In the following December Audubon received a fresh impetus towards the goal of his ambition by the arrival at Natchez of a traveling portrait painter, named John Stein, who gave him his first lessons in the use of oils; his initial attempt was the copy of an otter from one of his own drawings. Audubon and Stein together later painted a full-length portrait of Father Antonio which was sent to Havana. Artists who have worked long in one medium are not always successful in another, but those who have seen some of Audubon's later and better works in oil, such as his large canvas of the Wild Turkeys,[294] must admit that he attained a high degree of skill. As will be seen, this acquisition was a strong string to his bow; when in England his brush helped largely to pay for the issue of his early plates.
Mrs. Audubon, who joined her husband in New Orleans on December 8, 1821, soon felt obliged to seek employment. She engaged as nurse or governess in the family of Mr. Braud, presumably the same whose wife and son had received instruction in drawing from the naturalist the previous autumn, and remained with that family until September, 1822, when the death of the child that was placed in her charge left her free to follow her husband to Natchez. After attempting a similar position in the home of a clergyman there and finding it impossible to obtain her salary, in January, 1823, she was invited by the Percys to West Feliciana,[295] then a prosperous cotton district, at the apex of the salient made by the neighboring state of Mississippi and bordered on two sides by the great river. Her worth was evidently appreciated, for she was encouraged to establish a private school on the Percys' plantation, which she conducted successfully for five years.
Captain Robert Percy, who before coming to America in 1796 had been an officer in the British Navy, was living at this time with his wife and five children at their plantation of "Weyanoke," on Big Sara Creek, fifteen miles from St. Francisville; this town, owing to its large shipments of cotton, was then at the height of prosperity, and its population no doubt exceeded that of the present day; it now stands at about one thousand souls. Letters and journals of the period constantly refer to "Beechwoods," which was not the mansion house, though it undoubtedly belonged to the Robert Percy estate. There it was that the wife of the naturalist lived, and there she started her school, for the benefit not only of the Percy boys and girls, but also of a limited number of children of their wealthy neighbors; her own son, John Woodhouse Audubon, then eleven years of age, at this time received instruction at her hands. The parish of West Feliciana, at this early period, was one of the richest cotton-producing sections of the entire State; its care-free planters led an easy life until the "king" was unceremoniously dethroned by a small, but not insignificant insect which has proved mightier than either fire or sword, namely, the boll-weevil; now many a fine old estate which has languished under the influence of the pest could probably be bought for a song. "Beechwoods," thus devoted to educational purposes, later came into the hands of Thomas Percy, but the house, like that of "Weyanoke," was long since burned to the ground.
While Mrs. Audubon was establishing her rules and authority at the Percy school, the naturalist was painting with Stein at Natchez, and he remained there with his elder son until the spring of 1823. At this period he wrote in his journal: "I had finally determined to break through all bonds, and follow my ornithological pursuits. My best friends 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."
In March, 1823, Audubon and friend Stein bought a horse and wagon, and in the hope of raising money through their joint efforts as itinerant portrait painters, set out with Victor on a tour of the Southern States. This venture, however, did not succeed, and after visiting Jackson and a number of other towns, they disbanded at New Orleans. Audubon then started north with his son for Louisville, but upon paying a visit to his wife at the "Beechwoods" school, he was invited by the Percys to remain there for the summer and "teach the young ladies music and drawing." According to a tradition which has survived among the Percy descendants, Audubon spent most of his time in roaming through the woods, but he also taught his wife's pupils to swim in the large spring house at "Weyanoke," where the water could be deepened at pleasure. It was also said that he painted the Wild Turkeys in the woods of Sleepy Hollow near by, but I have already given Audubon's own record in regard to one of these pictures, and, as Mr. Arthur remarks, the places in Louisiana where he drew these famous subjects are as numerous as the beds in which Lafayette slept when at New Orleans.
Audubon remained with the Percys during the greater part of the summer, or until some misunderstanding arose, when he was again adrift and upon a sea of difficulties. While visiting a plantation near Natchez, both he and Victor were stricken with fever; his faithful wife hastened to them, and after nursing both back to health, she returned with them to the Percy plantation, where they remained from the 8th to the 30th of September.
In the autumn of 1823 Audubon was determined to visit Philadelphia, in the hope of finding a sponsor for his "Ornithology." Although the work was then far from ready for publication, he felt that at least he might better his condition, and with this end in view he sent his drawings from Natchez to that city; a hasty visit was made also to New Orleans, for the purpose, no doubt, of obtaining credentials to possible patrons in the East. At last, on October 3, he started with Victor on the steamer Magnet[296] for Louisville. Low water quickly held them up after entering the mouth of the Ohio, and they were obliged to disembark at the little village of Trinity, at the mouth of Cash Creek, the scene of Audubon's misadventures with Rozier thirteen years before. The remoteness of the situation and the state of their funds, which corresponded with that of the river, left no alternative but to walk, and they undertook to reach Louisville, several hundred miles distant, afoot. Two other travelers joined them, and with Victor, then a lad of nearly fourteen, the party left the creek at noon on October 15 and struck across country through the forests and canebrakes. At Green River, which was reached on the 21st, Victor gave out from sheer exhaustion,[297]and the remainder of the journey was finished in a Jersey wagon. At length, said Audubon, "I entered Louisville with thirteen dollars in my pocket." At Shippingport, then an independent town at the Falls of the Ohio, he was obliged to settle down for the winter. A place for Victor was found in the counting-house of Nicholas A. Berthoud, while the father undertook anything that came to hand, painting portraits, landscapes, panels for river boats, and even street signs, so hard pressed was he at times to eke out a subsistence for them both. Yet Audubon was as sanguine as ever, and on November 9 he recorded the resolution "to paint one hundred views of American scenery," and added: "I shall not be surprised to find myself seated at the foot of Niagara," a prediction which was fulfilled in the following year.
During the winter spent at Shippingport, Audubon lost a gentle friend in Madame Berthoud,[298] the mother of Nicholas. In his journal for January 20, 1824, we read his emotional words:
I arose this morning by the transparent light which is the effect of the moon before dawn, and saw Dr. Middleton passing at full gallop towards the white house; I followed—alas! my old friend was dead!... many tears fell from my eyes, accustomed to sorrow. It was impossible for me to work; my heart, restless, moved from point to point all round the compass of my life. Ah Lucy! what have I felt to-day! ... I have spent it thinking, thinking, learning, weighing my thoughts, and quite sick of life. I wished I had been as quiet as my venerable friend, as she lay for the last time in her room.