Chapter XIII: Audubon's Marriage and Settlement in the West

Audubon and Rozier decide to start a pioneer store at
Louisville, Kentucky—Their purchase of goods in New
York—"Westward Ho" with Rozier—Rozier's diary of the
journey—An unfortunate investment in indigo—Effect of
the Embargo Act—Marriage to Lucy Bakewell—Return to
Louisville—Life on the Ohio—Depression of trade—William
Bakewell's assistance—Audubon's eldest son born at the "Indian
Queen"—The Bakewells—Life at Louisville.

In the summer of 1807 Audubon and Rozier had decided to try their fortunes in the West, which then meant the Ohio Valley and the wilds of Kentucky, and had fixed upon Louisville as a promising point for pioneer trade. On August 1 they purchased a considerable stock of goods through the commission house of their friend, Benjamin Bakewell, and three days later gave their note, payable in eight months, for over $3,600.[163] Then, or a little later, they had dealings also with Messrs. Robert Kinder & Company, of New York, as well as the French importing house of Laurence Huron, with which Ferdinand had been recently associated in Philadelphia; apparently also they sent goods to François Rozier at Nantes, and from him received imports through the Bakewell firm, but, as we shall see, all foreign trade was soon cut off. When their plans were complete and their goods had started for the frontier, they set out themselves for Louisville on the last day of August, 1807.

Ferdinand Rozier kept a record[164] of this journey, the formidable nature of which will be best appreciated by reading his matter-of-fact narrative composed from notes daily jotted down. In these easy-going times, when oceans and continents are crossed with ever increasing ease and speed, this simple chronicle of early travel in America is worth preserving, if only for its historical contrasts.

On the thirty-first day of August, 1807, in company with
Audubon, I left Mill Grove for Louisville, Kentucky, where we
anticipated engaging in the mercantile business.

Leaving Philadelphia by stage we traveled to Lancaster,
Pennsylvania, a distance of sixty-one miles, where we arrived
at four o'clock in the afternoon; we dined, and proceeded
to Big Chickers, distant nine miles farther, where we spent
the night. The roads from Philadelphia to Lancaster were
in excellent condition, and at about every two miles we
found good taverns. The only remarkable thing we noticed in
agriculture was hemp, there being little else of interest.
The city of Lancaster was attractive, but the short duration
of our stay prevented us from having more than a casual view
of it. The tavern where we slept was not very good; from our
chambers, however, we could discern a new bridge, which had
two immense arches spanning the river.

At eight o'clock in the morning we left Lancaster for
Elizabethtown, distant nine miles. The roads were miserable,
and we suffered a severe jolting and shaking up. Arriving
there, we procured two additional horses, which made six all
told, and went on to Middletown, where we breakfasted at a
tavern named the "Eagle"; the village was small, with few
houses, and nothing of interest.

Journeying on to Harrisburg without mishap, over roads
somewhat improved, we finally arrived, and discovered a very
beautiful river called the Susquehanna. The city of Harrisburg
itself appeared very attractive to us, and its situation is
beautiful; proceeding, we were first compelled to cross the
river, which was accomplished by means of a large flatboat
propelled by a sweep of generous proportions. The captain,
who proved a most voluble person, informed us that the river
abounded in fish, and then related marvelous tales of the
remarkable catches that had been made; many of his stories,
however, were of such glaring improbability that we were
forced to doubt his veracity.

Carlisle, sixteen miles distant, was reached in due course,
and there we changed horses at a tavern called the "John
Mason." This city, though small, presented a fine appearance,
having a market place, two large churches, many brick
buildings, a large academy, and several attractive taverns.
Continuing, we finally came to Walnut Bottoms, where we
engaged chambers at a very imposing tavern; this proved
far superior to any we had hitherto visited; it was clean
and inviting; its appointments were good, and its service
excellent. On our journey we were impressed by a tree of great
size, that resembled an oak, but upon inquiry learned that
it was called Hackberry,[165] and produced a fruit similar
in size to a cherry. On the north and south of us were high
mountains which presented an imposing appearance; the foliage
was heavy and luxuriant; the soil of the foot-hills appeared
fertile, but the crops were inferior.

We were awakened early in the morning so as to begin our
journey in good season, and having had a heavy storm during
the night we expected to find the roads very bad, but to our
delight they were none the worse for the rain. Journeying
most of the way through woods, we came to Shipensburg and
breakfasted; this village had only one long street, and
presented an appearance far from pleasing. A lady with her
sock [knitting work] proved a great talker and asked us many
questions. This village was intersected by a creek, called
the Middlespring. We next came to Chambersburg, ten miles
away, and there rested and purchased tickets for continuing
our journey. That village lies in a valley, and is composed of
two squares containing a post office, an academy, a factory,
market place and tavern.

When the stage was at last made ready for its journey we took
our places in it, but no sooner was the village left behind
than we encountered very rough roads, which for a time caused
great discomfort; our feelings were expressed by all the
passengers, but at length we reached a tavern named "Cable
Roussed," where our horses were changed. We next stopped at
the "John Campbell" tavern, and saw many drunkards about;
then at "Peter White's," almost at the foot of the mountains,
where we were each treated to a glass of excellent fresh
milk. Still going on and approaching the mountains, the roads
became so excessively rough that Audubon and myself decided
to proceed on foot. Though this was a three-mile climb, we
managed to cover it in three and a half hours. So bad in
truth was the road that it seemed well nigh impossible for any
vehicle to ascend the mountain; the stage did go up, however,
and reached the summit soon after us. On the heights of the
mountain was a small tavern where refreshments were served,
and while partaking of a light lunch there we were waited on
by a couple named Currie, and James, their hired man. While
we were refreshing ourselves, our host told harrowing tales
of wild-animal hunting in the mountains, and assured us that
there were many beasts in the surrounding woods. Leaving the
summit in the stage, we continued for some distance, but the
jolting, rolling and swaying was so frightful that we decided
to descend on foot. The three miles down the mountain was
covered quickly, but we were utterly worn out with fatigue
when we reached McConnelsburg; this village lies in a valley,
has few houses and but little of interest; we made forty
miles during the day. Leaving early on the next morning, after
traveling thirty-two miles, over better roads, we spent the
night at the tavern of B. Mastin.

Having breakfasted at an early hour, we were again on our way
by sunrise, and after driving two miles came to the Juniata
River, which was crossed in a leaky flatboat. Eight miles
beyond this point we saw a very fine and stately mansion which
was said to belong to a Mrs. Haily. Finally after a hard and
tiresome day we arrived at Bedford. The Juniata River flows
along Bedford in a narrow bed, between high mountain walls;
the village is situated in the valley, and boasts many fine
stores and residences. We were told that about fourteen miles
farther on there were mineral springs, the waters of which
possessed great curative properties, and that many people
visited them each season; time, however, did not permit us to
visit this resort.

Six horses were hitched to our stage when we departed the next
morning. The mountain roads ascended more gradually, and were
less rough; the weather being exceptionally fine, forty miles
were easily made before reaching our destination at a village
called Somerset, which contained a courthouse that marked it
at once as the county seat. At four o'clock of the morning
following we were again on our way, and left Somerset in a
heavy fog, which at that early hour sharply accentuated the
chill in the air. At the end of the day we found ourselves at
Laurel Hill, where we passed the night at the tavern of John
Arranats.

Again at four in the morning we resumed our journey, and
after crossing Laurel Creek once more encountered rough roads,
but soon reached a tavern called the "Jacob Hoff," where we
breakfasted. Still pushing forward, at noon we came to the
small house of a family called Margennefs, and procured a
meager lunch. At a short distance from this place a change
of horses was made, and after driving all the afternoon we
entered the attractive village of Greensburg, where we spent
the night. Rising reluctantly at peep of day, we continued on
our course and made ten miles before breakfasting at a tavern,
the "Stewart Auberge" by name. After leaving this point we
came to Turtle Creek, when the road descended so abruptly that
it was decided to dismount and walk, but the heat was sultry
and oppressive, and we suffered greatly. At last, however,
the city of Pittsburgh was reached, and there we found good
and commodious lodgings at the Jefferson Hotel, conducted by
Mr. Galland, a most genial and agreeable host. We remained
in Pittsburgh several days, and became acquainted with many
of its citizens, among whom were several countrymen of ours
who were engaged in business and were very congenial and
hospitable. The city does not present a pleasing appearance;
it has been increasing in size with astounding rapidity,[166]
and possesses a remarkable commerce; the Ohio River there is
most beautiful.

The remainder of our journey was by way of the Ohio, and we
made it entirely in an open flatboat, a cumbersome unwieldy
craft, managed by hand, and in this particular instance
very badly. One who has never had this experience can little
understand the terrible monotony, hardships and deprivations
encountered on a long journey such as we endured. We were
unprotected from the elements, and our beds consisted of bare
pine boards, upon which we slept as best we could, enveloped
in our great coats.

There were times without number when our boat would run upon
hidden sand bars to become grounded, and we were then often
obliged to get into the cold water and assist in the work
of extricating her. At other times, unprotected as we were,
the rains drenched us to the skin, and our clothing was so
saturated that it took many hours to dry. At night when it
was clear, we continued our course down the river, but, in
bad weather, or when very cloudy and dark, we were obliged
to tie up to the shore, frequently to the bank of some wild,
uninhabited island, and wait there for daylight; then we would
resume our slow, tedious and seemingly never ending journey.
Added to these hardships, our boat was commanded by a most
disagreeable and ungentlemanly captain, named Harris; his
language, and demeanor marked him as a person of low birth
and bad character.

Among some of the places which were passed _en route_, I
remember the following: Wheeling, Marietta, Market Slough,
famous for the conspiracy of Colonel Burr, Belleville, Litards
Falls, Point Pleasant, Manchester, Maysville, Cincinnati, and
finally our journey's end, Louisville.

At Louisville the partners were attracted by the country and its prospects, as well as by the hospitable character of the people. Their choice, as they then thought, had been well made, and they decided to make it their future home. "We marked Louisville," said Audubon, "as a spot designed by nature to become a place of great importance, and had we been as wise as we now are, I might never have published _The Birds of America_; for a few hundred dollars laid out, at that period, in lands or town lots near Louisville, would, if left to grow over with grass to a date ten years past [this being 1835], have become an immense fortune, but young heads are on young shoulders; it was not to be, and who cares."[167]

Rozier did not say when either they or their goods reached the pioneer settlement, but from an item in their account current with the Bakewell house,[168] it is evident that they opened a retail shop in Louisville at once, for on September 29 they were charged with $57 for an order of powder horns and shotbags. In the same record there is a more interesting entry under date of December 31, 1807: "advanced per [sailing packet] _Jane_, for indigo and expences ... $1,516.43," ordered evidently through Mr. Bakewell, presumably for export to France. This incident Audubon must have had in mind when in after life he wrote: "The mercantile business did not suit me. The very first venture which I undertook was in indigo; it cost me several hundred pounds, the whole of which was lost." It may be recalled that in his letter of April 24 of this year, Audubon wrote Francois Rozier[169] that the Bakewell house had sent him a consignment of indigo by the same ship, Captain Sammis, and hoped for its favorable sale in France. No doubt the venture succeeded so well that the young traders were induced to repeat the experiment. As it happened, however, on December 22, a week before this entry for the indigo was made, the famous Embargo Act of President Jefferson had taken effect, with the result of cutting off all exports to England and France and at the same time of paralyzing American trade. The Bakewell house, as we have already noticed, like so many others, immediately went down, and the partners found that their tobacco and other western produce found so little sale in New York that by April 7, 1808, they were obliged to call for an extension of their notes.

Notwithstanding the gloomy outlook for trade, Audubon had no fears for the future. As early as March, 1808, he left Rozier in Kentucky and returned to Pennsylvania. No time was lost in making known his plans to Lucy Bakewell and her family, and having received their approval, the lovers prepared for the adventurous journey that was to celebrate their wedding. Audubon was married to Miss Bakewell, at "Fatland Ford," on Friday, April 8, 1808, by the Reverend Doctor Latimer, an Episcopal clergyman of Philadelphia, and on the next morning started with his bride for the frontier. This event must be regarded as the most auspicious in his career, for in all probability the world would never have heard of Audubon had it not been for the spur to his ambition and the balance wheel to his character which came through his admirable wife.

The first stage of their honeymoon involved the long ride of over 250 miles to Pittsburgh, the hazards and discomforts of which we have learned from Rozier's description; it was marked in this instance by an accident, for in crossing the Alleghany mountains their coach was upset and Mrs. Audubon did not escape without severe bruises. At Pittsburgh the Audubons met a number of young emigrants bound westward like themselves, and in their company they prepared to float down the beautiful Ohio in a flatboat or ark. Their entire journey, which, owing to the windings of the river, could not have been much less than a thousand miles, was made in twelve days, and without further mishap.

The wild and varied beauty of the Ohio of that day had great attractions for the naturalist, who often regretted that no facile writer had left a true and vivid picture of it for the benefit of posterity, for he foresaw with great concern the inevitable changes which advancing civilization would quickly produce along its delightful banks. Audubon traversed this mighty highway countless times in after life, and some of his musings have lost none of their interest with the flight of time, for he had witnessed the advance of the white man and the retreat of the red, along with the great herds of deer, elk and buffalo that once found peaceful pasturage on its banks. Speaking of a later but hardly less romantic journey,[170] he said:

As night came, sinking into darkness the broader portions of
the river, our minds became affected by strong emotions, and
wandered far beyond the present moments. The tinkling of bells
told us that the cattle which bore them were gently roving
from valley to valley in search of food, or returning to their
distant homes. The hooting of the Great Owl, or the muffled
noise of its wings as it sailed smoothly over the stream, were
matters of interest to us; so was the sound of the boatman's
horn, as it came winding more and more softly from afar. When
daylight returned, many songsters burst forth with echoing
notes, more and more mellow to the listening ear. Here and
there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck the eye, giving
note of commencing civilization. The crossing of the stream by
a deer foretold how soon the hills would be covered by snow.

Many sluggish flatboats we overtook and passed; some laden
with produce from the different head-waters of the small
rivers that pour their tributary streams into the Ohio;
others, of less dimensions, crowded with emigrants from
distant parts, in search of a new home.

The margins of the shores and of the river were at this
season amply supplied with game. A Wild Turkey, a Grouse, or
a Blue-winged Teal, could be procured in a few moments; and
we fared well, for, whenever we pleased, we landed, struck up
a fire and provided, as we were, with the necessary utensils,
procured a good repast.

Louisville at this time was a small trading and agricultural center of barely a thousand people.[171] Though the early promises of business there were not fulfilled, Audubon and his wife at once entered upon a happy period, for they made many friends in a new country settled by whole-hearted, well-to-do planters; the men were fond of good horses and of hunting, and the naturalist, who was also a merchant, was welcomed among them as a kindred spirit. But, said Audubon, "birds were birds then as now, and my thoughts were ever and anon turning towards them as the objects of my greatest delight. I shot, I drew, I looked on nature only; my days were happy beyond human conception, and beyond that I really cared not.... I seldom passed a day without drawing a bird, or noting something respecting its habits, Rozier meantime attending the counter."

To revert again to the business affairs of the Audubon-Rozier firm at Louisville, an interesting record has been preserved in a letter[172] written by Thomas Bakewell, a former fellow-clerk of the naturalist in the senior Bakewell's counting-house in New York; this was included with the statement of account, referred to above.

_Thomas Bakewell to Audubon & Rozier_

[At bottom of account sheet] NEW YORK, _Decemr. 13th. 1808_

MESSRS. J. AUDUBON & F. ROZIER
Louisville

GENTN.

I have now the pleasure to hand you your account current with
my Father's Estate according to your desire as expressed in
your letter to Mess Robt. Kinder & Co. under date the 21st.
of Novr. last. I cannot tell what error you allude to of $93.
I suppose it is the amount of commission returned $93.94/100
which you will perceive is duly at your Cr. in the a/c. I am
sorry to say that the tobacco is still unsold & that there is
no prospect of selling it so as to cover the balance of your
a/c. Messrs R. Kinder & Co. request me to say that they
wish the yarn mentioned in their letter of the [word omitted]
to be made of _water rotted Hemp_ & that they will write you
pr next post with their account against you as requested by
you—

I remain Gentn
with Your mo. obt. Servt.

THOS. BAKEWELL
for the assignees of my
Father's estate—

Give my love to Mrs. A. my aunt a recd. hers last night—S.
& is much as usual—she remains very sick yet.

T B

[Superscribed] MESSRS. AUDUBON & ROZIER
Merchants
Louisville
Kentucky

Audubon fraternized with the sporting men of his district, who gladly sent him every rare bird that fell to their guns. At Shippingport also, then an independent center below the falls or rapids, he found a sympathetic spirit in Doctor W. C. Galt, a local botanist, as well as in Nicholas Berthoud, who had become his wife's brother-in-law, and who was a friend on whom he could always rely. The spirit of hospitality so manifest in all these new friends won the heart of Audubon and of his attractive wife, to whom the door of a neighbor's house was sure to open whenever business or adventure called her husband away. "We lived," said Audubon, "two years at Louisville, where we enjoyed many of the best pleasures which this life can afford; and whenever we have since passed that way, we have found the kindness of our former friends unimpaired." It was while they were living at Gnathway's hotel of the "Indian Queen," in Louisville, that Victor Gifford Audubon, who was destined to become his father's right hand in the publication of his most important works, was born on June 12, 1809.

When Audubon had reached his twenty-fourth year, nature, his fond nurse from infancy, was calling to him more loudly than ever before, but to most of his contemporaries his devotion to natural history could have seemed little else than sheer madness, or, at best, an utter waste of time. By the year 1810 his portfolios were swelling with upwards of two hundred pictures of American birds, produced, to be sure, without any plan, and far inferior to the best of his later work, but still done to the size of life, in the natural colors, and far excelling in fidelity and charm anything that had been attempted before. At this time, however, the young traders needed money for more practical affairs, and Audubon's father-in-law, William Bakewell of "Fatland Ford," consented to sell a portion of this estate, amounting to 170 acres, in order that his daughter, Lucy, might immediately realize her interest in it. From this sale nearly $8,000 was obtained; the money was deposited with Messrs. Robert Kinder & Company of New York, a firm with which Audubon and Rozier had dealt from the opening of their business at Louisville. This is clearly shown by the following interesting letter:[173]

_William Bakewell to Audubon & Rozier_

FATLAND FORD _10 Apl 1810_

MESSS AUDUBON & ROZIER

GENTN

I have at last settled the whole business with Mr Josh
Williams I have allowed him for the two thirds in cash 3
per cent & have emitted to Messrs Kinder's 7838.50 on your
account.—The quantity was surveyed to 170 acres at 47.5 per
acre 7998.50, from which was deducted 160 dols for discount

As I have had a great deal of trouble & anxiety in this
business & had to find assistants in surveying with several
days attendance, dinners &c for the whole party several
journeys to Norris Town and also to Philada with the
carriage to convey the money—postages &c.—I charge you 1½ per
cent on the purchase money which I hope you will think not
unreasonable as I believe it is under the charge of the land
brokers in Philada & they have no trouble in the business
compared to what I have had—I feel as if a great burthen was
taken off my back now it is all finished. Out of this you will
please to present Lucy with 38 dols which was the price the
mare sold for—I expected one of you Gentn would have come to
the Eastward before now it is I expect Mr Roziers turn this
Spring

I had one forged note returned at the Bank out of the money of
Mr Williams & one dollar a counterfiet, but I had stipulated
that he should take any faulty ones back. He paid about a
third of the money in specie so that I was obliged to take
the carriage with it. I took it to the Pennsylvania Bank & got
an order on the Manhattan Bank in N York & have Mr Kinder's
receipt for the order

They have got a considerable quantity of ore out of the
mine[174] some lead & some copper but I do not hear of any
being yet sold.

Present the kind regards of our family circle to my daughter,
Mr Audubon, & my Grandson[175] who I hope are well

I remain Gentn
Yours truly

Wm BAKEWELL

PS

Mr Kinder is of opinion that there ought to be a
renunciation by Lucy of any claim of dower upon this
estate to make the title good this may be sent on
when you are coming this way

[Addressed] MESSS AUDUBON & ROZIER
Merchs
Louisville
Kentucky—
[Endorsed] Recd. May 5th. 1810

Lucy Green Bakewell, Audubon's wife, was three years younger than her husband, having been born at Burton-on-Trent, England, in 1788. Her family were descended from John Bakewell of "Castle Donnington," in Leicestershire; Robert Bakewell, the geologist, who came to the naturalist's defense many years later, and who lived until 1843, was a nephew of her grandfather, Joseph Bakewell of Derby. Left an orphan at an early age, Lucy's father, William Bakewell, was brought up by an uncle, Thomas Woodhouse, a rich bachelor of Crith, Derbyshire, who eventually left him a fortune.

When William Bakewell succeeded to his uncle's estate and manor, he lived the life of a country gentleman, devoting himself mainly to shooting and to the study of chemistry and natural philosophy, while he enjoyed the friendship of such men as Joseph Priestley and Erasmus Darwin. His advocacy of Priestley's republican and liberal religious doctrines is said to have cost him the honorary office of justice of the peace in his community and to have determined his emigration to America. His first visit to America was made in the summer of 1798, when, with his brother Benjamin,[176] he started an establishment for brewing English ale at New Haven; through his chemical knowledge and skill he is said to have reproduced to perfection the famous Burton ales. William Bakewell brought his family to the United States in 1802, and when a disastrous fire destroyed his business at New Haven, he took up the large farm of "Fatland Ford" in 1804, as already related (p. 108). In that retired spot he devoted much time to his library and laboratory, while living a life of easy independence. If abrupt in manners and inclined to severity in discipline, he was generous, kind-hearted and an ardent republican. Mrs. Audubon's mother, who felt keenly the separation from her own people, died in September, 1804, a few months after reaching "Fatland Ford," and in the following year William Bakewell was married to Rebecca Smith. This lady seems to have taken a strong dislike to Audubon, for when her death was announced in 1821,[177] he referred to her as "my constant enemy ... God forgive her faults."

At this time Audubon studied nature for the pure love of it, without the faintest expectation that his labors in natural history would ever be of any service to the world. But in the year 1810 occurred an event, of seemingly small moment at the time, which nevertheless left a distinct mark upon his career, as will be now related.