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Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographical errors in the editor's text have been
corrected. Inconsistent or incorrect accents, spelling,
capitalization, and punctuation in the original documents and quotes
were left as printed.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
On page 28, "aimable" should possibly be "amiable".
On page 40, "as taken umbrage" should possibly be "has taken
umbrage".
On page 58, "Chamley, of New Castle" should possibly be "Charnley
of Newcastle".
On page 100, "Mr. A." should possibly be "Mrs. A".
On page 233 "youself" should possibly be "yourself".
On page 418 "pp. 197*-204*" should possibly not have asterisks.
"£##" and "##£" are used interchangeably (with and without spacing.)
The same is true for "$##" and "##$".
"Major Glassel" (page 7) and "Major Classel" (page 24) appear to
be the same person.
Some references in the Index are incorrect.
No entry exists for "Coral snake".
The entry for "Audubon parentage and early names" is missing a
page reference.
AUDUBON
THE
NATURALIST
[Illustration: John J. Audubon
AFTER PORTRAIT BY GEORGE P. A. HEALY, 1838; ORIGINAL IN POSSESSION
OF THE BOSTON SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY.]
AUDUBON
THE
NATURALIST
A HISTORY OF HIS LIFE AND TIME
BY
FRANCIS HOBART HERRICK, Ph.D., Sc.D.
PROFESSOR OF BIOLOGY IN WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY;
AUTHOR OF "THE HOME LIFE OF WILD BIRDS," ETC.
IN TWO VOLUMES
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
VOLUME II
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK LONDON
1917
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II
CHAPTER XXVI
EXPLORATIONS IN FLORIDA AND THE SOUTH ATLANTIC
PAGE
Obituary published in London on day of his arrival in
New York—Assistance from the Government—John Bachman
becomes his friend—Winter in Charleston—His folios
as gifts—To Florida with two assistants—Letters to
Featherstonhaugh—St. Augustine—Misadventures in the
mud of East Florida—Audubon on Florida's future—At the
sources of the St. John's—Aboard the _Marion_—Return
from Key West—A merchant of Savannah—Disbanding of party
at Charleston 1
CHAPTER XXVII
EASTERN VISIT AND EXPLORATIONS IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC
Bachman's success as a canvasser—Boston visit—Journey to
Portland—Ascent of the St. John's—Return overland—Victor
Audubon becomes his father's agent—Winter in Boston—The
Golden Eagle—Stricken with illness—Expedition to
Labrador planned—American support—Sails from Eastport
with five assistants—Discoveries and adventures on the
Labrador—Safe return—Another winter in Charleston—Sued
for old debts—Experience with vultures—Advice and
instruction to a son—Working habits—Return to England 26
CHAPTER XXVIII
THORNS ON THE ROSE
Contributions to magazines—Attacked in
Philadelphia—Statement to Sully—The rattlesnake
episode—Behavior of a Philadelphia editor—Mistaken
identity in account of the reptile—Lesson of
the serpent's tooth—Audubon's long lost lily
rediscovered—"Nosarians and Anti-Nosarians"—Bachman and
Audubon on vultures—Aim of the critics—Authorship in
the _Biography_—His most persistent heckler—Pitfall of
analogy 67
CHAPTER XXIX
SIDELIGHTS ON AUDUBON AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES
What was a Quinarian?—Controversy over the authorship
of the _Ornithological Biography_—Audubon's quaint
proposal—Swainson's reply—Friendship suffers a
check—Species-mongers—Hitting at one over the
shoulders of another—Swainson as a biographer—His
career—Bonaparte's grievance—A fortune in
ornithology—Labors of John Gould and his relations with
Audubon—The freemasonry of naturalists 93
CHAPTER XXX
AUDUBON AND MACGILLIVRAY
In London once more—MacGillivray's assistance
continued—Return to Edinburgh—MacGillivray's character
and accomplishments—Audubon's acknowledgments—Tributes
of "Christopher North"—Results of overwork—Fusillades
from "Walton Hall"—Progress of the large plates 125
CHAPTER XXXI
THIRD AMERICAN TOUR, 1836-1837
In New York harbor—Collections from the Far
West—Audubon's efforts to secure them—Return to
Boston—Friendship of Daniel Webster—Renewed efforts to
obtain the Nuttall-Townsend collection—Expedition to the
west coast of Florida—Deferred governmental aid—Another
winter with Bachman—Overland journey to New Orleans—On
board the _Crusader_—Mistaken for pirates—With Harris
and his son explores the Gulf coast—The Republic of
Texas—Visit to its capital and president—Meeting in
Charleston—Marriage of his son—Their return to England 146
CHAPTER XXXII
AUDUBON'S GREATEST TRIUMPH
Extension of his work—Financial panic and revolt of
patrons—New western collections—His "book of Nature"
completed—Work on the letterpress in Edinburgh—Vacation
in the Highlands—Commissions to Harris—Parting
address to the reader—Dissolution of the Havell
engraving establishment—The residuum of _The Birds of
America_—Robert Havell, engraver, and his family—Lizars'
first edition and the Havell reissues of plates—Brief
manual for collectors—Appreciations—Total edition of
_The Birds of America_—Past and present prices—The
Rothschild incident 168
CHAPTER XXXIII
NEW ENTERPRISES AND LIFE AT "MINNIE'S LAND"
Settlement in New York—The _Birds_ in miniature,
and work on the _Quadrupeds_—Marriage of Victor
Audubon—Coöperation of Bachman in the _Quadrupeds_
secured—Prospectuses—History of the octavo edition
of the _Birds_—Baird's enthusiasm and efficient
aid—Parkman's Wren—Baird's visit to Audubon in New
York—"Look out for Martens," and wildcats—New home on
the Hudson—Godwin's pilgrimage to "Minnie's Land" in
1842 208
CHAPTER XXXIV
EXPEDITION TO THE UPPER MISSOURI
Ambitions at fifty-seven—Plans his last expedition
in the _rôle_ of naturalist—Credentials from public
men—Canvassing tour in Canada described—Baird's plans
to accompany Audubon west frustrated—Western expedition
begun—Ascent of the Missouri and Yellowstone—Discoveries
of new birds—A wilderness that howls—Buffalo
hunting—Passing of the great herds—Return from Fort
Union—Incident on the canal boat—Completion of the
octavo edition of the _Birds_ 239
CHAPTER XXXV
FINAL WORK DAYS
Painting the _Quadrupeds_—Assistance of Bachman and
Audubon's sons—Copper plates of the _Birds_ go through
the fire in New York—Audubon a spectator at the
ruins—Bachman's ultimatum—Success of the illustrations
of the _Quadrupeds_—Bachman's letterpress—Recommendation
of Baird—J. W. Audubon in London—Bachman's
assistants—His life and labors—Decline of Audubon's
powers—Dr. Brewer's visit—Audubon's last letters—His
death at "Minnie's Land" 261
CHAPTER XXXVI
AFTERWORD: AUDUBON'S FAMILY IN AMERICA
Bachman completes his text on the _Quadrupeds_—Victor
Audubon's success in canvassing—John Woodhouse
Audubon's family—New houses at "Minnie's Land"—Second
octavo edition of the _Birds_—Victor Audubon's illness
and death—Attempt to reissue _The Birds of America_
in America—The residual stock of this imperfect
edition—Death of John Woodhouse Audubon—His career
and work as an artist and field collector—Mrs. Audubon
resumes her old vocation—Fate of "Minnie's Land"—Death
of Mrs. Audubon—Her share in her husband's fame—Story
written on Audubon's original drawings—Fate of the
original copper plates of the _Birds_—A boy comes to the
rescue—"Minnie's Land" today—The "Cave"—A real "Audubon
Park" 291
APPENDIX I
ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS
1. Copy of the original bill rendered by Doctor Sanson,
physician at Les Cayes, Santo Domingo, to Jean Audubon,
containing the only existing record of the birth of his
son, Jean Jacques Fougère Audubon, on April 26, 1785;
Les Cayes, December 29, 1783-October 19, 1785 314
1a. Translation of the Sanson Bill 315
2. Copy of the Act of Adoption of Fougère (John James
Audubon) and Muguet (Rosa Audubon), Nantes, March 7,
1794 328
3. Copy of the Act of Baptism of Jean Jacques Fougère
Audubon, Nantes, October 23, 1800 329
4. Copy of a bill of sale of Negroes rendered by
Monsieur Ollivier to Monsieur Audubon, Les Cayes, Santo
Domingo, 1785 330
5. Statement of Accounts of Messrs. Audubon, Lacroix,
Formon & Jacques in the purchase of Negroes from M. Th.
Johnston, Les Cayes, Santo Domingo, 1785 331
6. Copy of bill of sale of Negroes to Monsieur Audubon,
and a Statement of his account with Messrs. Lucas
Brothers & Constant, Les Cayes, Santo Domingo, August 7,
1785-June 9, 1788 334
7. Accounts of William Bakewell of "Fatland Ford"
as protégé of his future son-in-law, and as attorney
or agent for Audubon & Rozier, giving certain exact
indications of the naturalist's early movements and
personal relations, before and after finally leaving
"Mill Grove," January 4, 1805-April 9, 1810 336
8. Concerning a Power of Attorney issued by Lieutenant
Audubon and Anne Moynet Audubon to Ferdinand Rozier and
John Audubon, the Younger, at Couëron, France, in 1805;
parts in French translated by a Philadelphia notary;
signatures of original document authenticated by the
Mayor of Couëron, October 21, 1805; his attest of the
legality of Anne Moynet Audubon's signature at Couëron,
October 27, 1805; authentication of the signature of the
Mayor of Couëron by the Subprefect of Savenay, November
27, 1805; attest of the Subprefect's signature by the
Prefect 340
9. Articles of Association of Jean Audubon and Ferdinand
Rozier to govern their partnership in business; drawn up
at Nantes, March 23, 1806 344
9a. Translation of the Articles of Association of Jean
Audubon and Ferdinand Rozier 346
10. Power of Attorney issued by Lieutenant Jean Audubon,
Anne Moynet Audubon and Claude François Rozier, to their
respective sons, Jean Audubon and Ferdinand Rozier,
at Nantes, France, April 4, 1806, eight days before
the latter embarked to America to enter upon their
partnership in business 350
10a. Translation of the Power of Attorney issued by Jean
Audubon, Anne Moynet Audubon, and Claude François Rozier
to Jean Audubon and Ferdinand Rozier, April 4, 1806 351
11. Account current of John Audubon and Ferdinand Rozier
with the estate of Benjamin Bakewell, late commission
merchant in New York, showing their dealings and
standing with this house during the first sixteen months
of their business experience in the West. Covers the
period August 1, 1807, to December 13, 1808 354
11a. Final Account of Francis Dacosta, rendered July
25, 1807, to Lieutenant Jean Audubon, his partner in
the unfortunate mining enterprise at "Mill Grove"; later
contested and settled by arbitration 356
12. Quit Claim or Release given by John James Audubon to
Ferdinand Rozier on the Dissolution of their Partnership
in Business, at Sainte Geneviève, Upper Louisiana
(Missouri), April 6, 1811 359
13. Copy of a portion of the first Will of Lieutenant
Jean Audubon, Couëron, May 20, 1812 360
14. Copy of the second and last Will of Lieutenant Jean
Audubon, March 15, 1816 361
15. Copy of a portion of the first Will of Madame Anne
Moynet, wife of Lieutenant Audubon, December 4, 1814 363
16. Copy of a portion of the second Will of Madame Jean
Audubon, May 10, 1816 364
17. Copy of the third Will, "No. 169, of Madame Anne
Moynet, widow of M. Jean Audubon, living at his house
called "La Gerbetière," and situated near the village
of Port-Launay, not far from Couëron," December 26, 1819 366
18. Copy of a portion of the fourth and last will of
Madame Jean Audubon, living at the house of "The Turtle
Doves" ("Les Tourterelles"), at Couëron, July 16, 1821 367
19. Notice of the death of Lieutenant Jean Audubon, from
the official registry of Nantes, Nantes, February 19,
1818 369
20. Letter of Lieutenant Jean Audubon to Francis
Dacosta, his American agent and attorney, relating to
the conduct of his son, and to the lead mine at "Mill
Grove" farm, transliterated from photographic copy of
duplicate (Letter No. 4) in Jean Audubon's letter-book.
Nantes, March 10, 1805 370
21. Letters of John James Audubon to Claude François
Rozier, father, and to Ferdinand Rozier, son,
immediately preceding and following his active
partnership in business with the latter, 1807 and 1812 372
APPENDIX II
AUDUBON'S EARLY DATED DRAWINGS MADE IN FRANCE AND
AMERICA
Drawings now in the collections of Mr. Joseph Y.
Jeanes of Philadelphia, and formerly belonging to Mr.
Edward Harris, of Moorestown, New Jersey; of Mr. John
E. Thayer, Lancaster, Massachusetts, and of Harvard
University 375
APPENDIX III
"THE BIRDS OF AMERICA"
1. Final Lists of Subscribers to _The Birds of America_,
folio edition, as published by Audubon in 1839 380
2. Prospectus of _The Birds of America_, as issued
in 1828, when ten Numbers of the original folio were
engraved 386
3. Prospectus of the Second (partial) Edition of _The
Birds of America_, issued by John Woodhouse Audubon,
through Messrs. Trubner & Company, London, 1859 389
APPENDIX IV
Authentic Likenesses of Jean Jacques Fougère Audubon 392
APPENDIX V
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Containing a fully annotated list of Audubon's writings,
biographies, criticism, and Auduboniana 401
INDEX 457
ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOLUME II
Audubon. After a portrait by George P. A. Healy, 1838.
Photogravure _Frontispiece_
PAGE
"Beechgrove," William Garrett Johnson's plantation house
near St. Francisville, West Feliciana Parish, Louisiana,
where Mrs. Audubon lived and taught from 1827 to 1829
_Facing_ 6
John Bachman's house in Charleston, South Carolina _Facing_ 6
Early drawing in water color of the Carolina Parrot
on branch of the hickory, 1811, hitherto unpublished _Facing_ 20
John Bachman at thirty-two. After an engraving by
Charles C. Wright of a portrait by A. Fisher _Facing_ 32
Robert Havell at eighty-five. After a photograph taken
shortly before his death in 1878 _Facing_ 32
Letter of Dr. George Parkman to Audubon, May 25, 1833 43
Pileated Woodpeckers on the "Raccoon Grape," _The Birds
of America_, Plate CXI. After the original engraving by
Robert Havell, 1831. Color _Facing_ 46
Letter of Robert Havell to Audubon, June 15, 1833 51
John George Children _Facing_ 64
Edward Harris _Facing_ 64
John Bachman _Facing_ 72
George Ord _Facing_ 72
Samuel Latham Mitchell _Facing_ 72
Charles Waterton _Facing_ 72
Dr. Thomas Cooper, President of South Carolina College.
After a contemporary silhouette 78
Vindication of Audubon's representation of the fangs
of the southern rattlesnake as recurved at their tips.
Detail from _The Birds of America_, Plate XXI, and
photograph of the skull of a recent Florida specimen _Facing_ 80
Bluebirds on a stalk of the "great Mullein," _The Birds
of America_, Plate CXIII. After the original engraving
by Robert Havell, 1831. Color _Facing_ 100
William Swainson _Facing_ 118
Thomas Nuttall _Facing_ 118
Charles Lucien Bonaparte _Facing_ 118
Constantine Samuel Rafinesque _Facing_ 118
Audubon. After an engraving by H. B. Hall of a portrait
painted by Henry Inman in 1833 _Facing_ 126
Letter of William MacGillivray to Audubon, October 22,
1834 _Facing_ 131
Part of the original draft of Audubon's manuscript for
the Introduction to Volume II of the _Ornithological
Biography_, giving list of names of persons to whom
Audubon carried credentials on his first visit to London
in 1827 _Facing_ 133
Audubon's inscription in a copy of the _Ornithological
Biography_, which he presented to William MacGillivray
in 1839 _Facing_ 138
Early drawings of American birds, 1807-12, hitherto
unpublished: the Whippoorwill and the American Robin,
with details _Facing_ 144
Bust of Audubon by William Couper, in front and profile
views. After the original in the American Museum of
Natural History, New York _Facing_ 160
Life mask of Audubon, hitherto unpublished, in front
and profile views. After the original made by Robert
Havell in London, now in possession of the Museum of
Comparative Zoölogy of Harvard University _Facing_ 178
Canvas-backed Ducks, with distant view of the city of
Baltimore, Maryland, _The Birds of America_, Plate CCCI.
After the original engraving by Robert Havell, 1836.
Color _Facing_ 196
Victor Gifford Audubon _Facing_ 210
John Woodhouse Audubon _Facing_ 210
Title page of the paper covers in which parts of
the first American (octavo) edition of _The Birds of
America_ were originally issued 213
Audubon. After a portrait painted by John Woodhouse and
Victor Gifford Audubon about 1841 _Facing_ 226
"Minnie's Land," Audubon's home on the Hudson River, as
it appeared in 1865. After a lithograph in Valentine's
_Manual_ _Facing_ 236
"Minnie's Land," as it appears to-day from the river
front protected by the retaining wall of Riverside
Drive _Facing_ 236
Audubon, with gun, horse, and dog. After a painting by
John Woodhouse Audubon about 1841 _Facing_ 244
Letter of Edward Harris to Audubon, January 31, 1843 251
Drawings for _The Viviparous Quadrupeds of North
America_: the American or Canada porcupine and rabbits.
After the originals in water color in the American
Museum of Natural History, New York _Facing_ 264
Title page of Volume I of the English edition of the
text of _The Viviparous Quadrupeds of North America_ 275
John W. Audubon's inscription in a copy of Volume I
of the text of the _Quadrupeds_ (English edition),
presented to John Edward Gray 280
Audubon. After an engraving by Nordheim of a
daguerreotype possibly earlier than 1849 _Facing_ 280
Audubon. After his last portrait, a daguerreotype made
in New York about 1850 _Facing_ 280
Letter of John Bachman to George Oates, November 7, 1846 282
Audubon's last (?) letter to Edward Harris, February 22,
1847 287
House formerly belonging to Victor Gifford Audubon, east
front, as it appears to-day _Facing_ 294
House formerly belonging to John Woodhouse Audubon,
south front, as it appears to-day _Facing_ 294
Lucy Bakewell Audubon. After a miniature painted by
Frederick Cruikshank in London, about 1831 _Facing_ 304
Lucy Bakewell Audubon. After an unpublished photograph
of 1871 _Facing_ 304
AUDUBON
THE
NATURALIST
SONNET
TO J. J. AUDUBON, ESQ., ON BEHOLDING HIS DRAWINGS.
Is there delight in Nature's solitudes,
Her dark green woods, and fragrant wilderness,
In scenes, where seldom human step intrudes,
And she is in her wildest, loveliest dress?
Is there delight in her uncultured flowers,
Each ripened bloom or bright unfolding dye,
Or in the tribes which animate her bowers,
And through her groves in living beauty fly?
Then, on thy canvas as they move and live,
While taste and genius guide the fair design,
And all the charms which Nature's works can give
With equal radiance in thy colours shine;
Amidst the praise thy country's sons extend,
The stranger's voice its warm applause shall blend.
J. E. R. [JANE ELIZABETH ROSCOE].
_The Winter's Wreath, 1832._
AUDUBON THE NATURALIST
CHAPTER XXVI
EXPLORATIONS IN FLORIDA AND THE SOUTH ATLANTIC
Obituary published in London on day of his arrival in
New York—Assistance from the Government—John Bachman
becomes his friend—Winter in Charleston—His folios
as gifts—To Florida with two assistants—Letters to
Featherstonhaugh—St. Augustine—Misadventures in the
mud of East Florida—Audubon on Florida's future—At the
sources of the St. John's—Aboard the _Marion_—Return
from Key West—A merchant of Savannah—Disbanding of party
at Charleston.
In the summer of 1831 Audubon felt that he must again return to America
and extend his researches to the north, south and west, as well as
begin a campaign for subscribers in the United States. His large folio
was now running into its second volume, and the first installment of
his text had been published; the time was favorable to his plans, and
he hoped to remain in the country two or three years.
For the second time the publication of his plates was entrusted to
friend Children, and with Mrs. Audubon he set sail for New York on
August 2, 1831. From the American metropolis he wrote to Joseph B. Kidd
on September 7 as follows:[1]
We landed on the 3d ... [of September] after a
remarkably fine passage of 33 days. In two days more I
proceed to the woods, and away from white man's tracks
and manners. I hope you are going on well with your
work.... I have a new subscriber here. The papers and
scientific journals (we have not many,) are singing
the praises of my work, and, God willing, I may yet
come out at the broad end of the horn; at all events,
I will either _break it or make a spoon_! I shot
sixteen birds on the passage, which I got through the
kind attention of our commander. I killed fifty more,
when the "Columbia" was going too fast to stop for the
purpose of picking them up. My young man is now busily
engaged in skinning, and killed a bag-full of warblers
yesterday ... prices of peaches, first quality, 75 cents
per bushel,—apples, half that price;—water melons are
dull of sale, as also cantelopes and nutmeg melons. Fish
alive in the markets, and, _vive la joie_, no taxes on
shooting or fishing."
What Audubon actually did was to proceed to Philadelphia, where Mrs.
Audubon left him to visit her sons in Louisville, and where he laid
his plans for exploring the Southern States, especially the islands and
eastern coast of the Florida peninsula. For this expedition he engaged
two assistants, one of whom was Henry Ward, the "young man" mentioned
above, an Englishman who had come with him to America as taxidermist,
while the other was George Lehman, a Swiss landscape painter whom he
seems to have found at Philadelphia. With them he soon started for
Washington to obtain assistance from the Government.
On the very day that Audubon landed in New York, there appeared in
the _London Literary Gazette_ a serio-comic notice under the title
of "Wilson the Ornithologist," who, it may be remembered, had died in
Philadelphia eighteen years before. Said the editor of the _Gazette_:
We observe with sorrow an account of the death and
burial of poor Wilson, somewhere in the state of
Philadelphia, even while the Edinburgh journals
are anticipating his return, laden with scientific
treasures. We have now before us No. 1 of his
Illustrations of American Ornithology, on a reduced
scale, to sort with Professor Jameson's edition—a pretty
and attractive publication. The coloured prints are
extremely correct and well done.
When on September 8 the Edinburgh _Caledonian Mercury_ had called
attention to this egregious blunder regarding Wilson, the _Gazette_
explained that his name had been confused with that of Audubon,
whose obituary presently appeared in its issue of October 29, the
editor remarking that this naturalist's death was equally, if not
more, to be deplored than that of Wilson. Captain Brown then sent
to the _Caledonian Mercury_ Audubon's letter to Kidd, quoted above,
which was written from New York four days after the naturalist's
death was announced in England. "What is the editor of the Literary
Gazette about," exclaimed a writer in the Edinburgh paper; "he first
resuscitates a man who has been dead 18 years, only to kill him again,
and then, by way of correcting his error, kills another, who is now
clearly proved to have been alive and well several days after the date
of his obituary in London."
As was often the case, Audubon's ambitious hopes for exploring the
continent far outran his means and powers of accomplishment. Colonel
John James Abert, whose counsel he sought in Washington at this time;
said:[2] "His plan is first to examine the peninsula of Florida; then
the regions west of the Mississippi, Mexico, and if possible penetrate
into California. He also contemplates crossing the Rocky Mountains and
pursuing the Columbia River to its mouth, and thinks that he will be
absent from us about two years." In November G. W. Featherstonhaugh,
the geologist, also made this announcement in his _Monthly American
Journal of Geology and Natural Science_:
We are authorized to state that information of the
progress of Mr. Audubon will be given, from time to
time, to the scientific world, in the pages of this
journal.
We are gratified in being able to state, that he was
received in the most cordial manner, at Washington, and
that the distinguished gentlemen in authority there,
have given him such letters to the military posts on the
frontiers, as will assure him the aid and protection
his personal safety may require. We anticipate the
most interesting reconnaisances, both geological and
zoölogical, from this enterprising naturalist, who is
accompanied by Mr. Lehman, as an assistant draftsman,
and by an assistant collector who came with him from
Europe.
The "distinguished gentlemen" at Washington who particularly aided
Audubon at this time, besides Colonel Abert, were Edward Everett,
Levi Woodbury, Secretary of the Navy, and Lewis McLane, Secretary of
the Treasury. He was particularly anxious to obtain accommodation for
his party aboard a government vessel, but it was some time before a
suitable one was available. They left Washington about October 15,
1831, and went by steamer to Norfolk and Richmond, Virginia, where
the Governor, John Floyd, whom Audubon had known in his Kentucky
days, gave him numerous letters of introduction. At Charleston, their
next stopping-place, he had hardly begun work in the field when he
was sought out by the Rev. John Bachman, by inclination a naturalist
of the old school and by profession a Lutheran minister, who at once
took the whole party under his hospitable roof, where they remained
a month. Thus began a life-long and almost ideal friendship between
these two men, so unlike in character, in temperament and in training,
which was quite as important to the modest German-American divine
as to the impulsive Franco-American painter and student of birds. It
was Audubon's infectious enthusiasm which kindled to an ardent flame
that love of nature which was innate in Bachman, and which eventually
brought his name and work to the attention of the scientific world.
Audubon remained at Charleston with the Bachmans until November 15,
when the opportunity which they had awaited came suddenly, and they
sailed for St. Augustine, Florida, on the government schooner _Agnes_.
On that day Bachman wrote to Mrs. Audubon, in compliance "with a
request of your kind and worthy husband, who laid an injunction on me
this morning":[3]
The last has been one of the happiest months of my life.
I was an enthusiastic admirer of nature from my boyhood,
and fond of every branch of Natural History. Ornithology
is, as a science, pursued by very few persons—and by
none in this city. How gratifying was it, then, to
become acquainted with a man, who knew more about birds
than any man now living—and who, at the same time, was
communicative, intelligent, and amiable, to an extent
seldom found associated in the same individual. He has
convinced me that I was but a novice in the study; and
besides receiving many lessons from him in Ornithology,
he has taught me how much can be accomplished by a
single individual, who will unite enthusiasm with
industry. For the short month he remained with my
family, we were inseparable. We were engaged in talking
about Ornithology—in collecting birds—in seeing them
prepared, and in laying plans for the accomplishment of
that great work which he has undertaken. Time passed
rapidly away, and it seems but as yesterday since we
met, and now, alas! he is already separated from me—and
in all human probability we shall never meet again....
I need not inform you that Mr. Audubon was a general
favorite in our city. His gentlemanly deportment, his
travels and experience, his information and general
talents, caused him to be sought after by all. But your
husband knew that the great objects before him required
his unremitted attention, and he was obliged to deny
himself to his friends, on many occasions, and devoted
to them only his evenings.
There seems quite a blank, in my house, since he has
gone, for we looked on him as one of our family. He
taught my sister, Maria, to draw birds; and she has now
such a passion for it, that whilst I am writing, she
is drawing a Bittern, put up for her at daylight by Mr.
Audubon.
[Illustration: "BEECHGROVE," WILLIAM GARRETT JOHNSON'S PLANTATION
HOUSE IN WEST FELICIANA PARISH, LOUISIANA, WHERE MRS. AUDUBON
LIVED AND TAUGHT FOR TWO YEARS, 1827-1829.
After a photograph by Mr. Stanley Clisby Arthur, 1916.]
[Illustration: JOHN BACHMAN'S HOUSE IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA.
After a photograph in possession of Mr. Ruthven Deane.]
On December 23 Bachman wrote to Audubon: "Your visit to me gave me
new life, induced me to go carefully over my favorite study, and
made me and my family happy." His sister-in-law, Miss Maria Martin,
who possessed considerable artistic talent, became one of Audubon's
enthusiastic helpers, and not only drew birds for him but painted many
of the flowers and insects which were later used for the embellishment
of his plates. John Bachman's serious contributions to natural history
also date from this visit. To repay him and his family for their
hospitality, Audubon presented them with the first volume of _The Birds
of America_, but the folio was not received until some time later; he
was referring to this when he wrote to Bachman, just before sailing
from New York, on April 5, 1834, and asked him to accept "the superbly
bound book" from "your old Friend, in part atonement for the troubles
I have given you, and the leatherings you may yet receive at my hands
at chess." In a letter to Miss Martin, written also from New York on
the following day, he said: "The Great Volume which Maj. Glassel did
fortunately return into your hands, I give with all my heart to my
valued friends, the Bachmans, and shall try to furnish them the sequel
in like binding."[4]
Audubon scattered detached plates and numbers of his large work freely
among his friends, and sometimes spoke of a gift of the whole. The
costly nature of such a present in most cases, no doubt, led to a
change of mind if not of heart, but not in all, for a number of his
presentation copies still exist. One was given to David Eckley[5] of
Boston, a noted sportsman who had aided Audubon in collecting materials
for his work. In a letter written at Charleston, January 1, 1837, to
young Thomas M. Brewer, Audubon said: "Please to call on my good friend
David Eckley, Esq., present to him and to his family my very best
regards, and ask of him whether he has collected any hawks or owls for
me. If so, take them from him, and place them in the general receptacle
of 'pale-faced rum.'" Another copy is said to be in possession of the
Public Library of Manchester, England, and to have been bequeathed to
that institution by the Earl of Crawford. A complete set of the _Birds_
was also presented to his friends, the Rathbones of Liverpool, and
is still in possession of the family.
We shall now return to our narrative and fulfill our promise of
reproducing Audubon's own account of his journey from Richmond to
Florida:[6]
_Audubon to G. W. Featherstonhaugh_
I am now seated in earnest to give you an unceremonious
summary of my proceedings up to this time, since we
left Richmond, in Virginia. As a geologist, I venture
to suppose you would have been but indifferently
amused, if you had been with us in our journey from
this latter place to Charleston, in South Carolina; and
as an ornithologist, I cannot boast of the enjoyment I
found; poor coaches, dragged through immense, deserted
pine forests, miserable fare, and neither birds
nor quadrupeds to be seen. We at length approached
Charleston, and the view of that city from across the
bay was hailed by our party with unfeigned delight.
Charmed, as we were, with having terminated our dreary
journey, it did not occur to us to anticipate the
extraordinary hospitality which awaited us there, and
which led to a residence of a few of the happiest weeks
I ever passed.
I had passed but one night in the city, when I was
presented to the Rev. Mr. ——. This benevolent man,
whom I am proud to call my friend would not suffer
the "American Woodsman" to repose any where but under
his roof; and not him alone—all his assistants too.
When I tell you that he was an old friend of Alexander
Wilson, that he shoots well, is an ornithologist, a
philosophical naturalist, and that during the time we
enjoyed his hospitality, he took us all over the country
with his carriages and servants, in search of specimens,
and that he was every thing a kind brother could be to
me, you may suppose that it is with great sincerity I
say, and ever shall say, God bless him! When I first
saw this excellent man, he was on horseback, but upon my
being named to him, he leaped from his saddle, suffered
his horse to stand at liberty, and gave me his hand
with a pressure of cordiality that electrified me. I
saw in his eyes that all he said was good and true; and
although he spoke of my labours in terms far exceeding
what is due to them, I listened to him pretty well
assured that he did not intend me to play the part of
Gil Blas over again; for myself, my assistants, George
Lehman and Henry Ward, were removed in a jiffy to his
own mansion, introduced to the family, and at work the
very next morning.
Although the weather was "shockingly hot," they prepared three hundred
specimens, embracing about sixty land and water birds, and sent all
the "pickled specimens to our mutual friend H——" [Dr. Harlan, of
Philadelphia] for safe keeping until their return.
I jumped at once into my wood-hunting habits. All
hands of us were up before day-break, and soon at work,
either in the way of shooting, taking views, or drawing
birds; after sunset—scribbling in our journals....
In the early part of November the alligators had gone
into their winter quarters; the migratory birds were
passing swiftly on towards the south, although we had
had no frost. The planters considered the country as
still unhealthy, and resorted to the city at night. If
I had been governed by the practice and advice of many,
I should not have put a foot in the mud, either salted
or fresh; but difficulties of this character must be
disregarded by the American woodsman, while success, or
the hope of it, is before him.
It is impossible to do justice to the generous feelings
of the Charlestonians, or to their extreme kindness
towards me. Many of the gentlemen took the greatest
interest in my pursuits; one, Dr. ——, presented me with
an excellent New Foundland dog, and other valuable
memorials of his regard. Another, Dr. ——, gave me a
collection of shells, from the adjacent waters. The
ladies presented me with a capital supply of snuff.[7]
Desirous of going to Cole's Island, distant about 25
or 30 miles, to look after some marine birds, a boat,
four hands and a pilot, were immediately offered to me,
free of all expense, with the liberty to detain them as
long as was agreeable to me. It is not possible for me
to express properly the sense I feel of the kindness I
received from that warm-hearted and intelligent people.
And now, as you have good naturedly listened to what
I have felt bound to say on the score of gratitude, I
will tell you what I know you are impatient to come
to—something about my proceedings at Cole's Island.
It lies south from Charleston about 25 or 30 miles;
there we arrived and encamped for the night: certain
beef-steaks we brought with us we roasted upon sticks,
and the adjacent shore provided us with excellent
oysters: gaiety, good appetites, and our hearts all
right, made the time pass pleasantly, and it was with
some reluctance we spread our blankets, and arranged
the fire preparatory to going to rest. Nothing is
more valuable to a naturalist, and particularly to
an ornithologist, than the first hours of the day;
therefore, long ere the sun had glowed over the broad
sea that lay before our camp, we had reached another
island where birds resort to roost by thousands; but,
notwithstanding these multitudes, not a new species did
we procure. We, however, had the pleasure of observing
two noble "birds of Washington,"[8] sailing majestically
over the broad watery face.
But it was necessary to bring my stay in Charleston
to a close, and it was somewhat difficult too. My
friends had increased in number; they were in the habit
of accompanying me in my shooting excursions; I was
becoming very much attached to them; invitations poured
in from various parts of the country; and I really
believe that had I been willing, we might have remained
there and in the neighborhood, if not all our lives, at
least as long as would have caused a rare scarcity of
the feathered tribes, in that portion of the Carolinas.
But my mind was among the birds farther south,—the
Floridas, Red River, the Arkansas, that almost unknown
country, California, and the Pacific ocean. I felt
myself drawn to the untried scenes of those countries,
and it was necessary to tear myself away from the
kindest friends.
We embarked on the schooner Agnes; the wind was fair,
and we hoisted all sails for the Floridas. Our passage
was not short; the wind changed, and we put back into
St. Simon's Island Bay. This was one of the few put
backs in life of a fortunate kind for me. I made for the
shore, met a gentleman on the beach, presented him my
card, and was immediately invited to dinner. I visited
his gardens, got into such agreeable conversation and
quarters, that I was fain to think that I had landed on
some one of those fairy islands said to have existed
in the golden age. But this was not all; the owner of
this hospitable mansion pressed me to stay a month with
him, and subscribed to my Birds of America in the most
gentlemanly manner. This was T. B. K., Esq.[9] But the
wind shifted; I was sent for, and our voyage to St.
Augustine resumed.
St. Augustine, whatever it may have been, is far from
being a flourishing place now. It lies at the bottom of
a bay, extremely difficult of access, even for vessels
of light draft, which seldom reach the "city" in less
than a day. I cannot say much for the market, nor for
the circumjacent country. Oranges and plenty of good
fish seem to contribute the wealth of the place. Sands,
poor pine forests, and impenetrable thickets of cactus
and palmettos form the undergrowth. Birds are rare,
and very shy; and with all our exertions, we have not
collected one hundred skins in a fortnight that we have
been here. I have received many kind attentions, and
numerous invitations to visit plantations, on our way to
the south, where I shall direct my steps in a few days.
I have drawn seventeen species, among which one _mongrel
vulture_, which I think will prove new. You will see it,
I hope, very soon.
I will give you a sketch of our manner of passing the
time. We are up before day, and our toilette is soon
made. If the day is to be spent at drawing, Lehman and
I take a walk, and Ward, his gun, dog, and basket,
returning when hungry or fatigued, or both. We draw
uninterruptedly till dusk, after which, another walk,
then write up journals, and retire to rest early. When
we have nothing on hand to draw, the guns are cleaned
over night, a basket of bread and cheese, a bottle
with old whiskey, and some water, is prepared. We get
into a boat, and after an hour of hard rowing, we find
ourselves in the middle of most extensive marshes, as
far as the eye can reach. The boat is anchored, and
we go wading through mud and water, amid myriads of
sand-flies and mosquitoes, shooting here and there a
bird, or squatting down on our hams for half an hour,
to observe the ways of the beautiful beings we are
in pursuit of. This is the way in which we spend the
day. At the approach of evening, the cranes, herons,
pelicans, curlews, and the trains of blackbirds are
passing high over our heads, to their roosting places;
then we also return to ours. If some species are
to draw the next day, and the weather is warm, they
are _outlined_ that same evening, to save them from
incipient putridity. I have ascertained that _feathers_
lose their brilliancy almost as rapidly as flesh or
skin itself, and am of opinion that a bird alive is 75
per cent more rich in colours than twenty-four hours
after its death; we therefore skin those first which
have been first killed, and the same evening. All this,
added to our other avocations, brings us into the night
pretty well fatigued. Such, my dear friend, is the life
of an active naturalist; and such, in my opinion, it
ought to be. It is nonsense ever to hope to see in the
closet what is only to be perceived—as far as the laws,
arrangements and beauties of ornithological nature is
concerned,—by that devotion of time, opportunities, and
action, to which I have consecrated my life, not without
hope that science may benefit by my labours.
As to geology, my dear Friend, you know as well as
myself, that I am not in the country for that. The
instructions you gave me are very valuable, and I
shall be vigilant. The aspect of the country will soon
begin to change, and as I proceed, I will write to
you about all we see and do.... Do not be afraid of
my safety; I take a reasonable care of my health and
life. I know how to guard against real difficulties,
and I have no time to attend to that worst of all kinds
of difficulties,—imaginary ones. Circumstances never
within my control, threw me upon my own resources, at
a very early period of my life. I have grown up in the
school of adversity, and am not an unprofitable scholar
there, having learnt to be satisfied with providing
for my family and myself by my own exertions. The life
I lead is my vocation, full of smooth and rough paths,
like every vocation which men variously try. My physical
constitution has always been good, and the fine flow of
spirits I have, has often greatly assisted me in some of
the most trying passages of my life. I know I am engaged
in an arduous undertaking; but if I live to complete it,
I will offer to my country a beautiful monument of the
varied splendour of American nature, and of my devotion
to American ornithology.
JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.
Ther., this day, at 2 p. m.,
78° Fahr.
On the following day, December 8, 1831, Audubon sent the following
request to Dr. Harlan of Philadelphia: "I wish you also to send me—to
Key West—, 20 more pounds of powdered arsenic from Friend Wetherell's
shop,[10] and also a double barelled gun of usual length, as good
as you can procure for 30 dollars; probably a second hand one may be
procured; it must be _percussion_ and, if possible, _back action_." Dr.
Richard Harlan, who often transmitted to Mrs. Audubon any news which
came direct from her husband, wrote to her on December 10, 1831, as
follows:[11]
I have just recd a letter from Mr Aud—dated St.
Augustine Nov. 24th they enjoy health amidst their
fatiguing avocations—has obtained another subscriber,
living on St. Simons island named Tho. Butler King—to
whom I am to send the work as soon as the Copies
exported arrive from London—he has good expectations
of adding some new birds to his list—have you seen the
Sonnet addressed to Mr Aud. in the "Wreath" a London
annual for 1832?—under the signature of J. E. R?—our
newspapers announce the arrival, departure & progress of
Mr Audubon, as if he was an _Embassador_—and so he is,
one of Natures——
The winter season at St. Augustine proved unfavorable for the
naturalist's work, and he anxiously awaited the coming of the
government vessel, the _Spark_, to the commander of which he bore
letters from Washington. After spending about three weeks in the
neighborhood of the city, the party proceeded through the inlet
which divides Anastasia Island from the mainland, to the plantation
of General Hernandez, thirty-five miles distant, where they were
entertained for ten days. On Christmas morning they set out afoot for
the plantation of John Bulow, of Bulowville, fifteen miles away. To
follow the naturalist's account:
A wagon was sent for our baggage and horses for
ourselves were offered at the same time, but it was not
my desire to give unnecessary trouble, and above all
upon an occasion when I was glad to see the country in
as much detail as possible, and anxious to avail myself
of every occasion to get new birds.
During the whole long stay with Mr. Bulow, there was no
abatement of his kindness, or his unremitted efforts
to make me comfortable, and to promote my researches.
I shall ever feel grateful to one of the most deserving
and generous of men.
On December 28 their host proposed that they should descend the Halifax
River in search of new and valuable birds to a point about forty miles
from that place and eighty miles from St. Augustine.[12]
Accordingly, the boat, six hands, and "_three white
men_," with some provisions, put off with a fair wind,
and a pure sky.... We meandered down a creek for about
eleven miles—the water torpid yet clear—the shore lined
with thousands of acres covered by fall grapes, marshes,
and high palm trees, rendering the shore quite novel to
my anxious eye. Some birds were shot, and secured so as
to be brought back, in order to undergo the _skinning
operation_. Before long we entered the Halifax river,
an inland arm of the sea, measuring in breadth from a
quarter to nearly a mile.
They reached a spot, called "Live Oak Landing," where a schooner from
New York was then anchored, and there passed the night.
At sunrise the next morning, I and four negro servants
proceeded in search of birds and adventures. The fact
is, that I was anxious to kill some 25 brown Pelicans
... to enable me to make a new drawing of an adult
male bird, and to procure the dresses of the others. I
proceeded along a narrow, shallow bay, where the fish
were truly abundant. Would you believe it, if I were
to say, that the fish nearly obstructed our head-way?
Believe it, or not, so it was; the waters were filled
with them, large and small. I shot some rare birds,
and putting along the shore, passed a point, when lo, I
came in sight of several hundred pelicans, perched on
the branches of mangrove trees, seated in comfortable
harmony, as near each other as the strength of the
boughs would allow. I ordered to back water gently; the
hands backed water. I waded to the shore under cover
of the rushes along it, saw the pelecans fast asleep,
examined their countenances and deportment well and
leisurely, and after all, levelled, fired my piece, and
dropped two of the finest specimens I ever saw. I really
believe I would have shot one hundred of these reverend
sirs, had not a mistake taken place in the reloading
of my gun. A mistake, however, did take place, and to
my utmost disappointment, I saw each pelecan, old and
young, leave his perch, and take to wing, soaring off,
well pleased, I dare say, at making so good an escape
from so dangerous a foe.
After shooting more birds, and pushing or pulling their boat "over
oyster banks sharp as razors," they made the schooner at the landing
again. "The birds, generally speaking," he continues, "appeared wild
and few—you must be aware that I call birds few, when I shoot less than
one hundred per day."
Such remarks as we have just quoted might convey the impression that
the American woodsman, with whose name the cause of bird protection is
now associated in this country, was a reckless destroyer of all bird
life, but this was far from the case. It must be remembered that this
was over eighty years ago, when the unrivaled abundance of our birds
was such that the necessity of their conservation had hardly entered
the dreams of the most discerning. Audubon no doubt had gradually
yielded to the prevalent mania for describing and figuring new species,
and to make out all the minute specific differences a large series
of specimens was necessary; still more were needed for the detection
of individual variation, which did not escape him, and much less his
assistant, William MacGillivray, who demanded large numbers for his
anatomical studies. Furthermore, Audubon counted upon defraying a part
of his expenses by collections of skins of American birds, which were
then desiderata among the museums of Europe.[13]
When it was proposed that they should return,
preparations were accordingly made, and we left the
schooner, with tide and wind in our teeth, and with the
prospect of a severe, cold night. Our hands pulled well,
and our bark was as light as our hearts. All went on
merrily until dark night came on. The wind freshening,
the cold augmenting, the provisions diminishing,
the waters lowering, all—all depreciating except our
enterprising dispositions. We found ourselves fast in
the mud about 300 yards from a marshy shore, without
the least hope of being able to raise a fire, for
no trees except palm trees were near, and the _grand
diable_ himself could not burn one of them. Our minds
were soon made up to do—what? Why, to roll ourselves
in our cloaks, and lay down, the best way we could,
at the bottom of our light and beautiful barque. Good
God, what a night! To sleep was impossible; the cold
increased with the breeze, and every moment seemed an
hour, from the time we stretched ourselves down until
the first glimpse of the morn; but the morn came, clear
as ever morn was, and the north-easter as cold as ever
wind blew in this latitude. All hands half dead, and
masters as nearly exhausted as the hands—stiffened with
cold, light-clothed, and but slight hope of our nearing
any shore; our only resort was, to leap into the mire,
waste-deep, and to push the barque to a point, some
five hundred or six hundred yards, where a few scrubby
trees seem to have grown to save our lives on this
occasion. "Push, boys, push! Push for your lives!", cry
the generous Bulow, and the poor Audubon.—"All hands
push!" Aye and well might we push: the mire was up to
our breasts, our limbs becoming stiffened at every step
we took. Our progress was slowly performed as if we had
been clogged with heavy chains. It took us two and a
half hours to reach the point, where the few trees of
which I have spoken were; but, thank God, we did get
there.
_We landed_ ... and well it was that we did; for on
reaching the margin of the marsh, two of the negroes
fell down in the marsh, as senseless as torpidity ever
rendered an alligator, or a snake; and had we, _the
white men_, not been there, they certainly would have
died. We had carried them into the little grove, to
which, I believe, all of us owe our lives. I struck
a fire in a crack; and, in five minutes, I saw, with
indescribable pleasure, the bright, warming blaze in
a log pile in the center of our shivering party. We
wrapped the negroes in their blankets—boiled some water,
and soon had some tea—made them swallow it, and with
care revived them into animation. May God preserve
you from being ever in the condition of our party at
this juncture; scarcely a man able to stand, and the
cold wind blowing as keenly as ever. Our men, however,
gradually revived—the trees, one after another, fell
under the hatchet, and increased our fire—and in two
hours I had the pleasure of seeing cheerful faces again.
Their predicament, however, was still serious, for, to continue the
narrative, they were
confined in a large salt marsh, with rushes head high,
and miry; no provisions left, and fifteen miles from the
house of their host.
Not a moment was to be lost, for I foresaw that the next
night would prove much colder still. The boat was manned
once more, and off through the mud we moved to double
the point, and enter the creek, of which I have spoken,
with the hope that in it we should find water enough to
float her. It did happen so, thank God! As we once more
saw our barque afloat, our spirits rose,—and rose to
such a pitch that we in fun set fire to the whole marsh:
crack, crack, crack! went the reeds, with a rapid blaze.
We saw the marsh rabbits, scampering from the fire by
the thousands, as we pulled our oars.
Their pleasure in being afloat was short-lived, for "the northeaster
had well nigh emptied the creek of its usual quantum of water," and
they were again obliged to wade to effect a landing, their object being
to gain the east Florida coast and thus make their escape. This was
finally attained after abandoning their boat, when began a long tramp
on the beach, in the teeth of the wind,
through sand that sent our feet back six inches at
every step of two feet that we made. Well, through this
sand we all _waded_, for many a long mile, picking
up here and there a shell that is nowhere else to be
found, until we reached the landing place of J. J.
Bulow. Now, my heart, cheer up once more, for the sake
of my most kind host.... I assure you, I was glad to
see him nearing his own comfortable roof; and as we saw
the large house opening to view, across his immense
plantation, I anticipated a good dinner with as much
pleasure as I ever experienced.
All hands returned alive; refreshments and good care
have made us all well again, unless it be the stiffness
occasioned in my left leg, by nearly six weeks of daily
wading through swamps and salt marshes, or scrambling
through the vilest thickets of scrubly live oaks and
palmitoes that appear to have been created for no other
purpose but to punish us for our sins.
Readers of the following account who have visited eastern Florida may
conclude that Audubon was not a good prophet, but probably at that
early day no one could have made a better forecast of the future:
The land, if land it can be called, is generally so
very sandy that nothing can be raised upon it. The
swamps are the only spots that afford a fair chance
for cultivation; the swamps, then, are positively the
only places where plantations are to be found. These
plantations are even few in number; along the coast
from St. Augustine to Cape Carnaveral, there are about
a dozen. These, with the exception of two or three,
are yet young plantations. General Hernandez's, J. J.
Bulow's, and Mr. Durham's are the strongest, and perhaps
the best. Sugar cane will prosper, and doubtless do
well; but the labour necessary to produce a good crop,
is great! great!! great!!! Between the swamps of which
I now speak, and which are found along the margin laying
west of the sea inlet, that divides _the main land_ from
the Atlantic, to the river St. John of the interior of
the peninsula, nothing exists but barren pine lands of
poor timber, and immense savannas, mostly overflowed,
and all unfit for cultivation. That growth, which in
any other country is called underwood, scarcely exists;
the land being covered with low palmitoes, or very low,
thickly branched dwarf oaks, almost impenetrable to man.
The climate is of a most unsettled nature, at least at
this season. The thermometer has made leaps from 30
to 89 degrees in 24 hours, cold, warm, sandy, muddy,
watery,—all these varieties may be seen in one day's
travelling.... Game and fish, it is true, are abundant;
but the body of valuable tillable land is too small to
enable the peninsula ever to become a rich state.
[Illustration: EARLY UNPUBLISHED DRAWING IN WATER-COLOR OF THE
CAROLINA PARROT, ON BRANCH OF THE HICKORY, DATED "HENDERSON, JUNE
9TH, 1811." THE ORIGINAL BEARS THE NOTE: "POOR IMITATION OF COLOR,
THE NATURAL BIRD BEING EXTREMELY GLOSSY AND RICH."
Published by courtesy of Mr. Joseph Y. Jeanes.]
On January 6, 1832, the party started to visit a famous spring near
the sources of the St. John's River, which was described in his third
letter to Featherstonhaugh as well as in a later "Episode."[14] There
his host, Colonel Rees, who utilized the abundant flow from this
curious spring for grinding the whole of his sugar cane, took them
down the Spring Garden Creek to a series of muddy lakes which emptied
into the St. John's. The mud on this occasion was the cause of great
disappointment to the naturalist, for it made it impossible for him to
recover what he believed to represent a new species of Ibis, which was
shot in one of those bottomless pits. "Being only a few yards distant
from us," to quote from Audubon's third letter,[15] "and quite near
enough to ascertain the extent of my loss, I submitted to lose a fine
pair of a new species, the which if I ever fall in with it again, I
shall call _Tantalus fuscus_."
When they had reached the borders of Woodruff's Lake, after noon,
fatigued and hungry, he continued:
We landed on a small island of a few acres, covered
with a grove of sour orange trees, intermixed with not
a few live oaks. The oranges were in great profusion
on the trees—everything about us was calm and beautiful
and motionless, as if it had just come from the hand of
the Creator. It would have been a perfect Paradise for a
poet, but I was not fit to be in Paradise; the loss of
my ibis made me as sour as the oranges that hung about
me. I felt unquiet, too, in this singular scene, as if I
were almost upon the verge of creation, where realities
were tapering off into nothing. The general wildness the
eternal labyrinths of waters and marshes, interlocked,
and apparently never ending; the whole surrounded by
interminable swamps—all these things had a tendency
to depress my spirits, notwithstanding some beautiful
flowers, rich looking fruits, a pure sky, and ample
sheets of water at my feet. Here I am in the Floridas,
thought I, a country that received its name from the
odours wafted from the orange groves, to the boats of
the first discoverers, and which from my childhood I
have consecrated in my imagination as the garden of the
United States. A garden, where all that is not mud, mud,
mud, is sand, sand, sand; where the fruit is so sour
that it is not eatable, and where in place of singing
birds and golden fishes, you have a species of ibis that
you cannot get when you have shot it, and alligators,
snakes, and scorpions.
Mr. Bartram was the first to call this a garden, but
he is to be forgiven; he was an enthusiastic botanist,
and rare plants, in the eyes of such a man, convert a
wilderness at once into a garden.
When we had eaten our humble repast at the sweet little
Orange Grove Island, we left it "alone with its glory,"
but not without a name. It was determined, nolens
volens, that it should be called Audubon's Island, on
the St. John's river. Lat. 29° 42´.
Early in February, 1832, Lieutenant Piercy took Audubon and his
assistants aboard the government schooner _Spark_ at St. Augustine,
and sailed for the mouth of the St. John's River, which he had orders
to ascend in the interests of the Revenue Service. On February 12,
when they had reached a point one hundred miles from the mouth of the
river, the vessel, being in need of repairs, was suddenly recalled.
Audubon, with two men, thereupon engaged a boat and attempted to return
to St. Augustine across country, by a short cut to the eastward. They
were soon stranded and the party divided. Audubon with his dog and
one companion then endeavored to make their way by land to the town,
eighteen miles distant, but they were overtaken by a terrific gale and
thunder-storm, and in order to keep to the trails were often obliged to
grope their way on hands and knees.[16]
At about this time the publishers of the _Journal of Geology
and Natural Science_, from which we have quoted, failed, and
Featherstonhaugh, who assumed their debts to all subscribers, was
obliged to bring it to a close with the completion of the first volume;
Audubon's third and last letter appeared in the valedictory number for
June, 1832.
Again the naturalist applied to the government officials at Washington
for assistance, and, as the following letter shows, Edward Everett
again came to his aid, as did also Levi Woodbury, Secretary of the
Navy, to whom Audubon later received a personal introduction from Chief
Justice Taney of the Supreme Court:
_Levi Woodbury to Louis McLane_
NAVY DEPARTMENT
_February 24 1832_
SIR,
The letter of the Honorable Mr. Everett of the 18th.
inst. relating to Mr. Audubon &c and referred by you to
this Department, has been received.
I regret that the impaired condition of the Spark made
it necessary some weeks ago, to order that vessel to
Norfolk to be refitted.
I have heretofore taken much pleasure in furnishing Mr.
Audubon with credentials to the officers of the Navy,
and requesting [them] to furnish every aid, in the
prosecution of [his] scientific researches: and shall be
happy to afford any further facilities within the power
of the Department.
I am very respectfully
&c &c
LEVI WOODBURY
HONORABLE. L. MC LANE
Secy of the Treasury
Finally, on April 15, 1832, Audubon and his party were able to
board the revenue cutter _Marion_, commanded by Robert Day, and the
opportunity thus afforded for exploring the dangerous east Florida
coast amply repaid them for their long and vexatious delays. They
visited the islands from St. Augustine to Key West, and examined every
part of the shore which it was the duty of the _Marion_ to approach.
At Indian Key the deputy collector, Mr. Thurston, gave Audubon the
services of his pilot, a veteran sailor and hunter, who accompanied
him on the _Marion_ for a number of weeks and led many boat journeys
to lonely islands, where vast colonies of sea fowl then dwelt in
undisputed possession. The leisurely movements of the vessel also
enabled the naturalist to produce many finished drawings, and to obtain
materials for fresh "Episodes."[17] At Key West Audubon was hospitably
received by Major Classel,[18] and by Dr. Strobel, who was of great
assistance both to him and to Bachman in procuring new birds from that
little known point.
The unexpected delays experienced in Florida, and the expense
which the presence of his assistants necessarily entailed, in all
probability, deterred the naturalist from the more hazardous and
uncertain enterprise of attempting to reach the Rocky Mountains and
the Pacific Coast, which for years had been the great object of his
ambition. At all events, after their work was finished at Key West,
the party returned to St. Augustine, and on the fifth day of March
again boarded the packet schooner _Agnes_, which was to bear them with
their collections to Charleston. Audubon, however, left the vessel at
Savannah, in order to deliver letters from the Rathbones of Liverpool
to a number of their rich merchant friends in the former city. One of
these, named William Gaston,[19] at first declined to subscribe to _The
Birds of America_, on the ground of its great expense and the demands
made upon his purse by charity, but his indifference was quickly
overcome: not only did he write his name on Audubon's list, but he
immediately went out and obtained three other subscribers; he even
insisted on becoming Audubon's agent at Savannah, and saw to it that
none of those subscriptions was ever allowed to lapse in after years.
Savannah eventually gave him six subscribers, which was more than were
credited to either Philadelphia or Baltimore.
At Charleston the party disbanded. Lehman returned to Philadelphia,
whither Audubon later followed him, but Henry Ward obtained a position
with the Museum of Natural History, in which Bachman was interested,
and he appears to have been of much assistance both to Bachman and to
his friend in procuring for them specimens of new or desirable birds
and mammals; at a later day, however, he seems to have fallen into
disesteem on account of unpaid debts.