The Audubon Reader (81 page)
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Authors: John James Audubon
Imprimus I congratulate you on your & Mrs. Audubon’s safe arrival in spite of storms, calms & hurricanes. But after this, don’t speak of the tardy progress of Charleston packets. I beat you both ways & had pleasant passages withal. The voyage from England to America along the northern coast is seldom so pleasant & never much shorter than the Southern course, especially in winter. We sailed down to Latitude 20 & then took the trade winds & it reminded me of sailing in a mill pond, so smooth was the water. I am sorry to hear that you have not been quite well, but you must remember that you are now getting to be an old boy & the time for aches and pains has come. Let us both agree not to complain and to keep well.
With regard to the exhibition of your paintings, I am quite sure it will prove a good speculation, provided also that you are quite sure of your man. It is both a great risk & responsibility you are to depend entirely on the character of the gentleman & there seem to be no checks—suspicions may arise & perhaps bad feelings. Still, I do not know that you can do anything better. Victor’s department will no doubt be well-managed.
I am glad you are about to do something in regard to your small edition of the
Birds
…
But are you not a little fast in issuing your prospectus in regard to the birds & quadrupeds without having a Number of the works by which the public could judge of their merits? My idea was in regard to the latter, that you would carefully get up in their best style a volume about the size of Holbrook’s
Reptiles
; this would
enable you to decide on the terms of the book & be an attraction to subscribers. The great object should be to obtain a large subscription at once. With proper management I think two thousand subscribers at $100 each might be obtained. But it must be no halfway affair. The animals are not numerous but they have never been carefully described, & you will find difficulty at every step. The books cannot aid you much. Long journeys will have to be undertaken—several species remain to be added—their habits ascertained. The drawings can be easily made if you can get the specimens. What have you done in England with the rare American species? I wish I had you here for only two days. I think I have studied the subject more than you have. You will be bothered with the wolves &
foxes. To begin with, I have two species of
rats &
shrews & [illegible] to add. The western
deer are no joke and the ever-varying
squirrels were sent I fear by the old boy himself to puzzle the naturalists. I have arranged them in my own mind, but in some particulars I may yet be wrong. You must look more carefully at the teeth & you will find that
F. Cuvier, the best writer on this subject, is not always right. Say in what manner I can assist you.
My own health has greatly improved. The family are all well. It will be a terrible disappointment if Maria & John do not come to Charleston this winter. But my paper is full. Kind regards to John, Maria, Victor & Mrs. Audubon. I am told little Lucy has a will of her own. She must have inherited it from the John Bull & Johnny Crapeau mixture—not from the Germans. It is a pity that the grumbling Englishman & the excitable Frenchman should spoil the blood of so many good
children …
The fever has nearly disappeared …
“The poor girl has suffered severely …”
Maria and Eliza Bachman were consumptives, victims of the chronic illness now known as tuberculosis, which they probably contracted from their father. In November 1839, Eliza’s dormant disease reactivated and she hemorrhaged, coughing up bright red blood. Victor Audubon, who had been courting her, rushed to her side in Charleston, and as soon as she recovered they were married and sailed for New York. In the meantime, Maria, John Woodhouse’s wife, also became ill in the wake of the birth of her second child, Harriet. The illness took the form initially of sores in her mouth that refused to heal and made it difficult for her to eat. Lucy Audubon cared for her two grand
children that winter while Eliza nursed her older sister
.
New York, New York
21 January 1840
My dear Grandmother,
At last I have a few leisure moments to spare and I feel that they cannot be employed more agreeably than in writing you your long promised letter. I daresay you thought me negligent and have often fancied that my old friends have been thrown aside by the acquisition of new ones, but could you see me, dearest Grandmother, and enter into my thoughts, you would soon discover that new scenes and new faces have only served to endear to me my absent friends.
By this time you will be aware of the indisposition of dear Ria [i.e., Maria], and this, I’m sure, will be a sufficient excuse for me. Mamma’s time has been so fully occupied in taking care of the little ones and in preparing delicacies to tempt the appetite of the invalid that my time has been fully taken up in keeping dear Ria company and trying to raise her spirits. The poor girl has suffered severely from a sore mouth and a general weakness, which rendered us all for a few days quite anxious about her, but she has had such kind attendance and so skillful a physician that she is now in a fair way of recovering, this morning we took a ride through the city together, which seemed to refresh her very much
and this evening she is downstairs, eating her bread and milk on the sofa. The weather, I hope, will soon moderate and we will then be able to take some delightful walks together. I find by the letters from home that the weather there has been extremely cold, here it has been very severe and I think had dear Mother and Aunt and poor Amelia been transported here, they would certainly have been frozen. Nothing but warm clothing and great care in venturing out of the house has prevented me from suffering severely.
We were all invited a few evenings ago to a great ball at Mr. DeRham’s, and Mr. A. and myself had determined upon going, but towards evening the weather became so uncomfortably cold that we thought it more prudent to stay at home and enjoy the comfortable fire instead of eating cold ice creams and seeing strange faces. We went today to pay our respects to them and to our great delight had the pleasure of leaving our cards.
Papa and my dear husband are compelled on account of business to leave us tomorrow for Philadelphia, and I suppose you may imagine how reluctant I am to part with the latter for the first time, although he will only be absent for a few days. I expect the time will pass heavily enough, for each day only serves to endear him more to me—but I suppose you will all laugh at my simplicity in supposing that you are not aware of this fact.
Mamma begs me to return her thanks to you for the beautiful cup and the nice shrimps which you sent her and for the sweet potatoes; I must really say they were a treat, we all enjoyed them very much and thought of you while eating them. On Sunday, dear Grandmother, I often think of the happy group at your own hospitable table and could I fly, would be with you pretty frequently. Tell dear Mother we are looking anxiously for the arrival of the cake which I wrote for; tell her that it may be prejudice, but that the New York cake makers are not to be compared to those of poor humble Charleston …
“I regret that I have not yet
danced
in America …”
Baltimore, Maryland
29 February 1840
My dear good friend,
Although you will, ere now, have heard much of all that concerns me and my doings through the medium of dearest Maria and Johnny, whose safe arrivals at your house reached me by letter from home; I feel irresistibly inclined to address a letter to yourself, which I know will be the better welcome because of the good fortune of your admiring servant and sincerely attached friend since his arrival in the “blessed monumental city.”
Only think that in the course of a short fortnight, the citizens of Baltimore have so contributed to the publication of the
Small Edition of the
Birds of America
as to have presented the American Woodsman with no less than one hundred and fifty-three names!! Unexpected as this success has been, I can even now scarcely believe the truth of this fact; and every one of these good people say to me, proceed onward and do likewise in every city of the Union. But sanguine as I have always been since the beginning of my career as a student of Nature’s work, I can scarcely expect to meet another Baltimore in this respect!
Victor forwarded me last evening the list of names procured at Charleston, and as in terms of old, “it is pretty fair” and I trust that it will [be] still more so as soon as my old phiz [i.e., face] appears through the streets of hospitable Charleston, where I hope to be bye & bye! Do you not think my little Lucy a sweet, interesting child and somewhat superior to most
children of her age? To me she is everything at present, but when little Harriet [John and Maria’s second child] can be handled without fears and caressed with equal fondness, it will be difficult for me to say whom I will love best. You, my dear friend, cannot imagine how desirous I feel to see some
grandsons
; perhaps you will call it vanity in me to say that I have a great desire that the name of Audubon should be
handed to posterity, but as that is absolutely my present feeling, I say so to you in confidence!
Since I have been here, I have seen a good deal of company and that of the best kind. I have dined out and spent some evenings likewise among the elite of Baltimore, and proud do I feel myself able to say, that in every instance the gentleness of those of your sex and the nobility of the feelings of those who all adore the ladies has filled my heart with delight. One thing only I regret, and that is, that I have not yet
danced
in America, since I first visited Europe. Perchance when at Charleston, you will have the goodness to assist me in that pleasure.
Our dear friends at New York were all well two days ago, and I hope to hear from them again this afternoon; and now that the mail is about to close, I must close my short talk to you, and ask you as a finale to give my love to all under your roof and to those who are our mutual friends …
to Victor Gifford Audubon
“My last week here has been one of deep sorrow …”
By May, Maria was mortally ill; stomach pains had given way to diarrhea and she was starving to death. Bachman and Audubon both wrote Victor in despair
.
Charleston, South Carolina
10 May 1840
Dear Victor,
I am very sorry to say that I have nothing favorable to give you in poor Maria’s case—no abatement of her disorder. Indeed, as you may well suppose, her constant operations [i.e., bowel movements] render her weaker every day. I saw her a few moments ago & think her more feeble than yesterday. The physicians fear that there are ulcerations along the whole line of the intestinal canal & leave us nothing to hope for but the interposition of Providence on her behalf. We have had many trials of late, but none equal to this. I have had philosophy & I hoped religion to stay me under other calamities, but now I am bewildered & unhappy. I hope dear Eliza will be fortified to bear up under this visitation—we must look to a higher power for support under the directions of His wisdom …
Our family is even better than could be expected under present circumstances … [J.B.]
My dearest friends,
John Bachman has told you all that can be said respecting our beloved Maria’s situation, and I assure you as he does himself that my last week here has been one of deep sorrow. I go to town and return without scarcely seeing or caring about anyone, and when I return home it is only to augment the pains of my poor heart.
Johnny is, thank God, quite well, though much fatigued by his constant attention on Maria. I am quite well also, but wish now that I had not come south this year. But who, alas, can foresee or
foretell the future? I was much grieved at not hearing from you all this morning. I hope that you are all quite well but should like to see you say so. Do write oftener, I beseech you. A few days more I fear I will have to send you disagreeable news, and yet I hope in God that he may spare our Maria. I would give much to be with you all, if only for an hour.
God bless you all; take care of dearest Mamma and Eliza and the babe and believe forever your affectionate friend … [J.J.A.]
Audubon had begun drinking in the morning to numb his despair; early in June he and Bachman fought and the two friends separated, Audubon working his way north into New England selling subscriptions to the “little book,” the Octavo edition of
The Birds of America.
Maria died on September 15, 1840, leaving two little girls whom the families would love and Lucy Audubon would raise. Eventually, Audubon and Bachman repaired their professional relationship, but the artist never set foot in Bachman’s house again
.
“If our government would establish a natural history institution …”
New York, New York
8 September 1841
My dear friend,
Your honored letter of the 31st reached me last week, and I feel truly grateful to you for your kindness to me.
I am sorry the present condition of the finances of the National Institute at Washington are such as to preclude my having a salary in my old age from that quarter.
In your kind letter I see that you allude to a situation perhaps immediately under your own eye & care. This I should certainly prefer to any other situation in public life, but I fear anything but natural history, in which I am an authority, would be hard for me to attend to. But if any thing in that way is to be done—for instance if the natural history connected with the Exploring Expedition is to be published—I should be delighted to superintend it, and would draw from the specimens, and prepare them, and see to the getting up of the whole work, or such part of it as would be more immediately essential natural history.
I should expect to be paid a good salary for this annual task, but would be better pleased if our government would establish a natural history institution to advance our knowledge of natural science, and place me at the head of it, when I flatter myself I could serve the interests of such an institution as well as anyone, and certainly with equal zeal would devote my energies to that purpose.
