John Woodhouse Audubon, the younger of the two sons of John James Audubon and his wife, Lucy Bakewell, was born in Henderson, Kentucky, November 30, 1812. Those who recall the life of the ornithologist may remember that at this time he was far from his days of prosperity, and was trying to be a business man, with saw-mills and lumber; a venture, which like all his business efforts, did not succeed. Therefore, almost before the boy John remembered, the wandering days began for him, which continued virtually all his life. During his boyhood these wanderings were chiefly confined to that portion of the United States south of the Ohio River, and largely to Louisiana, a section of country he always loved. As a child, though small and slender, he was strong and active and delighted in the open air life which was indeed his second nature; and he was proficient in swimming, shooting, fishing and all out-door sports and pleasures, while still a boy. He was rather averse to the needful studies which kept him from the woods and streams, but which his mother never permitted him to neglect. She was, herself, the teacher of her sons in their earlier years, and a most thorough one, as later generations can testify, sending them to school only when she The boys while children were usually together, and were sent to school at the same time, though Victor was three years the elder, but at times they were separated. Victor was a quiet, studious boy, and a great favorite with the elder members of his mother's family, the Bakewells, while John, who was full of mischief, very restless, always most successful in getting his young cousins as well as himself into all sorts of scrapes, was naturally less in demand. When Mr. and Mrs. Audubon were wandering from place to place, Victor was frequently with relatives in Louisville, and at an early age became a clerk in the office of Mr. Nicholas Berthoud, who had married a sister of Mrs. Audubon. He was in this position when At this period of his life John spent much time drawing from nature, and playing the violin, of which he was passionately fond all his life. While his father was pushing the publication of "The Birds of America" in England and Scotland, he at one time supplemented the slender finances of the family, in a small way, by taking occasional trips on the Mississippi river steamboats as a clerk. It was very uncongenial work to the restless youth, and, from what can be learned, was rather indifferently done; but he was a great favorite with all with whom he came in contact, and usually found some one to help him over his mistakes, and indeed on occasion to do his work, while he, with his violin was in great demand on the decks of the steamboats, in those days scenes of much gaiety, some of which was of more than doubtful quality. After a comparatively short season of mingled work and play, Mrs. Audubon withdrew him from what Louisianians called "the river," and he returned to his work in painting and in collecting specimens which his father wanted for the various friends and scientists with whom he was now constantly in touch. The elder Audubon upon his return from Europe took the family, after a few weeks in On his return to America Mr. Audubon made plans for a summer in Labrador and in 1833 made this journey, John with three other young men accompanying him. The days were not only long, but arduous. John was not quite twenty-one, and his love of fun was as strong as in his boyhood, but he found none in being called at three in the morning to search for birds, being frequently drenched to the skin all day, and working with bird skins through "the interminable twilights." Nevertheless he and his young companions found time to rob salmon preserves when the fishermen would not sell, to slip on land when opportunity offered, to attend some of the very primitive balls and other amusements to be found on these desolate shores, and to extract pleasures which perhaps youth alone could have found among such surroundings. So passed the years taking boyhood and youth with them until 1834, when the Audubon family all went to England and Scotland, where both young men painted very steadily, making copies of This period of study was broken, however, by a trip to the continent taken by the brothers together. The route followed was the one then called "The Grand Tour," extending as far as Italy. The brothers, always most closely united, congenial in thoughts and tastes, thoroughly enjoyed the novel scenes and experiences, for which they were well fitted both physically and mentally. They were tall, handsome young men, full of health and strength, and the joyousness of youth. The careful preparation in the reading of books of travel and literature, and the fact that they were excellent French scholars, added greatly to the interest of the journey. But busier days than these were in store, when the Audubons returned to America, and the collection of new species demanded the attention of the naturalist, and the assistance of his sons. Victor Shortly after John and his young wife went to England, where his father had again gone to superintend the continued publication of the plates in London, and here their first child, Lucy, was born. Six months later, John with his wife and child returned to America. The next two years were spent partly in New York, partly in the south, in the vain hope of finding health and strength for the delicate young mother, but all was unavailing, and she died leaving two little daughters, one an infant. Later John Audubon married an English lady, Caroline Hall, and to them seven children were born, five of whom lived to maturity. At this time the country place on the Hudson river near New York City, which had been bought in 1840, was built upon. Today it is well nigh lost in the rapidly advancing streets and avenues, but at this time it was almost primitive forest, and here for some years lived the naturalist and his wife, with the two sons and their respective families. Minniesland with its large gardens and orchards, especially celebrated for peaches, its poultry yards and dairy which added to the comfort of the home and of the many guests who always found a welcome there, had an interesting side in the elk, deer, moose, foxes, wolves and other wildwood creatures which were kept for study and pleasure; and still another in the books, pictures and curios within the ever hospitable house, but more than all was the charm of the tall gray-haired old man, who by talent, industry, and almost incredible perseverance won it for those he loved. The early days at Minniesland were very happy ones for all. The "Quadrupeds of North America" had been begun and was of intense interest to father and sons, and the work he was doing for this publication, the superintendence of the animal life Many men were employed in one capacity or another and "Mr. John," as he was always called, was a great favorite. He had the rare gift of keeping these men friends, while he was perfectly understood to be the master; they were thoroughly at home with him, yet never familiar, and this position, so difficult to maintain, he held with all. As the village of Manhattanville, a little lower down the river, grew in size, many of the men from there used to walk up on summer evenings to help "haul the seine;" for fish were plentiful and good in the Hudson then; and where "Mr. John" was, disturbance or insolence was unknown, his orders to each man were respected, his division of fish always satisfied. An interruption in this tranquil life came in 1843 when Audubon the elder went to the Yellowstone country, and both sons were anxious about their father until his return; they felt that he was too old for such an arduous journey, but he was determined to go, and his safe return ended all alarm for his safety. Another break came in 1845 when my father went to Texas to find mammals to depict in the new work being published, and possibly birds Upon this journey my father was very successful in securing specimens. When he returned he brought one of his hunters, a half-breed Indian named Henry Clay, a name which had probably been given to him in jest. This man was my father's shadow; he was very skillful in the care of In 1846, the year following the Texan journey, John Audubon with his wife and children went to Europe, in order that he might paint pictures—still for the "Quadrupeds"—from some of the specimens he could find only in the zoological collections of London, Paris and Berlin, and he was absent on this work more than a year and a half. It was a period of most arduous work; his letters home were very short, though he was an easy and rapid writer. The reason for this brevity was, as he often explains, that his arm and hand were tired with the long days of steady painting; particularly when the fur of the animals he was delineating was of unusual length, for this was before the days of "dabs and smudges" and minuteness of detail was insisted on both by the elder Audubon and by the engravers. These were long months to him as most of them were passed in crowded cities, where he missed the forests and rivers, his home and the free life to which he was accustomed. Many times in the letters written to those at Minniesland, he declares his intention In 1849 he joined a California company, being urged thereto by the Messrs. Kingsland, who were warm personal friends and who were then backing Col. Henry L. Webb who had been in Mexico and advocated that route for the company he was collecting. My father's idea was that such a journey offered splendid opportunities to secure specimens of birds and mammals. It was proposed that he should give the company his knowledge of a backwoodsman's life, which was extensive, and be second in command to Colonel Webb, a responsibility which he rather hesitated to accept, as he wished the freedom of leaving the party anywhere he chose after reaching California. Finally, however, he signed papers with Messrs. Daniel C. and Ambrose Kingsland, and Cornelius Sutton, (Colonel Webb signing also), to stay with the company for one year, when they expected to reach their destination and be on the high road to wealth. In Colonel Webb's company the contracts were individual. The company supplied everything but the personal belongings of each man and his horse, and he in return was supposed to repay with legal interest his share of expenses when he reached the El Dorado, and to this end his work and his earnings were the company's for a year from the time of signing. If when the contracts expired The journey across the continent in 1849 with no regular means of communication with home and friends, through a country virtually unknown, and when Indians were still numerous; without cities to enable travelers to get fresh supplies of food and clothing, and with no very definite knowledge of the road, was a serious matter under the best of conditions and on the best route. What it was with men who, with few exceptions, knew nothing of the life before them, who were impoverished by robbery, discouraged by death and disease and deserted by their leader, upon a route of which my father never approved, may be best learned from his "Journal." The journey was a terrible disappointment to him, as he says: "my arsenic is broadcast on the barren clay soil of Mexico, the paper in which to preserve plants was used for gun-wadding, and, though I clung to them to the last, my paints and canvases were left on the Gila desert of awful memories." In July, 1850, he sailed for home, which he It would be interesting to follow the careers of those who made the California journey with my father, but the lapse of fifty-six years makes this almost impossible, and very few traces of the members of the party can be found, nor indeed can any full list of those who left New Orleans with him be made. James B. Clement remained in Stockton as did Nicholas Walsh and John H. Tone; they became fruit growers and were successful in the land of their adoption. Henry C. Mallory entered business in San Francisco, married and lived in that city until his death, now a number of years ago. Robert Simson died not long since; he lived for some time in San Francisco, being a partner in a legal firm, afterwards removing to Alameda. He married rather late in life, and left a widow and one son. Langdon Havens returned At the time of the California journey my father was thirty-six, tall, strong and alert though always slender, keen of vision and hearing, quick in movement and temperament, and with most tender and skillful hands as those have testified whom he nursed in the dreadful cholera days. He had inherited from his father the gift of making and keeping friends among all classes, and of giving them confidence in him—the result of his quick and deep sympathy, his unselfishness and his absolute truthfulness. He was never indolent; whatever work had to be done, his was the hardest part—he never shirked, never grumbled. As evidence of this trait of his character I quote from one of his companions, Lieutenant Browning, whose son has kindly given me some extracts from his letters: "Mr. Audubon is always doing somebody's else work as well as his own;" "Mr. Audubon never My father's home-coming showed him many sad changes, for his father was now not only an old but a broken man, and the spirit of the home was no longer joyous. Father, mother, and sons had always been most united, unusually so it seems, as many incidents and events are recalled. Possibly this deep affection was the result of the struggles of early days, which, throwing them so much on each other for companionship, developed a sympathy with one another which lives full of separate interests would not have fostered—possibly the great similarity of work and tastes drew them closer to each other than when such conditions do not exist, but whatever the reason, it is certain that the ties which held them together were never In 1853 two new houses near the original one, now grown too small for the many children, were completed and these Victor and John Audubon occupied with their families, the mother living with one son or the other as the spirit moved her. The continued publication of "The Quadrupeds" and the octavo edition of "The Birds" occupied both my uncle and father. The latter reduced all the large plates of the birds to the desired size by means of the camera lucida, his delicate and exact work fitting him for the exquisitely minute details required. Much of each winter was spent in the southern states, securing subscribers. In 1853 a great sorrow came in the death of a little daughter, and soon after even a heavier. Victor Audubon began to fail in health, the result of a fall which at the time was thought to be of no moment, but which had injured the spine. Through long years it was agony to my father to witness the constant decline of the brother with whom his entire life was so intimately associated and to whom he was so deeply attached. Nothing could stay the progress of the malady and on the seventeenth of August, 1860, came the parting which had so long been dreaded. During this long period of my uncle's illness all Worn out in body and spirit, overburdened with anxieties, saddened by the condition of his country, it is no matter of surprise that my father could not throw off a heavy cold which attacked him early in 1862. On the evening of Tuesday, February 18, he was playing on his violin some of the Scotch airs of which he was so fond, when suddenly putting down the instrument he said he had so much fever he would retire. Before morning delirium set in, and for two days and nights he wandered in spirit over the many lands where once in health and strength the happy boy, the joyous youth, the MARIA R. AUDUBON Salem, New York, March 2, 1905. AUDUBON'S WESTERN JOURNAL |