Preface and Chronology of John James Audubon. The pioneer in American Ornithology was Alexander Wilson, a Scotch weaver and poet who immigrated to this country in 1794 and began the publication of his great work upon our birds in 1808. He figured and described 320 species, fifty-six of them new to science. His death occurred in 1813 before the publication of his work had been completed. But the chief of American Ornithologist was John James Audubon. Audubon did not begin where Wilson left off. He was also a pioneer, beginning his studies and drawings of the birds, probably as early as Wilson did his. But he planned larger and lived longer. He spent the greater part of his long life in the pursuit of ornithology and was of a more versatile, flexible and artistic nature than was Wilson. He was collecting the material for his work at the same time that Wilson was collecting his. He did not begin the publication of it till fourteen years after Wilson's death. Both men went directly to nature and underwent incredible hardships in exploring the woods and marshes in quest of their material. Audubon's rambles were much wider and extended over a much longer period of time. Wilson too contemplated a work upon our quadrupeds, but did not live to begin it. Audubon was blessed with good health, length of years, a devoted and self-sacrificing wife, and a buoyant, sanguine and elastic disposition. He had the heavenly gift of enthusiasm, a passionate love for the work he set out to do. He was a natural hunter, Romer Woodsman, as unworldly as a child and as simple and transparent. We have had better trained and more scientific ornithologists since his day, but none with his abandon and poetic fervor in the study of our birds. Both men were famous pedestrians and often walked hundreds of miles at a stretch. They were natural explorers and voyagers. They loved nature at first hand and not merely as she appears in books and pictures. They both kept extensive journals of their wanderings and observations. All of Audubon's recording his European experiences seem to have been lost or destroyed, but what remain make up the greater part of two large volumes recently edited by his granddaughter, Maria R. Audubon. I wish here to express my gratitude, both to Miss Audubon and to Monsieur's Charles Scribner's sons, for permitting me to draw freely from the life and journals just mentioned. The temptation is strong to let Audubon's graphic and glowing descriptions of American scenery and of his tireless wanderings speak for themselves. It is from these volumes and from the life by his widow, published in 1868, that I have gathered the material for this brief biography. Audubon's life naturally divides itself into three periods, his youth, which was on the whole a gay and happy one, and which lasted till the time of his marriage at the age of twenty-eight. His business career which followed, lasting ten or more years and consisting mainly of getting rid of the fortune his father had left him, and his career as an ornithologist, which, though attended with great hardships and privations, brought him much happiness and long before the end substantial pecuniary rewards. His ornithological taste and studies really formed the main current of his life from his teens onward. During his business ventures in Kentucky and elsewhere, this current came to the surface more and more, absorbed more and more of his time and energies, and carried him further and further from the conditions of a successful business career. J.B. West Park, New York, January 1902 Chronology 1780 May 4 John James LeForest Audubon was born in Mandible, Louisiana. Pocity of dates and conflicting statements make it impossible to insert dates to show when the family moved to St. Domingo and thence to France. Possibly 1797 Return to America from France Here Followed Life at Mill Grove Farm, near Philadelphia 1805 or 6 Again in France for about two years, studied under David the artist, then returned to America 1808 April 8 Married Lucy Bagwell and journeyed to Louisville, Kentucky to engage in business with one rose-year 1810 March First met Wilson, the ornithologist 1812 Dissolved partnership with Rose-year 1808 to 1819 Various business ventures in Louisville, Hendersonville, and St. Genevieve, Kentucky Again at Hendersonville, thence again to Louisville 1819 Abandoned business career became taxidermist in Cincinnati 1820 Left Cincinnati began to form definite plans for the publication of his drawings Return to New Orleans 1822 Went to Natchez by steamer Gunpowder ruined 200 of his drawings on his trip Obtained position of drawing master in the college at Washington, Mississippi At the close of this year took his first lessons in oils 1824 Went to Philadelphia to get his drawings Published, thwarted, there met Sully and Prince Canino 1826 Sailed for Europe to introduce his drawings 1827 Issued prospectus of his birds 1828 Went to Paris to canvas Visited Cuvier 1829 Return to the United States Scoured the woods for more material for his biographies 1830 Return to London with his family 1830 to 1839 Elephant folio The Birds of North America Published, 1831 to 39 American ornithological biography Published in Edinburgh 1831 Again in America for nearly three years 1832 to 33 In Florida, South Carolina and the Northern States Labrador and Canada 1834 Completion of Second Volume of Birds Also Second Volume of American Ornithological Biography 1835 In Edinburgh 1836 To New York again More exploring Found books, papers and drawings had been destroyed by fire the previous year 1837 Went to London 1838 Published fourth volume of American ornithological biography 1839 Published fifth volume of biography 1840 Left England for the last time 1842 Built house in New York on many's land Now Audubon Park 1843 Yellowstone River Expedition 1840 to 44 Published the reduced edition of his bird biographies 1846 Published first volume of quadrupeds 1848 Completed quadrupeds and biography of American quadrupeds The last volume was not published till 1854 after his death 1851 January 27 John James Audubon died in New York End of Preface and Chronology Chapter 1 of John James Audubon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org John James Audubon by John Burroughs Chapter 1 There is a hopeless confusion as to certain important dates in Audubon's life. He was often careless and unreliable in his statements of matters of fact, which weakness during his lifetime often led to his being accused of falsehood. Thus he speaks of the memorable battle of Valley Forge and of two brothers of his, both officers in the French Army, as having perished in the French Revolution, and he doubtless meant uncles. He had previously stated that his only two brothers died in infancy. He confessed that he had no head for mathematics, and he seems always to have been at sea in regard to his own age. In his letters and journals there are several references to his age, but they rarely agree. The date of his birth usually given, May 4th, 1780, is probably three or four years too early, as he speaks of himself as being nearly seventeen when his mother had him confirmed in the Catholic Church, and this was about the time that his father, then an officer in the French Navy, was sent to England to effect a change of prisoners, which time is given as 1801. The two race strains that mingle in him probably account for this illogical habit of mind as well as for his romantic and artistic temper His father was a seafaring man and a Frenchman. His mother was a Spanish Creole of Louisiana, the old chivalrous Castilian blood modified by new world conditions. The father, through commercial channels, accumulated a large property in the island of Saint Domingo. In the course of his trading he made frequent journeys to Louisiana, then the property of the French government. On one of these trips probably he married one of the native women who is said to have possessed both wealth and beauty. The couple seemed to have occupied for a time a plantation belonging to a French marquis, situated at Mandible on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. Here three sons were born to them, of whom John James LaForest was the third. The daughter seems to have been younger. His own mother perished in a slave insurrection in Saint Domingo where the family had gone to live on the Audubon estate at Oak High when her child was but a few months old. Audubon says that his father, with his plate and money and himself, attended by a few faithful servants, escaped to New Orleans. What became of his sister he does not say, though she must have escaped with them since we hear of her existence years later.  This woman proved a rare exception among step-mothers, but she was too indulgent, and Audubon says completely spoiled him, bringing him up to live like a gentleman, ignoring his faults and boasting of his merits, and leading him to believe that fine clothes and a full pocket were the most desirable things in life. This she was able to do all the more effectively because the father soon left the son in her charge and returned to the United States in the employ of the French government, and before long became attached to the army under Lafayette. This could not have been later than 1781, the year of Cornwallis' surrender, and Audubon would then have been twenty-one, but this does not square with his own statements. After the war the father still served some years in the French Navy, but finally retired from active service and lived at La Gère-Bétière in France, where he died at the age of ninety-five in 1818. Audubon says of his mother, let no one speak of her as my stepmother. I was ever to her as a son of her own flesh and blood, and she was to me a true mother. With her he lived in the city of Nantes, France, where he appears to have gone to school. It was, however, only from his private tutors that he says he got any benefit. His father desired him to follow in his footsteps, and he was educated accordingly, studying drawing, geography, mathematics, fencing, and music. Mathematics he found hard dull work, as have so many men of like temperament, before and since, but music and fencing and geography were more to his liking. He was an ardent, imaginative youth, and chafed under all drudgery and routine. His foster mother, in the absence of his father, suffered him to do much as he pleased, and he pleased to play hooky most of the time, joining boys of his own age and disposition, and deserting the school for the fields and woods, hunting birds' nests, fishing and shooting, and returning home at night with his basket filled with various natural specimens and curiosities. The collecting fever is not a bad one to take possession of boys at this age. In his autobiography, Audubon relates an incident that occurred when he was a child, which he thinks first kindled his love for birds. It was an encounter between a pet parrot and a tame monkey kept by his mother. One morning the parrot, minion, asked as usual for her breakfast of bread and milk, where upon the monkey, being in a bad humor, attacked the poor defenseless bird, and killed it. Audubon screamed at the cruel sight, and implored the servant to interfere and save the bird, but without avail. The boys' piercing screams brought the mother, who succeeded in tranquilizing the child. The monkey was chained, and the parrot buried, but the tragedy awakened in him a lasting love for his feathered friends. Audubon's father seems to have been the first to direct his attention to the study of birds and to the observance of nature generally. Through him he learned to notice the beautiful colorings and markings of the birds, to know their haunts and to observe their change of plumage with the changing seasons. What he learned of their mysterious migrations fired his imagination. He speaks of this early intimacy with nature as a feeling which bordered on frenzy. Watching the growth of a bird from the egg he compares to the unfolding of a flower from the bud. The pain which he felt in seeing the birds die and decay was very acute, but fortunately about this time someone showed him a book of illustrations, and henceforth a new life ran in my veins, he says. To copy nature was thereafter his one engrossing ang. That he realized how crude his early efforts were is shown by his saying. My pencil gave birth to a family of cripples. His steady progress, too, is shown in his custom on every birthday of burning these crippled drawings, then setting to work to make better, truer ones. His father returning from a sea voyage, probably when the son was about twenty years old, was not well pleased with the progress that the boy was making in his studies. One morning soon after, Audubon found himself with his trunk and his belongings in a private carriage beside his father on his way to the city of Rochefort. The father occupied him with a book and hardly spoke to his son during the several days of the journey, though there was no anger in his face. After they were settled in their new abode, he seated his son beside him, and taking one of his hands in his, calmly said, My beloved boy, thou art safe now. I have brought thee here that I may be able to pay constant attention to thy studies. Thou shalt have ample time for pleasures, but the remainder must be employed with industry and care. But the father soon left him on some foreign mission for his government, and the boy chafed as usual under his tasks and confinement. One day too much mathematics drove him into making his escape by leaping from the window and making off through the gardens attached to the school where he was confined. A watchful corporal soon overhauled him, however, and brought him back where he was confined on board some sort of prison-ship in the harbor. His father soon returned when he was released, not without a severe reprimand. We next find him again in the city of Nance, struggling with more odious mathematics and spending all his leisure time in the fields and woods studying the birds. About this time he began a series of drawings of the French birds, which grew to upwards of two hundred, all bad enough, he says, but yet real representations of birds that gave him a certain pleasure. They satisfied his need of expression. At about this time too, though the year we do not know, his father concluded to send him to the United States, apparently to occupy a farm called Mill Grove, which the father had purchased some years before, on the Skougal River near Philadelphia. In New York he caught the yellow fever. He was carefully nursed by two Quaker ladies who kept a boarding house in Morristown, New Jersey. In due time his father's agent, Myers Fisher, also a Quaker, removed him to his own villa near Philadelphia, and here Audubon seems to have remained some months. But the gay and ardent youth did not find the atmosphere of the place congenial. The sober Quaker gray was not to his taste. His host was opposed to music of all kinds and to dancing, hunting, fishing, and nearly all other forms of amusement. More than that he had a daughter between whom and Audubon he apparently hoped in affection would spring up. But Audubon took an unconquerable dislike to her. Very soon, therefore, he demanded to be put in possession of the estate to which his father had sent him.  We know that he fell into the hands of another Quaker, William Thomas, who was the tenant on the place, but who, with his worthy wife, seems to have made life pleasant for him. He soon became attached to Mill Grove and led a life there just suited to his temperament. Hunting, fishing, drawing, music occupied my every moment, cares I knew not, and cared not about them. I purchased excellent and beautiful horses, visited all such neighbors as I found congenial spirits, and was as happy as happy could be. Near him there lived an English family by the name of Fakul, but he had such a strong antipathy to the English that he postponed returning the call of Mr. Fakul, who had left his cart at Mill Grove during one of Audubon's excursions to the woods. In the late fall or early winter, however, he chanced to meet Mr. Fakul while out hunting grouse, and was so pleased with him and his well-trained dogs and his good markmanship that he apologised for his discourtesy in not returning his call, and promised to do so forthwith. Not many mornings thereafter he was seated in his neighbor's house. Well, do I recollect the morning, he says in the autobiographical sketch which he prepared for his sons, and may it please God that I never forget it, when for the first time I entered Mr. Fakul's dwelling. It happened that he was absent from home, and I was shown into a parlor where only one young lady was snugly seated at her work by the fire. She rose on my entrance, offered me a seat, assured me of the gratification her father would fill on his return, which she added would be in a few moments, as she would dispatch a servant for him. Other ruddy cheeks and bright eyes made their transient appearance, but, like spirits gay, soon vanished from my sight, and there I sat, my gaze riveted as it were, on the young girl before me, who half-working, half-talking, assayed to make the time pleasant to me. Oh, may God bless her!  Mr. Fakul soon made his appearance, and received me with the manner and hospitality of a true English gentleman. The other members of the family were soon introduced to me, and Lucy was told to have lunch and produced. She now rose from her seat a second time, and her form, to which I had paid but partial attention, showed both grace and beauty, and my heart followed every one of her steps. There were passed over, dogs and guns were made ready. Lucy, I was pleased to believe, looked upon me with some favour, and I turned more especially to her on leaving. I felt that certain, je ne sais quoi, which intimated that, at least, she was not indifferent to me. The winter that followed was a gay and happy one at Mill Grove. Shooting parties, skating parties, house parties with the Bakewell family, were a frequent occurrence. It was during one of these skating excursions upon the Perkman, in quest of wild ducks, that Audubon had a leaky escape from drowning. He was leading the party down the river in the dusk of the evening, with a white handkerchief tied to a stick, when he came suddenly upon a large air-hole, into which, in spite of himself, his impetus carried him. Had there not chance to be another air-hole a few yards below, our hero's career would have ended then and there. The current quickly carried him beneath the ice to this other opening, where he managed to seize hold of the ice and to crawl out. His friendship with the Bakewell family deepened. Lucy taught Audubon English, he taught her drawing, and their friendship very naturally ripened into love, which seems to have run its course smoothly. Audubon was happy. He had ample means, and his time was filled with congenial pursuits. He writes in his journal, I had no vices, but was thoughtless, pensive, loving, fond of shooting, fishing, and writing, and had a passion for raising all sorts of fouls, which sources of interest and amusement fully occupied my time. It was one of my fancies to be ridiculously fond of dress, to hunt in black satin breeches, wear pumps when shooting, and to dress in the finest ruffled shirts I could obtain from France. The evidences of vanity regarding his looks and apparel, sometimes found in his journals, are probably traceable to his foster mother's unwise treatment of him in his youth. We have seen how his father's intervention in the nick of time exercised a salutary influence upon him at this point in his career, directing his attention to the more solid attainments. Whatever traces of this self-consciousness and apparent vanity remained in afterlife seem to have been more the result of a naive character delighting in picturesqueness in himself, as well as in nature, than they were of real vanity. In later years he was assuredly nothing of the dandy. He himself ridicules his youthful fondness for dress, while those who visited him during his last years speak of him as particularly lacking in self-consciousness. Although he affected the dress of the dandies of his time, he was temperate and abstinious. 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. All this time I was fair and rosy, strong and active as one of my age and sex could be, and as active and agile as a buck. That he was energetic and handy, and by no means the mere dandy that his extravagance in dress might seem to indicate, is evidence from the fact that about this time he made a journey on foot to New York and accomplished the ninety miles in three days in mid-winter. But he was angry, and anger is better than wine to walk on. The cause of his wrath was this. A leadmine had been discovered upon the farm of Millgrove, and Audubon had applied to his father for counsel in regard to it. In response the elder Audubon had sent over a man by the name of D'Costa, who was to act as his son's partner and partial guardian, who was to teach him mineralogy and mining engineering, and to look after his finances generally. But the man, Audubon says, knew nothing of the subjects he was supposed to teach, and was besides a covetous wretch who did all he could to ruin my father, and indeed swindled both of us to a large amount. D'Costa pushed his authority so far as to object to Audubon's proposed union with Lucy Bakewell, as being a marriage beneath him, and finally plotted to get the young man off to India. These things very naturally kindled Audubon's quick temper, and he demanded of his tutor and guardian money enough to take him to France to consult with his father. D'Costa gave him a letter of credit on a sort of banker-broker residing in New York. To New York he accordingly went, as above stated, and found that the banker-broker was in the plot to pack him off to India. This disclosure kindled his wrath afresh. He says that had he had a weapon about him, the banker's heart must have received the result of his wrath. His Spanish blood began to declare itself. Then he sought out a brother of Mr. Bakewell, and the uncle of his sweetheart, and of him borrowed the money to take him to France. He took passage on a new bed for to-brigg bound for Nance. The captain had recently been married, and when the vessel reached the vicinity of New Bedford he discovered some dangerous leaks which necessitated a week's delay to repair damages. Audubon averts that the captain had caused tolls to be bored in the vessel's side below the waterline to gain an excuse to spend a few more days with his bride. After a voyage of nineteen days the vessel entered the Loire, and anchored in the lower harbour of Nance, and Audubon was soon welcomed by his father and fond foster-mother. His first object was to have the man, de Costa, disposed of, which he soon accomplished, the second to get his father's consent to his marriage with Lucy Bakewell, which was also brought about in due time, although the parents of both agreed that they were all re-young to marry yet. Audubon now remained two years in France indulging his taste for hunting, rambling, and drawing birds and other objects of natural history. This was probably about the years 1805 and 1806. France was under the sway of Napoleon, and conscriptions were the order of the day. The elder Audubon became uneasy, lest his son be drafted into the French army. Hence he resolved to send him back to America. In the meantime he interested one roger in the lead mine and had formed a partnership with him and his son to run for nine years. In due course the two young men sailed for New York, leaving France at a time when thousands would have been glad to have followed their footsteps. On this voyage their vessel was pursued and overhauled by a British privateer, the rattlesnake, and nearly all their money and eatables were carried off, besides two of the best sailors. Audubon and Rozier saved their gold by hiding it under a cable in the bow of the ship. On returning to Milgrove Audubon resumed his former habits of life there. We hear no more of the lead mine, but more of his bird studies and drawings, the love of which was fast becoming his ruling passion. 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 dream I subject dead, but 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 could. Even the hateful Ducosta had praised his bird pictures, and had predicted great things for him in this direction. His words had given Audubon a great deal of pleasure. Mr. William Bakewell, the brother of his Lucy, has given us a glimpse of Audubon and his surroundings at this time. Audubon took me to his house, where he and his companion, Rozier, resided, with Mrs. Thomas for an attendant. On entering his room I was astonished and delighted that it was turned into a museum. The walls were festooned with all sorts of bird's eggs, carefully blown out, and strung on a thread. The chimneypiece 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. Besides these stuffed varieties, many paintings were arrayed upon the walls, chiefly of birds. He had great skill in stuffing and preserving animals of all sorts. He had also a trick of training dogs with great perfection, of which art his famous dog, Zephyr, was a wonderful example. He was an admirable marksman, an expert swimmer, a clever rider, possessed great activity, prodigious strength, and was notable for the elegance of his figure and the beauty of his features, and he aided nature by a careful attendance to his dress. Besides other accomplishments he was musical, a good fencer, danced well, had some acquaintance with ledger domain tricks, worked in hair, and could plait willow baskets. He adds that Audubon once swam across the scookle with him on his back. End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 of John James Audubon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. John James Audubon by John Burroughs Chapter 2 Audubon was now eager to marry, but Mr. Bakewell advised him first to study the mercantile business. This he accordingly set out to do by entering as a clerk the commercial house of Benjamin Bakewell in New York, while his friend Rozier entered a French house in Philadelphia. But Audubon was not cut out for business. His first venture was in Indigo, and cost him several hundred pounds. Rozier succeeded no better. His first speculation was a cargo of hams shipped to the West Indies, which did not return one fifth of the cost. Audubon's want of business habits is shown by the statement that at this time he one day posted a letter containing eight thousand dollars without sealing it. His heart was in the fields and woods with the birds. His room was filled with drying bird-skins. The odor from which, it is said, was so strong that his neighbor sent a constable to him with a message to abate the nuisance. Despairing of becoming successful businessmen in either New York or Philadelphia, he and Rozier soon returned to Mill Grove. During some of their commercial enterprises they had visited Kentucky and thought so well of the outlook there that now their thoughts turned thitherward. Here we get the first date from Audubon. On April 8, 1808 he and Lucy Bakewell were married. The plantation of Mill Grove had been previously sold and the money invested in goods with which to open a store in Louisville, Kentucky. The day after the marriage Audubon and his wife and Mr. Rozier started on their journey. In crossing the mountains to Pittsburgh the coach in which they were traveling upset and Mrs. Audubon was severely bruised. From Pittsburgh they floated down the Ohio in a flat boat in company with several other young immigrant families. The voyage occupied twelve days and was no doubt made good use of by Audubon in observing the wild nature along the shore. In Louisville he and Rozier opened a large store which promised well but Audubon's heart was more and more with the birds and his business more and more neglected. Rozier attended to the counter and Audubon says, grew rich but he himself spent most of the time in the woods or hunting with the planters settled about Louisville between whom and himself a warm attachment soon sprang up. He was not growing rich but he was happy. I shot, I drew, I looked on nature only he says and my days were happy beyond human conception and beyond this I really cared not. He says that the only part of the commercial business he enjoyed was the ever engaging journeys which he made to New York and Philadelphia to purchase goods. These journeys led him through the beautiful the darling forest of Ohio, Kentucky and Pennsylvania and on one occasion he says he lost sight of the pack of horses carrying his goods and his dollars in the preoccupation with the new warbler. During his residence in Louisville Alexander Wilson his great rival in American ornithology called upon him this is Audubon's account of the meeting. Begin quote. One fair morning I was surprised by the sudden entrance into our accounting 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 dress too was of a kind not usually seen in that part of the country. A short coat, trousers and a waistcoat of grey cloth. His stature was not above the middle size. He had two volumes under his arm and as he approached the level 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 the 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? Your 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 he was not pleased. Vanity and the ecomiums 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 had 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 objection to lending him a few during his stay, to which I replied that I had none. He then made 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 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 in my power to procure for him the specimens which he wanted. We hunted together, and obtained birds which he had never before seen, but, reader, I did not describe to his work, for even at that time my collection was greater than his. Thinking that perhaps he might be pleased to publish the results of my researches, I offered them to him, merely on condition that what I had drawn, or might afterward draw and send to him, should be mentioned in his work as coming from my pencil. I at the same time offered to open a correspondence with him, which I thought might prove beneficial to us both. He made no reply to either proposal, and before many days had elapsed, left Louisville on his way to New Orleans, little knowing how much his talents were appreciated in our little town, at least by myself and my friends. End quote. Wilson's account of this meeting is in curious contrast to that of Audubon. It is meager and unsatisfactory. Under date of March 19 he writes in his diary at Louisville, rambled around the town with my gun, examined Mr. Audubon's drawings in crayons, very good, saw two new birds he had, both Mataseely. March 21st. Went out this afternoon shooting with Mr. A., saw a number of Sandhill cranes, pigeons numerous. Finally in winding up the record of his visit to Louisville, he says, with palpable inconsistency, not to say falsehood, that he did not receive one act of civility there, nor see one new bird, and found no naturalist to keep him company. Some years afterward Audubon hunted him up in Philadelphia and found him drawing a white-headed eagle. He was civil and showed Audubon some attention, but spoke not of birds or drawings. Wilson was of a nature far less open and generous than was Audubon. It is evident that he looked upon the latter as his rival, and was jealous of his superior talents, for superior they were in many ways. Audubon's drawings have far more spirit and artistic excellence, and his text shows far more enthusiasm and hearty affiliation with nature. In accuracy of observation Wilson is fully his equal, if not his superior. As Audubon had deserted his business, his business soon deserted him. He and his partner soon became discouraged. We hear no more about the riches Rozier had acquired, and resolved upon moving their goods to Hendersonville, Kentucky, over one hundred miles further down the Ohio. Mrs. Audubon and her baby son were sent back to her father's at Flatland, Fort, where they remained upwards of a year. Business at Hendersonville proved dull. The country was but thinly inhabited, and only the coarsest goods were in demand. To procure food the merchants had to resort to fishing and hunting. They employed a clerk who proved a good shot. He and Audubon supplied the table, while Rozier again stood behind the counter. How long the Hendersonville enterprise lasted, we do not know. Another change was finally determined upon, and the next glimpse we get of Audubon, we see him with his clerk and partner, and their remaining stock in trade. Consisting of three hundred barrels of whiskey, sundry dry goods and powder, on board a kill-boat making their way down the Ohio in a severe snowstorm toward St. Genevieve, a settlement on the Mississippi River, where they proposed to try again. The boat is steered by a long oar, about sixty feet in length, made of the trunk of a slender tree, and shaped at its outer extremity like the fin of a dolphin. Four oars in the bow propelled her, and with the current they made about five miles an hour. Mrs. Audubon, who seems to have returned from her father's with her baby or babies, was left behind at Hendersonville with a friend, until the result of the new venture should be determined. In the course of six weeks, after many delays and adventures with ice and the cold, the party reached St. Genevieve. Audubon has given in his journal a very vivid and interesting account of this journey. At St. Genevieve the whiskey was in great demand, and what had cost them twenty-five cents a gallon was sold for two dollars. But Audubon soon became discouraged with the place and longed to be back in Hendersonville with his family. He did not like the low-bred French Canadians who made up most of the population of the settlement. He sold out his interest in the business to his partner, who liked the place and the people, and here the two-parted company. Audubon purchased a fine horse and started over the prairies on his return trip to Hendersonville. On this journey he came near being murdered by a woman and her two desperate sons, who lived in a cabin on the prairies where the traveler put up for the night. He has given a minute and graphic account of this adventure in his journal. The cupidity of the woman had been aroused by the sight of Audubon's gold watch and chain. A wounded Indian, who had also sought refuge in the shanty, had put Audubon upon his guard. It was midnight. Audubon lay on some bare skins in one corner of the room, feigning sleep. He had previously slipped out of the cabin and had loaded his gun, which lay close at hand. Presently he saw the woman sharpen a huge carving-knife and thrust it into the hand of her drunken son with the injunction to kill Yon Stranger and secure the watch. He was just on the point of springing up to shoot his would-be murderers when the door burst open and two travelers, each with a long knife, appeared. Audubon jumped up and told them his situation. The drunken sons and the woman were bound and in the morning they were taken out into the woods and were treated as the regulators treated delinquents in those days. They were shot. Whether Audubon did any of the shooting or not, he does not say.  Then the cabin was set on fire and the travelers proceeded on their way. It must be confessed that this story sounds a good deal like an episode in a dime novel and may well be taken with a grain of allowance. Did remote prairie cabins in those days have grindstones and carving-knives? And why should the would-be murderers use a knife when they had guns? Audubon reached Hendersonville in early March and witnessed the severe earthquake which visited that part of Kentucky the following November, 1812. Of this experience we also have a vivid account in his journals. Audubon continued to live at Hendersonville. His pecuniary means much reduced. He says that he made a pedestrian tour back to St. Genevieve to collect money due him from Rozier. Walked the one hundred and sixty-five miles, much of the time nearly ankle-deep in mud and water, in a little over three days. Concerning the accuracy of this statement, one also has his doubts. Later he bought a wild horse and on its back traveled over Tennessee and a portion of Georgia and so around to Philadelphia, later returning to Hendersonville. He continued his drawings of birds and animals, but in the meantime embarked in another commercial venture and for a time prospered. Some years previously he had formed a co-partnership with his wife's brother and a commercial house in charge of bagel had been opened in New Orleans. This turned out disastrously and was a constant drain upon his resources. This partner now appears upon the scene at Hendersonville and persuades Audubon to erect, at a heavy outlay, a steam-grist and sawmill, and to take into the firm an Englishman by the name of Pease. This enterprise brought fresh disaster. Begin quote. How I labored at this infernal mill from dawn till dark, nay, at times all night. End quote. They also purchased a steamboat which was so much additional weight to drag them down. This was about the year 1817. From this date till 1819 Audubon's pecuniary difficulties increased daily. He had no business talent whatever. He was a poet and an artist. He cared not for money. He wanted to be alone with nature. The forests called to him. The birds haunted his dreams. His father, dying in 1818, left him a valuable estate in France and seventeen thousand dollars deposited with a merchant in Richmond, Virginia. But Audubon was so dilatory in proving his identity and his legal right to this cash that the merchant finally died insolvent and the legatee never received a cent of it. The French estate he transferred in after years to his sister Rosa. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Part 1 of John James Audubon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org John James Audubon by John Burroughs Part 1 of Chapter 3 Finally Audubon gave up the struggle of trying to be a businessman. He says, I parted with every particle of property I had to my creditors, keeping only the clothes I wore on that day, my original drawings and my gun, and without a dollar in my pocket, walked to Louisville alone. This he speaks of as the saddest of all his journeys. Quote, The only time in my life when the wild turkeys that so often crossed my path and the thousands of lesser birds that enlivened the woods and the prairies all looked like enemies and I turned my eyes from them as if I could have wished that they had never existed. End quote. But the thought of his beloved Lucy and her children soon spurred him to action. He was a good draftsman. He had been a pupil of David. He would turn his talents to account. Quote, As we were straightened to the very utmost I undertook to draw portraits at the low price of five dollars per head in black chalk. I drew a few grottis and succeeded so well that ere many days had elapsed I had an abundance of work. End quote. His fame spread. His orders increased. A settler came for him in the middle of the night from a considerable distance to have the portrait of his mother taken while she was on the eve of death and a clergyman had his child's body exhumed that the artist might restore to him the lost features. Money flowed in and he was soon again established with his family in a house in Louisville. His drawings of birds still continued and he says became at times almost a mania with him. He would frequently give up ahead the profits of which would have supplied the wants of his family a week or more to represent a little citizen of the feathered tribe. In 1819 he was offered the position of taxidermist in the museum at Cincinnati and soon moved there with his family. His pay, not being forthcoming from the museum he started a drawing school there and again returned to his portraits. Without these resources he says he would have been upon the starving list. But food was plentiful and cheap. He writes in his journal, Our living here is extremely moderate. The markets are well supplied and cheap. Beef only two and one-half cents a pound. And I am able to supply a good deal myself. Partridges are frequently in the streets and I can shoot turkeys within a mile or so. Squirrels and woodcock are very abundant in the season and fish always easily caught. In October 1820 we again find him adrift apparently with thought of having his bird drawings published after he shall have further added to them by going through many of the southern and western states. Leaving his family behind him he started for New Orleans on a flat boat. He tarried long at Natchez and did not reach the crescent city till mid-winter. Again he found himself destitute of means and compelled to resort to portrait painting. He went on with his bird collecting and bird painting, in the meantime penetrating the swamps and bayous around the city. At this time he seems to have heard of the publication of Wilson's ornithology and tried in vain to get sight of a copy of it. In the spring he made an attempt as draftsman and naturalist to a government expedition that was to leave the next year to survey the new territory ceded to the United States by Spain. He wrote to President Monroe upon the subject but the appointment never came to him. In March he called upon Van der Linde, the historical painter, and took with him a portfolio of his drawings in hopes of getting a recommendation. Van der Linde at first treated him as a mendicant and ordered him to leave his portfolio in the entry. After some delay, in company with a government official he consented to see the pictures. The perspiration ran down my face, says Audubon, as I showed him my drawings and laid them on the floor. He was thinking of the expedition to Mexico just referred to and wanted to make a good impression upon Van der Linde and the officer. This he succeeded in doing and obtained from the artist in a preliminary note, as he did also from Governor Robertson of Louisiana. In June Audubon left New Orleans for Kentucky to rejoin his wife and boys, but somewhere on the journey engaged himself to a Mrs. Perry who lived at Bayou Sarah, Louisiana, to teach her daughter drawing during the summer at $60 per month, leaving him half of each day to follow his own pursuits. He continued in this position till October when he took steamer for New Orleans. Quote, My long, flowing hair and loose yellow Nanking dress and the unfortunate cut of my features attracted much attention and made me desire to be dressed like other people as soon as possible. End quote. He now rented a house in New Orleans on Dolphin Street and determined to send for his family. Since he had left Cincinnati this autumn, he had finished sixty-two drawings of birds and plants, three quadrupeds, two snakes, fifty portraits of all sorts, and had lived by his talents, not having had a dollar when he started. Quote, I sent a draft to my wife and began life in New Orleans with forty-two dollars, health and much eagerness to pursue my plan of collecting all the birds of America. End quote. His father's strong persuasion joined him in December, 1821 and his former life of drawing portraits, giving lessons, painting birds, and wandering about the country began again. His earnings proving inadequate to support the family, his wife took a position as governess in the family of a Mr. Brand. In the spring, acting upon the judgment of his wife, he concluded to leave New Orleans again and to try his fortunes and paid all his bills and took steamer for Natchez, paying his passage by drawing a crayon portrait of the captain and his wife. On the trip up the Mississippi two hundred of his bird portraits were sorely damaged by the breaking of a bottle of gunpowder in the chest in which they were being conveyed. Three times in his career he met with disasters to his drawings. On the occasion of his leaving Hendersonville to go to Philadelphia he drew a portrait of his original drawings in a wooden box and had left them in charge of a friend. On his return several months later he pathetically recounts what befell them. A pair of Norway rats had taken possession of the whole and reared a young family among gnawed bits of paper which but a month previous represented nearly one thousand inhabitants of the air. This discovery resulted in insomnia and a fearful heat in the head. For several days he seemed like one stunned but his youth and health stood him in hand. He rallied and undaunted again sallied forth to the woods with dog and gun. In three years time his portfolio was again filled. The third catastrophe of some of his drawings was caused by a fire in a New York building in which his treasures were kept during his sojourn in Europe. Audubon had an eye for the picturesque in his fellow men as well as for the picturesque in nature. On the levy in New Orleans he first met a painter whom he thus describes. Quote, his head was covered by a straw hat, the brim of which might cope with those worn by the fair sex in 1830. His neck was exposed to the weather, the broad frill of a shirt, then fashionable flopped about his breast, whilst an ordinary collar, carefully arranged, fell over the top of his coat. The latter was of a light green color, harmonizing well with a pair of flowing yellow Nanking trousers and a pink waistcoat from the bosom of which, amidst a large bunch of the splendid flowers of the Magnolia, protruded part of a young alligator, which seemed more anxious to glide through the muddy waters of a swamp than to spend its life swinging to and fro amongst folds of the finest lawn. The gentleman held in one hand a cage full of richly plumed nonparales, whilst in the other he sported a silk umbrella on which I could plainly read, stolen from I. These words being painted in large white characters. He walked as if conscious of his own importance, that is, with a good deal of pomposity, singing My love is but a lassie yet and that with such thorough imitation of the scotch emphasis and not his fizzy ignominy suggested another parentage I should have believed him to be a genuine scott. A narrower acquaintance proved him to be a Yankee and anxious to make his acquaintance I desired to see his birds. He retorted, What the devil did I know about birds? I explained to him that I was a naturalist, whereupon he requested me to examine his birds. I did so with much interest and was preparing to leave when he made me come to his lodgings and see the remainder of his collection. This I willingly did and was struck with the amazement at the appearance of his studio. Several cages were hung about the walls, containing specimens of birds, all of which I examined at my leisure. On a large easel before me stood an unfinished portrait, other pictures hung about, and in the room were two young pupils, and at a glance I discovered that the eccentric stranger was, like myself, a naturalist and an artist. The artist, as modest as he was odd, showed me how he laid on the paint on his pictures, asked after my own pursuits, and showed a friendly spirit which enchanted me. With a ramrod for a rest he prosecuted his work vigorously and afterwards asked me to examine a percussion lock on his gun, a novelty to me at the time. He snapped some caps and on my remarking that he would frighten his birds, he explained, deviltake the birds, there are none of them in the market. He then loaded his gun and wishing to show me that he was a marksman, fired at one of the pins on his easel. This he smashed to pieces, and afterward put a rifle bullet exactly through the hole into which the pin fitted." Audubon reached Natchez on March 24, 1822, and remained there in the vicinity until the spring of 1823, teaching drawing and French to private pupils and in the college at Washington, nine miles distant, hunting and painting the birds and completing his collection. Among other things he painted the death of Montgomery from a print. His friends persuaded him to raffle the picture off. This he did, and taking one number himself, won the picture while his finances were improved to $1200 received for the tickets. Early in the autumn his wife again joined him, and presently we find her acting as governess in the home of a clergyman named Davis. In December there arrived in Natchez a wondering portrait painter named Stein, who gave Audubon his first lessons in the use of oil colors, and was instructed by Audubon in turn in chalk drawing. There appear to have been no evidence that Mrs. Audubon was not willing and ready to make to forward the plans of her husband. My best friends, he says at this time, solemnly regarded me as a madman, and my wife and family alone gave me encouragement. My wife determined that my genius should prevail, and that my final success as an ornithologist should be triumphant. She wanted him to go to Europe and to assist toward that end with Mrs. Percy of Bayou-Sara to instruct her children together with her own, and a limited number of outside pupils. Audubon in the meantime with his son Victor and his new artist friend Stein started off in a wagon, seeking whom they might paint on a journey through the southern states. They wondered as far as New Orleans, but Audubon appears to have returned to his wife again in May, and to have engaged in drawing. But something went wrong. There was a misunderstanding with the Percy's, and Audubon went back to Natchez, revolving various schemes in his head, even thinking of again entering upon a mercantile pursuits in Louisville. He had no genius for accumulating money, nor for keeping it after he had gotten it. One day, when his affairs were at a very low ebb, he met a squatter with a tame black wolf which defends fancy. He says that he offered the owner a hundred-dollar bill for it on the spot, but was refused. He probably means to say that he would have offered it had he had it. Hundred-dollar bills, I fancy, were rarer than tame black wolves in that pioneer country in those days. About this time he and his son Victor were taken with yellow fever, and Mrs. Audubon was compelled to dismiss her school and go to nurse them. They both recovered, and in October 1823 set out for Louisville, making part of the journey on foot. The following winter was passed at Shippingport, near Louisville, where Audubon painted birds, landscapes, portraits, and even signs. In March he left Shippingport for Philadelphia, leaving his son Victor in the counting-house of a Mr. Berthoud. He reached Philadelphia on April 5th, and remained there till the following August, studying painting, exhibiting his birds, making many new acquaintances, among them Charles Lucien Bonaparte, giving lessons in drawing at thirty dollars per month, all the time casting wistful eyes toward Europe, wither he hoped soon to be able to go with his drawings. In July he made a pilgrimage to Mill Grove where he had passed so many happy years. The familiar scenes filled him with the deepest emotions. In August he left Philadelphia for New York, hoping to improve his finances, and maybe publish his drawings in that city. At this time he had two hundred sheets and about one thousand birds. While there he again met Vanderlin and examined his pictures, but says that he was not impressed with the idea that Vanderlin was a great painter. What he saw in the museum in New York appeared to him to be set up in unnatural and constrained attitudes. With Dr. Decay he visited the Lyceum, and his drawings were examined by members of the Institute. Among them he felt awkward and uncomfortable. I feel that I am strange to all but the birds of America, he said. As most of the persons to whom he had letters of introduction or absent, and his spirit soon grew low, he went back to the 15th for Albany. Here he found his money low also. Abandoning the idea of visiting Boston he took passage on a canal boat for Rochester. His fellow passengers on the boat were doubtful whether he was a government officer, commissioner, or spy. At that time Rochester had only five thousand inhabitants. After a couple of days he went on to Buffalo, and he says this sentence, who, like Wilson, will ramble, but never, like the great man, die under the lash of a bookseller. He visited Niagara and gives a good account of the impressions which the cataract made upon him. He did not cross the bridge to Goat Island on account of the low state of his funds. In Buffalo he obtained a good dinner of bread and milk for twelve cents, and went to bed with other great men who had encountered greater hardships and had finally achieved fame. He soon left Buffalo, taking a deck passage on a schooner bound for Erie, furnishing his own bed and provisions and paying a fare of one dollar and a half. From Erie he and a fellow traveler hired a man and cart to take them to Meadville, paying their entertainers overnight with music and only one dollar and a half between them, but soon replenished their pockets by sketching some of the leading citizens. Audubon's belief in himself helped him wonderfully. He knew that he had talents. He insisted on using them. Most of his difficulties came from trying to do the things he was not fitted to do. He did not hesitate to use his talents in a humble way, when nothing else offered. He would paint the birds and animals he painted, but he would paint the cabin walls of the ship to pay his passage, if he was short of funds, or execute crayon portraits of a shoemaker and his wife to pay for shoes to enable him to continue his journeys. He could sleep on a steamer's deck with a few shavings for a bed and wrapped in a blanket, look up at the starlit night and give him a kiss. Early in September he left for Pittsburgh where he spent one month scouring the country for birds and continuing his drawings. In October he was on his way down the Ohio in a skiff in company with a doctor, an artist, and an Irishman. The weather was rainy and at wheeling his companions left the boat in disgust. He sold his skiff and continued his voyage to Cincinnati in a few dollars and took deck passage on a boat to Louisville going thence to Shippingport to see his son Victor. In a few days he was offered by Eucera to see his wife and with a plan to open a school there. I arrived at by Eucera with rent and wasted clothes and uncut hair and altogether looking like the Wondering Jew. In his haste to reach his master Percy's a mile or more distant through the woods he got lost in the night and wondered till daylight before he found the house. He found his wife had prospered in his absence and was earning nearly three thousand dollars a year with which she was quite happy to help him in the publication of his drawings. He forthwith resolved to see what he could do to increase the amount by his own efforts. The class of sixty organized but the material proved so awkward and refractory that the master in his first lesson broke his bow and nearly ruined his violin in his excitement and impatience. Then he danced to his own music till the whole room came down in thunders of applause. The dancing lessons brought him two thousand dollars, this sum together with his wife's savings enabled him to foresee a future to his great ornithological work. On May 1826 he embarked at New Orleans on board the ship Delos for Liverpool. His journal kept during this voyage abounds in interesting incidents and descriptions. He landed at Liverpool July 20th and delivered some of his letters of introduction. He soon made the acquaintance of Mr. Rathbone, Mr. Roscoe, Mr. Bering and Lord Stanley. Lord Stanley said in looking over his drawings, this work is unique and deserves the patronage of the crown. In a letter to his wife at this time Audubon said, I am cherished by the most notable people in and around Liverpool and have obtained letters of introduction to Baron Humboldt, Sir Walter Scott, Sir Humphrey David, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Hannah Moore, Miss Hedgeworth, and your distinguished cousin, Stakewell. Mark his courtesy to his wife in this gracious mention of her relative, a courtesy which never forsook him, a courtesy which goes far toward retaining any woman's affection. His paintings were put on exhibition in the rooms of the Royal Institution at admittance of one shilling being charged. From this source he soon realised a hundred pounds. He then went to Edinburgh carrying the introduction to many well-known literary and scientific men, among them Francis Geoffrey and Christopher North. Professor Jameson, the Scotch naturalist, received him coldly and told him, among other things, that there was no chance of his seeing Sir Walter Scott. He was too busy. Not see Sir Walter Scott, thought I, I shall if I have to crawl on all fours for a mile. On his way up in the stagecoach he had passed near Sir Walter's seat and had stood up and crained his neck in vain to get a glimpse of the home of a man to whom he says he was indebted for so much pleasure. He and Scott were in many ways kindred spirits, men native to the open air, inevitable sportsmen, copious and romantic lovers and observers of all forms and conditions of life. Of course he will want to see Scott and Scott will want to see him if he wants since his real quality. Later Professor Jameson showed Audubon much kindness and helped to introduce him to the public. In January the opportunity to see Scott came to him. Quote, January 22, Monday I was painting diligently when Captain Hall came in and said put on your coat and come with me to Sir Walter Scott. He wishes to see you now. In a moment I was ready for I really believed my coat and hat came to me instead of my going to them. My heart trembled. I longed for the meeting, yet wished it was over. Had not his wondrous pen penetrated my soul with the consciousness that here was a genius from God's hand. I felt overwhelmed at the thought of meeting Sir Walter, the great unknown. And a powdered waiter was asked if Sir Walter were in. We were shown forward at once and entering a very small room, Captain Hall said, Sir Walter, I have brought Mr. Audubon. Sir Walter came forward, pressed my hand warmly and said he was glad to have the honor of meeting me. His long, loose, silvery locks struck me. He looked like Franklin at his best. He also reminded me of Benjamin West. He had the great benevolence of William Roscoe about him and a kindness most prepossessing. I could not forbear looking at him. My eyes feasted on his countenance. I watched his movements as I would those of a celestial being. His long, heavy, white eyebrow struck me forcibly. His little room was tidy, though it partook a good deal of the character of a laboratory. He was wrapped in a quilted morning gown of silk. He had been at work writing on the life of Napoleon. He writes close lines, rather curved as they go from left to right, and puts an immense dill on very little paper. After a few minutes had elapsed he begged Captain Hall to ring a bell. A servant came in and was asked to bid Miss Scott come to see Mr. Audubon. Miss Scott came, black-haired and black-dressed, not handsome, but said to be highly accomplished, and she is the daughter of Sir Walter Scott. There was much conversation. I talked but little, but believe me, I listened and observed, careful if ignorant. I cannot write more now. I have just returned from the Royal Society. Knowing that I was a candidate for the electorate of the Society I felt very uncomfortable and would gladly have been hunting on Tawapiti Bottom." It may be worthwhile now to see what Scott thought of Audubon. Under the same date Sir Walter writes in his journal as follows. January 22, 1827 A visit from Basil Hall with Mr. Audubon, the ornithologist who has followed the pursuit by many a long wandering in the American forest. He is an American by naturalization, a Frenchman by birth, but less of a Frenchman than I have ever seen. No dust or glimmer or shine about him. But great simplicity of manners and behavior, slight in person and plainly dressed, wears long hair which time has not yet tinged. His countenance acute, handsome, and interesting. But still simplicity is the predominant characteristic. I wish I had gone to see his drawings, but I had heard so much about them that I resolved not to see them.  Two days later Audubon again saw Scott and writes in his journal as follows. January 24 My second visit to Sir Walter Scott was much more agreeable than my first. My portfolio and its contents were matters on which I could speak substantially and I found him so willing to level himself with me for a while that the time spent at his home was invaluable. His daughter improved in looks the moment she spoke, having both vivacity and good sense. Scott's impressions of the birds as recorded in his journal was that the drawings were of the first order, but he thought that the aim at extreme correctness and accuracy made them rather stiff. In February Audubon met Scott again at the opening of the exhibition at the rooms of the Royal Institution. At one o'clock I went, the doors were just opened and in a few minutes the rooms were crowded. Sir Walter Scott was present. He came towards me, shook my hand cordially and pointing to Lanseer's picture, said, Many such scenes, Mr. Audubon, have I witnessed in my younger day? I have not seen any of them. I have never seen any of them. Mr. Audubon, have I witnessed in my younger days? We talked much of all about us, and I would gladly have joined him in a glass of wine, but my foolish habits prevented me, and after inquiring of his daughter's health I left him, and shortly afterwards the rooms, for I had a great appetite, and although there were tables loaded with delicacies, and I saw the ladies particularly eating freely, I must say to them what a beautiful thing. In the evening I went to the theatre, where I was much amused by the comedy of errors, and afterwards the green room. I admire Miss Neville singing very much, and her manners also. There is none of the actress about her, but much of the lady." Audubon somewhere says of himself that he was temperate to an intemperate degree. He became less strict in this respect. He would not drink with Sir Walter Scott at this time, but he did with the Texan Houston and with President Andrew Jackson later on. In September we find him exhibiting his pictures in Manchester, but without satisfactory results. In the lobby of the exchange where his pictures were on exhibition he overheard one man say to another, I am told it is well worth a shilling. Suppose we go now. Pah! it is all a hoax. Save your shilling for better use. I have seen them. The fellow ought to be drummed out of town. In eighteen twenty-seven in Edinburgh he seems to have issued a prospectus for his work, and to have opened books of subscription. And now a publisher, Mr. Lazars, offers to bring out the first number of Birds of America, and on November twenty-eighth the first proof of the first engraving was shown him, and he was pleased with it. With the specimen number he proposed to travel about the country in quest of subscribers until he had secured three hundred. In his journal under the date of December tenth he says, My success in Edinburgh borders on the miraculous. My book is to be published in numbers containing four birds in life and a style surpassing anything now existing at two guineas a number. The engravings are truly beautiful. Some of them have been coloured and are now on exhibition. Beginning of footnote In another place he says Five. End of footnote Audubon's journal kept during his stay in Edinburgh is copious, graphic, and entertaining. It is a mirror of everything he saw and felt. Among others he met George Combe, the phrenologist, author of the once famous Constitution of Man, and he submitted to having his head looked at. The examiner said there cannot exist a moment of doubt that this gentleman is a painter, colourist, and compositor and I would add an amiable though quick-tempered man. Audubon was invited to the annual feast given by the Aquarian Society at Waterloo Hotel at which Lord Elgin presided. After the health of many others had been drunk Audubon's was proposed by Skeen, a Scottish historian. Quote Whilst he was engaged in the handsome panagyric the perspiration poured for me I thought I should faint. But he survived the ordeal and responded in a few appropriate words. He was blind and obliged to keep late hours, often getting no more than four hours sleep and working hard painting and writing all the next day. He often wrote in his journals for his wife to read later, bidding her good night or rather good morning at 3 a.m. End of Chapter 3 Part 1