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.
Audubon left London with his son, John, July 30, 1836, and on the
second day of August sailed from Portsmouth on the packet _Gladiator_,
bound for New York. Two hundred and sixty live birds had preceded
them to the ship, while three dogs came as a present from the Earl of
Derby, and "a brace of tailless cats from our friend George Thackeray,
D.D., provost of King's College": all had suffered somewhat from
lack of care, but the dogs, one of which was sent to John Bachman of
Charleston, and some of the birds crossed the Atlantic in safety. Five
weeks were spent at sea; when the Navesink Highlands at last hove into
view the welcome news spread rapidly over the ship; rockets were sent
up later to attract a pilot, and when anchor was grounded on American
soil, Audubon confessed that he cried like a child and devoutly thanked
God for their preservation. He continued:
All was now bustle and mutual congratulations; our
commander was praised for his skill by some, and others
praised his whisky, which the waiters handed about,
and the night was nearly spent in revelry; but John
and myself retired at two o'clock.... As a gleam of
daylight appeared, my eyes searched through the hazy
atmosphere to catch a glimpse of the land, and gradually
Staten Island opened to my view; then the boat of the
custom-house appeared, and soon he boarded us, arranged
the sailors and passengers on deck, and called their
names. Then followed breakfast, and soon another boat,
with a yellow flag flying, landed the health officer,
and there being no sickness on board, myself and John
returned to Staten Island in the doctor's boat, and were
taken by the steamer Hercules to the city.[131]
Audubon remained in New York from the 7th to the 13th of September. On
Sunday, the 12th, he wrote to Edward Harris, in part as follows:[132]
_Audubon to Edward Harris_
MY DEAR FRIEND—
... Whilst running over the interesting list of the
Species of Birds procured by Nuttall & Townsend in
the Rocky Mountains, and the shores of the Pacific, I
became so completely wrapt up with the desire to see
these as soon as possible that I have concluded to go
to Philadelphia tomorrow by the 10 o'clock boat. I will
stay at Harlan's for two or three days and hope that
you will meet me there, that I may have the pleasure of
pressing your hand and talking to you.
You well know how anxious I am to make my work on the
Birds of our Country as compleat as possible within my
power:—you know that to reach this end I have spared
neither time, labours or money: you are also aware that
although this undertaking may never remunerate me, I am
so enthusiastic as to indulge in the hope that God will
grant me life to effect all this; but I am becoming old,
and though very willing doubt whether I could support
the fatigues connected with a journey of several years,
and separated from my dear Family. Well the desiderata
has come to Philadelphia at least in part, and if I
could be allowed to pourtray the new species now there
as an appendix to the Birds of America, I should be
proud and happy to do so, but do you think that the
Academy is likely to indulge me in this my wish? Do
join me at Harlan's as soon as you can, and lend me a
hand and try to promote my views through mutual Friends
attatched to that Institution.
Audubon also communicated at once with John Bachman, whom he had
planned to visit on his journey south, but soon learned that the
cholera had broken out in Charleston and that the Seminoles were on the
warpath in Florida. Said Bachman, writing on September 14:
With regard to Florida, nothing will be done by
naturalists for at least two years. Your Indian friends,
the cut-throats, have scalped almost every woman and
child south of St. Augustine, save those on Key West.
They have burnt and plundered every plantation; and
although they will probably be, in a great measure, put
down next winter, yet there will, undoubtedly, remain
many small predatory bands that will make no bones of
scalping at Ornithologist _secundum artem_; and would
ask no questions whether he were the friend or enemy
of William Penn. Of Texas, I think better, and thither,
or along its borders, you may, I think, venture—for the
Texans are our friends. I suppose Genl. Gaines will keep
the Comanches quiet.[133]
Bachman kept his friends informed of the progress of the epidemic,
which had placed an embargo over his city; at the same time he sent
news of the Anhingas, Caracara Eagles and Cormorants, which had
been successfully held in captivity for the naturalist, and added:
"These are awful times in money matters, but of this you will hear
enough when we meet. Everyone nearly has failed, but the Parsons and
Ornithologists."
On September 13 Audubon started for Philadelphia, anxious to see
with his own eyes those western collections which had so stirred his
curiosity. It seems that in 1834, Dr. Thomas Nuttall and Dr. John Kirk
Townsend set out on a journey to the mouth of the Columbia River;
Nuttall was first of all a botanist, and is said to have carried no
gun, but Townsend was an experienced ornithologist and made extensive
collections of birds, a part of which he sent in care of Nuttall to
Philadelphia in 1835, although he himself did not return east until the
close of 1837. One of Audubon's great ambitions had been to explore the
regions which they had recently visited, and in the circumstances we
can sympathize with his desire to acquire so valuable an acquisition
for the work upon which he had been long engaged. The object of his
immediate quest apparently had been entrusted to the Academy of Natural
Sciences, an institution which had not always shown itself friendly
to his claims, and which in this instance is said to have assisted
the travelers with funds to prosecute their journey. The collection,
said Audubon, contained "about forty new species of birds, and its
value cannot be described." Balked in his initial efforts to obtain
the coveted prize, after two days of fruitless efforts on the part of
his Philadelphia friends, he returned to New York; Edward Harris then
came forward with the offer of $500 for the purchase of the collection
outright, but negotiations were not immediately successful.
With his hunger still unappeased, Audubon now visited Boston on a
canvassing tour, while his son remained with Nicholas Berthoud at New
York. Setting out on the 20th of September, he traveled by the steamer
_Massachusetts_ and the Providence Railroad, paying seven dollars fare,
"which included supper and breakfast"; the sail up Providence Bay in
early morning was like a "fairy dream," and the locomotive in waiting
then pulled the passengers from "Providence to Boston at the rate of
fifteen miles an hour." We arrived, said he, at four in the afternoon:
"a cart took my trunk, and placing myself by the side of the owner, we
drove to the house of my friend, Dr. George C. Shattuck."
On the day after his arrival, Audubon visited Thomas M. Brewer, then
a young ornithologist living at Roxbury, to examine his collection
of bird skins and eggs, and upon his return called on David Eckley,
"the great salmon fisher," to whom he later presented a copy of his
folio plates of _The Birds of America_.[134] Brewer, who later became
a physician and distinguished ornithologist, for many years was one of
Audubon's valued correspondents and supplied him with much interesting
material. On the following day Audubon met Thomas Nuttall,[135] who at
once promised him duplicates of all the new birds which he had brought
from the West. Colonel Thomas H. Perkins, an early subscriber, Edward
Everett, who had befriended him in Washington, and who in 1836 became
Governor of Massachusetts, Josiah Quincy, president of Harvard College,
Dr. Bowditch, and other prominent characters, all extended a helping
hand. He visited Salem to deliver his letters, and was successful in
obtaining a number of subscribers; upon invitation of the curator of
the Natural History Society there, he examined "the young collection
of that newborn institution," and had "the good fortune to find one
egg of the American bittern." On the 25th of September he wrote Harris:
"Nuttall has arrived—he breakfasted with me the other day—gave me 6 new
species of Birds and tells me that he will urge both Townsend and the
Society at Philadelphia to allow me to portray all the species which
they have procured within the limits of our Territories."
In Boston, September 27, 1836, Audubon made this note in his
journal:[136] "The citizens are all excitement; guns are firing, flags
flying, and troops parading and John Quincy Adams is delivering a
eulogy on the late President Madison. The mayor of Boston did me the
honor to invite me to join in the procession, but I am no politician
and declined." He noted on the same day also that Dr. Shattuck had
completed the subscription list of the Boston Society of Natural
History "by presenting me to his lady, who subscribed for one-tenth,
and the Dr. then put down his son George's name for one-twentieth,
making his own family one-fourth of the whole, or two hundred and
twenty dollars, for which he gave me his cheque. Without the assistance
of this generous man, it is more than probable that the Society never
would have had a copy of 'The Birds of America.'" Two days later he
met Daniel Webster at the rooms of the Historical Society, and on the
same evening at the home of Isaac P. Davis, where, said Audubon, "we
took tea, talked on ornithology and ornithologists; he promised to send
me some specimens of birds, and finished by subscribing to my work."
Webster also gave him a general note of recommendation, in which he
said:[137] "I take this mode of commending Mr. Audubon to any friends
of mine he may meet in his journey to the west. I have not only great
respect for Mr. Audubon's scientific pursuits, but entertain for him
personally much esteem and hearty good wishes." Mr. Davis exerted
his influence in other directions, and in this instance acted as
agent for the transmission of Audubon's plates to their distinguished
friend; on October 7, he wrote:[138] "I received the half Nos of the
'Birds of America' for the worthy and sublime Danl. Webster—they shall
be delivered safely on his return." After urging Audubon to visit
Buffalo, where Dr. Bowditch and his friends thought that a number of
new subscribers might be procured, he appended a list of twelve likely
names of residents of that city, and added: "Bowdoin College shall be
remembered as the opportunity offers."
Webster, who was an ardent sportsman and well acquainted with the water
fowl of the coast, had volunteered to procure for Audubon specimens of
the Labrador Duck, which was even then extremely rare and has since
become extinct, but was unable to fulfill his promise. Audubon had
already found that many American birds, like the common crow, which had
been regarded as identical with those of the Old World, were in reality
distinct, and was now anxious, as he wrote to Thomas Brewer, "to
compare the anatomy of all our birds with those of the same families
in Europe." His letters to young Brewer at this time show how eager
he was to secure the promised specimens. On October 23 he wrote from
Philadelphia: "I hope you will not forget to call on our enlightened
statesman D. Webster, and remind him of his kind promise to assist
you in the procuring of specimens for me. This winter and next spring
are my only chances, and I beg you to do all you can for me." He wrote
again from Charleston, January 1, 1837: "I am sorry that the Hon. D.
Webster has not attended to his promises, and will write to him; yet I
would beg you, being on the spot, _to trouble him a good deal_."[139]
After returning to New York, Audubon had a visitor for whom he
expressed the greatest admiration, Washington Irving, who had aided
him in 1833; he now received from his hands letters to Martin Van
Buren, the President-elect, and Benjamin F. Butler, who then occupied
the post of Attorney-General. Irving called attention in his letter
to the national character of Audubon's work, and warmly commended it
to the patronage of the country at large. On October 8 Audubon wrote
MacGillivray from New York that he had obtained twelve new subscribers,
two at Salem, four at Boston, and six in New York, but a little later,
through the aid of Nicholas Berthoud, in one week's time eighteen new
names were added to his subscription list in New York City alone.
Meanwhile Nuttall's and Townsend's birds had not been forgotten, and
on October 15 he started with his son for Philadelphia, where he was
again welcomed by Dr. Richard Harlan. No sooner, however, were efforts
renewed to gain permission to study the desired objects than new
obstacles were encountered. To quote the naturalist:[140]
Having obtained access to the collection sent by Dr.
Townsend, I turned over and over the new and rare
species, but he was absent at Fort Vancouver, on the
shores of the Columbia River; Thomas Nuttall had not
yet come from Boston, and loud murmurs were uttered by
the _soi-disant_ friends of science, who objected to
my seeing, much less portraying and describing, those
valuable relics of birds, many of which had not yet been
introduced into our Fauna.
At length, "it was agreed," to continue his account of the transaction,
that I might _purchase duplicates, provided_ the
specific names agreed upon by Mr. Nuttall and myself
were published in Dr. Townsend's name. This latter part
of the affair was perfectly agreeable to my feelings, as
I have seldom cared much about priority in the naming
of species. I therefore paid for the skins which I
received, and have now published such as proved to be
new, according to my promise. But, let me assure you,
Reader, that seldom, if ever in my life, have I felt
more disgusted with the conduct of any opponents of
mine, than I was with the unfriendly boasters of their
zeal for the advancement of ornithological science, who
at that time existed in the fair city of Philadelphia.
While still in Philadelphia, on October 23, Audubon wrote to Thomas
Brewer that Dr. Morton, the corresponding secretary of the Academy,
had not only permitted him to portray the new birds but had sold him
"ninety odd of the skins, forming a portion of the collection," and
added that with his other acquisitions they would swell his "catalogue
to the number of 475, all of which must be introduced in my fourth
volume."
For many years Audubon had expressed great contempt for all seekers
after priority in the naming of new species of animals, but now he
began to find the pressure from without too strong to be resisted.
Rivalry in this field had become keen on both sides of the Atlantic,
and in the commendable desire to render his work as complete as
possible, he was inevitably drawn into a struggle in which the higher
aspirations of scientific men are all too apt to be obscured by petty
vanities, suspicions and disputes.
While at Philadelphia Audubon paid this fine tribute to the
ornithologist whom he had met at Louisville twenty-six years before,
and whose name had long been a cover for the jealousies and animosities
of supposititious friends: "Passed poor Alexander Wilson's schoolhouse,
and heaved a sigh. Alas, poor Wilson! Would that I could once more
speak to thee, and listen to thy voice!"
Audubon was planning during the coming year to explore the west coast
of Florida, in company with his son and Edward Harris, and to proceed
as far as possible along the coast of Texas. From Philadelphia he
went to Baltimore, and on November 8 he arrived at Washington. His
steadfast friend and supporter, Colonel John James Abert, then at the
head of the Topographical Bureau, took him to the White House to call
on President Andrew Jackson and present his letters. The General,
said Audubon, looked well and was smoking a pipe; after reading his
letters attentively, he said at once: "Mr. Audubon, I will do all in
my power to serve you, but the Seminole war, will, I fear, prevent you
from having a cutter; however, as we shall have a committee at twelve
o'clock, we will consider this, and give you an answer tomorrow."
Levi Woodbury, Secretary of the Treasury, was as friendly as ever, and
offered the party passage to Charleston on the _Campbell_, a vessel of
fifty-five tons carrying three guns and twenty-one men, but Audubon,
who was a poor sailor, preferred to travel by land and await the
coming of this boat at the Bachman home. Before leaving the capital
the naturalist and his son were invited to dine informally at the White
House, and he had the opportunity of studying at close range "a man who
had done much good and much evil to our country." Said Audubon of this
dinner:
I sat close to him; we spoke of olden times, and
touched slightly on politics, and I found him very
averse to the cause of the Texans.... The dinner was
what might be called plain and substantial in England;
I dined from a fine young turkey, shot within twenty
miles of Washington. The general drank no wine, but
his health was drunk by us more than once; and he ate
very moderately, his last dish consisting of bread and
milk.[141]
Audubon, with his son, John, left Washington on the 10th of November,
and after traveling six days on one of "the most extraordinary
railroads in the world," they reached the city of Charleston, where,
under the hospitable roof of John Bachman, the party eventually passed
the winter, though momentarily expecting their vessel, which did not
arrive. During this long interval of waiting, Audubon made drawings
of all the new birds in the Nuttall-Townsend collection, representing
upwards of seventy figures, and Miss Maria Martin, Bachman's
sister-in-law, again assisted him in drawing plants and insects.
As spring approached and the long awaited _Campbell_ had not arrived,
Audubon, with Harris and John, started overland for New Orleans. After
several days of hard traveling by coaches they reached Montgomery, and
descended the Alabama River by steamboat to Mobile. When that district
had been ransacked for birds, they went on to Pensacola, where they
learned that the Government cutter would soon be at their service at
New Orleans; accordingly they retraced their steps to Mobile, passed
through the lakes, and entered the southern capital, the city in which
the naturalist had nearly starved, a penniless stranger, sixteen years
before, but which, less than three-quarters of a century later, was
to raise a monument to his memory. He was still destined to a degree
of disappointment, when it was learned that the _Campbell_ could not
be put in readiness before the last of March, but he was delighted to
find that the old pilot of the _Marion_, Napoleon Coste, was to command
this vessel. At New Orleans Audubon met for the last time "good M. Le
Sueur," artist and naturalist, who had spent many years at New Harmony,
Indiana, and whose acquaintance he had first made at Philadelphia in
1824.
Audubon and his party finally left New Orleans on the 1st of April and
entered the Gulf by the Southwest Pass, where, on the 3rd of the month,
they were joined by the _Crusader_, a schooner of twelve tons which was
attached to the Revenue Service; on this journey she carried a crew of
four, with as many guns, and acted as a tender to the larger vessel.
The expedition was provisioned for two months, and aimed to explore
the keys, bayous and shoreline from the Mississippi to the Bay of
Galveston. Some of Audubon's experiences on this cruise were described
in a letter to William MacGillivray,[142] dated "Côte Blanche, 18
April, 1837," which we will now reproduce:
_Audubon to William MacGillivray_
MY DEAR FRIEND,—
Being just now snugly anchored in a bay, the description
of which may prove agreeable to you, I sit down to give
you an account of what I have been doing since I last
wrote to you.
After visiting "Rabbit Island," on which, as I have
already told you, not a single Rabbit or Hare is to
be seen, we made our way between it and Frisky Point,
by a narrow and somewhat difficult channel leading to
the bay in which I now write. The shores around us are
entirely formed of a bank, from twenty to thirty feet
high, and composed of concrete shells of various kinds,
among which the Common Oyster, however, predominates.
This bank, which at present looks as if bleached by the
sunshine and rain of centuries, is so white that it well
might form a guiding line to the vessels which navigate
this bay even in the darkest nights. The bay, however,
is so shallow, that it is rarely entered by vessels
larger than schooners of about seventy tons burthen,
which visit its shores to take in the sugars and cottons
grown in the neighbouring country.
The "Crusader" is a somewhat curious craft, small,
snug withal, and considerably roguish looking. She has
not fewer than four "grunters" on her fore deck, her
sails are of pure white cotton, and although she bears
the lively flag of our country at the peak, her being
painted purely black gives her the aspect, not merely
of a smuggler, but of a pirate. But here she is, at the
entrance of a canal of a sugar plantation, and close to
another craft, much the worse for wear, and, for aught
I know to the contrary, belonging to the captain alone,
who, I would almost venture to assert, belongs to no
country at all.
It is now four weeks since a razor came in contact with
my chin. All my companions are equally hircine; or, if
you please, hirsute. As to our clothing, were you to
see us at this moment, you would be ready to exclaim,
"What vagabonds these fellows are!" Coats and trousers
plastered with mire, shirts no longer white, guns
exhibiting the appearance of being in constant use, and
all sorts of accoutrements that pertain to determined
hunters, complete our _tout ensemble_. But, as I have
said, here we are, and on shore must go. "Man the gig,"
quoth our captain. In a trice the gig is manned. One
after another, for there are five or six of us, we swing
ourselves into the after-sheets. The word is given, the
oars are plied, and now we are once more on terra firma.
The crossing of large bays, cumbered with shallow bars
and banks of oyster-shells, is always to me extremely
disagreeable, and more especially when all these bars
and banks do not contain a single living specimen of
that most delectable shell-fish. Nay, I am assured
by our pilot, who is no youngster, that ever since he
first visited this extensive waste, not an oyster has
been procured in these parts. But now, in single file,
like culprits or hungry travellers, we proceed along
the margin of the canal. Ah, my dear friend, would that
you were here just now to see the Snipes innumerable,
the Blackbirds, the Gallinules, and the Curlews that
surround us;—that you could listen as I now do, to the
delightful notes of the Mocking-bird, pouring forth
his soul in melody as the glorious orb of day is fast
descending towards the western horizon;—that you could
watch the light gambols of the Night Hawk, or gaze on
the Great Herons which, after spreading their broad
wings, croak aloud as if doubtful regarding the purpose
of our visit to these shores! Ah! how well do I know you
would enjoy all this; but, alas! we are more than four
thousand miles apart.
Hark! what's that? Nothing but a parcel of men coming
to greet us. Here they are, seven or eight Negroes. Who
lives here my good fellows? Major Gordy, massa. Well,
now show us the way to the house. Yes, gentlemen, come
along. So we follow our swarthy guides.
The plantations here are of great value, both on
account of their proximity to the Gulf of Mexico, and
the excellence of the soil, which, as in other parts
of Louisiana, is composed of a fat, black mould. The
Indian corn was at least six feet high, and looked
most beautiful. As we approached the mansion of Major
Gordy, I observed that it has a pleasant aspect, and was
furnished with a fine garden, and a yard well stocked
with cattle, together with a good number of horses and
mules, just let loose from labour. A mill for grinding
corn and making sugar particularly drew our notice to
it, as the Crusader happened just then to be destitute
of both articles; and as I saw some women milking the
cows, my heart fairly leaped with joy, and the hope
that ere long we might procure a full bowl of the
delightful and salubrious beverage. The short twilight
of our southern latitudes had now almost involved every
object in that dim obscurity so congenial to most living
creatures after the toils of the day, as allowing them
to enjoy that placid quiet which is required to restore
their faded energies.
Near the entrance of the mansion stood an elderly man,
of tall stature and firm aspect, leaning on what I
would call a desperate long gun. As I approached this
Côte Blanche planter, I thought that something not so
very friendly as I could have wished was expressed in
his countenance. As he rested his heavy frame on his
monstrous rifle, he neither moved his head, nor held
out his hand to me, until I presented mine to him,
saying, "My good sir, how do you do?" His answer was
a rather suspicious look at me and my companions; but
notwithstanding, and probably because he was on his own
ground, he asked us what was our wish, and then desired
us to walk in.
Côte Blanche Bay, you must be informed, has for a number
of years been infested by a set of rascally piratical
vagabonds, who have committed extensive depredations, in
consequence of which, a few years ago, a United States'
revenue cutter was sent to protect the coast. I have no
doubt that the major took us, to a man, for members of
the gang who had more than once visited, not his house,
but his plantation, on which they had played many wanton
and atrocious freaks.
We now, however, had entered the house. Candles were
lighted, and we at once came face to face, as it were.
It curiously happened that our captain was without his
uniform, and fully as rough looking otherwise as any
of us. I was, however, much pleased to see that the
major himself was not much superior to us in respect
of apparel; nor had his razor been employed for many
days. I happened to have about me some unequivocal
credentials, from the head departments of the United
States, which, on my observing that some degree of
suspicion still remained, I placed in his hands. He
read them, spoke kindly to us, promised to forward our
letters to the nearest post-town, and invited us to
consider his dwelling as our own. From that moment until
we returned to our vessel, we were all as comfortable
and merry as men can be when distant from their own dear
homes.
Next morning we received from Major Gordy a barrel of
sugar, another of corn meal, some pails of milk, and a
quantity of newly made butter, together with potatoes
and other needful articles—and all this without being
allowed so much as to offer him the least recompense.
The day after, we returned to breakfast by invitation,
and found in the house several strangers armed with
rifles and double-barrelled guns. After we had been
introduced to all around, we seated ourselves, and
made a vigorous attack upon our host's eggs and bacon,
coffee, tea, and milk. As this important business
was proceeding, I was delighted to hear the following
anecdotes, which I hope you, my dear friend, will relish
as much as I did.
"Gentlemen," said our host, straightening himself up
in his chair, "I am considerably suspicious as regards
the strangers who happen to anchor within the range of
my dominions. Indeed, gentlemen, I must acknowledge
that even after you returned on board last night, I
sent off some of my men in various directions, to let
my neighbours know that a strange craft had anchored
near the landing-place; and here, gentlemen, are those
neighbours of mine; but as it happens that the name of
the gentleman who calls himself a 'Naturalist' is well
known to some of them, I now feel quite satisfied as
respects the purposes you have in view. But let me tell
you what happened to me some years ago.
"Such a shark-looking craft as the one you call the
Crusader happened to drop its anchor abreast of my
landing-place, about dusk one evening, and as I guessed
that the fellows on board were not better than they
should be, I watched their motions for a while from
my back piazza. But nothing happened that night. Next
morning, however, I heard the firing of guns down the
meadows where my cattle and hogs were in the habit of
feeding. So I took my rifle, walked towards the spot,
and soon found, sure enough, that the rascals had killed
a fine ox and several hogs, which they were dragging
to the shore. Indeed, gentlemen, I saw the yawl crammed
with the spoils of my plantation. Well, I took as good
an aim as I could at the nearest man, and cracked away,
but without hitting. At the report of my gun the fellows
all took to their heels, and getting on board hoisted
sail and went off. I have never heard of them since.
Well, gentlemen, about the same hour next morning, a
black-looking barge, hardly as large as your Crusader,
came to, off the very same spot, and although I watched
it and every one on board nearly the whole night, and
it was a beautiful moon-shining one, not a soul of them
came on shore until morning. Then, however, I saw some
bustle on board. Several men got off in a very small
affair, which was fastened astern of the large boat.
I saw them land, and deliberately walk towards the
meadows. No sooner had they reached the wettest part,
and that is where my hogs generally root for food,
than crack, crack, crack, went off their guns in all
directions. You may well suppose how vexed I was at
all this, and conceive how soon I mustered my men with
clubs, and armed myself with my rifle. On reaching the
ground, think, gentlemen, what were my thoughts, when I
saw the fellows all advancing towards me and my people,
as if they were the honestest men in the world. I was
so mad when they came close up, that I had a mind to
shoot the one in front, for he looked for all the world
as if he cared not a pin for any one. However, I did not
shoot, but asked him why he was shooting my hogs? 'Hogs!
good man, you are quite mistaken; we are shooting snipes
until we come in contact with the rascally pirates who
infest the coast, and lay waste your plantations. My
name, my good sir, is Captain ——, of the United States
Navy; and these are some of my men. Will you come on
board, and breakfast with us on your own snipes?'" No
wonder that the major, having been subject to the visits
of these marauders, should have taken us in the dusk,
armed as we were, and withal not having precisely the
aspect of sober citizens, for persons not quite as good
as we should be. But I must now conclude, and in my next
you shall hear something of the result of my expedition
into the marshes.
[Illustration: BUST OF AUDUBON BY WILLIAM COUPER IN THE
AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, NEW YORK.
Published by courtesy of the American Museum of Natural
History.]
After wading through mud for whole days, exposed to scorching heat,
and constantly annoyed by myriads of insects in the course of their
numerous excursions on shore, they reached Galveston Bay on the 24th
of April. The fort of Galveston returned their salute of "26 fires,"
given by the big gun on the _Campbell_, and shortly after they received
a visit from the Secretary of the Navy of the Republic of Texas, which
under Sam Houston had declared its independence but a few weeks before
their arrival, and were invited to proceed to the seat of government,
at Houston, eighty miles distant, in the interior. They landed on
the 26th of April, and after three weeks had been spent in exploring
Galveston Island and its adjacent shores for birds and animals of all
sorts, they started for Houston on the 8th of May. After making about
twelve miles, their vessel grounded on Red Fish Bar, and the party then
took to tender and gig, reaching their destination on the 15th; wild
turkeys, ibises, and ducks of many kinds were seen in great numbers
along their course.
Audubon has left a graphic account[143] of what he then saw at the
capital of this short-lived infant Republic, including its picturesque
President, the _mêlée_ of dejected Mexican prisoners then gathered
there, and its drunken Indians, "halooing and stumbling about in
the mud in every direction." Houston's abode was a small log house,
"consisting of two rooms, with a passage through, after the Southern
fashion."
The moment we stepped over the threshold, on the
right hand of the passage, we found ourselves ushered
into what in other countries would be called the
ante-chamber; the ground floor, however, was muddy and
filthy; a large fire was burning; a small table, covered
with paper and writing materials, was in the centre;
camp-beds, trunks, and different materials were strewn
around the room. We were at once presented to several
members of the cabinet, some of whom bore the stamp
of intellectual ability, simple though bold, in their
general appearance....
The President was engaged in the opposite room on
national business, and we could not see him for some
time. Meanwhile we amused ourselves by walking to the
capitol, which was yet without a roof, and the floors,
benches and tables of both houses of Congress were as
well saturated with water as our clothes had been in the
morning. Being invited by one of the great men of the
place to enter a booth to take a drink of grog with him,
we did so; but I was rather surprised that he offered
his name, instead of the cash, to the bar-keeper.
We first caught sight of President Houston as he walked
from one of the grog-shops, where he had been to prevent
the sale of ardent spirits. He was on his way to his
house, and wore a large gray coarse hat, and the bulk
of his figure reminded me of the appearance of General
Hopkins of Virginia, for like him he is upwards of six
feet high, and strong in proportion. But I observed a
scowl in the expression of his eyes, that was forbidding
and disagreeable. We reached his abode before him, but
he soon came, and we were presented to his excellency.
He was dressed in a fancy velvet coat, and trowsers
trimmed with broad gold-lace; around his neck was tied a
cravat somewhat in the style of seventy-six. He received
us kindly, was desirous of retaining us for awhile, and
offered us every facility within his power. He at once
removed us from the anteroom to his private chamber,
which by the way was not much cleaner than the former.
We were severally introduced by him to the different
members of his cabinet and staff, and at once asked to
drink grog with him, which we did, wishing success to
his new republic. Our talk was short; but the impression
which was made on my mind at the time by himself,
his officers, and his place of abode, can never be
forgotten.
The party left Texas on the 18th of May, and on the 27th reached New
Orleans, which was then oppressively hot and nearly deserted. Here
Audubon's collections and equipment were packed to be sent north;
his dog was given to his brother-in-law, William Bakewell, and on the
last day of the month the party began to retrace their steps of the
previous March. After more hard traveling by car, coach and railroad,
Charleston was reached in eight and a half days, on June 10, 1837.
Edward Harris, who ascended the Mississippi from New Orleans for the
purpose of making further collections, later rejoined the party at
Bachman's home in Charleston. Audubon said that he lost twelve pounds
in weight during this journey, which proved exceedingly trying, and
the hardships encountered were hardly commensurate with the returns in
bird and animal lore; yet Audubon was by no means dissatisfied at the
results, as shown by the following account which he gave Thomas Brewer
two days after his return:[144]
The weather during the principal portion of our absence
was unusually cold, even for the season, and this gave
us, perhaps, the very best opportunities ever afforded
to any student of nature to observe the _inward_
migrations of myriads of the birds that visit us from
the south and west when the imperative laws of nature
force them from their winter retreats towards other
countries to multiply. To tell you all regarding this
would be more by a thousand times than can be given
in a letter written in haste, and I will therefore at
once touch the spring with whose sound you are most
in harmony. We procured many eggs for you—ay, a great
number—and as soon as we reach New York I will make up
a large box, and take it to you myself.... One thing
that will interest you most, as it did me, is that we
found west of the Mississippi many species of ducks
breeding as contented as if in latitude 68° north. There
is, after all, nothing like seeing things or countries
to enable one to judge of their peculiarities, and I
now feel satisfied that through the want of these means
many erroneous notions remain in scientific works that
can not otherwise be eradicated. We found not one new
species, but the mass of observations that we have
gathered connected with the ornithology of our country,
has, I think, never been surpassed. I feel myself now
tolerably competent to give an essay on the geographical
distribution of the feathered tribes of our dear
country, and I promise that I will do so, with naught
but facts and notes made on the very spot, and at the
fitting time.
Maria Rebecca Bachman, eldest of the nine Bachman children, was married
at this time to John Woodhouse Audubon, and the entire party started
north before the end of June. They went by steamer to Norfolk, and
thence to Washington, where Audubon presented his letters to President
Van Buren and tendered his thanks in person to the various officers of
the Government and friends who had aided his expedition; they passed
rapidly through Baltimore and Philadelphia, to New York, where Audubon
remained a fortnight, while his son and daughter-in-law were enjoying
a honeymoon at Niagara Falls. All sailed from New York on the packet
_England_, and landed at Liverpool on the 2d of August. Five days later
the family was united in London.