Famous Men of Science Part 13

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 cla.s.s 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 Inst.i.tution 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 inst.i.tution. I am truly obliged to you for your favors, and can only say, G.o.d 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 surpa.s.sing 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; G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d had smiled on me."

There is no sympathy so sweet as that born of experience. n.o.ble-hearted Audubon! G.o.d 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sure 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 surpa.s.sed 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!"

After two months in Paris, he returned to London, and soon sailed for America. Once on his native soil, he says, "My heart swelled with joy, and all seemed like a pleasant dream at first; but as soon as the reality was fairly impressed on my mind, tears of joy rolled down my cheeks. I clasped my hands, and fell on my knees, and, raising my eyes to heaven, I offered my thanks to our G.o.d, that he had preserved and prospered me in my long absence, and once more permitted me to approach these sh.o.r.es so dear to me, and which hold my heart's best earthly treasures."

He soon reached the Bayou Sara, and "came suddenly on my dear wife: we were both overcome with emotion, which found relief in tears."

He remained with his wife three months, collecting birds and making drawings, and then both sailed together for England.

During his absence he had been made a fellow of the Royal Society of London, much to his delight. Now that his "Birds of America" was coming out, he began earnestly upon a new work, "Ornithological Biography of the Birds of America," containing nearly three thousand pages, and published for him by Mr. Black of Edinburgh. Two publishers refused this famous work, and Audubon published at his own expense. The first volume was finished in three months, and Mrs. Audubon copied it entire to send to America to secure copyright.

Audubon worked untiringly. He wrote all day long, and "so full was my mind of birds and their habits, that in my sleep I continually dreamed of birds."

The "Birds of America" received good reviews in "Blackwood's Magazine,"

and elsewhere. Audubon said, "I have balanced my accounts with the 'Birds of America,' and the whole business is really wonderful; forty thousand dollars have pa.s.sed through my hands for the completion of the first volume. Who would believe that a lonely individual, who landed in England without a friend in the whole country, and with only sufficient pecuniary means to travel through it as a visitor, could have accomplished such a task as this publication! Who would believe that once, in London, Audubon had only one sovereign left in his pocket, and did not know of a single individual to whom he could apply to borrow another, when he was on the verge of failure in the very beginning of his undertaking! And, above all, who would believe that he extricated himself from all his difficulties, not by borrowing money, but by rising at four o'clock in the morning, working hard all day, and disposing of his works at a price which a common laborer would have thought little more than sufficient remuneration for his work!"

In the four years required to bring out the work, fifty-six of his subscribers, representing the sum of fifty-six thousand dollars, abandoned him, and he was obliged to leave London, and go into the provinces to supply their places.

September 3, 1831, Audubon returned to America, spent the winter in Eastern Florida, searching for birds and animals, and then some months in Labrador, having sent Victor to England to superintend the engraving of the drawings. In Labrador he collected one hundred and seventy-three skins of birds, and studied carefully the habits of the eider-duck, loons, wild geese, and other birds. Sometimes he was so weary from drawing that "my neck and shoulders, and most of all my fingers, have ached from the fatigue. The fact is, I am growing old too fast, alas! I feel it, and yet work I will, and may G.o.d grant me life to see the last plate of my mammoth work finished.

"Labrador is so grandly wild and desolate," he said, "that I am charmed by its wonderful dreariness.... And yet how beautiful it is now, when your eye sees the wild bee, moving from one flower to another in search of food, which doubtless is as sweet to her as the essence of the orange and magnolia is to her more favored sister in Louisiana. The little ring-plover rearing its delicate and tender young; the eider-duck swimming man-of-war-like amid her floating brood, like the guardship of a most valuable convoy; the white-crowned bunting's sonorous note reaching your ears ever and anon; the crowds of sea-birds in search of places wherein to repose or to feed."

On his return from Labrador, he went to Philadelphia, where he was arrested for one of his old partnership debts, and would have been taken to prison except for a friend who kindly offered bail. From here he went to the house of an old friend, Rev. John Bachman of Charleston, S. C., whose two daughters subsequently married the two sons of Audubon, Victor and John. He returned to London, and in 1834 and 1835 published the second and third volumes of the "Ornithological Biography."

In 1836 he came back to America for further research, and received a warm welcome from distinguished men. Daniel Webster and Washington Irving became his earnest friends. The latter said that his work "was highly creditable to the nation," and deserved "national patronage." He dined with Andrew Jackson at the White House. On his return to England he wrote the fourth volume of the "Ornithological Biography," and the fifth the following year.

This year, 1839, he returned to America to spend the rest of his life, purchased a home on the banks of the Hudson in upper New York, which he called "Minnie's Land," the Scotch word for mother, this being the name by which he generally addressed his wife, to whom he left the whole of it at his death.

He was now sixty, but his work was not done. He immediately began to bring out his "Birds of America" in seven octavo volumes, with the figures reduced and lithographed. He exhibited in New York his wonderful collection of drawings, several thousands of birds and animals, all the size of life, by his own hands.

In 1843, taking his son Victor, he started on an expedition to the Yellowstone River, to collect animals and drawings for another great work, the "Quadrupeds of North America." After nearly a year he returned, and began his book. In two years the first volume was ready; but after this he could do no more. The rest of the great work was finished by his sons after his death.

In 1848 the quick, active mind failed. His wife read to him, led him like a child, and at the last fed him. One, at least, had never failed him, since the day when she gave the money she earned to send him to Europe to win renown.

On Thursday morning, January 27, 1851, the eyes dulled for so long once more showed their former l.u.s.tre and beauty. Audubon did not speak, but he seemed to know that the time had come for the last journey. He reached out his arms, clasped the hands of his wife and children, and died.

Four days later, surrounded by distinguished friends, he was buried in Trinity Church cemetery, where his sons now rest beside him. A singularly guileless, sweet-natured man, who willed to do all this great work when a boy, and achieved it when a man, because he had willed it.

Well says General James Grant Wilson, in the life of Audubon so admirably prepared by his wife, "Long after the bronze statue of the naturalist, that we hope soon to see erected in the Central Park, shall have been wasted and worn beyond recognition by the winds and rains of Heaven, while the towering and snow-covered peak of the Rocky Mountains known as Mount Audubon shall rear its lofty head among the clouds, while the little wren chirps about our homes and the robin and reed-bird sing in the green meadows, while the melody of the mocking-bird is heard in the cypress swamps of Louisiana, or the shrill scream of the eagle on the frozen sh.o.r.es of the Northern seas, the name of John James Audubon, the gifted artist, the ardent lover of nature, and the admirable writer, will live in the hearts of his grateful countrymen."