The Bird-Man Cometh!

I’m interested in the way that Audubon’s character sketches are influenced by the language and methodology of ornithology but, for the sake of brevity, I’ve restricted myself here to Audubon’s descriptions of himself. The passages that initially suggested this inquiry are in the early pages of the 1826 Journal. Observing the petrels on July 4^th, Audubon writes, “how much I envied their power of Flight to enable me to be here, there, and all over the Globe comparatively Speaking in a Moment” (160). And in the next entry, considering his impending foray into England: “The Bird seazed when sitting on her Nest could not be more terrified” (164). Audubon is always writing about birds, of course, but these specific comparisons seem to be triggered by his particular situation: confined to the ship—“this floating Prison” (162)—for an extended period, sustained by a limited diet, suffering under the horrific weight of “dreary, Iddle time” (163). Audubon is not in his natural habitat. Comparing him to a caged bird seems inevitable: we picture him sighing over the petrels, which can come and go as they please. Indeed, Audubon’s pronoun confusion, as I read it, substituting “enable me” for “enable them” (the birds) indicates that he is literally imagining himself as a petrel. In actuality, he is reduced to comparing the petrels’ relative speeds (no shooting and sketching while at sea) and “Philosophiz[ing] on a goose quill” (163), despite his best efforts to avoid it.

Later, while displaying his paintings to a group of young women, Audubon waxes sentimental over his own natural habitat: “ ’ha, that’s Beautifull’. again and again repeated made me wish to be in the Forests of America to be able myself to say at meeting a New Specimen = ah! How beautifull!!” (167). The extra exclamation point in the second exclamation perhaps hints at Audubon’s superior sensibilities, affirming that, when it comes to appreciating birds, he is the natural. The passage also reminds the reader that Britain is no more Audubon’s natural habitat than the ship is. (This is evident in his social and professional interactions. Audubon’s trip to the theater on 174 is an amusing example of this, though he recovers his equanimity by reminding himself that he is “an Honest plain Man and ranked as high as any other in the eye of God” (174). Very American indeed.) The anxiety of the voyage persists throughout his visit. The sensibility of the second quote I mentioned above—the nesting bird—paves the way for Audubon’s performances with the well-to-do. The “nest” imagery is particularly a propos as Audubon wonders whether his heretofore obscure artistic endeavors will be rewarded—I imagine a doting Audubon-bird protectively sheltering his precious portfolio, ruffling his feathers out to keep it warm and dry…

But, to follow the descriptive thread: when dining with the Rathbones, Audubon takes out his portfolio and finds himself “panting like the wing^d pheasant he dreads the well taught Friend of Man, that may perhaps prove him too weak, to proceed in full sight of his learned Eye—” (166). Here, Audubon is again feeling that he has been transformed, somehow, into an animal (a bird) while, if I’m understanding the pronouns correctly, Rathbone retains his humanity, relying on the “Friend of Man” (a hunting dog, representing Rathbone’s educated sensibilities, his “best Taste and strong Judgment”?) to flush Audubon out of hiding, overturn his nest, etc. The Rathbones approve of his drawings, but the next Audubon / bird comparison, when Audubon is meeting with engravers, is actually more jarring: “he accompanied me Instantly to one of the most Scientific Men, who after looking at me as I Look at the Eye of a Bird as it looses its brilliancy & I fear to Lose its character” (181). Here, Audubon imagines himself as a dead bird under the hunter’s scrutinizing eye. Given the emphasis on dead vs. live eyes in Audubon’s illustrations, and his emphasis on achieving life-like representations in “My Style of Drawing Birds,” it may be particularly significant that Audubon is making this comparison: will he lose his authentic life-like character when the critic’s gaze transforms him into a specimen? And, I wonder, do Audubon’s critics see him as an artist, a naturalist, an author, or more as a curiosity of the American variety? (I’m thinking here of the notes in the Chronology: “Wearing a wolfskin coat and sporting long, curly hair, he is widely feted as the incarnation of the ‘American Woodsman’” (865).) There are numerous passages in which Audubon admires his hosts’ excellent manners (though he deplores the British postal system), but to what extent is it all an act, whether for his British critics, for his wife (for whose eyes the journal is ostensibly intended), or for himself? I’m not sure, but I can’t help thinking back to Audubon’s awkward night at the theatre, which he survives by insisting to himself (something along the lines of) “I’m a Man! I’m a Man!”