This extraordinary man, who, from being originally an operative
weaver, became by his own unaided exertions one of the most celebrated
ornithologists of his day, was born in Paisley on the 6th of July
1766. His father was a distiller, poor in fortune, though said to have
been endowed with an active and sagacious mind. He was so unfortunate
as to lose his mother at the early age of ten, and was left without
the tender and judicious care which a mother alone can give. On
attaining his thirteenth year, he was bound apprentice for three years
to his brother-in-law, to learn the business of a weaver, and on the
expiry of this term, continued to work as a journeyman for four years
more.
The employment of a weaver was by no means congenial to the
disposition and propensities of the future ornithologist; but as his
father, though a highly respectable man in character, was in very
indifferent circumstances, young Wilson had no choice left, but was
compelled to adopt that which was readiest and most easily attained.
It is much to his credit, however, that though he must have
felt――indeed it is certain that he did feel, and that at a very early
age――that he was fitted for higher things, he yet diligently labored
at the humble but honorable calling to which destiny had appointed
him, and never allowed such feelings to interrupt his industry. At
this period of his life he indulged in a predilection for poetical
composition, and wrote several pieces which appeared in the ‘Glasgow
Advertiser;’ but in these juvenile attempts he was not very
successful, nor was he ever, at any after period, fortunate in this
department of literature, though his poetical productions are
certainly not without very considerable merit.
Having continued at the loom, as already said, for four years as a
journeyman weaver, at the end of this period he abandoned the
business, to accompany his brother-in-law, who had commenced traveling
merchant or pedlar, in a tour through the eastern districts of
Scotland――an employment which, though it could scarcely claim any sort
of precedence in point of rank over that which he had left, he yet
gladly embraced, as it at once released him from the confinement and
dull monotony of his former occupation, and permitted him to indulge
in one of his strongest propensities, which was to ramble over hill
and dale, and to enjoy unfettered and unrestrained, the beauties of
his native land. With such a disposition, it is not to be wondered at
that, as a pedlar, he made much greater progress in the study of
nature, and perhaps of man, and in the extending of his ideas, than in
the improvement of his fortunes. The acquisition of money was no
object with him, and of course, as it was not sought, it was not
found.
At this time Burns was in the zenith of his fame, and Wilson, tempted
by his success, resolved to publish his poems――the accumulated pieces
of preceding years――and in 1789, contracted with a printer in Paisley
for this purpose, but was obliged to abandon the idea for the time,
for want of means to carry it into effect. He, however, published them
some time afterwards, with the title of ‘Poems, Humorous, Satirical,
and Serious,’ at his own risk, after having in vain endeavored to
procure subscribers, and carried them about with him in his hawking
expeditions, but met with little or no success in the sale of them.
Finding that he could make nothing of either poetry or traffic, he
returned once more to his loom, at which he was again quietly seated,
when he learned that a debating society in Edinburg had proposed for
discussion the question, whether Ferguson or Allan Ramsay had done
most honor to Scottish poetry. Seized with an ambition to distinguish
himself on this occasion, he borrowed from a friend the poems of
Ferguson, which he had never read before, and in a few days produced a
poem, which he entitled the ‘Laurel Disputed,’ and in which he awarded
the palm to Ferguson. With this poem in his pocket, he proceeded to
Edinburg, and recited it before the audience assembled to hear the
discussion. Before he left Edinburg, he also recited in public two
other poems, and acquired by all a considerable degree of respect and
favor. He likewise contributed occasionally, about this time (1791),
to a periodical work called ‘The Bee.’ But though Wilson’s poetical
efforts procured him some reputation, they did nothing for him in the
way of advancing his worldly interests. The volume of poems which he
published in 1789, at which period he was only twenty-two years of
age, went through two small editions in octavo, but without yielding
the author any pecuniary advantage. His literary reputation was,
nevertheless, considerably increased by the publication of his ‘Watty
and Meg,’ a poem in the Scottish dialect, and of such decided merit,
that it was universally ascribed to Burns on its first appearance,
which was in 1791. It is a droll and satirical description of a
drunken husband and scolding wife, and shows that the author possessed
a fund of broad humor.
Having soon after this embroiled himself in some serious disputes
which took place in his native town between the operative weavers and
their employers, by writing some severe personal satires on certain
individuals of the latter class, he found his residence in Paisley no
longer compatible with his comfort or happiness, and therefore
determined on proceeding to America. But before taking his departure,
he called on those persons whom he had satirised, expressed his sorrow
for what he had done, and solicited their forgiveness. This
circumstance is a pleasing proof of the generosity of his nature――that
which follows a very striking one of the determination of his
character. Although he had resolved on going to America, he did not
possess a single shilling wherewith to pay his passage. To supply this
desideratum, he instantly abandoned every other pursuit, and for four
months labored with incessant industry at his loom, confining the
expense of his living during this time to one shilling in the week.
The result of this perseverance and rigid economy was, that at the end
of the period named, he found himself in possession of the requisite
sum, but nothing more. With this he set out for Portpatrick on foot,
crossed to Belfast, and there engaged a passage to America; and he
arrived at New York on the 14th of July 1794, with only a few
shillings in his pocket, and even these were borrowed from a
fellow-passenger.
Up till this period, and indeed for several years after, Wilson
exhibited no indications of a genius or even predilection for that
particular department of natural history in which he afterwards
acquired so brilliant a name; but it is said that, immediately after
landing in America, and while proceeding from the place of his
disembarkation to Newcastle, his attention was strongly excited by the
specimens of the feathered inhabitants of the New World which he met
with, and that he was particularly delighted with the splendor of the
plumage of a red-headed woodpecker, which he shot by the way. Whether
or not his genius received on this occasion that bent which afterwards
led to such splendid results, it is certain that he always retained a
lively recollection of the feelings of surprise and delight with which
he for the first time contemplated the beauties of the American
woodpecker.
For many years after his arrival in America, Wilson’s condition
underwent but little improvement. He found there nearly the same
difficulties to contend with, and prospects nearly equally cheerless,
with those he had left behind him in his native land. The first
employment he obtained was with a copperplate printer in Philadelphia;
but this he soon relinquished, and betook him to his original trade,
weaving. This he again resigned for the pack; but his success as a
pedler was not sufficient to induce him to continue by it, and he
abandoned it also, and commenced teacher; making his first experiment
in this laborious and somewhat precarious profession near the town of
Frankford in Pennsylvania. While in this situation, he in a great
measure repaired the defects of his early education, by close and
unremitting study in various departments of science and knowledge;
and, as has often been the case, by instructing others, he taught
himself. He afterwards removed to Milestown, where he remained for
several years, adding a little to the limited income arising from his
school, by surveying land for farmers.
At the end of this period he applied for and obtained the appointment
of schoolmaster of the Union School in the township of Kingsessing,
within a few miles of Philadelphia; and it is from this period that
his history in the pursuit of the bird creation commences, although he
yet entertained that branch of natural history only in common with
others, and by no means confined his studies to the feathered tribes.
His attention was equally engrossed by a host of other animals; and
his apartment, as described by himself, had the appearance of Noah’s
ark, being crowded with opossums, squirrels, snakes, lizards, and
other animals. Finding his ignorance of drawing a serious drawback in
his new pursuit, he applied to the acquisition of this art with such
diligence and determination of purpose, that he in a very short time
succeeded in obtaining a command of the pencil, that enabled him to
sketch from nature with great fidelity and spirit. It was not,
however, till the year 1803 that Wilson conceived the magnificent
design of his American Ornithology, and even then his ideas on the
subject fell very far short of the great work he afterwards achieved.
At this period he contemplated little more than ‘making a collection
of the finest American birds,’ as he himself writes to a friend in
Paisley. Having mentioned his intention to some of his American
friends, they endeavored to dissuade him from prosecuting it, and,
with a sincere regard for his interest, pointed out to him the
formidable difficulties which he would have to encounter, and which
appeared to them insurmountable. But they spoke in vain. Wilson’s
ardor and enthusiasm was more than a match for their prudence; and
trusting to his own resources, he quietly but resolutely proceeded
with his design; although――and it is a curious fact――when he began his
stupendous work on American Ornithology, he did not know even the
names of more than three or four of the American birds. But from this
moment he devoted himself with a zeal and energy to the accomplishment
of his enterprise, which removed all obstacles as fast as they
presented themselves, and swept away all difficulties, as straws are
swept away by the stream.
In October 1804, with his gun on his shoulder he made the first of
that series of perilous journeys through the wilds of America, which
he found it necessary to perform to obtain an accurate and intimate
knowledge of the birds of the forest; and amidst privations and
hardships which few men but himself would have voluntarily
encountered, he completed a journey of twelve hundred miles on foot,
through deep snows, boundless forests, deep and dangerous rivers, and
over wild and desolate mountains. But the experience of this perilous
and painful excursion, instead of damping his ardor, had the effect
only of increasing it. In the spring of the following year, he had
completed drawings of twenty-eight rare birds, and about this time
also made an attempt to acquire the art of engraving on copper,
thinking, in the devotedness of his enthusiasm, that he might, by
diligence and perseverance, soon attain such a proficiency in this art
as would enable him to execute the plates for his contemplated work;
and he actually completed two: but when he had got this length, he
became dissatisfied with the result of his labors, and abandoned the
pursuit. At this period the general aspect of his affairs, and those,
in particular, which related to his undertaking, were exceedingly
gloomy. He was without means and without money, and was persevering in
a course which his friends thought an imprudent one, and was therefore
without even words of encouragement to cheer him on his way. But
neither these disheartening considerations, nor any other, could deter
him from prosecuting his great design. So far from being discouraged
by the difficulties which surrounded him, he declared that he would
proceed with his plan even if it should cost him his life; and, in
that noble spirit which belongs to true genius alone, exclaimed, ‘I
shall at least leave a small beacon to point out where I perished.’
At the close of the year 1805, he made an unsuccessful attempt to be
appointed to take part in an exploratory expedition which the American
government was then about to send to the valley of the Mississippi. He
addressed his application on this occasion to President Jefferson,
stating to that functionary what he had done in the prosecution of his
intended work on American ornithology, and representing the advantages
which the being permitted to accompany the party would afford him in
furthering his views. To this communication――from what cause is now
unknown――he obtained no reply, and of course did not join the
expedition. Soon after this, more cheering prospects presented
themselves to the enterprising ornithologist. A Mr. Samuel F.
Bradford, a publisher in Philadelphia, who was about to print an
edition of Rees’s Cyclopedia, engaged Wilson, on what the latter
himself called liberal terms, to superintend the publication of that
work. But this connection presented another inducement to Wilson, and
one which had infinitely greater attraction for him than any which
related to his own personal advantage. This was the prospect it
afforded him of procuring a publisher for his work; and so far he was
not disappointed. On his explaining the nature and object of his
undertaking, Mr. Bradford readily consented to become his publisher;
and in September 1808, the first volume of ‘American Ornithology’
appeared, one of the most splendid books by far which had then
emanated from the American press; but unfortunately the price was,
though necessarily, much too high for a country comparatively in its
infancy, and which had not then had time to turn its attention to the
arts or sciences, or to acquire a sufficient taste for them to
encourage such an expensive appeal on their behalf. The price of the
work, when completed, was to be one hundred and twenty dollars. It is
not therefore at all surprising to find that, even a considerable time
after its publication, its ingenious, but in this respect certainly
injudicious author, could only boast of forty-one names on his list of
subscribers. This number, however, he afterwards increased to two
hundred and fifty, by traveling through the country, and visiting the
different towns in quest of patrons; but these, he himself says, were
obtained ‘at a price worth more than five times the amount;’ and they
no doubt were so, if wounded feelings, fatigue of body and mind, and
all the humiliations to which such a mission must of necessity have
frequently subjected him, be taken into the account. From this tour he
returned to New York in March 1809.
Two hundred copies only of the first volume of the Ornithology had
been printed, but it was now thought advisable to throw off three
hundred more; which was accordingly done: and in the meantime Wilson
assiduously employed himself in preparing the second volume for the
press, although he neither had yet benefited to the extent of a single
dollar by the publication of his work, nor was likely to do so. The
second volume appeared in January 1810; and immediately after its
appearance, the author set out on another tour in quest of support and
patronage. This time he penetrated into the western part of the
States, or valley of the Ohio and Mississippi. At Pittsburg, he
succeeded beyond his expectations in getting subscribers; and after
ascertaining that the roads were such as to render a land journey
impossible, he bought a small boat, which he named the _Ornithologist_,
intending to proceed in it down the Ohio to Cincinnati, a distance of
more than five hundred miles. Some advised him not to undertake the
journey alone; but he had made up his mind, and only waited, exploring
the woods in the interval, till the ice had left the stream. At
length the time arrived for his departure on this inland voyage. His
provision consisted of some biscuit and cheese, and a bottle of
cordial, given him by a gentleman in Pittsburg: one end of the boat
was occupied by his trunk, greatcoat, and gun; and he had a small tin
vessel, with which to bale his boat, and to drink the water of the
Ohio. Thus equipped, he launched into the stream. The weather was
calm, and the river like a mirror, except where fragments of ice were
floating down. His heart expanded with delight at the novelty and
wildness of the scene, The song of the red-bird in the deep forests on
the shore, the smoke of the various sugar-camps rising gently along
the mountains, and the little log-huts which here and there opened
from the woods, gave an appearance of life to a landscape which would
otherwise have been lonely and still. He could not consent to the slow
motion of the river, which flowed two miles and a half an hour; he
therefore stripped himself for the oar, and added three miles and a
half to his speed. Our traveler’s lodgings by night were less
tolerable than his voyage, as he went down the desolate stream. The
first night was passed in a log-cabin, fifty-two miles below
Pittsburg, where he slept on a heap of straw.
Having reached Cincinnati, he there got a few subscribers for his
work, and then proceeded to Louisville, where he sold his boat. He
next walked a distance of seventy-two miles to Lexington, whence he
traveled to Nashville, exploring on his journey some of the remarkable
caverns of Kentucky. He had thoughts of extending his tour to St.
Louis; but after considering that it would detain him a month, and add
four hundred miles to his journey, without perhaps adding a single
subscriber to his list, he gave up the plan, and prepared for a
passage through the wilderness towards New Orleans. He was strongly
urged not to undertake it, and a thousand alarming representations of
hardship and danger were set before him; but, as usual, he gave fears
to the winds, and quietly made preparations for the way. He set out on
the 4th of May, on horseback, with a pistol in each pocket, and a
fowling-piece belted across his shoulder. During this adventurous
journey he suffered severely from the heat of the sun, and all the
changes of the weather. His exposure by night and day brought on an
illness, which he with difficulty surmounted. He had occasion to
travel among the Indians, who, it seems, treated him with great
kindness; and though dreadfully worn out with fatigue, he enjoyed the
journey very much. He reached New Orleans on the 6th of June, and
shortly after embarked in a vessel for New York, and from thence he
proceeded to Philadelphia, where he arrived on the 2d of August 1810.
Wilson now applied himself with unwearied industry to the preparation
of the third volume of his Ornithology. At this time, he says that the
number of birds which he had found, and which had not been noticed by
any other naturalist, amounted to forty. Between this period and 1812
he made several other journeys throughout the country, partly with the
view of promoting the sale of his publication, and partly to procure
materials for his study, an object which he never lost sight
of――seldom traveling, whatever might be the immediate or ostensible
cause of his changing place, without his fowling-piece.
In the year above named, he received a gratifying proof of the
estimation in which his merits were beginning to be held. This was his
being chosen a member of the Society of Artists of the United States:
and in the spring of the following year, he was admitted to the
American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. But this extraordinary
man was not destined to see either the completion of his meritorious
labors, or to enjoy the triumph of achieving all that he designed. The
excessive labor and fatigue of both body and mind to which he had for
many years subjected himself, gradually undermined his constitution,
and prepared it to yield to the first act of indiscretion to which it
should be exposed; and this, unfortunately, now very soon occurred.
While sitting one day with a friend, he caught a glimpse from the
window of a rare bird, for which he had long been vainly looking out.
The instant he saw it he seized his gun, rushed out of the house in
pursuit of it, and after an arduous chase, during which he swam across
a river, succeeded in killing it; but he succeeded at the expense of
his life. He caught a violent cold; this was followed by dysentery,
which carried him off after an illness of ten days. He died on the
morning of the 23d August 1813, in the forty-seventh year of his age,
and was buried in the cemetery of the Swedish church in Southwark,
Philadelphia. A plain marble monument, with an inscription intimating
his age, the place and date of his birth, and of his death, marks the
place of his sepulture.
Wilson had completed the seventh volume of his Ornithology before he
died, and was engaged, when seized with his last illness, in
collecting materials for the eighth. At this he labored with an
assiduity and unintermitting industry which called forth the
remonstrances of his friends. His reply, while it seems to indicate a
presentiment of his premature fate, is at the same time characteristic
of his extraordinary enthusiasm and diligence. ‘Life is short,’ he
would say on these occasions, ‘and nothing can be done without
exertion.’ Nor is a wish which he repeatedly expressed to a friend
some time before his death, less characteristic of his amiable nature
and deep admiration of the works of his Creator. This wish was that he
might be buried _where the birds might sing over his grave_.
His person is described as having been tall and handsome, rather
slender than robust; his countenance expressive and thoughtful, and
his eye intelligent. Unfortunately for himself, the speculation in
which he engaged with so much ardor yielded him no remuneration; for
he had committed the serious error of issuing his work on too
expensive a scale. From the publication he derived no profits
whatever; and the heavy expenses he had to incur in his journeys, as
well as his ordinary outlays, were only paid by the wages he received
in the capacity of colorer of his own plates. Of the many active men
whose biographies are before the public, there is not, perhaps, one
whose life presents such a heroic resolution in the pursuit of science
as Wilson. Although this most indefatigable genius did not live to
enjoy the reward of his diligence, he certainly anticipated what has
come to pass――that this work would always be regarded as a subject of
pride by his adopted country, as it certainly is by the country which
gave him birth, and would secure a high degree of honor for him whose
name it bears.