Audubon the Naturalist: A History of His Life and Time. Vol. 1 (of 2)

by Francis Hobart Herrick

Audubon left Natchez on December 31, 1820, on a keel boat belonging to his brother-in-law, Nicholas A. Berthoud, who accompanied him, and at one o'clock the steamer Columbus hauled off from the landing and took them in tow. Towards evening, when they were looking up their personal belongings, the naturalist found to his dismay that a portfolio containing all of the drawings that he had made on the voyage down the river was missing. Letters were despatched to Natchez friends, but it was not until the 16th of March that his anxiety was relieved; the missing portfolio had been found and left at the office of The Mississippi Republican, whence it was forwarded on his order, and reached his hand on the 5th of April. "So very generous had been the finder of it," he said, "that when I carefully examined the drawings in succession, I found them all present and uninjured, save one, which had probably been kept by way of commission."

On New Year's Day, 1821, they came to at Bayou Sara, at the mouth of the inlet of that name, which later saw much of Audubon and his family. On the following day he made a likeness of the master of their craft, Mr. Dickenson, for which he was paid in gold; he also outlined two warblers by candle-light in order to have time to finish them on the morrow. The captain of their steamer in his anxiety to make haste had set them adrift at this point, and they were obliged to make their way as best they could, by aid of the current and oars, to the port of New Orleans, which was finally entered on Sunday, January 7, 1821.

Audubon landed at New Orleans without enough money to pay for a night's lodging, for someone had relieved him of the little he possessed, and he was obliged to pass several nights on the boat while looking for work. Undismayed by his financial straits, his first visit at daybreak on Monday was to the famous markets of the southern city, where he found dead birds exposed for sale in great numbers—mallard, teal, American widgeon, Canada and snow geese, mergansers, tell-tale god-wits, and even robins, bluebirds and red-wing blackbirds; he added that the prices were very dear.

Upon leaving Cincinnati Audubon had resolved upon making one hundred drawings of birds; this was actually accomplished, but only after repeatedly modifying his plans and working in more humble capacities than he was at first inclined to consider. On the 12th of January he wrote in his diary of meeting an Italian painter at the theater, and of showing him his drawing of the White-headed Eagle[282] at the rooms of Mr. Berthoud; "he was much pleased," and took him "to his painting apartment at the theater, then to the directors, who very roughly offered me one hundred dollars per month to paint with Monsieur l'Italien. I believe really now that my talents must be poor," said Audubon. His refusal of this offer in view of his straitened circumstances, and the entry which followed, were characteristic: "Jan. 13th, 1821. I rose up early, tormented by many disagreeable thoughts, again nearly without a cent, in a bustling city where no one cares a fig for a man in my situation." The following day Audubon applied to a self-taught portrait painter, John W. Jarvis, and after showing his drawings, was engaged to assist him in finishing the "clothing and ground"; but this artist's manners were declared to be so uncouth and the pay so poor that he left him in disgust.

When he had made a hit, as he said, with the likeness of a well known citizen, orders came to him, and he was able to resume his drawing of birds. On February 22 he recorded that he had spent his time in "running after orders for portraits, and also in vain endeavors to obtain a sight of Alexander Wilson's 'Ornithology,' but was unsuccessful in seeing the book, which is very high priced." Later, however, he appears to have succeeded in this quest, for on the 17th of that month he was able to send his wife twenty drawings of birds, eight of which were marked as "not described by Willson." Among them were the originals of some of the most famous of his plates, such as the Great-footed Hawk, the White-headed Eagle, and the Hen Turkey.[283] Having seen in a newspaper a notice of an expedition which the Government was about to send to the Pacific Coast, to survey the boundary of the territory that had been recently ceded by Spain, Audubon became much excited over a possible appointment as draughtsman and naturalist. He sat down at once and wrote a personal letter to President Monroe, while hundreds of imaginary birds of new and interesting kinds seemed to come within the range of his gun; on the 31st of March he was still pondering on the project, and although it is not likely that his letter ever reached the eye of the President, he did receive a recommendation from Governor Robertson of Louisiana. It was with this expedition in view that he sought an interview with John Vanderlyn,[284] an eminent painter of historical subjects, then working in New Orleans; according to one version Vanderlyn treated him as a mendicant, and ordered him to lay down his portfolio in the lobby, but ended by giving him a very complimentary note, in which he praised his drawings without stint, particularly his studies of birds.

During the five months spent at New Orleans in 1821, Audubon attempted to support himself and his companion by means of their artistic talents, while he was pushing forward his ambitious design of figuring all of America's birds and most characteristic plants. That he received scant encouragement but many rebuffs is not surprising. They did succeed in obtaining a few pupils in drawing, and Audubon made a number of rapid portraits, but after living for a time on Ursuline Street, near the old Convent, and later shifting from one quarter to another, their finances had reached so low an ebb by the beginning of June that a move was imperative. Audubon then decided to go to Shippingport, Kentucky, and on the 16th of June, with young Mason, he again boarded the steamer Columbus, John D'Hart, captain, and started up river. An incident now occurred which affected the naturalist's whole after life by introducing him to one of the most favored spots in Louisiana, if not in the whole country, for the study of bird life, not to speak of the impressions which the charm of new scenery, a rich flora, and natural products of the most varied description must have then made on his mind. Mrs. James Pirrie, wife of a prosperous cotton planter of West Feliciana Parish, happened to be their fellow-passenger. Doubtless her curiosity was piqued by the winning manners and flowing locks of the artistic traveler, whose Gallic accent at once betrayed his nationality. Whether Audubon had made her acquaintance previous to this journey or not is not known, but before it was ended his fine enthusiasm and ambitious plans had found a sympathizer, and he was engaged as tutor to Mrs. Pirrie's daughter at $60 a month. To further his ornithological pursuits it was understood that he and his companion should live at "Oakley," her husband's plantation, five miles from St. Francisville, on Bayou Sara, and that one-half of his time should be absolutely free for hunting and drawing. Thus, on June 18, 1821, was forged the link that bound the heart of Audubon to the State which was first in his affections, and which he would fain believe might have been the scene of his nativity. Well may the Louisianians of today adopt him as their son, for from that early time he cherished their State as in a peculiar sense his own.

It was a hot and sultry day when our wanderers landed at Bayou Sara,[285] a small settlement at the junction of the sluggish stream which bears that name and the Mississippi, and proceeded to climb to St. Francisville, the village a mile away on the hill. Mrs. Pirrie, who seems to have preceded the travelers by carriage, sent some of her servants to relieve them of their luggage, which Audubon said they found light. They rested in the village at the house of Mr. Benjamin Swift, where they were invited to stay to dinner, then at the point of being served, but feeling somewhat ill at ease, they thanked their host and again took to the road. Following their leisurely guides, they now traversed a country so new, so strange, and so enchanting, that the five miles to the Pirrie house seemed short indeed. "The rich magnolias, covered with fragrant blossoms, the holly, the beech, the tall yellow poplar, the hilly ground, and even the red clay," to quote Audubon's record made at the time, "all excited my admiration. Such an entire change in the face of nature, in so short a time, seems almost supernatural, and surrounded once more by numerous warblers and thrushes, I enjoyed the scene."

BAYOU SARA LANDING, WEST FELICIANA PARISH, LOUISIANA, AT THE JUNCTION OF BAYOU SARA AND THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.