The Audubon Reader (43 page)

I cannot say anything more but that my heart is yours; only I cannot overlook justice and comfort to our sons …

St. Francisville, Louisiana

29 September 1829

My dear LaForest,

Yours without date, and the one of Aug. 25th have this moment come to me, and as it is a month ago, you may have changed your abode and even this which I shall send to Philadelphia not reach you; but I have not written this month and will therefore do so now. You, I find, did not write for a month between the date of your last letters. I calculate that on the 17th of this month, you would get two from me of the same date, sent different ways, which would, I hope, give you some pleasure more than what you had before, not that I felt any difference, but I had become reconciled almost to your manner of acting, which does indeed surprise me; and had you landed in [New] Orleans and come up, after seeing me and understanding one another it would have saved much pain; that I hope is all over & if I have said anything harsh, allow for my peculiar situation, for my disappointment, and forget it. I have written so often
when I could have
, and the preparations I was making for so doing, and I’m tired of repeating them; and after all you have misunderstood me as to time by a month, which I said was the
last
of December, not the
first
. Even if my word was nothing, many of my employers are now on to the eastward, and I could not possibly collect more than a hundred dollars [at this time], if that. I have done
all
I could preparative, even to agreeing for the sale of one of my pianos; spoken to all my employers, &c., but with all this it will be sometime in January before I can finish it all conclusively. You want to remember what trouble you had to collect money, and every year the country has been getting worse, though ultimately good.

And now that I have told you what I have done in the cause for my departure, I would just tell you the school, or income that has been offered to me for next year. If, on deliberation, you thought it best for me to take it—but
mind, my dear husband
, I do not tell
you it is my choice, I only state the fact … and
you must choose
what I shall do on a prudential score, in the meantime I am getting all in readiness till I hear from you again, and can only say it is a pleasure to think that after seven years’ trial I rise in the estimation of those who know me. I have had much pleasure in my independence but I willingly give it up for you, now that our children do not require it, nor you.

The proposition is twelve scholars all learning music, which at $12.50 each per month is a very pretty sum, I believe $1,800 without any doubt. Either you, Victor or John must come down for me. I will only say that when it is positively known I am no longer of any service to the world, the world will take no interest in me! I have not lived so long not to
know that
. I shall, I hope, bring with me between $700 and $800 but I cannot tell till all my accounts are paid. I am not famous for economy. If you prefer meeting me at Louisville do so; but be so good as to reply to this and let me know as soon as possible,
whether
I may
expect
you and
when
.

We have the yellow fever at
Bayou Sarah now; but I do not go there … Mr. and Mrs. Brand and family are come from [New] Orleans out of the way of the fever. You say fame is not felt while living, most true, but I am persuaded nevertheless you will never be happy but in toiling for it; should you also realize a pecuniary reward, your recompense will be tenfold. I hope you will find all well on your return to England; to me it will be quite a new country. And if you have plenty to support both, which I cannot now doubt, as you say so, we shall enjoy many things till our return, which I must always look forward to, even till I come to America again. You will, I hope, believe me speaking to you with the utmost sincerity and seriousness, and meaning just what I say …

The weather is so warm we can scarcely bear anything on—cotton crops very short indeed generally.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

11 October 1829

My dearest love,

My day to write thee has come again! But I am sorry to have to say that I am not going to do so in answer to anything from thy hand. It is now 11 days since I had a letter from thee, and I think it is too long when in America.

I am at work and I think I have done much. My 42nd drawing is finished. I wrote to thee in my last that I was so much pleased with thy last letters that I had taken “a help” to assist me in finishing the plants; that it was a young Swiss of the name of Lehman whom I have known now about 6 years, having found him at Pittsburgh when on my way back from the Northern Lakes. He has now been with me 10½ days—he is to work 30 and as soon as he has finished I will make ready to go to Kentucky and leave this from the 5th to the 10th of November. I will go by Baltimore and Washington City as I wish to see
Major Long and the President of our U.S.

I asked thee in my last to address my future letters (after the receipt of that and this) to Louisville where I will be, I hope, by the 1st of December; therefore do so. I have no late news from England which makes me hope all goes on well there. I do most sincerely hope and wish that thou mayest settle thy business
very early
in January and reach Louisville about the end of that month. We ought to stay with Victor & John the month of February and be underway eastwardly by the very first day of March so as to sail from New York or Boston as best may please thee on the 1st of April next. Only think, the rascals of captains refuse to take my dog unless I pay an enormous price for his passage, i.e., 25 dollars. Some refused altogether. I therefore have concluded to take him with me to Louisville and send it from there.

My letter will be through necessity of interest either in facts or of their nature a short and dull one, but I like to write to thee
regularly
. When Sunday comes I have measuring its distance since the one just gone to speak to thee. I have no other pleasures. I live alone and see scarcely anyone besides those belonging to the house

I am at. I raise before day, take a walk, return and set to my work until nightfall—take another walk, equally short—hot water time comes on—I drink my grog, read some, think of thee and of tomorrow and lay my head to rest with the hopes of rendering thee happy forever hereafter!

I am delighted with what I have accumulated in drawings this season. Indeed, I am surprised when sometimes I spread them on the carpet and look to see their effect: 24 drawings in 4 months, 11 large, 11 middle size and 20 small, comprising 95 birds, from Eagles downwards, with plants, nests, flowers and 60 different kinds of eggs.

I have collected some thousands of insects for our good friend Mr. Children and I will forward them all to him by the first packet going to London direct.

I have felt anxious to have my portrait painted by
Thomas Sully for the frontispiece of the “Birds of America,” but I doubt now if I or he will have time, for although we are both willing, neither of us can well spare the time.

Well, my love, I believe I have said all. I wish I had a letter of thine and I hope that tomorrow may bring me one …

St. Francisville, Louisiana

30 October 1829

My dear husband,

Your last of October 20th I have today received and sit down to reply, though having written every week to Kentucky for some time it is hardly necessary, except that you seem quite unaware that I am a woman alone and moving and packing require aid more powerful than mine. However, I have not even thought of packing yet, and if I had there is nothing I can spare but the papers you mention, and I shall have no
time
to put them all up till Christmas week, nor does it seem necessary to me to do so. As to who comes down, you can decide between yourself and Victor, but I certainly would rather you came, and John’s coming must be altogether a jaunt of pleasure as he could not do much yet in assisting me were any difficulty to present itself. I long to see you all, but I cannot get them to believe here I should leave them at all. To be sure, I have not pressed the belief further than to beg them to be ready to pay me, for many reasons which I can tell you, but particularly till I heard from you a
negative
to the proposal made me. To say the truth, I did not hope you would agree to it, but if you had I should have worked on a year longer for our children if it could have done them any good and $1,800 is no trifle per annum.

As I hear the water is high [on the Ohio River], I shall look for you the beginning of December … and in the middle of January we may be off, but if you had rather not come, write to Mr. Johnson a flattering letter thanking him for his kindness, &c., &c., and hoping he will aid all he can towards having my affairs arranged, not that I want his help really except his
own
account [paid], which I much fear will be the most tardy of all. Paper calculations always fall short of real cash and my lawsuit will take $106—from that sum the interest for these two years [is lost] but it cannot be helped; nothing
material
can be done before Christmas because I have no claims till then, nor can I pay my debts, which you know somehow
or other are always large enough. I cannot get anything of a cloak here but wish you may get a good one in the north … I want your attention to this and those of our sons as I want handsome ones for them also. You are not, I hope, mistaken in your means of support, for I give up a very good and sure salary to join you, and two-thirds of what I may have made is our sons’; the other part ours. You see, I speak plain, and in return I shall I hope to contribute to your comfort, though we may be mistaken—I know we both are singular in some things. The dog I suppose we shall soon see. I assure you the kindness of the
Harbor family has been great to me and the Carpenters and Mrs. Percy. Write constantly and tell me of when and how you [paper damaged] … Seven weeks and three days, till the 24 of December, I count upon as slaving and then I am fine; if I must toil or suffer I hope it will always be in this way and with as good a recompense. Farewell, I must now attend my pupils. And may all our plans be for our good and end in happiness; and believe me my wish is to make you comfortable and be your affectionate wife and friend,

Lucy Audubon

I expect as well as all the rest of us to see a most polished and fashionable gentleman amongst us, who have been rusticating and vegetating in the woods …

Sunday night, November 1.

My dear husband,

As I was disappointed in sending my letter after all my hurry, I must add a few lines to say the weather has become cold; still, our young men are dying of the fever but as we had a white frost last night I hope it will now end. Many, many are gone, and
Mary Gurley lost her husband of it a few days after their marriage. I hope you will write or come in this month; I am getting tired of expecting and waiting. Do as you please about John. I want him to have my horse for Sundays. Let me know; it will be long before I can do anything for him again unless you decide on my remaining here longer. Love to all, do bring us some pippins with you if you can. Farewell for a few weeks.

It was dark, sultry, and I was quite alone. I was aware yellow fever was still raging at St. Francisville, but walked thither to procure a horse. Being only a mile distant, I soon reached it, and entered the open door of a house I knew to be an inn; all was dark and silent. I called and knocked in vain, it was the abode of Death alone! The air was putrid; I went to another house, another, and another; everywhere the same state of things existed; doors and windows were all open, but the living had fled. Finally I reached the home of Mr. Nübling, whom I knew. He welcomed me, and lent me his horse, and I went off at a gallop. It was so dark that I soon lost my way, but I cared not, I was about to rejoin my wife, I was in the woods, the woods of Louisiana, my heart was bursting with joy! The first glimpse of dawn set me on my road, at six o’clock I was at Mr. Johnson’s house; a servant took the horse, I went at once to my wife’s apartment; her door was ajar, already she was dressed and sitting by her piano, on which a young lady was playing. I pronounced her name gently, she saw me, and the next moment I held her in my arms. Her emotion was so great I feared I had acted rashly, but tears relieved our hearts, once more we were together.

John James Audubon to Richard Harlan, M.D.

St. Francisville, Louisiana
18 November 1829

My dear friend,

You will see by the date of this the rapidity with which I have crossed two-thirds of the United States. I had the happiness of
pressing my beloved wife to my breast yesterday morning; saw my two sons at Louisville and all is well. From Philadelphia to
Pittsburgh I found the roads, the coaches, horses, drivers and inns all much improved and yet needing a great deal to make the traveler quite comfortable. The slowness of the stages is yet a great bore to a man in a hurry. I remained part of a day at Pittsburgh where of course I paid my respects to the
museum! I was glad to see the germ of one. It is conducted by a very young man named Lambdin … At Cincinnati I also visited the museum [where Audubon had worked in 1819–20]. It scarcely improves since my last view of it, except indeed by wax figures and such other shows as are best suitable to make money and the least so to improve the mind. I could not see [Daniel] Drake as my time was very limited.