The Audubon Reader (79 page)

London, England

20 December 1837

My dear Bachman,

I first wish you, and the whole of your dear family, a most Happy Christmas, a Happy New Year, and [many?] odd more besides! Next I thank you for the intelligence contained in your last favor (the third letter received from you since my arrival in England) in which you say that, immediately after the receipt of my letter to Doctor Wilson, that worthy friend had shewn it to you, and that yourself had communed with a certain seafaring captain, who had promised to exert himself in the procuring some
Flamingoes in the flesh for me! In the same letter you also say that you have shipped two barrels of birds in rum, one from your own gathering, the other, the result of Capt. Coste’s cruise around the Floridas, another having been washed overboard the
Campbell
during a gale. The
Nimrod
, the ship by which these barrels are to come, has not yet made its appearance, and I have received no bills of lading for the same, which it appears to me strange after the particular injunctions to that effect for some very considerable time past.

My work progresses on as usual, four hundred plates are now actually published and I intend to send very soon the Numbers which follow those last sent to you and others. I have now some hopes that I will finish my great task with twenty-five additional plates, and that about four hundred and sixty
genuine species
will form the present amount of our ornithological fauna. I have lately procured five very odd species from towards the Mackenzie River, and yet go destroying many nominal species, the dreams of several naturalists such as Swainson, Bonaparte and our humble self. Whilst on this head, I feel disposed to give you my now real view of the character of Charley [i.e.,
Charles-Lucien Bonaparte]! When he first came to London, he began by going the rounds and trying to pump each and every one of those from whom he thought he might acquire knowledge, and of course as far as the birds of
North America are concerned, I was the very first on his list. Days after days he has visited us, pumped me as far as I was willing to be, made list of all our new species, examined each bird in the skin, corresponded his systematical arrangements after asking me thousands of questions, and after all is still desirous that I should give him my ideas or in fact knowledge of their habitats, migrations, &c.! Quite trifles, you see; but in this, I will stop his career, and will tell him bluntly and honestly; when we come to the scratch, that as to acquiring the all of this from me (before being printed and before the world) he is as mistaken as if he “had torn his shirt”! The beauty of his maneuvers is that whilst doing all this for his own fame and benefit, he pretends that he is acting for my sake! Capital, is it not? When I am confident that he,
positively speaking
, knows very little indeed of our birds! Otherwise he is a mild, pleasant-speaking personage, not at all of the Prince about him whilst with us at least, but so very fond of praise that I doubt of his sincerity (I am sorry to say this) as it has become rather too clear to me, that he never possessed one half the credit which I have been wont heretofore to grant to him, blinded as I have been by the apparent friendly manners which he never ceases for a moment to assume. Yesterday he even carried off the whole of the list which he has made at our house, including among them one in Victor’s handwriting. He has kept me at home waiting for him for hours and whole days without attending to his appointments, and has made his appearance sometimes early, at others late, and in fact only when he has found this to be most convenient to himself. I now greatly regret my not having paid more attention to the strong language of Harlan respecting Charley, for if I had been more prudently guarded, he would at this moment know still less than he does. But I will now change the subject.

When your last letter had been read, I sent one of my own to the
Earl of Derby, in which I gave him full cognizance of your desires to receive some live
Pheasants from his Lordship, I told him that I had sent you a famous jar of
birdlime (which I have done by young
John Bethune of Cambridge, Boston, Massachusetts) and told the Earl that it was your intention and wish to procure and to send him more live birds. He is particularly anxious to receive live
Anhingas
, not one of which was ever seen in Europe. In his
prompt answer, he says that he will send you some Pheasants, and I am sure that he will do so, for he is a first-rate man, and one who has never deceived me. Nay he is now sending me some birds which I greatly want and which no one else possesses, and wrote to me a letter of six pages giving me much salutary advice respecting certain nominal species with which others might (in my ignorance) have induced me to publish as North American birds.

Should this letter reach you before you have shipped the
Flamingoes, I beg of you to send them by a first-rate ship direct to London from Charleston, and if no such opportunities be likely to occur at once, to send them to Mr. Berthoud by a ship (one of your packets) with a request to forward them at once, by the first packet ship bound to London, urging him indeed not to neglect this, or it will prove too late.

I think that I will be able to prove that we have a Swan in the United States which has been confounded with the
Bewick Swan of Yarrell … In my opinion there is more real merit in destroying one single nominal species, than in the publishing six new good species, as the latter are always well able to speak for themselves when found!

We are all, at the exception of my old friend, pretty well, she however still remains confined to her room, and frequently for several days to her bed. The days now at their shortest light are thickly fogged, rainy and most disagreeable, and at this very moment it blows a horrible gale from the southwest. I have not heard from America for several weeks, although our packets have been numerous from thither, and with very quick passages. Your last letter, for instance, came to hand in 30 days after the date put on the face of it at Charleston by you. We hear no more from the Floridas, and I conclude that the noble Osceola has been murdered in cold blood! Some strange accounts respecting the Canadas have reached us through the public press, upon which little if any reliance can be placed. Van Buren and his party, we are also told, have fallen a “considerable deal” in the estimation of the millions—but this also is all newspaper talk, and our friends keep us in the dark on all such points as are truly interesting to Americans. Can you not send me a single new species of bird in time for my publication? I should think that amongst the smaller species of
Woodpeckers
this might yet be done, and I have to regret my inattention to this tribe during my late visit to the South of the Union.

Not a word of Townsend. Not a line from Nuttall, or Dr. Morton. I suppose that Peale and Pickering have sailed for the Antipodes, but cannot tell. The only true correspondent has been young [Thomas] Brewer, who indeed has done much for me since I left you all. Earl Derby has sent a beautiful egg of the
Whooping Crane.…

Were you in London for one single month you would be surprised to see the mad desire at present existing in everyone [who] would be [a] naturalist, to bring forth his own unintelligible systematical arrangements of Nature’s works. One says that the
Flamingo is merely a Duck with long legs, and that
hummingbirds are only Swifts, or Chimney Swallows, &c., &c., &c. Some ask my opinions; others do not; and I must say I should be much more pleased if none of their gentry were not to trouble me more.

Has the great [U.S. Exploring] Expedition sailed? When? And how arranged as regards the scientific corps? Come stir up, take a pen, place half a quire of paper before you and let us know anon. The wished-for letter from our sweetheart has not yet made its appearance, but I shall expect the perusal of its contents two days after the arrival of the next packet for she never broke her promises! God bless her, and God bless you all; write more often and longer letters, assure all our friends that we rarely pass a day without speaking of you and them, and as far as I am concerned that I rarely eat my dinner without pledging them and the whole of you, though distant, with a health in a good bumper of the best wine I can afford to drink. Again and again God bless you all.

Your sincerest of friends,

John J. Audubon, his wife & three children

28 December 1837—My dear Bachman: Since writing the few lines therein, I have received a letter from Friend Ed Harris, announcing the return to Philadelphia of Dr. Townsend with an increase of new ornithological species amounting, if all correctly told, to upwards of twenty species, some of which I expect are very curious, and others beautiful. Harris has bought a specimen of each for me, and I suppose that at this moment they are underway from New York to
London, as they were to have been shipped on the 20th Instant. Townsend also is sending me a parcel of them for sale on his account. I also expect from him some information respecting habits, &c. I am glad that he has sent you his new hare and other quadrupeds. Should the birds come in time, I will of course publish the whole of the new species, and my work will be
the
work indeed! Bonaparte is gone at last and I am much relieved, for the days are very short and I have a great deal to do. We are all well, Mamma has I think been better than usual for the last fortnight, and I hope that she will soon recover her strength. Her spirits are as good as ever! Not a word from our sweetheart for a long time. I hope no parson has carried her into the Sand Hills. We received Eliza’s last letter this morning. I am told that there is a book from you for me in the London docks. I will have it in a few days. It came through N. Berthoud. The
Nimrod
has not yet arrived. When will the Flamingoes come??? Wishing you all a Happy Year …

London, England

14 April 1838

My dear Bachman,

The last intelligence of your being still in the land of the living reached us this morning, and Eliza’s letter is dated the 13th of last month. We have heard of the loss of your venerable mother with sorrow commensurate, but were almost happy at the thought that at her extraordinary American old age she was removed in peaceful quietude to that world towards which we are all doomed or blessed sooner or later to remove!

That yourself and the remainder of your dear family are quite well is quite a comfort to us all at this distance from Charleston and blessed indeed would I feel as at this moment were I able to say as much of each member of my own beloved family. My dearest friend is still aching, John has had a violent attack of an ulcerated throat, but is now again up, and I trust will soon be able to resume his daily avocations. Our child [i.e., Maria Bachman Audubon, John Woodhouse’s wife] is quite well and as sound as anyone in love of her could possibly wish; indeed, my dear Bachman, it may be possible that ere this reaches you, both of us will be grandfathers! Nay, Mr. Phillips thinks that the chance may be a
double
, and if so, how blessed I will feel to have a pair of them born Audubons.

Doctor Wilson’s valuable letter reached me two days ago, old date, but full of fun and just what was wanted to raise the spirits of a hypochondriacal of 53 years of age, and thank God yet able to put his forefinger and thumb up to his nose holding withal a pinch of the “American Gentleman.” (Snuff! Snuff!)
Flamingoes are now very far below par; indeed it will prove a curiosity to the world of science, when that world will know that John Bachman, D.D., himself, assisted by Samuel Wilson, M.D., and about one half of a hundred persons besides have not been able to send me even a stuffed specimen in time for my publication. So it is, however, and I drop the subject.
What have you done with the birdlime?
How preciously lazy you have become, and yet we here are told that you are gone with your beloved Monty to Liberty Hall! Would that I was there at this moment with my dearest friend, our children, our sweetheart and all that have a jot to do with either or all of our party.

Alexander Gordon has been with you and now tell me what do you think of that gentleman—he is somewhat learned and keen, and may be a friend besides.

Charles Bonaparte has treated me most shockingly—he has published the whole of our secrets, which I foolishly communicated to him after his giving me his word of honor that he would not do so, and now I have
cut him
, and he never will have from me the remaining unpublished Numbers of my work (which, by the bye, he calls a poor thing) and the latter simply because I at last refused to give him my kn
owledge of the migratory or geographical distribution of our birds. So much for
a Prince
!

Will you not be surprised when I tell you that my last volume of illustrations will contain one hundred and ninety-five species of birds? cutting off all young birds and spurious species; and yet Bonaparte exceeds my lists by upwards of 20 false species—so much for the cabinet man.

Our packets appear to have had very long passages to America, and I am sorry that you all should have abandoned writing by way of New York, which after all is the best way.

You will be surprised when you see the last Numbers of the work at the numbers of
Woodpeckers and Owls which we now
must
know to be found in North America, and my opinions are (between
you and I) that the contents of our fauna will not be filled by me by about one good & solid hundred species.