promised to introduce his book to the public in his "Natural History Magazine." Professor Wilson (Christopher North) volunteered to introduce Audubon to Sir Walter Scott. Audubon was asked to sit for his portrait. The Royal Institution offered their rooms for the exhibition of his drawings, and the receipts were from twenty-five to seventy-five dollars a day.

Truly things had changed, since those desolate days in America, when he slept on the deck of a steamboat, because unable to pay for a bed, and could not summon the courage to ask the loan of fifteen dollars.

Invited to dine with the Antiquarian Society, he met Lord Elgin, who presided, and was obliged to respond to a flattering toast, which made him "feel very faint and chill. I was expected to make a speech," he says, "but could not, and never had tried. Being called on for a reply, I said, 'Gentlemen, my incapacity for words to respond to your flattering notice is hardly exceeded by that of the birds now hanging on the walls of your institution. I am truly obliged to you for your favors, and can only say, God bless you all, and may your society prosper.' I sat down with the perspiration running over me."

Professor Wilson prepared an article upon Audubon and his work for "Blackwood's Magazine." His picture was hung in the Exhibition room. He was made a member of the Wernerian Natural History Society, and of the Royal Society. He was pleased, and said, "So, poor Audubon, if not rich, thou wilt be honored at least, and held in high esteem among men."

No wonder he wrote to his wife: "My success in Edinburgh borders on the miraculous. My book is to be published in numbers, containing four birds in each, the size of life, in a style surpassing anything now existing, at two guineas a number. The engravings are truly beautiful; some of them have been colored, and are now on exhibition.... I expect to visit the Duke of Northumberland, who has promised to subscribe for my work.... One hundred subscribers for my book will pay all expenses. Some persons are terrified at the sum of one hundred and eighty guineas for a work,"--nearly a thousand dollars,--"but this amount is to be spread over eight years, during which time the volumes will be gradually completed. I am feted, feasted; elected honorary member of societies, making money by my exhibition and by my paintings. It is Mr. Audubon here, and Mr. Audubon there, and I can only hope that Mr. Audubon will not be made a conceited fool at last." There was no fear of this. He always remained the modest, earnest, devoted student of nature.

He read before the Natural History Society a paper on the habits of the wild pigeon. He says, "I began that paper on Wednesday, wrote all day, and sat up until half-past three the next morning; and so absorbed was my whole soul and spirit in the work, that I felt as if I were in the woods of America among the pigeons, and my ears were filled with the sound of their rustling wings. After sleeping a few hours, I rose and corrected it.... Captain Hall expressed some doubts as to my views respecting the affection and love of pigeons, as if I made it human, and raised the possessors quite above the brutes. I presume the love of the mothers for their young is much the same as the love of woman for her offspring. There is but one kind of love; God is love, and all his creatures derive theirs from his: only it is modified by the different degrees of intelligence in different beings and creatures."

With all this attention, his heart was never callous to suffering. "I was sauntering along the streets," he says, "thinking of the beautiful aspects of nature, meditating on the power of the great Creator, on the beauty and majesty of his works, and on the skill he had given man to study them, when the whole train of my thoughts was suddenly arrested by a ragged, sickly-looking beggar boy. His face told of hunger and hardship, and I gave him a shilling and passed on. But turning again, the child was looking after me, and I beckoned to him to return. Taking him back to my lodgings, I gave him all the garments I had which were worn, added five shillings more in money, gave him my blessing, and sent him away rejoicing, and feeling myself as if God had smiled on me."

There is no sympathy so sweet as that born of experience. Noble-hearted Audubon! God had indeed "smiled on him." Hereafter he was to walk in the sunlight of that smile. He was to work, of course, for there is no approbation for idleness, but he was to know want no more.

March 17, 1827, he issued the prospectus of his book, which was to cost him over one hundred thousand dollars. Here was courage, but he had been fighting obstacles all his life, and he believed he could succeed. In this he said, "The author has not contented himself, as others have done, with single profile views, but in very many instances has grouped his figures so as to represent the originals at their natural avocations, and has placed them on branches of trees, decorated with foliage, blossoms, and fruits, or amidst plants of numerous species. Some are seen pursuing their prey through the air, searching for food amongst the leaves and herbage, sitting in their nests, or feeding their young; whilst others, of a different nature, swim, wade, or glide in or over their allotted element."

Leaving Edinburgh, Audubon visited Newcastle, Leeds, York, Shrewsbury, and Manchester, securing a few subscribers to his work, at one thousand dollars each. It seemed difficult enough to spend a lifetime in preparing the book, without being obliged to perform the irksome and trying task of selling it; but fame asks Herculean labors of its votaries.

Often he was pained by ill-mannered refusals. How few are like Longfellow, who could say "no" so kindly, that it almost seemed like "yes." Audubon tells, in his journal, of an interview with the great banker Rothschild. On opening the letter brought by the naturalist, the baron said, "This is only a letter of introduction, and I expect from its contents that you are the publisher of some book or other, and need my subscription."

No man can be truly great who knows how to be uncivil!

"Sir," he added, "I never sign my name to any subscription list, but you may send in your work and I will pay for a copy of it. I am busy, I wish you good-morning."

When the book was sent, the baron exclaimed, "What, two hundred pounds for birds! Why, sir, I will give you five pounds, and not a farthing more!" This offer was "declined with thanks," and the book taken back to the publishers.

Very different from Rothschild was Sir Thomas Lawrence, the painter. Overwhelmed with work, he insisted on Audubon's remaining to his simple breakfast of boiled eggs and coffee, called at his rooms later, examined his drawings, and said he would bring a few purchasers, that very day. "In about two hours," says Audubon, "he returned with two gentlemen, to whom he did not introduce me, but who were pleased with my work, and one purchased the 'Otter Caught in a Trap,' for which he gave me twenty pounds sterling, and the other, 'A Group of Common Rabbits,' for fifteen sovereigns. I took the pictures to the carriage which stood at the door, and they departed, leaving me more amazed than I had been by their coming.

"The second visit was much of the same nature, differing, however, chiefly in the number of persons he brought with him, which was three instead of two; each one of whom purchased a picture, at seven, ten, and thirty-five pounds respectively; and, as before, the party and the pictures left together in a splendid carriage with liveried footmen. I longed to know their names, but, as Sir Thomas was silent respecting them, I imitated his reticence in restraining my curiosity, and remained in mute astonishment....

"Without the sale of these pictures, I was a bankrupt, when my work was scarcely begun, and in two days more I should have seen all my hopes of the publication blasted; for Mr. Havell, the engraver, had already called to say that on Saturday I must pay him sixty pounds. I was then not only not worth a penny, but had actually borrowed five pounds a few days before, to purchase materials for my pictures. But these pictures which Sir Thomas sold for me enabled me to pay my borrowed money, and to appear full-handed when Mr. Havell called. Thus I passed the Rubicon!"

Blessings on thee, Sir Thomas Lawrence, carrying out Emerson's divine motto, "Help somebody!"

But Audubon did something more than try to obtain subscribers for his book. He says: "At that time I painted all day, and sold my work during the dusky hours of evening, as I walked through the Strand and other streets where the Jews reigned; popping in and out of Jew shops or any others, and never refusing the offers made me for the pictures I carried fresh from the easel. Startling and surprising as this may seem, it is nevertheless true, and one of the curious events of my most extraordinary life. Let me add here, that I sold seven copies of the 'Entrapped Otter,' in London, Manchester, and Liverpool, besides one copy presented to my friend Mr. Richard Rathbone. In other pictures, also, I have sold from seven to ten copies, merely by changing the course of my rambles; and strange to say, that when, in after years and better times, I called on the different owners to whom I had sold the copies, I never found a single one in their hands."

Painting all day, and selling his pictures at night along the streets of London, all to bring out the "Birds of America!" What a life history is between the leaves of that great work!

Sometimes, in his wanderings, he met poverty that made him "sick of London;" an artist making caricatures, while his wife and six little children begged; but he always gave part of what he had, and went back to his work, more than ever determined to win.

September 1, 1828, Audubon went to Paris, going first to Baron Cuvier. He was busy--who is not that accomplishes anything?--and, while he cordially invited Audubon to dine, went on studying a small lizard. "Great men show politeness in a particular way," says Audubon; "they receive you without much demonstration; a smile suffices to assure you that you are welcome, and keep about their avocations as if you were a member of the family."

Cuvier made a report of Audubon's work to the Academy of Sciences. He said, "It may be described in a few words as the most magnificent monument which has yet been erected to ornithology.... Formerly the European naturalists were obliged to make known to America the riches she possessed.... If that of Mr. Audubon should be completed, we shall be obliged to acknowledge that America, in magnificence of execution, has surpassed the world."

Audubon also made the acquaintance of Baron Humboldt, Geoffrey Saint-Hilaire, and of Gerard, the painter, who said, "You are the king of ornithological painters. We are all children in France or Europe. Who would have expected such things from the woods of America!"