The Audubon Reader (36 page)

I returned 2½ weeks ago from Paris where I did pretty well. I procured 14
subscribers among which are the king, the duke & duchess of Orleans, &c., &c., and the government has ordered 6 copies. I do not think of sending thee anything more until I hear from this in answer, as I fondly hope to have thee here in the spring or summer. To come by way of N. Orleans will save thee an enormity of trouble and expense; indeed, I think (and thou must not think hard of me for so thinking) that to see thy relations and thy sons [in Kentucky, requiring passage from New York] would only cause thee more sorrow.

The 11th Number of my work is began and the 10th, the last for this year, is now distributing. I can assure thee that I do not owe a pound in any way and I have much due to me that comes in gradually. Bring with thee thy clothes and valuable effects only, and
every scrap
of my journals and drawings that thou canst get or have by then—and our sons’ portraits—whatever in Natural History objects, thy best books and so on …

Now, after all I say, should thou feel the least repugnance about coming, say so openly, as I tell thee that I have no fortune to give thee yet. I speak most candidly to thee because I do not wish to mislead thee. I promise that I will try my very best to render thee comfortable. I write constantly, until I hear from thee, every Sunday, either from London where I am or anyplace I may go to. Is John to go to [work with] Mr. Berthoud or thy Brother William? Write often, dearest wife, and believe me, thy happiness is my principal object in view.

May God bless thee forever—

Thy husband & friend for life—

London, England

23 December 1828

My dearest friend—

Thine of the 11th October reached me two days ago, and this is in answer to it. Meantime I must speak of the letters I have lately received from Victor, one of which reached [me] in only 40 days from Louisville. He has been writing respecting your coming over and I have answered them nearly in the following words: I wish much to have thee here, thinking that I can afford thee
moderate
comforts. I have 3 rooms and a servant in a portion of Mr. Havell’s house, my engraver, in a good situation, and as I am now what may be considered a house keeper, my little establishment is kept up when I am absent and is as costly almost as when at home. I pay 100 pounds rent. My work goes on as usual and I do not think that your being here would make much alteration in my expenses but a great deal to my comfort.

[I also told Victor] that you should come alone (I mean without either Victor or John) under the care of a good captain recommended by Mr.
Charles Briggs or any other person you may know at New Orleans. I wish to go on smoothly and with great care so as to enable me, in one year after thy arrival, to be quite able to write for John should
he
feel inclined to prefer Europe to America—and again afterwards to Victor. But as Victor says that your brother William is anxious to have both of them (Victor & John) in his counting house and that they also wish to go to him who is now married—I have not the least objection. I love my sons dearly, but I love them for their own sake and not the mere idea that because they are my sons, I must dictate to them, when they are sufficiently able to act for themselves & their comforts.

I wish thee to weigh these ideas of mine and do as thou may like best. I have now 144
subscribers which bring me an income of about 100 pounds and I make something by painting in oil. I will have to go to America in about 3 years, but only for 3 or 6 months
at most, and will not go further than the Falls of the Ohio to see our sons …

I am glad to read of thy being happy and comfortable, but I am dreadfully fatigued of our separation; whenever I lay my head on the pillow to rest, I feel a fear that we never will meet again, and many of my nights are sleepless. I am not enamored of England, much less of this [illegible] of London, and certainly would greatly prefer being in America did I not see it my interest to remain here until the completion of my extraordinary work. I hope to have it in my power to dispose of the plates, copyright &c. when I have finished the publication and to have as much money as will render us quite comfortable near our dear children.

Victor’s letters to me are highly interesting, full of [illegible], sentiment & second judgment and I am very proud of him. I hope that the goodness of heart natural to John will also form & finish him equal to his brother. I have not, at present, a single full set or copy of my work, or I would send thee one by this opportunity. I this day send 100 of my Prospectus & reviews by Cuvier & Swainson to New York, Philadelphia, Boston &c., &c., for I am truly astonished that my work is not known in America …

I have just finished 2 very large pictures in oil which will be exhibited, one in about a month in the British Gallery and the other in May next at the [illegible] House … Next Saturday I will dine with the envoy of the Grand Duke of Tuscany and may procure his name to my list. My last printed prospectus contains the review of
Baron Cuvier, and I will put one in this, as I think it will give thee pleasure to translate it—

Write often dearest Friend and let me know thy conclusions …

St. Francisville, Louisiana

19 January 1829

My dear Victor,

I begin to think it long since I heard from you. Business, I hope, is the only reason of your silence. We have had a most disagreeable winter; indeed, I have only left the house twice since December came on. One of my trips was to Mrs. Sims, above Hamilton [Mississippi], with the expectation of changing her note into cash according to her promise, but they gave me no hopes of ever paying it, supposing perhaps that as I had waited so long I might wait a few years longer. I rode 26 miles through wet and cold, ten of them after sunset with only a Negro boy with me. I am now determined to dispose of her [note] somehow even at a loss. I have one chance in a week from a gentleman who has money and does not in the least regard her feelings, but he is not quite determined and I do not like going to law myself, though you may rely upon it, I shall endeavor to close the business with her Ladyship. Nor have I yet made a single collection anywhere.

I mean to wait no longer, but as all my own time is taken up, send out my accounts all round, for I am anxious of sending the money for John to [New] Orleans [on] Sunday, the 25th, by Mr. Johnson, who is going down then, and it is not right that he does not produce the money as I told [him I] wanted it, and would save me any more trouble. I shall get his note this year and then I can more easily obtain the proceeds if necessary. I am pretty sure of sending the money by him to
Gordon & Forstall, and I will tell them to write immediately and let your Uncle William know it is in their hands, then or in a very short time after that. I shall send five hundred, because I know the expense of John must be considerable, though I hope not quite all that; he will want pocket money, but must use it sparingly.

Now I must revert to the subject of your Papa’s last letter, received tonight, which is a very severe and painful one, and poor
consolation for all my labor. You are now of an age to be my friend, my comforter and confidant. The date of the letter is early in November, when he had just come from Paris. He obtained 14 subscribers and says he was much pleased with his trip, not a word of his relations [i.e., Audubon’s family in Couëron], has now 144 subscribers, much less than I expected from former advice, that he has got a letter from you in which he finds that neither of his boys will join him, and doubts whether I will, that we have no consideration for him, that I require from him a “princely domain,” but I must say whether I mean to go over soon or not, because if not we had better have a formal separation, as he cannot answer for the continuance of his affections much longer, that as the piano was broken and the gowns saltwater-damaged, he shall take good care to send no more articles of any sort.

Surely your father is blind to the real state of affairs, for these eight years I have relieved him of all expense but himself, paid him $500 with him and three hundred since he went away in demands here, and he says I write “I am extremely happy here,” which I’m sure I never did—I only have said I had the comforts of life and did not wish to move till he could ensure me the continuance of them, which I had not at Cincinnati, Natchez or [New] Orleans [i.e., after Audubon’s bankruptcy]. I have, however, concluded to give up my school after
this
year and take John with me, to whom a few years more of instruction in Europe either in a school or counting room would be beneficial, and trust to Providence for my happiness and yours. In a few years it is possible we may be able to afford you to take the voyage and bring your brother back to his country if I cannot come then.

This is what I now think of, but will not speak of it to anyone but you, and circumstances may change. God knows my duty alone must guide me, for a mother’s feelings will be torn to agony at leaving you, my dear, dear, child. Though I do not see you now, no danger comparatively is risked in getting to you, [compared] to what the Atlantic affords. I think the best plan will be for me to keep John up with you and where he is till next spring,
*
when he can come for me as soon as the month of March and [I] can journey on to you and spend a month and then proceed. My earnings, all but my passage money, I shall leave with you, my beloved son.

This is looking far ahead. I shall only write to your father that I will wind up my business and cross over as soon as I can; now it is impossible, for half the year would be gone before I could send him word, and I cannot get my money, and I hope this year if nothing happens to me to save a thousand; but keep this to yourself. Have you received the ten pair of socks I knit and sent? Have you got anything for the trunk? I shall send some more socks by Mr. Johnson to [New] Orleans to be shipped up.

Write, my child, my comfort, to me, I hope you are well. The piano is yours that you choose, and I hope you will think of me as you play, and remember your mother’s happiness hangs upon your good conduct and welfare. I have been quite sick for a week past but feel better tonight. I am now going to write to John—Adieu, may God preserve you …

*I mean the spring 1830. John can spend his vacation with you, for he will surely be sick if he comes here to run about in the summer after an absence so long … A second thought is that John need not come down at all, for I can go up alone and save expenses. Do send me a shirt for a pattern, as I want to make up some linen for you both and bring with me in 1830. Do not write to your Papa anything about it, my dear son; leave it to me to settle with him.

London, England

20 January 1829

My dearest friend,

Thine of the 8th November reached me about a fortnight ago, and ever since I have been debating what was or would be the best thing to do, as I plainly read in it the same that has filled every other that has come from thee since I left America, i.e., the
uncertainty
of thy
ever
joining me in Europe. I have therefore come to the following conclusion, which thou mayest take for granted if I have life within me: I will sail for America (New York) on or about the 1st day of April next and will (God willing) be on American soil once more in all May next. I had no wish to go there so soon, although as I have often repeated to thee, I always intended to go on account of my work; but I have decided in doing so now with a hope that I can persuade thee to come over here with me and under my care and charge.

I will try between this time and the time of my departure to make all such preparations & arrangements as I can best adopt for the safety of the progression of my publication, the collection of my dues, the insurance of my drawings, copper plates & oil paintings &c., and leave the main part of all my cares in this land to my excellent friend
William Rathbone. I have wrote duplicate letters to Victor on this subject, with strongest injunctions to keep it a perfect secret, and I wish thee to do the same. Only 3 or 4 friends in England will know positively when I have gone; my
subscribers and the world will think me on the European Continent after more patronage. This is absolutely necessary for the safekeeping of my present subscribers, most all of which would become alarmed and would expect the work to fall through. I will advise thee of my arrival at New York, and previously give thee the name of the packet in which I will sail &c., &c.

It is not my wish to go as far as Louisiana but as far as
Louisville, Kentucky, where after my landing we will make arrangements to
meet, never to part again! I have been induced to come to this firm and decided conclusion because writing is of no avail. Thou couldst not understand my situation in England or my views of the future was I to write 100 pages on it, but will understand me well in one hour’s talk!

By the time of our coming over, John will be settled, I hope, to thy heart’s content, and I hope to make thee happy & comfortable here the remainder of thy days. I wish to be absent just 12 months, and on my return I will have material enough to finish my stupendous work …

Bayou Sarah, Louisiana

30 January 1829

My much loved son,

Yours of the 7th received late last night and as a tremendous rain prevents the Miss Carpenters from coming to their school I will at least begin my letter. I have been at the piano since five. It is now half past seven [in the] morning but so dark that I have not long put out my candles. With respect to your living with your Uncle William [Bakewell], my dear son, I am not any judge, but you seem aware of the gratitude you owe your Uncle [Nicholas] Berthoud, as to your time I do not know it, and indeed I misunderstood the affair altogether, that does not signify, use your own reflection and as a disinterested party your Uncle [Benjamin] Bakewell of Cincinnati would advise you, for I am too far off to know the particulars, and must leave you to act for yourself only begging you to preserve your probity, candor, and industry wherever you be. I sent [on] the 25th eight hundred dollars, all I could then collect, to Mr. Briggs to pay for a piano, my stationers bill, and the balance $400 or over to be sent to you for your brother’s use. I was in hopes to have sent more but cannot get it. I have paid all my expenses here, have Mr. Johnson’s note for six hundred, and Mrs. Sims for $499 and about five hundred out—and Mrs. Sims’ note I shall never get without suing, and till I leave the place I do not like to do that. I have tried to pass it away for a great discount but no one will have it.