Read The Audubon Reader Online
Authors: John James Audubon
Henry Ward [a bibulous taxidermist whom Audubon had employed during his Florida expeditions] is on the pavé, a poor miserable object who can scarcely make out a living for his wife & himself. He exchanged, sold, &c., all his bird skins, pulled off the whole of his stolen
White Herons’ feathers, sold those to the shops for ladies’ headdresses and the mutilated skins to a Jew, who offered them to Havell at ½ a dollar apiece. I sold 52 pounds sterling of skins to the British Museum about a month ago, and again 20£ worth two days ago, & Havell has sold a good number more, so I shall not be a loser in that way. My own
double
collection I have in drawers at home.
Charles Bonaparte has written very kindly to me, and it appears that what
William Cooper of New York told me was fudge. On
the 8th of next month, about 500 philosophers on zoology will meet at Edinburgh from all parts of these mighty British Isles. I have other fish to fry—I go to Manchester, &c., &c., &c., to see the whole of my patrons; I start next Saturday and will be absent about one month or so, after which to France I go for another month and on my return begin the printing of the 2nd volume of biographies. This coming winter I will spend at writing my own biography, to be published as soon as possible and to be continued as God may be pleased to grant me life!
Our dear sons are studying every day. My old friend [i.e., Lucy] mends our socks, makes our shirts, reads to us at times, but drinks no brandy nowadays. She has cast off her purchased sham curls, wears her own dear grey locks and looks all the better. John can make a pretty good portrait in black chalk and Victor a pretty landscape in oil. They are studying music & other matters. On the whole, we are happy and contented as much as can be whilst absent from our dear & beloved friends of Charleston. Tell my sweetheart that Cruickshank has improved my miniature very considerably—he has worked over the hair, &c. This picture goes to Turner to be engraved in mezzotints and you all shall hear report hereafter.
Your having shot a
Chaffinch is indeed curious enough; but not more so than my having seen a
Yellow-billed Cuckoo shot within 40 miles of
London.
The town is now what is called “empty”; that is, the grandees are off shooting Partridges, Grouse, hares & Pheasants. Parliament is prorogued and there is, in fact, not more than a million and a half of people in town, one good or bad half of whom are beggars, thieves and blackguards of all sorts. We have an unaccountably hot summer—indeed, just such as I might have expected in New York. Fruit has been abundant and peaches has lowered in price to 25 cents! The theaters and shows of all sorts [have been] prodigiously crammed, as are now the different watering places of Britain. Victor told us on his return from Paris, the population there appeared as if constituted of English alone. A few cases of cholera have appeared, but London is now healthy. The queen of these realms has returned in perfect safety, she was hissed at her departure and groaned at on her return. The Irish are fighting like devils and I hope their rows will open the eyes of their merciless landlords.
Now, my dear Bachman, nothing in this world will give more pleasure than to go with you to the Floridas, and if you will prepare yourself for November 1835, God willing I will be your companion there, and as much further as you choose. This year it is impossible, for I have much to do ere I return to our dear shores, and I look upon my labors as a duty I owe to my family and to my Almighty Maker.
Whenever you have a good opportunity of preserving
excellent
Wild Turkey Cock skins pray do so—the only one I had I have sold for 20£ or 100 dollars! A female I sold for 25$, and if I had 50 males I could get the same price for each of them. Fine Anhingas, small
Blue Herons and clean White Egrets sell well.
Insects are now very high. I paid 20 dollars the other day for 5 which on account of their beauty have been thought cheap by Swainson. Common birds from any portion of the world are mere drug. I have some promises of fine dogs after the shooting season is over, and I hope to send you some shortly, as I will be at Lord Stanley’s manor in about 2 weeks.
The old
Zoological Gardens are much poorer than when I left England. The new ones carry the day. In fact, novelty is the motto of every Englishman, and scarcely any thing can live here longer than a month at most. One week generally suffices to kill the integrity of general subjects in exhibitions of all sorts …
I send you my own copy of [Thomas] Bewick’s works, and also a pamphlet on Swans from Yarrell. And why did you not send me the
eggs of the Chuck-Will’s-Widow & “other matters”? I might, no doubt, have had some further opportunities of speaking of them in my 2nd volume. I left at your house several drawings which I want. Send them to the Messrs. Rathbone Brothers & Co., Merchants, Cornhill, Liverpool, or to Robert Havell if you have an opportunity for [a ship sailing to] London.
Now here is my 4th or 5th Episode to you and I beg an answer …
My dear sir,
My good husband having left some blank paper in his letter, I take up my pen to tell you how glad we were to hear from you at last, and to beg you not to be uneasy about your
sober friend
and the
brandy
, for none did I see until a few days ago, an old lady called
upon me and being ill, asked for some brandy, and to my
cost
I sent and had a
decanter
filled, for you must be told that brandy, and that very indifferent, is eight dollars a gallon, so that even if we wished for it, we should not have it, but I am so completely
set against
it by being obliged to drink it when sick at sea, that I shall not attempt to touch it again till I set out to return towards you; when at sea I take anything to give me one moment’s relief. I send you our copy of Bewick because we are not sure of another copy, so scarce are they become, and I must do all I can soon or late to keep my word. Thank the Ladies for their zeal in our behalf on every point, when the “Birds of America” begin to return some of the sums they fly off with, I hope to send many a little remembrance amongst friends I love so well and think so much of. I should now
delight you
with the sight of a cap for Mrs. Bachman and Mrs. Davis, but they cannot go in such a squeezing package, however, “better late than never.” Tell the young ladies to remember my mockingbirds, male & female, and not to let a ship come to London without letting us know, for I hate to pay
pounds
of carriage from this, to Liverpool. Hitherto we have all been hard at work since we arrived. What is become of Miss [Maria] Martin’s beau, whom I expected to see this summer in town? Give, and accept, my best wishes
for you all
, excuse this hasty scrawl and believe me, truly your friend,
Lucy Audubon
John Bachman wrote this affectionate dialogue in response to Audubon’s complaints that he was neglecting their correspondence. Bachman had christened Audubon “Jostle” early in their friendship after hearing Audubon complain repeatedly of being jostled in the hard-riding stage coaches of the day. When John Woodhouse joined his father in Charleston, Audubon became “Old Jostle,” his son “Young Jostle.” “Our sweetheart” is a reference to
Maria Martin, Bachman’s sister-in-law, who painted background flowers and plants for a number of Audubon’s drawings and with whom both men competitively flirted
.
Charleston, South Carolina
4 October 1834
Old Jostle:
Bless my soul. What can be the reason that John Bachman never writes me a single line? I am sure he is vexed with me for something.
Lucy:
Why, my dear, you were always contradicting each other. He did not like your drinking grog, though he took as much snuff as you, and then you would never bear to be told that you could make a mistake in a bird.
Young Jostle:
Father, I think he may be angry because when he criticized your drawings, you called him a goose. When he beat you at shooting you said he shut the wrong eye, and when he gammoned you, you went to bed in a pet.
Old Jostle:
Why, John, that is true. But you know, he was no more of a painter than a piano player. As for shooting, he was not so bad, but I am equal to him any day, and when I get back to America I will lead him such a dance as he will long remember. I don’t blame him for shutting the wrong eye because he never could shut the other. In backgammon, I confess, he could beat me, but it is a trifling game and after all he must have grown jealous because our sweetheart thought more of me than of him.
Victor:
As for my part, I think you are all mistaken. From what I have heard, you were both very free with each other. Like two
lovers, quarreling today and making up tomorrow. You know, father, you cannot bear to hear of your faults; he may be the same way; and I am sure both of you esteem each other as much as ever. The letters may have miscarried as he may have been very busy; be patient, father, and all will yet be explained. (
The bell rings—a letter
)
Old Jostle:
God bless me, it is from John Bachman himself.
Young Jostle:
Why father, you have kicked over the coffee pot.
[
Note:
The letter begins as follows:]
My old friend,
A line from you would be a pleasant sight just now. It is a long time since I heard the sound of your voice or saw your fine face or looked at your fair hand. Now though you are negligent enough, I do not accuse you of anything. I always say he is busy. He is frolicking, etc., but I never say he has forgotten his friends.
Were you ever in bedlam? If not, you would have a probable idea if you surrounded the same table with me at this moment. Here are Harriet and Julia kicking up a row, frightened at a cat. Jane is sitting as prim as you please. The two other girls’ tongues are running thirteen to the dozen. My wife is poking at a stocking and ever and anon dropping a stitch. Our sweetheart with a book on agriculture before her, a stocking in her hand, giving directions about setting a mousetrap. Those that can rattle away with their tongues and roar and laugh must be well. So you can form an idea how all your friends in this family are. That was rather an unfortunate promise I made you in the middle of last month to write you twice a month. Here I am making you pay postage for nothing in compelling myself to write nonsense to fill up this foolscap.
The weather is very warm for the season. We have a great deal of sickness among the lower classes of emigrants and my hands are busy and I am employed in half a dozen capacities. In a few weeks it will again be healthy and with it I will again have a little leisure. We have found no new bird this summer. For this we must go to Florida. An intelligent botanist sent out by the King of Prussia has been with the expedition sent along the borders of Mexico and the Rocky Mountains. He promises to show me all his bird skins. He is no ornithologist. His name is Brickenheim. He is a Count, but
a very intelligent man, his title notwithstanding, which he always concealed from me.
I rejoice to hear that your last bird is written. Now for the proof sheets and the printer’s devils, a horrible business, but you will soon get through with it and then hie on to Edinburgh. Let your book be of the size, etc., to correspond with the last. Richardson and Swainson’s
Fauna Borealis
you took with you and I can get no copy in this country. I only want our notes so as I will try to review your book (and may scratch you in the bargain). You must in your next just look over your volume and give me a list of the mistakes they made and wherein they were right. Be careful and don’t forget …
Edinburgh, Scotland
5 November 1834
My dear friend,
Your kind & interesting letter gave me much pleasure; it was the first and only one which had come to us and, anxious as I always am respecting your health & welfare, we all felt happy to know that all with you was as it should be. My old friend and I have been here some time, attending to the publication of my second volume of Ornithological Biographies, and we have now nine sheets cast. In about four weeks more, say the middle of December, that volume will be cast off to the world. What that world may think of it remains unknown and doubtless properly so. As soon as this present business is ended we will return to London where we left our sons at their several avocations.
I have little to tell you in the way of news of any kind, for although the world of politics goes on apace, that pace is that of the blind worm, at least in this country, when although every one individual is ever complaining, no one attempts to correct the evil. I sincerely hope that the case is different at home, and that ere long the Tormentor of our peace will be hurled into regions from whence his recollection may not even reach our ear, and that all the cormorants around him will share the same fate. The post office business must be of great importance before our next Congress and I shall not be sorry to know that material changes are made in that department.
I wish that, like yourself, I was being at home on a good plantation looking at my well-filled barn, fat stock of cattle and warm fireside waiting to enjoy each returning spring, but all such wishes, nay the very thoughts of them, must be laid aside for some future period. I shall do all in my power to return to America in the month of August next, when I sincerely hope you may consider it agreeable to take a long tramp with me somewhere beyond the Middle States! I am glad you have a warbler in your possession not described in
books, and I hope you will take care of it until you and I together give it a name if positively new. Your second volume of my work must have reached you long ere this. I examined it well and believe it to be the best out of Havell’s shop. I am sadly in want of
birds in the flesh
of any sort and in pairs, for in Europe every one is agog to prove this, that or some other thing in natural science, which
without the proof before their eyes
, no one will believe. I have written to several of my friends in different parts of the Union to throw into a barrel of common whiskey a pair of each species they can collect until I reach that dear land once more, and if
you
would assist me in the same manner I shall really be most glad; the birds ought to be in as good order of feather as possible. Young birds too will not be amiss, no matter how common the species. They all would be acceptable, indeed necessary, to me to render my
Synopsis
efficient. When you go to New York try to procure rare skins for me. The
Cape May Warbler, the
Blue Mountain
do
[i.e., ditto] and
Morning Warbler Male & F & young. I should much like to have, when I reach you next Autumn, of eggs all you can procure even by paying something for them.